The Dark Passenger (Book 1)

by Joshua Thomas

  The room was plain, but the bed was lush, covered in layers of sheets and blankets, and he could imagine burrowing as deep as he liked on a cold night. A week before, Edwin would have wanted nothing more than a room of his own in a quiet house. But in that moment, with the villagers searching for him and Walt knowing more about what he was than he did, all he wanted to do was talk to his spirit or try to find answers in his mother’s book. Across the room stood a large window hiding behind heavy drapes, and he crossed the room and took a peek at the road below.

  Suddenly Walt’s hand was on his shoulder. “Hurry, get away from the window. Close the door and keep it locked until I get back.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Sam is back,” Walt replied, already at the door and talking fast. “There’s more than one view of our family’s legacy. It’s complicated. Don’t unlock the door until I come back.”

  Walt closed the door, and a second later Edwin heard him running down the staircase. Edwin turned the metal key and the bolt clicked into place. The wood floor squeaked at his every step, so he sat down with his back against the door, pulled his legs to his chest, and wrapped himself in his cloak.

  A moment passed, and he heard the door downstairs open. At first there was only the sound of muffled talking. He whispered the words to release the spirit and felt suddenly empty, but he told it to go downstairs and find out what it could hear. But before the spirit had even left the room, Edwin heard the words, “You brought him here?” There was running up the stairs, followed by the sound of two bodies slamming against the floor.

  “Get off me!” Sam yelled.

  “Calm. Down,” Walt grunted, and Edwin heard him struggling to hold Sam down.

  “You can’t bring him here! He has to leave. He has to leave now!”

  “Be quiet! Let’s go talk about this downstairs,” Walt said.

  “But we have to get him out of here,” Sam yelled, still struggling.

  “Downstairs,” Walt repeated, and the sound of struggling stopped.

  They descended the stairs, and Edwin shifted his body and put his ear to the ground, hoping to hear more, as the spirit’s essence disappeared under the door. But he never heard another sound. A few minutes later the spirit returned to the room.

  “What did you hear?” Edwin mouthed.

  “They sstare at each other but ssay nothing,” hissed his spirit. “From the way they stare, it seemss they speak without wordss.”

  After many tense moments passed, the spirit added, “I still think we should leave.”

  “Why? Walt saved us. He’s my friend.”

  “He lied to you,” the spirit replied. When Edwin didn’t argue, a black spark crackled in the belly of the spirit’s essence and it retreated back under the door. He hoped it was going back downstairs to see if it could learn more. With his head still on the floor, his eyes began to feel heavy, and though he would have never thought it possible, he fell asleep.

  The floor wasn’t comfortable, and his neck throbbed when he woke up. Footsteps were coming toward him from down the hall, and he jumped up when the latch on the door shook.

  “It’s me,” Walt said.

  After Edwin unlatched the door, Walt walked in and closed the door behind him, waving away Edwin’s concern. “Don’t worry about Sam. You’ll be fine here, I promise. And now that that’s over”—he clapped his hands—“let’s get you changed out of your Hawthorne uniform and into something more comfortable.”

  CHAPTER 21: A MEAL TO REMEMBER

  Edwin wasn’t sure when the twins’ aunts had time to prepare such a magnificent dinner. The tablecloth was covered in fine embroidery, candlelight danced across everyone’s face, and a pleasant trail of steam rose from fresh rolls of black bread, stuffed hen with gravy, and half a dozen fruit pies. The triplets sat around him: Pyre in red, Mistral in white, and Meryl in blue. At one end of the table sat Mina, the fortuneteller, and across at the head of the table was Gretchen, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. More than once Edwin touched his lips and thought of their kiss.

  After taking a drink from her chalice, Gretchen said, “I suppose you want to know what we did to your blanket.”

  “Yes, it was my baby blanket,” Edwin said between mouthfuls. Anytime a clearing appeared on his plate, someone helped him to another serving. “But more than anything, I want you to tell me how you controlled my spirit.”

