The scent of wind from faraway places passed through a lone standing set of woven oak twigs sprouting from the fallen leaves. The entrance twisted into the sky taller than Quinn and Abbott combined. The ends of the oak twigs tangled into the peak of a mountain. Together, they formed an arch— the portal into Evinar. Craved deep in the oak bark was the X marking matching the stone.
“I smell salt,” Abbott noticed. A vapor covered the curled skin of his lips.
“The coast,” Quinn informed. “We call it the Sea of the Serpent.”
“How grand,” he confessed, not interested in what led to the name’s origin.
The Archway stood for thousands of years— long before the bloody history of England. Be that as it may, it was just a much of a secret then, as it was now. Some heard whispers of its existence and spent their lives searching for it, but never did. The secret to finding the arch was dependent on the person who sought it. The journey from Evinar came without obstacles, but from this side, it was not so. Unless you had passed through it before, you would never discover it. An oblivious set of eyes can only discover what is meant to, a rule cast during its creation.
“Ara?” Quinn said aloud. “Are you coming?”
Keeping a distance between the protective layers of the clouds, Ara loathed the sun’s blinding light. But she came as commanded and traveled through the air with speed. Her wings twitched in exhaustion as she rested back on Quinn’s arm.
“You must be tired,” she said. Ara hooted back in response.
“Has she always been your pet?” Abbott asked.
“Pet!” Ara rang in Quinn’s head. It was an insult as she nipped at the end of his finger. Quinn attempted smoothing the feathers on her neck.
"Ouch!"
“She hates when people say that,” Quinn said in a rueful tone.
“Then what is she? A bird that’s just taken a liking towards you?” Abbott’s sucked the blood from his fingernail.
“You could say that. Look, a Waxy Cap.”
A little umbrella sprouted from the base of the Archway and popped off with light. The hunt would begin shortly.
“They’ve always grown by the entrance,” Quinn informed. “It’s where my papa planted them.” A cool smile rested on her face as she said that. “It’s what began your festival.”
Seeing them in the flesh, Abbott felt no temptation to take one. Under different circumstances, perhaps he would have, like to kiss Violet again. But that feeling had long since passed. The thought of looking at the world behind him made no sense anymore. There was a new undiscovered one beyond this pathway. It gave him caterpillars in his stomach that transformed into butterflies with no place to escape. “We just pass through it?” he said eagerly. “That’s it?”
“No,” Quinn said in a dry tone. “You must sacrifice blood from your body. It needs to be fresh—from a wound.” Her pearly white teeth revealed a half-smile. Sarcasm. “I’m only kidding. Papa used to tell me that as a child all the time. Makes me smile.”
Unsure and perplexed, Abbott returned the look and asked his question once more. Quinn explained there were no requirements to pass through.
“So anyone could travel through?” he asked.
“If they could even find this place,” she explained. “Remember, it doesn’t want to be found.”
Abbott reached for Quinn’s earthy cold hand as if it was instinctual. Her cloak fluttered in the breeze. You just walked through, he thought to himself.
In one last breath, he took in the sights around him. This could be the last time he’d be in these woods. He wanted to remember what they smelt like, how the soil looked, how the trees sang, and how his mother would pace through the fallen leaves with him as a boy.
The sun was well in the sky by now. Sweat wetted their brows. Just walk right through, Abbott told himself one more time anxiously. The Archway stood unmoved in the wavering wind with a welcoming hymn. And with an unannounced tug from Quinn, Abbott left the ordinary world of Woolbury and passed into Evinar. A jittery chill ran the length of his neck, and Quinn gripped his hand even tighter so he had no chance to change his mind.
He said farewell.
13
The Tariff Valley was too quiet even for Elise.
A channel of canyons cut the terrain like an ax wound. Life was scarce in these parts, except for the emerald studded cacti or the sconirsh sand scorpions. A thick curtain of sand brushed over her golden skin while she stared off into the distance. The sand was rooted deep into the lines of her scalp. Elise hid under a thin cloak of white linen for shade and to allow the drifting winds a place to congregate. She was barefoot and carried a satchel stocked with the appropriate provisions for this expedition.
A stray brown hair blew freely as the reminisce of a sandstorm wreaked havoc far away. Its force echoed in the dry wasteland.
The Aryian Desert was no place for a princess.
But here she was.
The looming fear of death from dehydration or the punishment of the heat were the last things to cross her mind. No. Elise was a princess by birthright but a deserter by choice. She relished this place with intent as she was wandering through the sand and rock for her salvation.
According to the chart she’d stolen from her Father’s private study, a set of ruins would be at the base of this ridge. They would be invisible to the eye. Buried in the sand, she collectively alleged.
Elise ran her index finger over the parchment scroll. It had to be here. This was where all the mountain peaks converged into one, the Bronze Spear as it was known. That would reveal the Temple of Aryia's location.
It almost seemed foolish to wander to a place that had seen such horrors in its past. She’d heard the stories. Zane’s last stand against the Upper Kingdoms happened there. It’s where he supposedly died, but it had been vacant for many moons. Lost to the sand.
