Chasing Shadows

by Ashley Townsend

  Gnawing on her lower lip, Sarah took his hand and they began to climb together, side by side.

  ~Chapter 28~

  When Sarah’s weary muscles felt ready to give, her guide stopped. Leaning against the branch behind her, she tried to steady her breathing.

  Brushing the powdery snow from the massive, waist-high branch, Will hoisted himself up and got situated before offering her a hand. The perch came up to her chin, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to manage it gracefully. Gripping his hand, she launched herself upward and landed on her stomach with an oof. Auburn hair flew over the width of the limb, and she tossed her head back in time to catch his expression of amused surprise before he wiped it from his face. “You were supposed to wait for me.” He used his hold to help her into a sitting position.

  Sarah grimaced sheepishly, resisting the urge to rub her bruised abdomen. “I get that now.”

  He did a fair job of hiding his grin as he shuffled towards the middle of their perch. “Come on.”

  Shooting a nervous glance at the itty-bitty patch of visible ground far below, she slowly pushed herself onto her knees and followed him. “Can this thing hold the both of us? I mean, will it snap and send us plummeting to an unfortunate death?” Her sarcasm didn’t mask her genuine trepidation.

  Having reached his destination on the outermost part of the tree, Will reclined against the knotted limb behind him. “I suppose we’ll find out,” he said, using her words against her with a teasing smile.

  She ignored his remark and crawled determinedly down the length of the branch, biting back her fear as she entered a narrow clearing where the pines and gnarled limbs disappeared on all sides.

  Sarah sucked in a breath, understanding why he had wanted to show this to her. “Wow,” she breathed plopping down beside him, her anxiety melting away in place of awe. Her shoulder brushed his as she leaned back to survey the view, reassured by the wall of tangled branches at her back. “This is . . .”

  “Incredible, isn’t it?” She looked up at him and nodded, eliciting a soft smile from him with her look of amazement.

  Sarah turned her gaze back to the sight before them, blinking against the light. They were perched in one of the tallest trees in all of Serimone, it seemed, and they had a perfect view of the rising sun from their vantage point. It cast a bright orange glow through the trees, and golden light reflected off the high stone towers of the castle. From this distance, it didn’t look so dark and haunting, and she could almost pretend in the early morning glow that it wasn’t a prison at all but a fairytale castle. . . . Almost.

  No matter where she drew her gaze, the whole land looked bright and alive—sunlight was reflected wherever she looked, bouncing off the snow below and making the ground look like it had been sprinkled with glitter, sparkling like a carpet of diamonds strewn about the forest floor.

  “The world looks better from up here, doesn’t it?” Will commented softly, breaking into her intense fascination with the view. “Safer.”

  She nodded mutely, gently kicking her feet back and forth in the vast expanse before them. “Is this your thinking place, then?”

  “In a way.”

  They lapsed into silence again, and Sarah found herself studying him. He looked so at peace, the lines of his face softening in the early morning light. Strangely moved by the sight, she turned her gaze away, back to the rising sun, and was suddenly struck by the realization that yesterday had been Edith’s last sunrise.

  Her shoulders sank as reality pressed in. Rubbing her hands together in her lap, she asked in a small voice, “Does it ever get easier?”

  He angled his head toward her, his eyes filled with compassion. “In some ways. After a time, you don’t dwell on it every moment, don’t feel as though you’re suffocating with grief. But then one day you realize you have reached the night and haven’t wanted to give up.” He inhaled a wavering breath. “Then you fight guilt, because it seems that you should dwell on the life that once was. But what you’re really holding onto is what will never be.”

  Sarah sniffed back unwelcome tears at his soft words. If anyone had a reason to mourn, it was he. “She was a good friend to me, but I knew her so little that I don’t feel I have any right to mourn.” She groaned at her selfishness and pain, leaning forward to bury her face in her hands—she could still feel Edith’s blood spilling through her fingertips.

  Disgusted at the memory and her inability to do anything, her head rolled from side to side in her hands. “I didn’t even know her family was dead, and it’s all my fault that she is, too. I couldn’t stop the blood.”

  A hand touched her shoulder. “Look at me,” he commanded softly.

  Too ashamed to meet his eyes, she muttered disgruntled “What?” through her fingers. He gently peeled her hands from her face and pulled them toward him. Sarah looked up at him reluctantly and released a shuddering breath as she tried to keep from crying again; he had dealt with enough of her emotions for one lifetime.

  “What you experienced was traumatic—give yourself time to heal,” he said. “And don’t blame yourself for something that was out of your hands. We can’t go back and change the past, and it will only eat at your soul to dwell on what might have been.”

  She sighed. How right he was. Even with the ability to travel through time, she couldn’t go back and save Edith. “Is that why you come up here?” she asked. “To remind yourself that life goes on—the sun will still rise?”

  He nodded and released her, leaning back again. “After my parents, I used to sneak out of my uncle’s house before dawn and come here. At first it was to remind myself of them and relive the pain of my loss. But then over time, this view became a symbol of . . . healing, I suppose. That was the reason why I built my home here—so that I could come to this sanctuary whenever I needed to clear my head.

