by J B Cantwell
“No,” he said, regaining his balance. “I can teach you no more. Another week’s worth of practice will only serve to increase your worry. You must go now, while it is fresh in your mind and your muscles, and before you have a chance to think on it too hard.”
Well, it was too late for that. I had been thinking hard on it already. But as much as I wanted to wimp out, to stay put at Kiron’s and hope for some impossible rescue, my mother’s face kept floating into my head. I couldn’t leave her there alone forever.
That night we feasted. Kiron had spent the afternoon slaughtering and butchering the chickens, and the carcasses were now drying into packable fare over the fire. I had been anxious to be rid of the horrible rooster, but when it came down to it, and his head was pressed down on the block, a deep pang of sadness sank into my chest like the blade of the ax into his neck.
We settled in for the night, both of us quiet as the thoughts of tomorrow stirred in our minds. Kiron sat back in his chair by the fire, and pulled from under his shirt a small piece of folded parchment. He held it out to me.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It’s your link,” he said. “Tomorrow, we’ll make the jump.”
“You’re coming with me then?” It was a question I had been afraid to ask.
“Don’t see as I have much of a choice.”
I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I unfolded the paper and recognized the now familiar symbol of Almara at the top of the otherwise blank page. I looked up at him skeptically, but smiled when I said, “You sure this is the right piece of blank paper?”
“Yes, you brat,” he shot back, but the skin around his eyes crinkled in amusement.
My fingers traced the ovals on the golden symbol.
What sort of place awaited me on the other side of this link?
Chapter 7
The next morning the sun did not make an appearance. Low, gray clouds covered the hillsides like a lid on a pot. We woke in the dim light and started getting ready.
Kiron was at the table, rummaging through piles, finishing the packing of the bag. “First, we’ll clear out,” he said. “You ain’t leavin’ from here. Last time that happened, the cottage was nearly wrecked from the force of the thing.”
“And good morning to you,” I said sarcastically. But he wasn’t having any humor today. He had a concerned look on his face as he readied the pack.
The same sort of explosion must have happened when Almara had jumped from here two hundred years ago. I thought about what the attic back home must have looked like after my departure. I wondered if police were swarming over the farm, looking for me.
I sat up and stretched with a loud groan. Crane stretched, too, but made no move to get up. He yawned and each of his four paws extended, his toes reaching deeper into the blankets. I rested my hand on his furry stomach for a moment while I grappled to break free from the haze of sleep. I hadn’t thought about the dog. The chickens were gone now, but what fate awaited the hound?
“What are we going to do with Crane?” I asked. “Is he coming?”
The dog’s ears perked up at the sound of his name.
“Nope. We’re gonna drop him with my sister. Only one of my kin still alive.”
“You have a sister? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Ain’t your business,” he said. “Anyways, we’ll only be with the old witch for a few minutes.”
My mind buzzed as I tried to imagine a female version of Kiron.
On the table, he lay out our breakfast; four boiled eggs on two plates and a slab of cheese for each of us. I was thankful for the lack of slimy mush. I shuffled to the table and slumped into one of the chairs just as he was pouring out two mugs of sweet tea. It was hot and spicy, and it cleared my head as I sipped it. Crane waited for us to rise from the table before bothering to get down from the bed to search for fallen crumbs.
“Where will we go?” I asked.
“Empty field just down the hill,” he said. “Nothin’ to destroy out there but dry grass and wildflowers. We’ll jump to Larissa’s first and then take Almara’s link from there.”
“Larissa, is that your sister?”
“Hmph.”
I retrieved my boots from just outside the front door. As I pulled them on I took a long look at the cozy farm and wondered if I would ever see it again. I realized with a certain amount of sadness that the silence of the farm had meant the slaughtering of the birds.
“You ready?”
