by F. T. Lukens
“Well, now you remember. Let’s keep walking.”
“Do you have any idea where we are going?” The chill had worked its way under Ren’s coat a few hours ago. The small part of his face that was exposed was numb. His feet were lead weights; snow was caked to his boots and pant legs. “Or any idea of where we are other than east of the village.”
“I know exactly where we are and I have an idea of where we’re going.” Jakob shouldered past.
“An idea? Care to share?”
Jakob stopped. He looked behind them and then met Ren’s gaze. “You’re going to be mad.”
Ren raised an eyebrow.
Jakob sighed and pulled his hand from his pocket. Using his teeth, he pulled off his glove and reached into his coat. He removed a slip of folded paper and held it out.
Carefully, Ren took it and unfolded it. He read: “East to North. North to flee from the sun like Daphne. Then there’s an X.”
“I found it on the floor of my father’s room. It took me a few hours to figure it out, but I think that’s where my family is.”
Ren furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”
“East to North. Do you remember the Roper family? They came into town on festival days to trade. There was the one daughter with the… really nice… assets.”
“Vaguely,” Ren answered.
Jakob took the note. “Anyway, the head of the family was named North. Their farm lies east of the village. So East to North Roper’s farm. It’s only a few miles ahead, Ren. We’re almost there.”
“And then what? What the stars does ‘flee from the sun’ mean? Who is Daphne?”
“That confused me, too, since I didn’t remember anyone named Daphne, but once I realized he was talking about a story, I got it.”
Ren tilted his head. “I have no idea.”
“Oh, come on, Ren. I know you didn’t stay in school as long as I did, but surely you know the story of Daphne.”
It clicked. Flee from the sun. In the story, Daphne had fled from the sun god and her legs turned to roots and her arms splintered into branches. She became a tree to escape him. “The Laurels.”
“And the X means to cross the Laurels.”
“Why didn’t you show Rowan? We wouldn’t have had to sneak away! She would’ve taken us there instead of us trudging through the snow. Cogs, Jakob!”
Jakob shook his head. “Do you really believe that?”
“Yes!”
“Then you’re more naïve than I thought. You honestly think she would risk more days on a hunch? On a piece of paper that may mean nothing at all?”
“But it does mean something!” Ren waved his hands. “It’s obviously a code. You figured it out.”
“It’s a code to us dusters. Not to them. They would’ve dismissed it because they’re drifters. They’re not like us.”
Ren’s mouth fell open. “What the hell, Jakob?” he yelled. “Those drifters took us in! They’ve acted like our family. Penelope thinks the world of you. They’ve fed us, included us, protected us.”
“They want to throw you in a prison!”
That brought Ren up short. “Asher and I are… working on it.”
“And if they don’t do that, they want to use you. You are nothing but a tool or a weapon to them.”
“That’s the Corps, not the crew.” It was an important distinction to make, since sometimes Ren couldn’t see the difference himself.
“It doesn’t matter. Now you’re free and you can use your power to help us. Think about it. You could be a hero to Erden.”
Ren took a step back.
“Jakob,” he said softly, “did you lure me away to use me?”
“What? No, that’s not what I meant! I swear. I just…” Jakob kicked the snow. “I want everything to go back like it was, before the stupid soldiers showed up, before being captured. I know it can’t. I know it will never be the same, but this is my chance, our chance, to find our families and have a normal life again. I need that, Ren. I’m not strong like you.”
Ren looked up and blinked against the brightness. He didn’t want to make a choice of leaving one family for another, but that is what he’d done.
Had he chosen the correct one? There was no going back now.
“Jakob,” Ren said, looking east. “I don’t think I’m destined for a normal life.”
“Probably not.” Jakob pushed past Ren. “But you can have one for a little while.”
“And if you’re wrong? If they’re not across the Laurels, what will we do?”
Jakob didn’t stop. “My father left me this note. He had faith I’d come back and find it. I have to have faith that they’re there.”
