Beyond the Core (The Starborn Series Book 1)

by K. R. Cunningham

  “I know where we are,” Owen said. “There’s an inn not far from here, along the road.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I remember traveling up this way with Amias when I left White Oak.”

  “Good. We can lay low there for the night, then.”

  They walked along the road until the inn came into view, just as Owen had said. The sun rose as they approached, but they waited until the owner opened for the day before wandering inside.

  When they got to their room, Colt sighed as he took off his coat and boots. He cleaned and bandaged his leg where Rhielle had cut him, and Owen nursed his own scrapes.

  Owen still could not rip his thoughts away from Amias. Though he drank some water and scrubbed his dirty, raw hands in the wash basin, he refused the biscuit Colt handed him.

  “It does you no good to not eat,” Colt said.

  “I know, but right now I can’t.”

  “At least get some sleep, then.”

  “I want to talk about what happened.”

  “I don’t,” Colt spat, his voice harsh.

  Owen swallowed down the lump swelling in his throat and attempted to eat some of the biscuit.

  After a brief moment of tense silence, Colt cleared his throat. “Sorry. Just drained, mate. I think we’ve lost them for now. We should get some sleep.”

  Owen nodded and laid down on the bed. His mind was more than exhausted. He was so tired that he felt if he went to sleep, he would not wake back up.

  When Colt climbed in beside him and laid down on his stomach, Owen stiffened. He thought for a moment about taking the floor instead, but the bed was big enough for them both, and the warmth of Colt’s body next to him was comforting. Right now the last thing he wanted was to be alone, and he was too tired to move.

  Colt snored, and Owen closed his eyes, comforted by his presence, but images of the Core Wielder and Amias flashed behind his eyelids. Dreams of Rhielle burned within his mind, along with a shadowed man with a familiar face. Several times during the night, Owen opened his eyes to look over at Colt to make sure he was still there.

  Finally, he said a silent prayer to Arcan and he fell into a deep sleep.

  Owen woke at noon. His body trembled against the cold air as he got up from the bed. He pulled on his boots before lighting a fire.

  He sat on the rug before the hearth and ate the meal the inn provided—cinnamon oatmeal with sweet bread. Despite the sick feeling in his stomach when he thought of Amias, he could not ignore his body’s need to eat.

  Colt joined him not long after, warming his hands near the fire as he sat beside him. “We can set out soon,” he started, eating his fill of porridge. “We stick around any longer, they may find us.”

  “To Edgewater?”

  “Right, mate.”

  “What about money? I have my own, but what about you? How much did we rent this room for?” Owen asked.

  “You can get the next place we come to. We’ll use our coin sparingly.”

  As Owen stared into the roaring flames, he wondered if Amias was still alive. He thought of how he had channeled his power against the Wielder to get away. The man had been tall and his hair had been dark. He had reminded him of the Wielder from his childhood. He was certain it was him. Owen looked down at his hands and turned them over, remembering how hot they’d felt when the energy surged through him.

  “Owen, you hear me?”

  Coming out of his thoughts, Owen looked up. “What?”

  “Just wondering if we should try and make our way to the border after we leave Edgewater or catch a ship to Avathon.” Colt took out the map that Amias had used before and glanced at it.

  “Avathon,” Owen sighed. “I honestly never thought so far ahead when you and Amias showed up at my door. I guess I didn’t think I’d really leave Milarc for another country. And one so big, at that.”

  Colt raised his brows. “I’ll make sure to put you up in a small town, then. Avathon is a lot different. Lots more thieves, especially in the valleys and bigger towns.”

  “Put me up?” Owen’s brow creased.

  “Right, find you a decent place to stay.”

  “You mean you’re going to leave me once we get there?”

  For a long moment, Colt hesitated. He glanced at Owen and cleared his throat. “I haven’t decided yet what I’m going to do. Amias told me to get you out of Milarc. This Alliance business of his, you’ll have to figure it out.”

  “But I know nothing of Avathon. I won’t have enough money to get through winter.”