Kiron helped me with the bulky backpack, which was awkward at first, but quite light. He nestled the knife I had used in practice into the side pocket, even though I was useless with it. As soon as the pack was on my back, I commanded it, “Obscure!” and it collapsed and disappeared, though I could still feel the straps resting on my shoulders.
“Got the link?” he asked.
I pulled it out of my pocket and showed it to him.
He hoisted the ax from the table by the door and handed it to me. He had fashioned a sort of sling for it, and he helped me secure it around my waist. The ax hung heavy and secure at my side.
“I think the sword would call too much attention,” he said. “But this will do. If anyone asks you about it, just tell ‘em you’re a woodcutter’s son. You’re better with it than the other weapons anyways.”
It was true. Days and days of practice with the heavy weapon left me feeling confident when it was in my hands. Its weight comforted me.
We walked away from the little house, and then Kiron stopped and turned. He regarded it for a long moment. It was only then that I realized the sadness on his face.
“Aren’t you coming back?” I asked.
“Doubt it,” he said gruffly, turning away from his home. He walked resolutely away, and he didn’t look back again. I felt like I should say something, but I couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t sound trite. The truth was that I was very, very thankful he was coming with me. I followed in his wake.
The morning air was cold, and a stiff wind blew across us. Crane bounded down the path up ahead.
As we walked, Kiron started rattling off instructions. “The plan was that Almara was to leave links in each place he and the eight traveled through. If we can find ‘em in each place, I expect, they’ll lead us to him, eventually.”
The gravelly rocks crunched under our feet as we made our way to the top edge of a hill. Below, a big basin of empty field rolled out in front of us. Kiron started down the slope without a backward glance. His footsteps were sure and strong, well versed along this precarious path. I stumbled down behind him, trying to keep from kicking the rocks I loosened with my clumsy steps. After a few minutes, he began to speak.
“When I was a boy, I wanted more than anything to see a Pegasus, a winged horse. I was just fifteen when I set out, not a whole lot older than you. My Ma and Pa weren’t too happy about it, so I snuck out on a moonless night and made my way towards the edge of this land, to a place I knew I’d be able to jump to the other side of the ocean.”
We were at the base of the hill now. He reached out his hand to me to help me down from the last big rock, and continued.
“It took a few days before I started to regret my decision to leave home, but by that point I was already two jumps away from here and well on my way. I figured I could give up and go back home, or I could suck it up and continue on. I ain’t no quitter, but the draw of home comforts swam through my mind plenty as I went along. Even though I figured Pa’s belt would be meeting with my backside on my return.” He smiled to himself. I wondered why such a horrible thought would make him do anything of the sort.
“Two weeks in, I was getting closer to the valleys where the Pegasus fly. I was cold, hungry, and covered in the dirt of travelin’ from head to foot. But as I stepped down into the first of the valleys, I sped up despite bein’ so tired. I knew they were close. And they were. Two days later I stepped round a corner of rock and there they stood!” He beamed. “Four of ‘em grazin’ in the green grass betwe
en two steep cliffs of rock. As they saw me round the turn, they raised their heads, and their great wings rose, too.”
“What were they like?” I asked.
He paused as he remembered, and then he stopped walking and faced me.
“They were like nothin’, nothin’ I’d ever seen, nor seen since. Best thing I ever done.” His eyes stared out across the grass over my head as he saw the memories in his mind. Then he looked at me severely. “Don’t you give up cause you’re cold or hungry or miss your mama. Seems to me you’re here for a reason. Could be that you’ll find somethin’ you’re lookin’ for, too. Sometimes, you just gotta take what you’re handed.”
“But I’m not looking for anything,” I said.
“Ain’t ya? Everybody’s lookin’ for something. Think on it, boy.”
As I followed along, I tried to think of something to look for, some reason for continuing on this quest other than a desire to get back home. Adventure? I had wanted adventure, but I hadn’t needed to look for it. It had simply landed in my lap. A Pegasus? A Dragon? Sure, seeing fantastical beasts would be wonderful and terrifying, but since I had only known of their existence for a couple weeks, I didn’t really have a lifelong desire to fuel an entire journey to find them.