  “Oh, that?” Mina said. “It was a simple binding chant, nothing more. It will control a mahr for a time, but after a while the mahr learns to adapt and it loses its potency. Why do you ask?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Edwin said truthfully. “What else can control a mahr?”

  “I know of nothing else, unfortunately. Mahrs are notoriously impervious to others’ power.”

  Smiling her coquettish smile, Gretchen put her hand on Edwin’s and said, “Let’s talk about your blanket. First, why don’t you tell us what you know about it.”

  Her smile at once warmed his heart and made his voice stick in his throat. “About my blanket? Erm, I hardly know anything about it, only that I’ve had it since forever, and that nothing keeps me warmer.”

  “There’s a reason for that, you know.” She laughed abruptly. “Oh sisters, I’m doing all the talking. Speak, speak.” While she took another sip from her chalice, Pyre, who had been wiping her lips, put her napkin back down and cleared her throat.

  “You weren’t wrong when you said it can keep you warmer than anything else you wear.” Between her harsh speech, the intense way she looked at him, and her flaming red hair, Pyre was by far the scariest of the five sisters. “Your cloak is much more than it appears. It’s woven from the very blossoms of the hallow tree. Ah, I see the name is not lost on you. We have lost so, so much. Few remain who know anything of the old ways.”

  “But I don’t know anything,” Edwin said.

  “My aunts can help you with that. They know just about everything,” Walt bragged.

  “My powers—what I can do—it’s done nothing but get me in trouble,” Edwin said, looking intently at his food.

  “Not so. My ribbon saved you,” Gretchen said.

  Sam snorted. “From a magic box.”

  “From villagers who don’t understand the old ways,” Gretchen corrected. “We were going to tell you about your blanket, but I think it might be best if we show you. Someone fetch Mina’s shrew stone.”

  Mistral left the table, went upstairs, and when she came back she held a large rock covered in satin. The sisters made room on the table, placed the rock at its center, Gretchen removed the cloth, and Edwin found himself staring into the foggy depths of a glass egg. “Mina, show Edwin the story of the hallow trees,” Gretchen said.

  Mina nodded, placed her fingertips on the egg, and began chanting quietly.

  Standing behind him, Gretchen rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. “You see Edwin, like many stories with unhappy endings, the story of your blanket begins with a girl.”

  Edwin stared into the shrew stone and the shape of a girl took form. “But… But she’s so…”

  “Ugly?” Gretchen laughed. “Yes, she did have that reputation… But to one Host—the most powerful Host of his day—she was the most beautiful creature to ever live. The Host decided that he had to have her, but the girl’s people were of a village without a name, for that without magic was unworthy of a name in those days, and a bond between her and a Host could never be.”

  “Why not? That doesn’t seem fair,” Edwin said.

  Gretchen smiled sadly. “Pollution of the blood was strictly forbidden in those days. The Hosts feared halflings because they didn’t know where their loyalties would lie. Any child born of their union would be entirely new. The Hosts had good reason to be afraid. You see, it was the Hosts’ duty to maintain order. They feared the smallest change would throw everything out of balance. The world they protected was very different than the world today.”

  Edwin stared into the stone and saw a
cave where a three-headed serpent battled a troll. Then, smoke filled the crystal, and a valley emerged where a scurry of horned squirrels frolicked in the trees, easily avoiding the pack of wolves staring at them from below. There were owls with serpentine faces, tailed giants, and dwarves with no eyes on their heads but many in the palms of their hands.

  “You see, there was a different order then,” said Gretchen. “It was a brutal but lively time, a time when the impossible was possible—not because rules were broken, but because rules had a different meaning. The energy we carry inside us was used in ways that have long since been forgotten and lost, and it is to this lost time that you were conceived. Of course this Host in love refused to accept that he couldn’t have his heart’s desire. Otherwise we wouldn’t have a story.” The image in the egg changed to show the Host, who was a handsome man with bright red hair, climbing over a stone wall to get to a small house. “If he hadn’t forsaken his mahr, the Hosts may never have fallen.” She shrugged. “He was a man in love.”