Ren sighed. Anger roiled in his gut. “Save me from idiot dusters.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, steeled his resolve, and followed.
* * *
They made it to the farm after a few hours.
Ren shivered despite the layers he wore; his limbs were freezing despite constant movement. To find the old house, he and Jakob had to abandon the safety of the trees and cut across flat land. The wind whipped viciously, blowing snow, obscuring their vision, and cutting through Ren like a blade, slicing him to the bone.
Out in the open, they were unprotected, visible to anyone nearby, even in the swirling snow storm: two dark blobs that staggered in the deepening snow. Maybe recent events had Ren paranoid, but he swore someone was watching them as they trudged toward the Roper farm. He thought he heard footsteps other than his own over the whistling wind. His skin crawled with the feeling of a gaze upon him. Ren tried his best to look around, but the stab of the cold on his cheeks and nose kept him hunched into his coat and scarf. He wouldn’t have been able to spot them anyway. And that made him all the more guarded. His power flared in his middle and searched for any nearby tech.
There was an inkling, a tug on the edge of his perception, but when he stopped to concentrate, it flitted away. Someone was out there, and Ren and Jakob were sitting ducks.
However, by the time they stumbled up the walk to the front porch, Ren didn’t care if someone was out there or not. He was determined to go inside and sit by a fire and warm the frozen nubs that were his toes.
“We’ll stay the night here,” Jakob yelled over the wind’s howl.
“We have to. We’ll both be icicles if we keep going.”
“Good point.”
The chill was no better on the porch. Ren stomped on the weathered wood, kicking off mounds of snow, while Jakob knocked on the door. With the protection from the overhang, Ren pulled the cloth from around his face and turned to scan the landscape.
He could see nothing but the blankness of snow. It didn’t soothe his unease, but at least there was not an immediate threat.
Jakob knocked again, louder, insistent, but there was no answer.
The house didn’t look as if it had been disturbed by the same forces that had destroyed his childhood home, but it didn’t look inhabited either. The building appeared sturdy, as did the surrounding outbuildings—the barn, the chicken coop, the tool shed. It was all intact, and in the winter Ren wouldn’t expect to see anyone walking around outside. However, he would expect to see the healthy glow of a fire, or heating elements, or even light coming from the window he peered into. He saw nothing, except his breath fogging on the glass.
“I don’t think they’re home.”
“Astute observation, Ren.” Jakob tried the door, and the knob turned. “It’s unlocked.”
They entered and looked around. A layer of dust clung to the flat surfaces, and the house was almost as cold inside as it was outside.
“They’re gone,” Jakob said. “They must have left with the others.”
“Or they were run off,” Ren said. He wandered into the main room and was relieved to find a stack of wood by the fireplace. “Let’s
get a fire started and eat and rest. We’ll leave for the Laurels at first light.”
Between the two of them, they had a roaring fire in no time. They searched the deserted house and found blankets and linens in the upper rooms and set them in front of the fire to warm while they continued to explore. In the kitchen, Ren drifted his fingers over the small pieces of tech that the family had left behind. His star pulsed under his skin and throbbed with the desire to be allowed out, to merge, and Ren gritted his teeth against a deluge. He allowed a trickle to seep from his fingertips, and it vibrated down his limbs and sought out the circuits and systems of the appliances. With the power came familiarity and comfort, and Ren controlled the flow easier with each passing moment. He didn’t feel as if he were drowning in a current or being helplessly swept away. In fact, flexing his star was like stretching a muscle, a good ache, and, when he reined it back in, he had minimal trouble. There was no overwhelming need to fix everything or kill anyone, which he counted a plus.
Asher had been right about Ren’s need to disconnect. Without the Star Stream in his head, Ren could think clearly. He was slotted in his body experiencing every hunger pang, every throb of his joints, and every stretch of his muscles. At the current moment, Ren wasn’t certain being able to feel everything was the gift it was supposed to be.