The Temple was the presumed resting place of a lost broadsword. But it was no ordinary blade. This blade assisted in a campaign that conquered the Upper Kingdoms. It was worth far more than any amount of gold in Evinar.
Elise had come to accept a contract to recover the artifact many moons ago. The payment would be enough to escape as far east as the land allowed to avoid her menacing family. Elise was disgraced by the mere thought of her namesake and made a spike grow in her heart. The people of the capitol suffered and starved while her father sat locked up in his tower blaming others for the death of her mother. She could barely show her face in the city any longer.
The thought of disappearing to uncharted lands in the east comforted her for a moment. All she needed to do was find Zane’s blade, and all the adventures of lost loot hunting could come to an end. Her name would no longer hold a weight over her head, and she would no longer be at the mercy of her shame.
“For the birds,” she muttered to herself. The northern winds were shifting, and the sandstorm had changed its course. It was headed straight for the ruins—where she was. She’d need to find cover until it passed, but she was in the desert. There wouldn’t be much in the line of shelter. Luckily, a crack where a small canyon was, invited itself to her eye. “There,” she said to herself. There she could escape the elements, and once the storm passed, examine the ruins to take her golden ticket back to its buyer.
Elises felt like a worm as she crawled inside the mouth of the canyon. By that point, the storm's sharp winds were already brushing against her face. It would kidnap all of her before long if she didn't find protection.
The canyon was an arms width wide and as deep as Elise was tall. A faint stream once ran through this channel, but it had long since withered away. Any trace of water was gone. The valley bed was dry and crumbled under Elise’s calloused toes, but it offered a place of solitude for the storm of her mind to find peace.
Zane’s broadsword had not been easy to track down. For the last three lunar cycles, Elise traveled endless forests, boated over raging rivers, and climbed mountains in order to get here. But the desert would not be what s
topped her. No. She was getting close. She could sense it.
Elise dug into her satchel and retrieved the end of a stale baguette and a small leather flask of water. She’d run out of food if she didn’t find the sword in a day or so. And this effort would be for nothing.
After eating the bread and nearly finishing the contents of the flask, Elise dug through her bag for something else. It was a narrow silver nail with a set of bunny teeth that hung from its end— a key. Elise brought the key to her nose closely and observed it as she always had. It was a keepsake from her mother. But the key’s purpose had long since been lost to her memory. Perchance, if she stared at it enough, the secrets to the key would whisper into her ear. But they didn’t. And Elise stared at the key for a moment longer before stuffing it back into her bag until next time, leaving the smell of iron to linger inside her nose.
The storm carried through the landscape and over the canyon’s opening. Once the whipping winds died, Elise emerged from the crack, and to her amazement, there they were— the ruins she had been looking for. The Temple of Aryia was in her gaze.
And with that, she could see her freedom closer than ever before.
All she had to do was find the sword.
14
Rose’s rickety cart bobbed along the narrow pathway at a turtle’s pace.
Billy sat on the box seat next to Rose while clutching the iron railing with anxiety. If he let go, he would bounce out and perhaps be left behind.
There was an assortment of whimsical birds gathered to rest upon the flowery print of Rose’s lap. Collectively, they begged for an offering. A pouch of stale bread crumbs sat beneath the box seat. Billy had noticed it the second he sat down.
Rose dug inside and sprinkled a handful or two onside the road and waved goodbye to her feathered friends. “Until next time,” she smiled. The birds chirped and paid thanks once more as they bobbed their heads through the dirt, cobbling viciously.
Leaving Woolbury was not a hard decision for Billy. Ms. Menagerie sought to that. But the fact Violet had chosen to stay, came with a shock. Some people were destined for great adventures while others for simply nothing, he told himself, looking as familiarity bled into uncertainty.
Deep down his decision was fueled by something greater. Yes, he has an orphan, and the only person he could fondly think of was Abbott, but he had lied to gain the heart of Violet. Billy knew Abbott's fondness for her. It only made him want her that much more. But now, he felt guilt. He did not have Violet or Abbott. And there was no telling where his friend was now. His entire house burnt to the ground. He imagined the financial turmoil that would put his household in with remorse. Perhaps, he should have stayed to help them. But it was too late.
“You ever left Woolbury before?” Rose asked, shinning an apple in the crease of her elbow.
“When I was a boy,” Billy admitted. “But I faintly remember that.”
Rose offered him a yellow apple, and he sunk his teeth into its soft flesh. It was sweet and crunched in his mouth nicely.
“You’re not scrawny. So you’ve been properly fed and cared for,” Rose said, munching in between words. “We’ll need some strength here soon. What hidden talents do you possess?”
Billy thought for a moment. What talents did he have? He was good at cleaning, but he hoped Rose would not put him up to that. There was nothing particular that came to his mind. “I’m good with a sword and have knowledge of the outdoors,” he half-lied.
“Good,” she said, taking another bite from her apple. “May come in handy with where we’re going.”
“And where would that be?”
“Once we’ve made it through, I plan to meet a trader in the capitol,” Rose tossed the darkened core into the woods for a deer to finish. “I mean to sell some crystals to him. He’s the superstitious kind looking for material to trap energy inside.”