  “Tell him about the hallow trees,” Walt said.

  “Yes, the tree, I was just getting there,” Gretchen said. “The Hosts believed the forest was the ultimate symbol of power and life, of permanence and change. The Umbrage Box held their greatest treasure, seeds for a tree immune to magic. The Hosts weren’t alone in possessing magic, you see, and they saw these seeds as a last defense. Blinded by his love for the girl, the Host marched to the girl’s village with the Umbrage Box and offered it to her father for his daughter’s hand. Many said he must have been bewitched by a powerful spell.” Gretchen shrugged again.

  “Dark magic,” Mistral said, chiming in.

  “None darker than love,” Pyre spat. “Many foolish decisions have been made in its name.”

  Inside the stone Edwin saw the Host walking importantly up to the girl’s father, and behind him, floating on a cloud of air, was the Umbrage Box. “Then what happened?” he asked.

  “The Host got the girl,” Gretchen said. “He stayed with the girl’s family, and with his help the village prospered into a city. They built a castle and grew a hallow tree, and the Host taught them the sacrifices necessary to make the tree grow and bleed the red amber—bloodstones, they call them in Chardwick. He had children, and he taught them about the Hosts and their powers, and how to use other creatures’ powers for themselves.”

  “The Hosts never forgave him,” said Mistral sadly. “He never knew that the amber would be used as weapons. But he loved his new family. The hallow tree was meant to give them peace from the Hosts’ power and all the dangers power breeds.”

  “Tell Edwin about the fabric of his cloak,” Walt said.

  “Yes, of course,” burbled Meryl. “Your cloak is made from one of the rarest materials ever found. A hallow tree blooms perhaps once a century, and even then a cloak such as yours would require the blooms of many seasons. Very few were ever made, and even fewer survive.”

  “No, not that part,” Walt said. “Tell him about the ribbon.”

  Meryl was almost bouncing in her chair she was so excited. “The ribbon was my creation,” she boasted. “Don’t look at me like that, sister, you know it’s true. The trick was to add a dash of salt as the potion became noxious.”

  “Salt?” Pyre chided. “Your secret ingredient was salt?”

  “Yes, at the correct concentrations and added at the right moments salt can be very useful.” She winked at Edwin.

  Gretchen intervened. “Once we had the potion, we had only to attach it to your blanket. We left it to the twins to lure you to my tent.”

  Walt’s mouth was full of blackberry pie when he smiled. “It was easy. Edwin found you all on his own.”

  “The Lucent is… let us say, an ally of ours,” Gretchen said. “We knew if you were discovered you would be taken to the Umbrage Box. It is said that the ancient power of the Umbrage Box was once used to punish the most wicked of Hosts. What was meant as a safe place for the seeds of the hallow tree was, for a Host, rumored to be worse than death. It is said the Umbrage Box steals a Host’s very soul—his mahr, of course.”

  Shaking his head, it took Edwin a moment to find his voice. “How do you know all this?”

  “We are the traitor Host’s children, of course,” Gretchen said. In the crystal egg Edwin saw the Host and his ugly mortal wife holding their five girls.

  * * *

  Unable to sleep that night, Edwin stared at the ceiling. There was nothing to see, not even a crack for his eyes to follow. His mind kept replaying the dinner conversation and returning to the book he had left on a roof on the other side of Chardwick. As he tossed and turned, he finally decided, no matter the risk, he had to go back and get it. It could hold the key to everything: his legacy, controlling his spirit, and saving himself from the villagers who wanted nothing more than to kill him.

  Dragging himself to his feet, he was careful not to make the mattress or floor squeak as he changed out of his night gown and crept over to the window. Snow had built up on the windowpanes, making every square grin. It took him a moment to find the latch, and when he did he gingerly pushed the window open and poked out his head. Above and below there was only brick between him and the next window, but to his right, just out of reach, was the rain gutter. Fingering the ribbon around his neck, he made sure his cloak was secure.

  “What are you doing?” the spirit hissed in his ear, and he swatted it away.

