Aster Wood series Box Set

by J B Cantwell

  I slid down to the ground. The cold hard stone against my back kept me from toppling over from the dizziness that crept up the back of my neck and sent my head swimming. My chest clenched for the first time in many days. I dug my fingernails into the stone walkway, holding on to the earth as my breathing increased and the world began to turn upside down.

  But it wasn’t enough. The fog of unconsciousness settled over me, and I felt my forehead knock softly against the ground as my body slumped over.

  I woke many hours later in the same position. My body was stiff with cold. This frigid air had not settled on the city until deep into the night, and I my breath floated out in front of my face in small plumes of steam.

  I slowly sat upright, rubbing my head and trying to remember what had happened. The memory of panic came back to me, but the feeling of it was gone now. I crossed my arms over my chest and shivered, looking up to the starlit dome above. I had to get moving. My teeth began to chatter violently behind my numb lips.

  I hoisted myself upright, bracing against the wall again, but my feet were steady now. I chose a direction and set off, taking care to keep my tread quiet.

  I walked. And walked. For hours I simply kept on, grateful for the small warmth the easy action of walking brought to my body. The alleyways were dark, but not completely black. Somewhere in the sky, beyond the edge of the tall structures above me, a moon shone down.

  I had been an idiot. To think that ten hours ago I had actually felt a desire to stay in this deeper part of the Maylin Fold, to continue to gain strength, even though I was away from the people I cared about. My mom. Grandma. Now I was hunted, lost, and freezing.

  They must still be at the farm looking for me. What would they think about my disappearance? My stomach knotted as I imagined Mom’s face, fearful and guilty. She would think I had run away. She would think I had been so angry about being stuck at the farm that I had taken off. And later, when they didn’t find me, she would think I was dead, my body hiding somewhere in the countryside, lost forever.

  And Grandma; would she be blamed? Would she get into some kind of trouble for not watching me more closely? I had been right under her nose, but now I was so far away that none of them would have been able to bring me home, not even if they knew where I was.

  I couldn’t think about that now. I had to stay focused, to stay on Almara’s trail. They might not be able to bring me home to Earth, but somewhere deeper in the Fold was the man who could send me.

  A dim light slowly began to creep into the alleyway, and suddenly my next turn to the left released me from the labyrinth in the buildings. I restrained myself from running right out into the lane ahead. My brain tried to cling to reason, and I stopped moving. I forced myself to wait, to listen.

  The night was very late, as I had guessed. Not a single person crossed on the narrow street in front of me as I hid in the shadows. A lit torch in the street cast a greenish glow on the storefronts, but nobody was out. I put my hand on my ax and cautiously stepped out into the open, breathing deeply, my chest relaxing for the first time in hours.

  I was ecstatic to be out of that maze behind the buildings. I was so relieved that I dropped my hand from the ax and barely bothered to keep an eye out for possible pursuers. It was luck alone that kept me from being caught at this time, for the cover of darkness also covered my own stupidity at letting my guard down so easily. But I couldn’t help my carelessness. The joy that came from being lost, and then suddenly not, was overwhelming. I chose a direction and walked briskly along in the dark shadows of the empty buildings.

  Soon I came to the entrance to the main square I had run from earlier. I peered around the edge of one side of the opening, but no one patrolled. It seemed that even those enormous black-clad guards had need of rest.

  I didn’t dare call out to Kiron, but my eyes searched for him in every shadow. He had to be here.

  I cautiously moved out into the square. The memory of my escape from the man with the dark eyes was still fresh, and I kept a sharp eye out for anyone that looked like they might be associated with him.

  I scurried from shadow to shadow along the outer perimeter of the square, slowly making my way to the arch Kiron had indicated, Stonemore South. I finally dared to open my mouth.

  “Kiron,” I whispered into the darkness.

  No response.

  I waited and watched, searching for any movement, any sign that Kiron had made it out of the square alright. But no glint of his silver beard or swish of his coat greeted me. No irritated response came to my inquiries.