  “Sometimes” he went on thoughtfully, “it feels as though your healing and happiness betray their memory, and you have to fight remorse. But however cruel or tragic it might seem for life to move on, it’s the natural order of things and the way my parents would want it to be. And whenever I come up here”—he inhaled deeply, seeming to savor the crisp morning air—“it’s as though my soul is being reawakened. I feel alive and new, like the world is full of possibilities.” He looked suddenly embarrassed. "But that sounds nonsensical.”

  “Who would you be?” Sarah asked suddenly, reclining beside him. Feeling the unexplainable need to be close to someone, she impulsively scooted nearer, attempting subtlety until she bumped her shoulder into his arm. But he didn’t seem to mind when he glanced down—in fact, she thought he might have smiled a little.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I mean that if you had the chance to do it all over, be anybody in the world from that sunrise”—she pointed out to the panoramic view before them, then hiked her thumb in the opposite direction—“to that sunset, who would you be for a day?”

  He let his head fall back against the raised branch and stared up at the brightening sky through the limbs above them. “My father,” Will answered without hesitation.

  She blinked, moved by his answer. “Really? I bet you’re a lot like him.”

  Sitting up abruptly, he angled his body to face her. His eyes were filled with childlike excitement. “We were alike, in a way. We both craved adventure. My father used to tell me of his grand escapades when he was my age. He fought bandits and once stole a pirate ship in the dead of night, fending off the entire crew with a single sword and knife.” He did a few harmless parries and jabs in the air, reenacting the legendary fight for her.

  Sarah giggled at his antics, knowing he was probably putting on a bit of a show to lift her spirits. He held up one finger. “He even discovered where that cad who captained the ship had buried over a decade’s worth of loot.”

  Her eyes bulged. “He uncovered buried treasure?”

  “Yes, but he gave it to the people of the island on which he found it, saying that this stolen trea
sure had no owner and so should belong to them.”

  Sarah leaned back, wondering how much of these stories had been embellished for his son’s entertainment. But then again, maybe they were all true. Like father, like son.

  She smiled at both Will’s and his father’s adventurous spirits. Sitting up, she asked, “But, wait, did your dad stop seeking out adventure? What happened?”

  She didn’t understand the slow grin that started over Wills mouth. “When he was about my age, Father discovered a posting for a rather handsome reward. It seemed that some precious cargo had been taken by a band of rogue Muslims traveling from the Holy Land. Treasure-hunter that my father was, he went in search of them on horseback. He found their caravan up on a hillside, quickly trying to make a getaway with their prize.”

  “Did he catch them?”

  Will grinned proudly but didn’t spoil the ending. “My father was fast. He rode up beside the caravan, unseated the driver, and then threw himself inside of the careening transport as it flew across the valley, managing to disarm the men inside and extricate them from the caravan in seconds. Then he steered the horses a safe distance away before stopping to peek at the cargo.”

  She waited for him to finish the story, which sounded as though he had it memorized by heart. His father’s tale, told on countless nights, had clearly imprinted on his boy’s memory. “Well, what was it?” she asked impatiently when he remained silent.

  His animated story-telling manner melted away, and Will stared thoughtfully at the tree bark under his hand. He shifted so that his back touched the short wall of branches behind them. “They had taken my mother to sell her in their country. She had thought it was all over until my father came riding up on his horse.” He gave Sarah a lopsided grin. “She said she thought Father was some beautiful, pale-skinned savage with dark hair flowing in the wind come to save her.” He chuckled at the description only a girl could appreciate.

  Sarah smiled along with him. “And were they married after that?”

  “Yes. Father refused the reward money her parents offered and asked for her hand instead. Then he settled down and built the shop I now own.” A smile of remembrance graced his mouth. “Every night that he regaled me with the tale, Father ended by saying that he gave up his nomadic wandering the day he discover my mother. ‘My restlessness drove me to seek out adventure and the treasures therein,” Will intoned in a deep voice, mimicking his father’s tone. He hesitated, and his gaze on her face warmed, voice softening as he recited the words.

  “’But when I found her, I knew that my restless spirit could not be satiated by the fleeting excitement I’d pursued on my voyages. My goal, I realized, had always been to find something to give my soul rest: She was the treasure I’d sought all along, and I needn’t search any further.’”

  Sarah smiled a little wistfully, though her insides had warmed at the sincerity in his voice, as if he weren’t simply reciting his father’s words but meant them for her. “That’s all so romantic. Your father sounds like an amazing man.”

  “He was.” Will leaned in and stretched his arm out toward the golden horizon, pointing off to the right of the castle. “Do you see that stream and how the rough portion seems to disappear?”

  Squinting, Sarah pretended not to feel how close he was and tried to focus on the line of his finger. “Is that a waterfall?” she asked after a moment of searching.

  He nodded, watching her face while she looked for it. “Glenborough Falls. The stream goes underground for several miles north. And,” he added, pointing off in that direction, “perfectly opposite the falls, if you look hard enough, you’ll see the stream reemerge in the distance and then vanish between those hills. Directly past that point, just over the rise, there is a little village in the valley behind. Do you see it?”

