by J B Cantwell
“But maybe she doesn’t have to,” I said, grasping. “Maybe I can bring enough back to fix things without her.”
“You may find enough gold to do the job, that is true,” he said. “But without the aid of the girl, you are lost. Before the end, she must be convinced to give the gold willingly. It is the only way.”
I looked away, suddenly nervous.
“What if I fail?” I asked, staring at my feet.
“You know precisely,” he said.
Nothing. Nothing would happen if I failed. We would all live on, chained to our misery, until someday a force greater than all of us, greater than even the Corentin, would bring it all to an end.
But if I failed, it wasn’t what I stood to lose that was the problem. It was that nothing better would ever come.
“You are marked, perhaps unluckily, by my choice,” he said. “You will live, no matter what the Corentin throws at you. He can no longer possess your mind. If you fail, you can only stand by and watch as the rest fall, witness the misery of the others until your last breath.”
He turned, swept his gaze up over the dark mountain peaks.
“He will try to sway you to make things easier for him. But you alone have the choice. Your life alone is untouchable by his power. It is a part of the deal that, I believe, he does not yet fully comprehend. But he will. In time, he will discover just what it was Jade agreed to on that hillside. He will seek you with increasing desperation, to harm you in other ways, to hurt you.” He took a few steps away and then paused, thinking. “If you fail in your quest, if the balance stays lost, if you despair and give into his traps and games, then you will become like me, like she whom you met where the water and land mingle. You will watch it all.”
My stomach felt hard, like a big rock had dropped into it.
“You mean, I’ll live forever?” Nothing sounded worse to me than that. The idea of failing my friends, these worlds, and then sitting by for all of eternity and watching it crumble.
“No, not forever,” he said. “You will watch only until nature takes your life.”
“How do I do it?” I asked. “How do I succeed?” I had the steps laid out in front of me, but the thought of actually taking the first was terrifying.
“That,” he said, “is not for me to offer. You must do as you wish. You must make your choices. Just as you chose to eat the meal in the forest, just as you trusted, knew, that it was there for you and no other.”
My mouth dropped open, but no more words came.
He moved away from me then, walking slowly in the direction away from the mountains, away from our target. I wanted to call out to him, to ask him more, to beg him to give me all the answers. But as his back disappeared into the shadows, I knew that this audience was over.
So I did the only thing I could. I closed my gaping mouth, closed my eyes as he left me alone with nothing to protect me but the Hidden Mountains, and concentrated on the only words I could send him away with. I wondered if anyone, anywhere, had ever said them to him before. I let them ring through my mind, bouncing off the insides of my skull, willing them to permeate it, to fly free into the night air so that he could hear my last.
Thank you.
Sacha.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I didn’t sleep anymore that night. Instead I sat above the crowd of people who lay, exhausted and splayed out, in the valley below me. I watched over them like a shepherd tending his flock, now knowing that it was safe for me to go. They would be safer in the Hidden Mountains than anywhere else I could imagine.
When the first of the children started to rise and scamper about, I hopped down from my boulder and made my way down the rocky hill.
Cait still slept soundly in Larissa’s arms. Kiron had awakened, and he stared down at the two. Relief had replaced the pain of the day before at the return of his sister, and as I sat down beside him I knew I was sitting with a different man than yesterday.
“We need to make the link,” I said, rinsing my hands idly in the cold stream at our feet.
He didn’t answer, only shifted his gaze to his feet, staring.
“She should do it,” he finally said, throwing me a quavering, conflicted smile. “She always wanted to.”
I nodded.
“You’re safe here,” I said. “No one can find you as long as you want to stay hidden. I’ll try not to be too long, but I don’t know what things will be like when I get there, when I get home.”
“Just don’t forget about us, eh?” he said, elbowing me.
I took the chaser from my deepest pocket and passed it back and forth between my palms. The thin strips of gold shimmered in the morning light.
“Who will follow?” he asked. His face shifted, and the glint of adventure I once saw on it back in his tiny cottage shined in his eyes.
“Not you, old man,” I teased. My eyes fell on Cait. Little Cait. So fragile. The promise I had made Rhainn weighed heavily in my heart. “I have someone else in mind.”
An hour later I stood beside Larissa. The staff had easily brought dustfire from the depths of the mountains, a power of Almara’s I had feared I would never be able to match. But it shined now in a bright beam straight up into the sky.
Larissa took the tiny vial of gold dust from my hands and carefully opened it, pouring the contents of it directly on top of the beam, which sizzled and sparked.
I held out my hand and placed the item I had chosen as the vehicle, a chunk of Stonemore I had found lodged in a pocket, rubble from the fight that had rained down on me during battle.
I moved through the frame, which lit up the entire ravine where everyone stood, watching the process that had so long been a secret. There was Earth, vibrating violently along the outer edges of the Fold. Larissa came to stand beside me, and she gazed upon it with perfect concentration. It wobbled only slightly as her mind directed it over the flame. Slowly, perfectly, she placed it atop, the last piece in the puzzle.