  “And I’m supposed to provide for you?” Colt’s voice was harsh. “I’ll get you to where you need to be, to a safe place in Avathon, but I owe you nothing after. I’ve gotten in over my head enough as it is with Wielders.”

  Owen nodded and ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep the nervous knot in his stomach from tightening. He did not want to be alone. It terrified him to think of being without someone, anyone. He needed company; he craved it. And just as he had feared, the man with him now was going to leave him. It was a heavy weight for his mind. If Amias had still been around, he would have felt braver, but now that he was gone, he had nothing left but a companion that would be gone before long. And now he did not know if he could continue with Amias’s plan to find the long-lost rebel group. He did not know where to begin, and he would need money if he were to continue traveling.

  He felt lost.

  “I understand,” Owen said. If he had to go it alone after leaving Milarc, he felt it may be better to go after Amias instead, should the man still be alive. He was willing to take the risk to find out.

  “Right. Let’s get going, then,” Colt said.

  As Owen pulled on his coat, a hollow feeling formed in his stomach. Colt had hurt him, but he acted as if the man’s words did not bother him and continued as if nothing had happened.

  When they were ready, they left and traveled south.

  “Guess we’ll stay off the main road,” Colt said. “There’s a guard post up ahead.”

  Owen focused on a blue light in the distance. Guard posts in Milarc were often marked with a lantern painted in different colors. For the region of Torke, the color had always been blue.

  “Should we go back and cut through another way?” Owen asked.

  “Let’s cut through the fields.”

  They avoided the main road until they closed in along the sea. From there they would take the coast east to Edgewater. The drizzle made the air colder. Owen shivered and drew up the hood of his coat as the wind blew inland.

  “Is it as rainy in Avathon as it is here?” Owen asked.

  “No. There are storms, but the sky isn’t always so dreary. It’s warmer, and summer lasts a bit longer.”

  “Were you born there?”

  “I was. In the southwest region.”

  “When did you come across Amias?”

  Colt cleared his throat before he said, “Gods, it was, what, about eight years back? I was seventeen when I met him.”

  “How did you meet him?”

  Colt hesitated, but eventually he said, “He got me out of a scuffle in a pub. I was drunk—very drunk. Cheated in a card game and got taken out back. A couple guys, they beat me senseless, stabbed me with a knife. Hardly remember it. It was so dark and muddy. But I remember the beating stopped. I remember Amias’s face and the warmth of a fire.”

  “Is that where your scar is from? On your side.”

  “You noticed?” Colt glanced at him.

  “Hard not to. I mean, it isn’t an ugly scar or anything. I just was curious about it when I saw it before.”

  Colt smirked. “Right, my big ‘battle wound.’ From being an ass in a shady pub in Nowhere, Avathon. I was nothing. Suppose I still am. But Amias took me back to his place and helped me sober up, patched up my wound. Next thing I knew I was headed to Milarc with him. He helped me with some jobs, and I ended up in the north and just settled. We became friends and he liked to visit often. I didn’t know
he was a Wielder until now, but he hadn’t acted like he was neither. Told me he was a scholar. I wasn’t keen on coming along on this trip, which is why I was a bit harsh with him at times. But I owed him for saving my life, so I agreed to help him this time.”

  “That’s why he didn’t pay you.” Owen bit back a smile.

  “Right, yeah. He had a wild card and this was it.”

  Owen inhaled the cold ocean breeze. “So then after you got here, you decided to just stay?”

  “Right, I did. Couldn’t go back to Avathon.”

  “Why not?”

  Colt went quiet, saying nothing.

  “Were you wanted?” Owen asked.

  “No.”

  “No money?”

  “Was nothing like that.”

  “Then what?”

  “Why do you want to know, huh? Your curious mind just won’t shut up?”

  “Yes, I’m very curious.” Owen cocked his head.

  Colt peered over at him and shook his head. Then he sighed and nodded inland. “I like it here. In Milarc.”