A thought popped into my head then, and it pulled me up short. My eyes glazed over as I stared into space, trying to pinpoint what I was feeling. There was a difference between my world and this one. Aside from the obvious, vibrant nature springing up all around, monsters and magical creatures, disappearing backpacks, there was a difference in the way I felt. I remembered the pounding of my heart as I had run from the faylons. The steady, strong pounding of my heart. In all the days since that one, hadn’t I worked my body to the limits of its endurance? I had not only remained healthy, but I’d enjoyed every minute of it. I still hadn’t told Kiron about just how fast I had run that night. Maybe I hadn’t even really believed it myself until this moment.
I made the decision quickly, and before Kiron had a chance to even open his mouth to call out to me, I was blowing past him, well on my way to being out of earshot. I ran as fast as I could across the field in the direction we were already traveling. Crane’s alarmed barking soon fell behind me. My feet, unlike their descent down the slope of the hill, found their footing easily here. Each step crunched the dry grass and pushed me faster to take the next and the next. I breathed deeply and pushed harder. The grass began to blur past my vision as I rocketed forward. The blood poured through my veins, pumped by what I recognized now as a continually strengthening heart. Then I gradually slowed as I reached the center of the field, gasping for breath.
This was my reason to continue along my current path, to continue with this quest. As Kiron trudged towards me from a thousand yards away, I rose my face to the sky, sucking in air. I would follow Almara’s breadcrumbs and fly through these worlds. I might not get another chance, not ever in my life, to be so free and strong as I was here. My newfound health didn’t give me something to look for, but it gave me something to stay for.
I would enjoy it while I could. And when the time came to return home, I would go.
As Kiron came within shouting distance, I could hear him mumbling between hoarse breaths. “Stupid,” huff, “boy,” huff, “kids,” huff, “don’t,” huff, “listen,” he growled. Crane reached me first, still barking in protest, and jumped up on me, putting one paw on each of my shoulders. I prepared for a cranky lecture as Kiron neared, but when he got close he simply stopped and put his hands on his hips, breathing hard. He stared at me for several moments.
“You’ve got some things up your sleeve, boy,” he said finally after catching his breath. I smiled. “Alright,” he said, “this is as good a place as any.”
He released the first two buttons of his shirt and opened it. Beneath the rough fabric a long chain necklace rested against his chest. It reminded me of the charm bracelets some of the girls wore at school, only instead of the little beads and trinkets that hung from theirs, this had a variety of stones fastened around its edges.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Our transportation.”
“Is it a link?”
“They are links. Each one will take you a different distance in the direction you point it. Most ain’t interplanetary, like Almara’s, but handy. I told ya I ain’t never seen gold, and I ain’t. But deep within this one,” he fingered a slim, black rock fastened to the chain, “a tiny piece of gold lives. Pa made this one for me before he died, so I could always get back here to the farm. Back home. But when he forged it, the gold disappeared inside.” He held the rock up to the sun, trying to see through the opaque stone to the secret power it held within it. But it revealed nothing.
“No matter,” he said. “Now, listen.” He paused and looked me in the eye. “About Larissa. She’s a slippery one. Don’t believe what she tells ya. You follow my lead and keep your mouth shut. She fancies herself as powerful as Almara or any of the eight, and if you press her she’ll claim to be able to send you back to Earth. But there ain’t no way. She’s a trickster, and there’s nothing more amusing to her than pretending she can do things she can’t…just long enough to get what she wants from folks. Truth is, the only way you’re getting home is to find Almara. You understand?”
“Yeah, ok.”
He reached behind his neck and unfastened the necklace. He chose a thin, black stone and gripped it tightly in one hand, the rest of the links dangling from the chain.