Ren went back into the main room. He and Jakob ate a meal from their packs. Ren toed his boots off and peeled his trousers down his legs. His skin was red and stinging from the combination of wet cold and sudden heat. He set out his wet clothes near the hearth. He wrapped himself in a blanket and curled up in a plush chair. They didn’t talk, and the darkness crept closer around them as the sun started its descent and the wind beat against the house. The wood creaked under the assault. The fire snapped and crackled. Ren pulled the blanket closer, tucking the corner under his bare feet, warding off the chill and the eerie atmosphere. He couldn’t help but imagine that he was a character in one of his mother’s stories, trespassing in a sacred place. With each passing moment, Ren was more certain he was in a room of ghosts.
Exhausted, warm, and fed, Ren let his eyes droop as he watched the sun slowly sink toward the horizon. He was half asleep when he heard it—a loud thump and then a rattle at the front window.
Ren snapped to instant wakefulness and sat up in the chair. Heart thumping hard and sitting still as stone, he strained to hear. Just when he had begun to think it was his imagination and had relaxed into the cushion, he heard it again.
“Jakob,” he whispered, tone harsh, panicked. “Wake up.”
Jakob stirred where he had slumped on a soft rug under a large quilt. He made a noise which was part snore and part shout.
“Be quiet,” Ren said, shooting to his feet. “I hear something.”
There was another loud noise, and then the door handle of the front door shook. It didn’t give, because Jakob had locked the knob and the deadbolt. There was another noise, and the stomp of footsteps retreating.
Ren shook, body trembling, as he watched the front door. Agonizing minutes passed. Ren relaxed his shoulders. A thump reverberated on the other side of the house. Ren whipped around. The handle on the back door began to turn.
Jakob inched close to Ren. “Please tell me you locked the back door.”
Ren gulped. “I didn’t.”
A gust of wind shook the house. The flames flickered, casting shadows along the walls.
“Maybe it’s North Roper.” Jakob attempted a hopeful tone, but his voice cracked.
“Or maybe it’s someone responsible for what happened at our village.”
The door pushed open, but stopped, caught on a rug by the door. A gust of wind blew inside, and goosebumps bloomed on Ren’s arms. The person on the other side struggled with the door, and Ren glimpsed a pulse gun in a gloved hand.
“Hide!” Ren said, shoving Jakob’s shoulder.
The door budged, and the rug gave way. Jakob dropped his blanket and took off, bare feet thumping across the wood floor.
Ren faced the intruder. He reached for his star; the power crackled at his fingertips like lightning in a storm. The hairs on his legs and arms rose. Blue bled into his vision, and he reached out and saw the mechanisms of the pulse gun as a blueprint.
The person stalked in, covered head to toe in a layer of snow and ice over a thick coat and scarf. Only a sliver of his face was visible, and his cheeks were flayed red from the wind. His green eyes glittered, and he stalked forward, undeterred when Ren’s power dismantled the weapon. The weapon lay in pieces on the floor, but the man kept coming. When Ren realized he wasn’t stopping, it was too late to flee, but he tried, staggering backward, tripping over the quilt Jakob left behind. His pulse raced; fear was tangible with the cold sweat at the back of his neck. Ren’s feet tangled, and he fell against a chair. He let out a strangled cry as he pushed out of the man’s grasp and stumbled to the staircase.
He made it up one step before the man grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him backward. His collar dug into his throat, cutting off his air, and he slipped. Grabbing the banister, Ren held on, desperate and afraid, in his last attempt at escape.
But the intruder was stronger. He pried Ren’s arms back, and then Ren was pressed hard against the wall so the back of his head knocked into it. Bruisingly tight, an arm pressed across his body. His chest heaved. He struggled weakly, gasping. The tips of his toes barely touched the wood floor. This was it! He was going to die at the hands of someone he didn’t even know. He had survived capture, the citadel, mercenaries, the Phoenix Corps, only to perish in an old farmhouse, a day away from possibly finding his family.