“Does it work?” he asked, not having the slightest clue what that would be good for. They had already discovered that in other parts of the world, electricity.
“Absolutely not,” she smirked, swinging her hand through the air. “But it puts the coin in my pocket. That is why I came to your village. Your people love my stones. I tell them they cure warts, or yield them good crops the following year. They buy them all up before I finish my sentences.”
Billy’s mouth curved into a smile. Clever, he thought. “What’s your capitol like? Does a Queen rule it?”
Rose erupted into a primal roar. “A Queen! I wish. Heavens no— there’s a King,” she said. “It would be the end of the world before you saw a woman sit on the throne in my world. Here, you are so much more civilized and much more intelligent. Barbaric men still think they know best. It's a miracle they aren't poisoned by their servants after the rule they've to lead. What's to say a desperate power seeker doesn't lop off their head in slumber? A Queen would be a godsend.”
The conversation went silent for a moment as Billy rendered another question.
The wheels of the cart squeezed as they rolled through a grassy field and over a riverside stream. The crates in the back jostled about as if they were dancing. They'd dip in and out of the forest from time to time. This was all foreign territory now. If Billy decided to turn back now, he would be lost in strange lands.
Rose flogged Lapis with her leather wand as she drifted towards a hilly bank for grass. “Not there yet!”
The better part of the day drifted away just like the leaves in the rustling wind. Billy found himself dozing off due to the lack of sleep. His head slumped over onto Rose’s shoulder unannounced as he watched the back of his eyelids periodically.
The cart halted in a jerk.
“We there?” Billy asked, removing the sleep from his eyes.
“No. Keep quiet. If they ask, you’re my nephew, got it?” Rose’s jaw tightened as she squeezed the leather reins in her hand. "Got it?”
“Yes,” he agreed with unsettled nerves.
There was a pair parked off to the side of the trail. They were in the process of skinning the pelt from a rabbit. Rose noticed how sickly their horses looked. The rider’s saddles had been removed, allowing their horses to rest while they ate. Hard lines of bone stuck out from their midsections with large patches of missing skin from their necks where the saddles had been synched.
Even to Billy, the scene was not a pleasant one. He’d worked as a farmer’s hand for a season or two and taken care of the Cuffel’s livestock. They had a pony named Brutus that he’d grown quite fond off and even at his elder age, he was healthier than the state of these mares. By the looks of it, they were being starved and abused. A hot mouthful of bile splattered against the dirt as Billy saw their knee caps.
“Whoa!” A grim man said as he stepped in front of the cart. “And who passes before us?” he snapped. His hands were stained red, and he held a small dagger. “Early to return, isn’t it? The festival begins today, does it not?”
“A business opportunity has requested my immediate attendance.” Rose’s complexion was as white as snow. “What kind of merchant would I be if customers were turned away?”
The explanation came of no worth. “Who is he?”
“He’s my nephew— he lifts heavy objects, you know how bones become frail with older age.” Rose kicked Billy's foot in silence.
“That doesn’t explain who he is,” the man's eyes narrowed. His companion approached. “What are you a merchant of?”
“Who’s he?” Rose asked, pointing to a bound body.
“That’s none of your business! Tell me who the boy is or I’ll make you.”
The bound body was motionless.
“Look, we can sit here, and you can ask us questions all day. I’ve told you a business opportunity requests my attendance. I do not believe you hold any authority to continue questioning me. I know the laws, as should you.”
They spat at the dirt. “We’re not governed by laws.”
“That’s a pity,” Rose muttered under her breath.
“S
earch the cart!”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Rose raised from her perch, a man’s height taller. “The crystals are in my hull will curse you where you stand, down to the very air your lungs breathe. If you open just one of those crates, your eyes will burn from their sockets, and your swords will cut your throats while you dream.”
“Are you threatening me!”
“No. Promising.” The pendant around Rose’s neck started to glow a bright red. “You’ve been warned.”
The companion retreated in fear.
Superstitious items were not to be meddled with.
“Fine, witch,” he snipped with glaring eyes.“Attend to your business.”
“Yah!” Rose commanded Lapis. The ox let out a dull groan and marched. She did not speak again until they were out of sight of their interrogators. She was lucky to be alive. They both were. That was not her first run-in with those types of people. Being a merchant, she'd prepared for far worst to happen. Older women posed no immediate threats, but with a well-witted tongue, she could talk her way out of just about anything.
“That reminds me, never under any circumstances, look into the crates. You will hurt yourself,” Rose said, looking sternly at Billy. “It would be painful to see what would become of you.”
He bobbed his red hair, still processing what had happened. Was this a good decision now, knowing what threats lie on the road? He did not know and he did not want to give it any more thought.
“You’ll begin to learn how often that occurs on the road. We will follow the Winding River until we reach the village of Fayhollow. There, our minds can rest a little bit easier.”
Billy nodded in acknowledgment. If he wanted to make it in this new world, there had to be risks. He started studying Rose’s mannerisms and dialect. If he wanted to fit in, who better than to observe someone who lives there.
The sky was dark by the time they went through the arch, but when Billy saw the midnight sky, he knew he’d made a good decision.
The Shadow of Our Stars: The Tales of Evinar Page 10