  I didn’t want to stay put. First of all, I was scared of being caught. But secondly, I felt a need to search for the link with or without Kiron. He would be angry if he found me just standing here doing nothing, the opportunity to search in the dead of night wasted. Under the cover of the black morning, I crept low to the center of the square. All of the tables had been removed and the entire space was now empty. When I reached the center I turned around and around, searching for some indication of where to find the link. The map had pointed me here. Right here. I knelt to the ground and ran my hands along the roughly hewn cobblestones. No patterns betrayed the secret.

  Across the square two men began arguing. They had stumbled into the street moments ago, drunk, and were now throwing punches at each other. I wished hopelessly that I could disappear as effectively as my backpack. Don’t run. Don’t run, I thought. Stay calm. I walked as quickly as I could to the shadows at the edge of the square.

  Soon one of the men passed out on the cold ground, and the other stumbled away into the night. I released my breath slowly and closed my eyes with relief at not being seen.

  His hand gripped my shoulder suddenly, and I almost cried out in surprise. Kiron spun me around before I could make a sound and pressed his index finger to his lips. I nodded, gasping, as he pulled me deep into the shadows. When we were completely hidden he turned around.

  “Where did you go?” he whispered.

  “The alleyways,” I said. “I’m sorry. I got lost once I was clear of them. What happened after I ran?”

  “The dark one was furious. He ordered his entire guard after you. They didn’t notice me, but I saw them searching for you for the rest of the day. They’ve been questioning the towns people. You stick out with that glowing mop on your head.”

  I absently ran my hand through my hair. I had been targeted, and now it wouldn’t just be the children of this place interested in my appearance.

  “What am I going to do?” I asked nervously.

  “Don’t worry about it yet. It’s still black out and there’s no one around. But we’ll need to come up with a plan before dawn.”

  “Did you find anything?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “I searched high and low through the market, but I didn’t find nothin’. And the stones in the square reveal no secrets. We’ll search now, while the guards sleep. You take the north side of the square, I’ll take the south. We’ll meet in the middle.”

  I didn’t like the idea of splitting up again so soon after reuniting, but I was feeling lucky I had avoided a lecture about my flight earlier. And relieved at having located my companion again. I nodded, and we set off in opposite directions.

  The edges of the square were lined with little shops and offices, vacant and dark. I stepped quietly past each of them, peering into the small windows, searching for any sign of Almara. I ran my hands along the walls of the shops, trying to keep from running into them in the darkness. After passing several of the facades, my hands slipped from the rough stone of the buildings to something smooth and round and cold. Several of these unusual rocks were placed side by side, at least twenty. I took a step back from them, trying to determine what sort of stone the pavers were hewn from. Maybe it was a clue.

  Suddenly, I understood. I covered my scream with both of my hands as I realized I was facing a long row of human skulls in varying states of decay. Then, realizing that I had just been touching them, I frantically w
iped my hands on my pants. I furiously rubbed my mouth with the edges of my shirt, trying hard not to let a single sound escape me. I moved quickly to the end of the row until I found the ragged stone again. I walked quickly past the next few facades, trying to put distance between myself and the carnage.

  I rested my back against a wall when I was far enough away to be able to breathe again. What was this place? Chills ran down my spine when I remembered the children I had seen earlier today. They lived out their lives with trophies like this to look at every single day. It was disgusting. And terrifying.

  When I caught my breath, I moved on, this time taking the chance of a knock on the head and keeping my hands down. I had rounded the first side of the square, and was just turning to investigate the next when a flash of light caught my eye.

  The representation of the symbol was brief, and I almost missed it entirely. Sitting in the window of a small shop was a slim, silver device, lit only by a single oil lamp deep in the interior. The several parts to it moved constantly. Two circles entwined with each other and spun around a center diamond. From the front it was unrecognizable, merely a trinket on sale in a shop. But when viewed from the side, the circles changed shape, elongating into ovals. Every tenth rotation, the top and bottom star of the symbol would be visible for just a fraction of a second.