  Owen followed his eyes, soaking in the rolling green hills in the distance and the dark rocks below where the ocean water lapped at the sand. He smiled sheepishly. “I knew you loved it here. I could tell.”

  “Could not.” Colt half laughed.

  “I did.”

  “Nah.”

  “I knew the day I saw you standing over the cliff at my house. You love hunting beneath the trees and you never complain about being outdoors. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You’re a regular romantic among nature.”

  “Call it what you want. We can break to eat now.”

  As evening approached, they ate a few bruised plums from Berry Farms. It would take a few days or more to get to Edgewater on foot.

  “I don’t have much food left in my bag but a few apples and potatoes,” Owen began. “Amias had most of our meat and bread. Should we hunt?”

  “Nothing around here but the hills. I know trees. Wish there was a stream nearby to fish from.”

  Owen sensed something coming from the road that reminded him of the oncoming Outrider at the beginning of their journey. He looked down the path and hesitated. The more he kept his mind open to his power, the more energy that came to him.

  “I still got a bit of walk in me, mate. We can keep on until sundown if you want,” Colt said, coming up next to him.

  “I think we should get off the road,” Owen said abruptly.

  “Why?”

  “Just a feeling. It’s not safe.”

  Just as he said it, Colt cursed under his breath.

  “What is it?” Owen asked.

  “Guards up ahead. A good distance away, but they’re bound to be suspicious.”

  Owen squinted his eyes until he was able to make out two smudgy figures walking along the path. “You must have better eyesight than I do.”

  Colt pulled him toward the edge of the cliff. “Come on, let’s get down to the beach.”

  “How?”

  “We’ll find a way down,” Colt said. “Look, there’s a path there that leads down.”

  Owen bit his lip as he followed after Colt down a slope in the cliff. The rocky incline was steep, so he inched his way carefully along.

  “It’s a bit rocky right here—watch your step,” Colt told him.

  Once at the bottom, they hugged the side of the cliff, but when the sound of boots arrived overhead, they stopped where they were.

  With chattering teeth, Owen drew in close to his companion.

  Colt looked up the cliff and pointed. “They’re right above us,” he whispered.

  Owen’s exhaustion made him waver. He leaned against Colt as they waited for the guards to pass. Laughs could be heard from above, as well as the scuffle of boots against the dirt. Eventually, it quieted and the guards passed by without noticing them.

  “You want to stop for a bit?” Colt asked.

  “Yes,” Owen said.

  He sat down against plush grass that had grown against the rocky face of the cliff. Taking out his blanket, Owen pulled it around himself to block the chill sweeping off the ocean. He could not shake the cold no matter how much it bothered him, but bracing the bitter cold was better than risking a walk on the main road with guards about. He would simply have to weather it for now.

  Colt sat beside him and spread his blanket over both of them. “I hate the damn cold,” he muttered. “Nothing but cracked hands and spending the last of your coin on expensive food.”

  “Is that why you hunt?” Owen huffed warm breath into his hands and rubbed them.

  “It is. Costs nothing to hunt and clean and cook your own food. Have to keep a quiver full of arrows, but even those aren’t hard to make given the right resources.”

  “Gardening is the same, you know.” Owen shivered before he went on, “Back in Emberton, I—I had a few plots behind the house. S-seeds cost little, but tilling the ground and k-keeping away rodents is hard.”

  “I had a garden. Peppers. Gave up on the others. When the animals came for them one night, I decided to hunt them instead.” Colt leaned back and closed his weary eyes. “See if you can catch a bit of sleep. If it gets too cold in the night we can get up and keep walking.”

  Owen leaned back and closed his eyes. The sound of the waves lulled him to sleep, but then the cold woke him. The cycle went on this way through the night.

  They woke at dawn and ate tough bread and a few mushrooms, the last of their provisions from Brom. As Owen finished his bread, he pulled off his boots.