  Not looking down, he reached out and leapt for the pipe. “See, I don’t need you for everything,” he said. The pipe was freezing, and his hands, which had been so warm inside, quickly lost all feeling. He crawled down the pipe inch-by-inch until he was close enough to the ground to jump. With his cloak pulled up over his face, he walked quickly towards the village square, doing his best to stay in the shadows.

  But he hadn’t even made it to the arch when he saw a guard posted by the entrance. As casually as he could, he turned around and headed to the other end of the street, but found a guard stationed there too. Realizing how much his escape had rattled the villagers, he headed back to the Morrisey house and began climbing back up the pipe.

  “Well, that wass fun,” his spirit said.

  “We’re not done yet,” Edwin said as he climbed past his window and up to the roof. It was a clear night, and he saw a light half way up the cliff pass and wondered if the Medgards were up feeding Dana.

  “So what’s your plan?” his spirit asked.

  Rolling his eyes—his spirit knew what he wanted—he said, “I need to go get my mother’s book, but all the roads are blocked. If only there was a way to jump over a road…”

  “No need to be snarky. Join with me at the road, and I will get you acrosss.”

  Edwin sighed and began walking to the next roof. “We sure have made a mess of things, haven’t we?”

  He felt the air vibrate near his left ear as the spirit found its voice: “Perhapss. But we have learned much.”

  Edwin thought that over before responding. “Yes, but at the same time, I feel like we’re more lost and confused than ever.” They reached the road, and Edwin joined with his spirit, jumped over to a roof across the way, and released it. Picking up the conversation where he left off, he said, “And we both know the twins’ aunts are using us for something. They didn’t come all this way for nothing. I still don’t understand why Walt and Sam were in Hawthorne when their grandfather is the Lucent.”

  “They want uss to enter the miness. Your little friend’s story about the Hosts’ sanctuary—think about everything we know about his auntss.”

  Edwin pondered Gretchen finding him in the crowd and giving him the charm. After that he had stumbled into the fortuneteller’s tent. That wasn’t an accident, he realized, remembering the ground shaking and the fire and wind and water that had seemed to come from nowhere. “The fortuneteller, Mina. In the tent, she said, The answers you seek are in the mines. The mines will show you the way. Until then you will be a danger to yourself and those around you. Walt said the
Hosts’ sanctuary was in the mines, but why would they want us to go there? What’s it to them?”

  “Perhapss we should leave before we find out,” the spirit said.

  “But they saved me. Maybe we should trust them. Maybe they can help us.” Edwin thought a moment, and, reaching the next road, again joined with his spirit. After making it to the other side, he released it and asked, “How old do you think they are? They say they were alive before Chardwick was even founded… How old is Chardwick? What have they done to live so long?”

  The spirit picked up his line of thought. “And where do they get their power? You need me to do anything.” Edwin grimaced, but the spirit continued, “What do they want from uss? You say yoursself that every spell has a cost.” A yellow spark coursed through its essence, which was undeniably bigger.

  Edwin chewed his lip and tried not to be afraid. He and his spirit jumped over many more roads that night, and before long he was back where he had left the book. His spree of good fortune held, and it was exactly where he had left it. As quickly as he could, he made his way back to the Morriseys’ house, and slid back through his window.

  Inside, light poured in through the open window. He heard a sound by the blinds, emitted the slightest of squeals, and hid the book behind his back.

  Under the bluish tint of moon and starlight, Sam was standing by his bed, arms crossed distrustfully. In a hushed whisper, Sam said, “You don’t belong here. Trust my warning. Leave now.” Glancing in the direction of the hall and Walt’s door, Sam moved away from Edwin and into the darkness. A moment later there was a soft click as Sam opened and closed the door down the hall.

  Shutting his own door, Edwin made his way to the window and locked it, all the while wondering how long it would be before Sam told the villagers where he was.

  CHAPTER 22: THROUGH THE BLACK KEEP

  With their heads hung low, the sisters walked through the village square, paying no heed to those who stopped to stare. Ambling along in a single file, they encountered fewer villagers as they approached the pass.