Then he was let go. He sagged on the wall; his knees were weak.
The man pulled the scarf away from his face. His mouth was turned down in a frown; his expression was absolutely livid. He hit Ren on the back of the head.
“You idiot!” Asher said. “You left the door unlocked. Do you want to be killed? You have no idea who or what is wandering around out there. Tracking you was depressingly easy. You could have at least tried to cover your tracks.”
Ren let his head thump on the wall. “Cogs, Ash! You scared the star right out of me.”
“And running up the stairs? Unless you were going to jump from a window, you would have had no escape. Plus, no boots. No trousers. For someone who ran away from people who were protecting him, you have done an abysmal job of trying to keep yourself alive.”
Ren slid to the floor so his bare legs stuck out. A flush worked up his neck. He was mortified to be caught half-naked, but relief won out over the humiliation.
“I could go on, but I am going to go lock the back door.” Asher went back the way he came, passing a closet door. He grabbed the handle and wrenched it open. “Predictable hiding place, Jakob.”
Ren laughed, giddy, as Jakob stepped out. Jakob shot a glare to Ren, which only made him chuckle harder as his fear morphed into lightheadedness.
The back door slammed, and Asher carried a pack into the main space. He stripped out of his own hat, scarf, gloves, and jacket. The snow clinging to Asher’s boots and trousers melted into puddles as he stood near the flames.
“Where the stars do you two think you are going, anyway?”
Jakob snatched his quilt from its heap and went back to his nest on the floor next to the fire. “None of your business.”
Once Ren gathered his wits, embarrassment welled through him, though Asher had seen Ren looking worse, and he quickly found his own blanket and wrapped up in it. He sat in his chair and huddled into the warmth. “Where are the others?”
“Heading toward Delphi, hopefully.” Asher warmed his hands over the fire and rubbed them. His fingers were red.
“They left?”
“Rowan is justifiably furious. She says she’ll meet us at Delphi and if she’s not there when we get there, to wait for her.”
“They let you g
o off alone?” Ren asked. He rested his cheek on his pulled-up knees.
“Ollie wanted to come,” Asher said. He unlaced his boots and stepped out of them. His socks had a hole in the toe. “But I made him escort Rowan and Penelope back to the ship. Not that I think they couldn’t take care of themselves, but because if Ollie came, then Penelope would want to come, too, and that would leave Rowan alone. She’d feel abandoned by her crew. And then I’d have to deal with that. So here I am.”
“You could’ve announced that it was you when you came through the door. You didn’t need to scare us,” Jakob snapped.
A slow, cruel smile bloomed across Asher’s lips. “What would have been the fun in that? Besides, you two deserved it, for sneaking off on a dumb mission for nothing.”
“It’s not for nothing,” Ren said, quietly. “And we know where we are going.”
Asher lifted an eyebrow. “You do, huh? Something you want to share?”
“Jakob found a note.”
“Stars, Ren! Why don’t you tell everyone? I’m sure my father wouldn’t mind since he wrote it in code.”
Ren gestured. The blanket slipped down his shoulder. “It’s Ash.”
Jakob gave Asher a narrowed-eye glare. “My father left a note. We have an idea about where my family is living and we’re going to check it out. You can go back to the space dock and wait for us there.”
“Like hell.”
“Ash,” Ren said.
“No. I’m not letting you two out of my sight, even if it means staying up all night in case you get it in your heads to sneak off again.”
Jakob snorted.
Ren sighed. “No need for that. You should rest. We leave at first light.”
Asher studied Ren, then nodded.
Jakob grumbled as he twisted in his nest to get comfortable. Ren grasped his blanket tighter. Asher settled down, careful of the small pools from the melted snow. Ren’s eyes drifted closed, and the last image he saw was the flames reflecting in Asher’s gold hair.