“Now get over here and grab onto Crane.” I did as he said and reached for a tuft of hair behind Crane’s head as Kiron wrapped his free hand around my arm. “This’ll be awkward with the two of us and a stinkin’ mutt to boot,” he grumbled.
“Crane doesn’t stink,” I protested. He ignored me and thrust his hand out in front of us, pointing the link in his intended direction. Kiron spoke softly at first and then more loudly as his arm made tiny adjustments in the cool breeze.
“Karashasho,” he commanded in a low, humming voice.
The dry grass around where we stood flattened to the ground, and at the same time my insides squeezed tightly. This was a different feeling than Almara’s link. I wriggled in pain as the ground disappeared and we spun into the jump. Kiron’s hand tightened around my arm, a warning to stop squirming, but I couldn’t breathe and fought his grip. A second later we all slammed into the ground in a great, yelping pile of dog and human.
I lay on my back until I caught my breath, and then sat up and looked around. We were high in the mountains, splayed out on a large, flat precipice of rock. I gaped at the precision of our landing and wondered how Kiron had directed us to this exact location. We easily could have landed on the side of the mountain, or in the valley below. I was just opening my mouth to ask when I saw her.
On the far side of the plateau I could make out an ancient woman angrily slamming the door to a tiny wooden house, yelling furiously in our direction as she stomped across the rock. The brisk wind seemed to follow her as she closed the gap between us, and I felt goose bumps rise on the flesh of my arms.
“I thought I told you never to show your stinking face here again!” she shouted over what was quickly becoming a gale. As she approached us she bent to pick up rocks from the mountaintop. A moment later they were raining down on us as she heaved them at Kiron.
One of them, about the size of a golf ball, met with the side of his head and he shouted, “Quit it, you old witch!” He was on his feet now and approaching her. Crane disentangled himself with my legs and quickly ran to his master’s defense, barking and snarling at the shriveled woman.
Kiron closed the space between the two swiftly, before another rock could make contact with his skull, and held her arms down at her sides. She struggled and shouted, “Let go of me, you dirty louse!” With her arms held she used the only weapon she had left and kicked him hard in the shin.
“Argh! You stupid bat! Just listen, Larissa! I brought the book!”
She stopped str
uggling and looked up at him.
“Is this a trick?” she spat.
“No,” he said, “no trick. I need your help, and I brought you the book. You can keep it this time.” She seemed to relax slightly at his words and he released her arms. She took the opportunity and landed a kick to his other shin before she turned to walk away.
“Argh!”
“If you came here for help then you came to the wrong place,” she shouted over her shoulder.
“Larissa, wait!” Kiron hobbled after her, Crane circling the two on their way to the shack. Kiron managed to catch the door before she was able to slam it in his face, and followed her into the small dwelling.
I sat, left alone, on the mountaintop.
Chapter 8
I waited for the shouting to stop before I approached the front door of the little house. The wind had died down, but my goose bumps remained from the cold mountain air.
The vista was spectacular. As far as I could see in every direction mountain peaks kissed the sky. I could understand why Larissa would want to live here, but as I looked around at the barren precipice, I wondered what she ate. Unlike Kiron’s farm, no animals or garden surrounded her home to support her.
I knocked softly on the door and heard the smart clicking of boots on a wood floor. She wrenched the door open and glared down at me.
“So you’re him, are ya?” she demanded.
“Um, what?”
“Yeah,” she said sarcastically, “he sure does seem like destiny’s choice for such a quest. You’ve only been waitin’ a hundred years and this is the one you choose?” She shot Kiron a superior look and walked away from the open doorway. I stood there for a moment, unsure of whether or not that meant I was invited to come in, but the cold outside made me shiver involuntarily, and I stepped into the tiny space and shut the door behind me.
The house was almost a perfect square, and just large enough to fit a small wood table and two chairs. I didn’t see a bed, but a crackling fire flickered in the grate. Crane whined and circled the small room, unnerved by the conflict between the two. I stood still by the door and soaked up the warmth from the fire.
