by J B Cantwell
“I did go mad,” she answered. “After the first year or so, the rest is a blur; a long, unending nightmare of misery and loneliness. I have been mad all this time. Only now that I can hold the jadestone close to me do I feel some of my old self stirring inside. Only now can I even remember what life was like for the nine-year-old girl he took.”
We both fell silent. The sadness and desperation in each of our stories had finally proved to be too much to continue discussing. I realized that we shared a sort of bond, different as we were. Both of us were being hunted by a monster. Both of us were abandoned by our fathers. And both of us were focused on a return home.
After another half hour of picking our way back out through the mountain, we at last came to the edge of the crack that led into the gully. We stopped at the mouth of the opening and listened for any sign pursuit, but there was no sound. The horses had left the gully the night before, and now not even the croak of a cricket could be heard. We cautiously left the protection of the mountain.
Jade was silent as she crept out onto the loose stones, but her face shone with delight and relief in the moonlight. She stopped ten feet from the opening. She stood quite still, her neck craned upwards, basking in the glow of the heavens, breathing in the cold night air in long, deep breaths. Her thin nightgown clung to her body in the slight breeze and she shivered, but she didn’t seem to notice or care.
I dropped my pack and dug out the blanket from the snow lands. I draped it around her tiny frame, and only at the touch of my hands on her shoulders did she look away from the sky and at me.
“Thank you,” she said. Any air of superiority had vanished. She looked at me with true appreciation.
I smiled, hoisting the pack onto my back again, and we both set off into the gully, led only by the moon.
Chapter 21
Jade walked over the gully floor in silence. Her little feet may have not even touched the ground, but every time I looked behind me she was still there. It wasn’t until we were through the great crack that led to the grassy plains, and the sun began to rise, that she spoke again.
“Here,” she said. We had rounded the first corner after making it through the walls of rock that led from the gully to the plains, and the golden grass was laid out before us like a warm blanket over the earth.
I stopped and looked back to her. She was standing with both palms outstretched, and hovering in the air above them twirled the jade knife. It rotated slowly, and she closed her eyes and mumbled words I could not hear. The knife slowly came to a stop and pointed clearly in a single direction, as a compass would point due north. She opened her eyes and grasped it by the handle, tucking it into the folds of the blanket she wore. Then she held out her arm and gestured for me to head in the direction the knife had pointed.
“This way,” she said.
I gaped at her.
“How did you do that?”
She just smiled and started walking in the direction the knife had pointed.
We set out in the early morning sun, skirting around the edges of the grass. The grasslands that surrounded our right side were now deserted. The horses were gone, and not a single bird hovered overhead. Aside from the waving of the tall blades in the breeze, the place was almost lifeless. It reminded me of the feeling I would get back on the farm when a summer storm was brewing. The grass would blow in the gusts of wind, and the critters that remained would retreat to their shelters to wait out the storm. Far away on the horizon, I saw storm clouds gathering. We would have to find shelter before the rains came.
As we walked, Jade hummed merrily, like a little girl with an unexpected day off school. Her long, white-blond hair bounced behind her as she skipped over the rocks. She was strange. She had lived for hundreds of years, and yet so many of her childlike qualities remained. She let the blanket fall from her shoulders and the breeze ruffled through her nightgown. I hadn’t realized it until now, but all these hours she had been walking with no shoes.
“Jade,” I said, “aren’t your feet hurting?” She had walked over all variety of rocks, sharp and jagged, smooth and round, without a single complaint.
She laughed. “No,” she said. “Among stones I am safe. We exist alongside one another. It is not possible for us to bring pain to the other.”
“But rocks can’t feel pain,” I protested. “They’re rocks.”
She chuckled. “As I said, you know very little about this place.”
She bent over and scooped up a handful of pebbles. Then, blowing on the little mound in her hands, the rocks began to swirl in the air above her head. It wasn’t like the way Cadoc manipulated smoke; that was ominous and frightening. What Jade did with the rocks was more like a dance. As she moved, the stones moved, flocking together like a group of birds flying across the sky. She twirled them up, up, up, until she finally held out her hand again and they all plinked delicately into it.
I had to make a real effort to close my open mouth. We continued walking.
“If you can move rocks like that, why didn’t you just move the mountain right off you?” I asked.