  Taking his journal from his bag, he walked gently across the cold, hard sand to the edge of the water and gazed at the ocean with longing eyes. He loved the way the waves rocked and clapped against one another, and he loved how the dark sand beneath his bare feet softened under the gentle gurgle of an approaching wave. It was cold but refreshing, and the warmth of the sun was much needed for his sore body. Broken pieces of driftwood and scattered shells littered the area, and birds twittered behind him. He drank in the crisp, salty air, letting the wind blow his hair back and whip at his shirt as he held out his arms. Here, on the beach, he felt as if he was back in Emberton. He felt free.

  But when he looked back at the cliff, he found it to be much lower than that of the ones he was used to, and no house sat perched against the sky. His chest tightened as homesickness set in, a pang of sadness quelling in his throat. The guilt of leaving Amias behind followed after. Then he caught Colt staring at him. The man gave him a broad smile, showing his teeth. Owen turned back around and rolled his eyes, but he bit his lip and smiled.

  Feeling better, he opened his journal and sketched the beach and cliff. He paced up and down along the shore, letting the icy water splash against his legs.

  This journey has been hard so far, he wrote. Amias is gone. I’m not sure if I’ll ever see him again. Colt treats me as if I’m an obligation rather than a person, but I like him, and I think he could make a good friend, though he confuses me. Just when I think I’ve made progress with him, he pulls away and shuts me out. I don’t want to leave Milarc, but I want to do what Amias intended for me. And with Wielders after me now, I feel it may be best to leave the country. But I can’t help but want to go after Amias. He’s been there for me for as long as I can remember. I have so many things I want to ask him, and if he’s alive then I want him by my side going into Avathon. I don’t want to be alone. I can’t help but want someone near me all the time, in some way . . . I haven’t made my decision yet. Despite having this gift from the gods, I don’t feel very powerful. I feel helpless. I don’t know what I am even doing.

  He looked up and took in a deep breath. On his walk back to the cliff, he picked up a piece of wood from the sand and sat down. He placed it on the ground and looked at it, then focused his eyes on it and put one of his hands out.

  “Don’t you think you should practice with something smaller?” Colt asked.

  Owen snapped his head up, confused. “What?”

 
“Start with something smaller.” Colt picked up a small pebble from the sand and placed it in front of him.

  “Haven’t I already done this? I moved the nut in Birchwood. And I sent that Wielder to the ground.”

  “Right, you did, but you were sort of fueled by anger.”

  “I wasn’t angry. I was trying to protect you and Amias.”

  “Fine. Move the wood, then.”

  Owen recalled the night he had moved the acorn in the wood. He focused on the driftwood. Stretching his hand out, he opened his mind to the power within. A tingling started first in his chest, then spread out to his limbs, and finally to his hands. Focusing his energy on the wood, he lifted it in the air. It shook as it rose, but he was able to get it level with his eyes.

  When Owen swept his hand slowly across, the wood followed his motion. It was as if the energy that flowed from his hand had gripped it and the two were attached. He kept the piece of wood afloat, about to move something else, when a noise caught him off guard. He jerked his arm down, and the wood dropped to the ground.

  Two men came into his view from around the side of the cliff, holding loaded crossbows. They looked like common folk.

  Out of instinct, Owen grabbed his dagger, but one of the men shot a bolt his way before he could pull it out. The bolt landed between his legs.

  “I suggest you don’t move,” said the thinner man of the two.

  On his knees in the sand, Owen looked to Colt, who held his arms up as he stood.

  “They fit the description on the bounty,” the other man said. “Two males. Both young. One tall, the other short.”

  “Not that short,” Owen muttered.

  “You are pretty short, mate, but I won’t hold it against you. I know you can’t help it,” Colt said.

  Owen gave him a sour look.

  The two men looked at each other before the heavier one out of the two came forward and took Owen by the arm.

  “What are you doing?” Owen started.

  “We’re under suspicion that you’re wanted by the Legion. We’ll be taking you into the post nearby.”

  “You can’t arrest us,” Colt scoffed. “You don’t look like you have the authority to do such a thing.”