Then she and I sat before the rotating sphere, and began.
“In fire and gold
The fortune sold
In dust and frame
To worlds untamed
Through dark and light
And endless night
We fly as one
Our wings alight
Lock path and line
Heavens align
Until our feet
The soil they greet
On parallel
With gods and spell
Time beats the core’s
Celestial roar”
Again and again we spoke the words, until at last the spell was cast. The frame disappeared with a cascade of pops, and the link fell heavily to the ground below. Larissa and I both stared at where it had fallen, neither of us grabbing for it first.
“Go on,” I said.
She looked at me uncertainly, but then seeing that I was serious, bent down and picked it up from the ashes. She held it up, twirling it in her old, wrinkled hands, taking in every angle of my precious ticket back across the cosmos. The gold dust was fused over the surface like glitter on a kindergarten page. Then, smiling broadly, she lifted it high into the air above her head.
At first, nobody made a sound. Then, Kiron gave a loud whoop, and all at once the crowd roared with joy at the sight. Larissa and I laughed, and she wrapped her arms around my middle. When we broke apart again, she held the stone out to me.
For a moment I hesitated, not quite believing that this day had finally come. I slowly held out my hand, and she placed the link into it, covering it with both of her own palms. Then she lifted one hand up to my cheek and looked at me with tear-drenched eyes. I thought she would speak, but she only smiled. It was her thanks.
I was tired. The last time I had made a link, nothing had sounded better than a long nap. But now, alongside the exhaustion, the buzzing of excitement twirled inside my chest. I was headed back to Earth. Earth. Finally. I would see my family again. I would get my wish, the thing I had been chasing sinc
e the moment my feet touched the ground in the Triaden. But not everybody was excited about leaving this place.
As Larissa backed up into the crowd, Cait clutched at her skirt, only peeking at me from the corner of one eye.
I walked slowly in her direction, and knelt down onto the rock. I tried to catch her eye, but she hid behind the fabric.
“Did you know,” I said, “that on Earth I have a mother?”
She looked at me, but didn’t speak.
I nodded. “It’s true,” I said. “And she’s the best mother anybody could ever ask for. Did you know that?”
“Does she kiss your head before you go to sleep?” she squeaked.
I smiled. “Yes,” I said. “As a matter of fact, she does.”
“Will Rhainn be there?”
For a moment, my smile faltered. I considered lying, but then I decided that would be no way to begin.
“No,” I said. “Rhainn won’t be there. But you know that your brother and I are friends, right?”
She gave a tiny nod.
My smile, despite all attempts to keep it, faded completely, and I looked at her seriously.
“I’m going to try to get him back for you,” I said. “With everything I have. I promise. Do you think I could be like your brother for a little while? Until we sort things out back here?”
She stuffed her face into Larissa’s skirt again, wiping her nose on the coarse fabric. Then, her sad eyes found mine, and she nodded in agreement.
I held out the chaser, which must have looked like a big, shining marble to her little eyes. She looked at it, unsure, and then took it into her little fist.
“You listen to Lissa now, okay?” I said. She nodded again, more enthusiastic this time.
I stood up, turning to Kiron. I wanted to hug him, but I could see that he was struggling. Too many of his beliefs had been upended in the past day. So I settled on a long, hard look. And a nod.
“Aster Wood,” he said, returning the nod. “I never woulda thought.”
I laughed.
“Nobody would have,” I said.
Then, at long last, I held the link up above my head. It caught the rays of the morning sun, gradually lightening the shadows as they slipped away, the night done. For a moment I closed my eyes, thinking again of the words I had sent to the Blackburn the night before.
For my life. For the chance.
Thank you.
The unspoken words echoed everywhere within me, and I felt that anyone, everyone, must be able to hear them. Maybe they could. They were for the Blackburn, but also everyone who stood here beside me now. For Jade in her lonely mountain. For the Watcher in the murky depths.
I opened my eyes again, letting them drift across the group of most unlikely friends I had found myself among. Their faces, still smudged with smoke and dirt and blood, encouraged me, lifted my spirit as I shifted my gaze to the link in my hand.
I opened my mouth, smiled as the tears ran down my face, and spoke.
“Home.”
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Review Aster Wood and the Blackburn Son
Aster Wood Book 4 is the next installment in the Aster Wood series, which follows the saga of a young man fighting to save the Maylin Fold from the evil of the Corentin.
Turn the page to read an excerpt.
Excerpt from
Aster Wood Book 4
by J. B. Cantwell
Copyright © 2015 by J. B. Cantwell. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, contact [email protected].
I hit hard.
My bare arms scraped against short, dead cornstalks as I skidded across the field, finally coming to a stop in a cloud of dust. A mouthful of dirt, bone dry, choked me, and I coughed. My eyes watered as a cold wind blew against my face. I stared around, trying to get my bearings.