  Her eyes were still scanning for the correct hill, but then she spotted a little grouping of tiny specs in a small valley, barely discernible from this distance. “What is that place?” she asked, meeting his gaze.

  Will smiled. “It’s Locksley Village, where I grew up. Just beyond is Sherwood Forest, which works as a barrier between Locksley and Ridlan, though . . .”

  Her mind was already wandering. It can’t be—there’s no way. It’s impossible. But what were the odds? It was the right era for the legend, and he had lived in a village with the same name. She had even referred to him as Robin Hood when she first discovered the Shadow. Could they really be one in the same?

  But that could only mean Karen’s theory that Serimone was somehow created by the portal was seriously flawed. She had gone into great detail about the consequences of changing the past, especially the outcome of significant events and the course of prominent figures. If this was, indeed, the past, then they could really be muddling things up right now.

  At the idea that her presence was completely unwelcome in this time, Sarah’s mind took off trying to recreate events here without her presence: She would never have been able to help Karen, nor met the Jones family, and she would never have met Will. But if she hadn’t been here, Edith might still be alive.

  Sarah selfishly didn’t know what she would do differently if given the chance. But she knew what the right thing to do was after they proved Cadius’ guilt: She would walk away and try not to look back. It would be best for Will if she didn’t meddle with history, and she knew that, someday, it would be best for her too.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder in the middle of his story, closing her eyes against the painful decision she had just made. But she chose to enjoy this moment for all it was worth. Because somewhere deep down inside of her, in the place that she never liked to stare at too hard, she knew that now was all they had. Anything more was simply a fantasy. She would allow herself to enjoy these last fleeting moments in a world that she had grown to love with the man she had fallen for.

  It suddenly felt like she was being cheated of the greatest blessing she had ever been given, and the strings attached to this gift were about to snap. She wouldn’t think about the time when they would say goodbye and she would leave him one final time.

  Her eyes dropped to the ground below, and she squinted at a small patch of yellow and white. It was hard to make out against the snow, but . . . Sarah blinked. Wild daisies! Briefly, she wondered if Will had dropped that flower the other day, though she knew he hadn’t come by. . . . Her heart sank when she realized that he might have seen her and Damien together.

  “You seem troubled,” Will murmured against her hair. She realized he had stopped talking some time ago.

  “Do you ever wish you could travel?” she asked abruptly.

  Nodding, his voice became far away. “My father traveled the whole world and saw places that I’ve never even read about in the books he gave me—I’ve only ever explored the world through his stories as a boy. This is the closest I’ve come to escaping, and I can still see my childhood home from here.” His look turned hopeful. “Perhaps someday I can show Locksley to you. I believe you would like it.”

  Sarah leaned back. “Why not?” she asked, surprising herself. But now that the words were out of her mouth, she knew where they were going, crazy and impulsive as they might be. But after losing Edith in such a horrific way, she couldn’t bear the thought of saying goodbye to anyone else right now.

  His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s leave this place,” she whispered, feeling a panicked tightening in her stomach as she said the words, but it was too late to take them back. Escape was the only answer, though she didn’t want to acknowledge what she was running from. Death, failure, loss—she couldn’t face any of that right now.

  Sarah continued breathlessly, “We’ll got to Locksley and you can show me where you grew up—let’s have our own adventures. Just there and back, though,” she amended quickly, knowing she could never abandon her family, but she was desperate to get away from this place and the harsh memories it held for a few days. She was teetering on the edge of a precipice, bu
t if taking a step back meant leaving everyone behind, then she was tempted to jump if it prolonged the inevitable.

  But was she ready to leap?

  Will stared at her like she’d gone mad. And maybe she had. “We can’t possibly.”

  She felt her shoulders sink. “So you don’t want to run away with me?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said, sounding frustrated and a little desperate. He raked a hand through his hair, sending it every which-way. “But not like this, Sarah—not like this. I can’t—”

  She held up a hand, already feeling more than a little ridiculous. She could tell he was going to refuse, but she couldn’t hear the words; it was her last chance at temporary freedom, and she didn’t feel like her heart could heal if she stayed. “Don’t answer now. I’ll be at that brook you took me to at sunset tonight. If you come, then we’ll leave. And if not”—she choked back her cringe at the thought—“then I’ll have my answer. Please, Will, I’m suffocating here, and I know you want to get away, too.”

  Releasing a tight breath, he rubbed the back of his neck in agitation. His expression was torn. “All right. I will meet you tonight no matter what.” He tipped her chin with his finger, forcing her to meet his penetrating gaze. “But you must ask yourself if this is truly the future you want—you can’t always come back from a choice.”

  She swallowed, already second-guessing her rash decision but hating the alternative more. “Okay.”

  Shaking his head, Will told her that they should get her back before people started to panic. They climbed down the tree in silence, the mood between them severely dampened as Sarah’s words weighed heavily on both their minds.

  “Thanks,” she murmured as he helped her onto the ground. His hands stayed on her waist, and she looked up at him, confused.