by F. T. Lukens
Ren pulled out a chair from a large, decorative-but-sturdy, table. A chandelier hung overhead, where its crystals flung tiny rainbows on the ceiling and the walls. A broken cabinet stood nearby which, by the look of the mess on the floor, had once been filled with fine dishes. Ren sat stiffly, imagining fancy, stilted dinners, complete with rich foods and wine. Then he dragged the chair to the window and joined Jakob in staring at the landscape.
“Well?” Jakob prodded. “Are you going talk to me about how it’s better if we leave? How we’re selfish for wanting to stay here and risk Rowan’s reputation and their livelihood?”
“No.”
“I’m not going back, not until I’ve found my father, not until I’ve found Sorcha. They can’t make me. And if you want to join them and go do whatever it is the Phoenix Corps wants you to, then go. I’ll be fine here.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
Jakob rubbed his forehead. His brown hair stuck up in the back. His skin looked pale, even in the warm, yellow light. He shivered, since the room was much colder than the den, and tucked his coat tighter around his body. He looked fragile, as if he might break into shards like the china at their feet.
“You’re not?” He turned and swept his gaze up and down Ren’s frame. “Are you in your right mind? Or are you addled?”
“I’m better.” Ren swallowed, knowing everyone had realized he wasn’t correct while on the Star Stream—everyone but him. “I’m not… fixed. But I’m better being away from the ship.”
Jakob nodded. “Then what’s the plan? Are we heading out on our own?”
“Yes. I think my mother and stepfather escaped. I think… my mother’s keepsake box was gone and so were the emergency credits we hid in the kitchen.”
“I think my father and sisters fled, too. Their rooms are destroyed but things are missing that only they would care about.”
Ren had forgotten Jakob had sisters. He didn’t talk much about them. They were younger, still in school. Ren didn’t remember their names, but he did remember Jakob’s account of being captured, how he’d run to draw soldiers away, to protect a group of younger children.
“Do you have any idea where they might have gone?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find them, even if I have to search the whole countryside. And no one is getting in my way. Clear enough?”
“Yeah, Jakob. I’m with you.”
Jakob cleared his throat. “Liam?”
“He’s not here.”
“Right.”
“We should get some rest. We’ll sneak out in a few hours, when the others are asleep.”
“Do you think they’ll follow?”
Ren’s gut twisted. “No. And if they do, they don’t know the area like we do. They won’t find us.”
“Not even Asher?” Jakob raised his eyebrows. “He’s your protector. He’s your friend.”
“He’s my jailer.” Ren needed to remember that. Even if their relationship was being repaired, Asher held allegiance to the Phoenix Corps. And the Corps wanted Ren locked away near Perilous Space. They would never allow Ren to gallivant across the Erden landscape looking for his family. He was only here to reset, to detox from the thrall of the star. They didn’t care about him. They only cared about what he could do for them or against them.
“He’ll look for you.”
Ren didn’t believe that. “Come on.” Ren stood. “We don’t want to raise suspicion by being gone too long.”
Jakob nodded and glanced back to the window. He pressed his fingers to cold glass, leaving smudge marks. “We’ll find them.”
“Yeah, we will.”
Ren didn’t mention the graves. There was no point in undermining Jakob’s belief, his hope. Jakob did stupid things when he was desperate. Jakob couldn’t find anyone if he was dead.
* * *
After a hurried dinner of dried meat from their packs and water from the canteens, Ren curled up in a nest of blankets on top of one of the mattresses. The softness was murder on his back. He didn’t take off his boots and kept his feet off the end of the mattress and on the floor, but it was hard not to fall into a deep sleep with the crackling of the fire, the gentle hush of the snow outside, a full stomach, and warm, heavy covers. The mattress Ren had chosen was on the outskirts of the circle, and no one questioned it. Jakob hung back and checked the locks on the doors before he found his own spot at the edge of the group.
Asher was the last to settle. He stretched out on the couch. He toed off his boots and flung an arm over his eyes. Ren studied him, as Asher’s body slowly relaxed into the cushions and his breaths evened out when he gave into sleep. Ren had seen this when they were in the dungeon together, when they were on The Nomad escaping Erden, when they stayed up too late in the common area of the Star Stream. Knowing he might not see it again, Ren committed the image of Asher to memory: the gold of his hair, the slope of his nose, the peaceful curl of his fingers, the slight bend of his knee.
Amid the ambient sounds, including Ollie’s snores, Ren closed his eyes, sighed, and slipped into a light doze.
It seemed only a few minutes had passed before Ren was woken by a shake to his shoulder. Finger to his lips, Jakob stood over him. He had a pack over one shoulder and wore a heavy black coat and a hat pulled down over his ears. He handed Ren a similar coat, and Ren shrugged into the thick fabric. Once he had it zipped, Jakob passed him gloves and a hat.
The fire had burned low. Asher lay curled into himself under a blanket. Rowan and Penelope hadn’t stirred, huddled together under blankets on the floor near Asher. Ollie’s snores had ceased, and Ren found Ollie propped up on his elbows with his brown eyes reflecting the firelight.
Ren froze. Jakob noticed and his body stiffened.
A silent staring contest ensued. No one moved. Ollie’s mouth turned down in a frown; his eyebrows raised. Ren gave him a shrug and tried to convey his apology with his expression. Ren didn’t know what Ollie saw or if he understood the driving need for both Jakob and Ren to at least look farther.
A log cracked in the fireplace. Rowan stirred, rolling around in her comforter, before snorting and falling back into sleep.
Ollie nodded once at Ren and lay back down.
Ren didn’t dare breathe. His muscles were tight and cramped, as he and Jakob crept out of the room and into the kitchen, down a hallway to a pantry, and then out a back door. Jakob closed it softly behind him and ensured it had locked.
The clouds had cleared; the broken moon was bright. It lit up the snow, and what Ren could see of the village looked like a painting, a tranquil scene of rustic life, and not the site of a horrible tragedy. The air was cold and crisp and burned Ren’s lungs as he took a relieved breath that they had come this far.
Silently, Jakob and Ren moved away from the mansion. Jakob didn’t look back, but kept his shoulders straight and his eyes forward. The only sound was the crunch of their boots in the snow, but even that was hushed.
They found the familiar path that led them out of the village and curved toward some outlying farms. Having learned from his and Asher’s trek across the countryside, Ren hopped down into the ravine beside it and pulled Jakob down with him. Ren gestured for Jakob to follow, and together they ducked into the trees that lined the road.
The branches bowed under the weight of the snow and blocked the light of the moon and the stars. It was slower going, and they had to step more carefully than if they were on the trail, but their tracks would be harder to find and they blended in wearing their dark clothes.
They trudged through the wood, keeping the path in sight to their right. The village disappeared behind them. A farmhouse, large but rundown, appeared in front of them. As they neared, Ren made out broken windows and a door barely holding on to its hinges.
Abandoned.
They passed it and kept going. Hours went by. The sun rose; darkn
ess gave way to a slow brightening of the sky. Ren stopped to watch as it crested over the horizon: dawn breaking magnificent, the landscape awash in pinks and golds.
Jakob bumped into him. “What are you stopped for?” His voice was muffled behind the collar of his coat.
“I forgot what sunrise looked like.” As much as Ren loved space, the terrifying beauty of the stars dotted in the black, he couldn’t deny the warm splendor of the planet waking up.
“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.”
“Astut
e 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.