I was home.
But my heart sank.
It was just the same as it had ever been. Stark. Vast. Dead.
I hadn’t expected to feel anything other than joy at returning, finally, to Earth. But the barren landscape was a shock, something I hadn’t seen in many long months, and it did not welcome me. No breathtaking vistas awaited. No gently trickling streams. No warm sunlight beneath teal skies. Compared to the planets in the Triaden, it seemed nothing of beauty remained in this place.
My fists dug into the dirt, loose and gravelly, and I pushed myself up to standing. The scrapes on my arms stung, but they would heal. The coughing gradually ceased. I rubbed the dirt out of my stinging eyes.
I was in Adams county. I knew that, even though I had spent most of my childhood in the city. I recognized the odd rock formations to the east, with the telltale shapes I had gazed upon since early childhood. Somewhere out here was Grandma’s farm. I spun on the spot, searching the brown, lifeless horizon. Overhead, storm clouds threatened.
Cait burst through, landing nearly as hard as I had. Her little body rolled over and over like a carelessly thrown doll, bumping and scraping along the ground. She cried out with a particularly rough thump to the knees and tumbled to a stop just a few feet away.
I rushed over to her, my temporary disappointment immediately replaced with worry over the little girl.
“Cait,” I huffed, my throat still choked with dust. “Are you okay?”
Her giant blue eyes looked into mine for a quick moment, her face frozen with a look of shock. Then, the corners of her mouth turned down. She whimpered.
“Owie,” she said, her mouth opening wide into a silent cry, fat tears dripping down her dirty cheeks.
She unfolded her legs from beneath her and inspected them. At the sight of the blood on her knees, she cried louder. Suddenly, her eyes became frightened, and I noticed her shrink away from me as I approached. She had trusted me. She hadn’t counted on scraped knees. That hadn’t been part of the deal.
“Cait, it’s alright,” I said, kneeling down. I moved one hand out to inspect her leg, but she snatched the injury away. I paused, thinking, then sat down in the dirt beside her. “You’ll be okay,” I said, trying to employ the same soothing sound my mother used when I would get hurt as a young child. “It’s just a couple of scrapes. It’ll heal fast. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
She ventured a look in my direction, sniffed hard, then shook her head. The tears still came, but they were silent now.
“Good,” I said. “Now, I told you I’m going to take care of you, remember?”
She stared.
“We’re on Earth now,” I continued. “Everything’s going to be better here. The Coyle,” I paused, not wanting to upset her further. “He can’t get to you here. Do you understand?”
She didn’t respond, but she didn’t shy away again. Another blast of winter wind hit us, and we both shivered.
“Come on,” I said, standing up and reaching out both my hands to her. “It’s not going to get any warmer. Let’s start walking.”
I pulled out the traveling cloak from my pack and draped it over both of us. Instantly, the wind was blocked as though we had our own little room to protect us from it. It had been Kiron’s gift to me when I had first met him, and the cloak had kept me warm through much more severe elements than these.
As Cait and I took our first steps away from our landing spot, I bent and scooped up the chaser she had used to follow me here, stuffing the fat ball into my pocket.
“Better?” I asked, tucking the blanket back around us again.
She looked up, eyes round, and nodded.
“Can you walk?”
Another nod.
Guessing
that we were northwest of the farm, we started off, the hills on our left side. It was difficult to tell the time of day with the cloud cover, morning or afternoon, but the fact that it was still light at all was comforting. As much traveling as I had done at night in the Fold, something about the idea of walking around on my own planet in the dark made me nervous. There may not be evil wizards on Earth, but there were other, less obvious perils.
My first days in the Triaden seemed like years ago now. Was it possible that only eight months ago I had been a sick, weak kid? My ailing heart had cursed me since birth, and only upon arriving at Kiron’s doorstep had I found the magic, and the will, to heal. I had journeyed so far since then, met wizards and demons and fought battles that the people of Earth would never have believed. Eventually, I discovered my own unique sort of magic, tied to the vibrance of life that pulsed in the Maylin Fold and my tendency to find hope within the most dire circumstances.
But that magic wasn’t with me here in this frigid, barren place. I had left my wood staff, the vehicle that brought my power to life, with Kiron and the others. They would need every weapon they could get to fight the Corentin and his armies in my absence.
And they would fight Jade, too, I realized. To fight the enemy would be to fight the girl I had met and befriended at the very start. The girl, my own flesh and blood, who had eventually fallen to the possession of the Corentin. She had tried to kill me more than once since then. And yet I still felt that feeling, that tiny spark of hope that someday I could free her from the prison the Corentin had created for her within her mind.
I picked up the pace as I thought of her, of my friends facing off against her. I hoped I could find the gold I needed on Earth and return before another drop of blood was shed. Before any more of my friends fell victim to the Corentin, or his minion, the Coyle. Time was running out.