  It was a trick. Nobody looking at this device from the main square would see what I could see now. It would take viewing it from the side, at just the right angle, for the circles to appear elongated, and only every couple of minutes did the two stars become visible. They flashed so briefly that any onlooker would think it was simply a trick of the light, and after regarding it for another moment would look away.

  I, however, knew better.

  I approached the window and looked inside. A man sat behind a desk amidst mountains of trinkets. What was he doing up so late? I moved closer and tapped softly on the glass. He looked up at me over his spectacles for a quick moment, then waved me away with his hand and bent down again to his work. I tapped again. He glared up at me once more, and impatiently waved me away again.

  I thought about my options. I could wait until morning, when the cover of darkness would no longer be my ally, until he opened his shop. I could pound on the door right now, hoping that he would let me in with minimal fuss and that I wouldn’t call the attention of any guards. Or I could somehow, silently, convince him to allow me entry.

  I continued walking around the square towards the next corner where Kiron and I would meet. I could just make out his shadow as he darted in and out of hiding, making his way towards me. He was taking forever, but I didn’t dare come out from where I hid, nestled into the doorway of a tailor shop.

  When he finally arrived he breathed, “Anythin’?”

  “Yes. Follow me.”

  I led him to a dark corner a couple doors down from where I had seen the symbol.

  “Watch.” I pointed to the window.

  After a couple of minutes the rotating pieces aligned and Kiron gasped. He started to walk towards the window, grabbing my arm to pull him along, but I planted my feet. He turned, not understanding.

  “I already tried twice,” I whispered. “There’s a man inside but he won’t come to the door.”

  He looked towards the window, and then back to me, his eyes darting around as he thought.

  “Show him the pack,” he finally said.

  “Why?” The pack was a treasure, and I was wary of showing anyone I met what it could do. “It’ll probably just scare him.”

  “No, the symbol on the pack.”

  “Oh!” Yes, of course. If he saw Almara’s symbol on the pack, he would know I was someone he could trust.

  We both moved towards the window. I removed the canvas from my back and revealed it as we closed the distance. Then, when we reached the glass, I held it up, showing the symbol clearly. I tapped again.

  The man was clearly irritated, and he ignored my tapping. I persisted, and with the third round of insistent taps he threw his pen down on the table and stood up from his chair, glaring at us through the glass. For a moment his eyes only saw my face, then Kiron’s, but then they moved over to the pack and his snarl faded. Upon seeing the symbol, his mouth dropped open and his eyes grew round. He quickly made his way around the desk and shuffled to the door, unlocking several bolts. The door flew open and he pulled us both through it, furiously bolting it back up behind him as if expecting the devil himself to arrive on our heels.

  Chapter 11

  He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

  “Come, both of you, hurry back here,” he said nervously, and he pulled us towards the back of the shop. He was a short, round man, and I watched the back of his shiny, bald head as we moved through the mountains of merchandise. Every table was piled high with trinkets of all sorts; dishes, goblets, jewelry, chairs piled on top of one another, little boxes for keeping treasures, and books, everywhere books. One might call it an antique shop…or a junk shop, depending on your perspective.

  He thrust us through the doorway at the back of the place into a tiny room. Once inside, he retreated back into the shop and returned a moment later with the candle. He closed the door behind him and set the candle down before he spoke again. He seemed to be having a harder and harder time doing so the more he looked at us.

  “What—” he began, and then, “Who—” He seemed incapable of speaking a full sentence. I put my bag down on the floor and slumped into one of the two chairs that were wedged into the space, waiting for him to compose himself. This was the first time I had felt at all safe since leaving Kiron’s farm.

  “Where did you…come from?” he got out finally, pushing up his thick spectacles onto the bridge of his nose. “Who are you?”

  Kiron looked at him skeptically from where he leaned against the wall, and I was the first to speak. “My name is Aster,” I said. “Aster Wood. This is Kiron.” I motioned to my ancient traveling companion.

  He seemed to not recognize my name. He continued to splutter for a moment and then finally collected himself.

  “I am Chapman,” he got out at last. “You must forgive me, but I have never met another. All of these years I have followed, alone and unsure. And now two of you arrive at my door in the dead of night! Quite surprising.”

  “What do you mean you’ve never met ‘another’? Another what?” I asked.

  “Another Almarian,” he replied.

  Kiron huffed.

  “Almarian? What’s that?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” he said. “An Almarian. Surely you understand. Are you trying to trick me?” His eyes widened once more and darted back and forth between Kiron and I. He stepped back from the table. “Did…did the Shield send you? To…to…”

  “An Almarian is a sort of follower,” Kiron said to me, ignoring him. “They see Almara as more of a god than a man. They worship him and what little of the frillier bits of history they are aware of, stories made pretty by the telling.” He turned back to the man. “I didn’t know that Almarians still existed among the planets in the Fold, I hear mention of him so seldom. Nobody sent us.”

  Chapman looked terrified. He sure was anxious. “We came here on our own” I said, trying to calm him.

  His face relaxed somewhat, not catching Kiron’s slight, but he went on more cautiously.

  “Well, this is unheard of! Imagine, two servants of Almara in Stonemore!” His emotions seemed to be bobbing back and forth between fear and excitement.

  “Well, we’re not really servants of Almara. It’s more like we’re sort of…following him.”

  “We are the Corretage,” Kiron said, raising his head high and peering down his nose at Chapman.

  Chapman’s face broke into a tentative smile.

  “But, surely you must be joking,” he said, and looked at each of us in turn, waiting for us to laugh. Then, when we didn’t, he furrowed his brows in confusion. “But that is impossible!” he said.

  I turned to Kiron. “What
’s is ‘Corretage’?”

  “It is the name of the group at the center of Almara’s original purpose,” he said. “Almara, the eight, my family, Brendan, and now you. There may be others, but I don’t know of ‘em. Truth be told, I’m surprised that a simple Almarian knows of it at all.”

  Chapman picked up on the insult this time, and bristled.

  “You are quick to judge the Almarians, friend, if you are who you say you are,” he said. “In any case, you’d best hide that mark you showed through the window. Just you flashing his symbol will mark you as a servant, and a traitor, here. Such…support is considered a crime in Stonemore. I’m surprised you weren’t discovered already. You’re lucky you didn’t find yourself tied to a whipping post before now.”

  “A…whipping post?” A heavy weight dropped into the pit of my stomach, and I was reminded again of the skulls in the square. What had I gotten myself into?

  “Oh, yes,” he replied. “Any mention of Almara is not tolerated in Stonemore.”

  “But why?” I asked. It was my turn to be nervous.

  He snorted. “In Stonemore, the great battle between Almara and Zarich cemented his status as an untouchable. Contact with, or even mention of, Almara results in imprisonment here.”

  “Imprisonment? But isn’t Almara trying to help everyone in the Fold?” I asked.

  “Yes, of course,” he said. “But there are those who are threatened by his immense power. And they remain in Stonemore where they are in control.” He pulled back a chair and motioned to a short stool hidden under the table for Kiron to take. A look passed between Kiron and I. His told me to keep my wits about me. Mine told him to not be so rude. When he sat, Chapman began to speak.

  “Many hundreds of years ago, when Almara and the eight made their way through Stonemore, Zarich the Great had issue with their intentions. At every turn he strove to trip them up, and yet they were able to continue in their quest here in the city, seemingly unharmed by Zarich’s meddling. Finally, infuriated by his inability to halt their explorations, Zarich and the Shield waged a great assault on Almara and the eight as they slept, and fighting ensued.” He smiled. “It is said that the center of Stonemore was lit up as if all the stars in the cosmos had descended here to participate, such a defense did Almara and the eight put forth.”