Her face fell. I immediately felt ashamed for having brought up that place now that she was finally free of it, and clearly enjoying herself so much.
“I’m sorry,” I began. “ I didn’t think.”
“It’s alright,” she said quietly. “You have questions. I understand that. The answer is that not even I can move a mountain.”
We walked for the entire afternoon, skirting around the exterior edge of the mountain. The wind that had started off as a gentle breeze had gradually grown into a full gale. Finally, as the sun disappeared behind the wall of clouds, we stopped for the night. I found a tiny cave to use as shelter. The food was completely gone except for just a couple bites of meat for each of us and some old, stale bread.
“I’m sorry I can’t offer you something better,” I said to Jade.
“No matter,” she replied. “Food is only a bare necessity to sustain me. I have what I need to continue on.” She clutched the jade dagger close to her body.
Outside, raindrops began pelting the rocky soil.
“Rain!” she said, and jumped to her feet and out of the protection of the narrow overhang.
“Wait!” I yelled. “What are you doing? Don’t go out—” My words were cut short by the broad smile on her face. She stood with her face raised to the charcoal-gray clouds, the raindrops landing harmlessly on her skin.
“Ah,” she said. “It has been so long since I felt the rain on my cheeks.”
I didn’t understand. “Doesn’t it hurt?” I asked.
“Hurt?” She looked back at me, perplexed. “Why would rain hurt?”
Then I understood. Carefully, I stretched out my palm and allowed a single drop of rain to fall into it before snatching it back into the safety of the cave. It didn’t burn. It didn’t irritate the flesh. It merely sat in my hand, an innocent drop. I got to my feet and cautiously stepped out into the downpour.
On Earth, when the rains did come, they fell first through the layer of pollution that blanketed the planet. But here, here the air was still clean.
The first few drops made me cringe and flinch, but a moment later I realized that the rain was just water. A lifetime of fear evaporated in the span of only a few moments.
I smiled and joined her, the cool shower washing away the heat of the day from my hair. She surprised me when her tiny hand slipped into mine.
“Thank you so much,” she said. “I never thought I would ever feel anything but darkness again.”
I shrugged, still grinning despite myself, amazed at the simple joy of standing in the rain. “Anytime.”
Later, once we were both fully soaked and had had our fill, we both retreated into the small cave. Jade gathered an armful of baseball-sized stones and placed them in a pile at our feet. She held her hands above the rocks, humming a strange tune, and they began glowing a bright orange. In minutes the little space was as warm as we ever could have hoped for.
>
“What’s it like?” she asked me, gnawing on the last small bit of chicken. “On Earth?”
I stared at the rocks, which glowed like hot embers from a wood fire.
“It’s…different. Really different than here,” I said. “The rain is poison and not much grows. And there’s no magic.”
She sat up. “No magic?”
I laughed. “No. On Earth, we do everything the hard way.” I didn’t hold her gaze, dropping my eyes back to the rocks.
“Is it sick?” she asked. “Father said it was. He said that’s why Brendan shouldn’t go. He said it was hopeless. Too late.”
I thought about Grandma’s barren fields. About the growing towers in the big cities, the only place our food could grow protected from the stinging rain. And about my father. My poor, mad father.
“Yes.”
“Then why do you want to go back?” she asked.
“It’s my home,” I said. “It being ruined doesn’t change that.”
She nodded. “I don’t know what awaits me. But I want to go, anyways. It can’t be worse than that cave.”
No, it couldn’t.
When the rain finally died, she crawled back out of the cave and sat on the rocks just outside the entrance.
“Aren’t you sleeping inside?” I asked her.
“No,” she said dreamily as she lay back onto the dirt. “I think I’ve spent enough time in caves to last me…a lifetime.”
As we both lay back, a nearly full moon rose over the grass. I watched her gazing up at the sky. Then slowly her eyes closed and she drifted off into sleep.
My eyes did not close. I lay awake for what felt like hours listening to the gusts of the wind on the other side of the shallow cave. Jade was outside, but somewhat sheltered behind the little hill that was formed where cave was dug into, so her hair fluttered only occasionally in the wisps of air that curled around the sides of the rock. The sound of the wind as it increased from a gust to a howl did not rouse her. But I could hear what was going on out there, and sleep didn’t find me.
This was no good. I needed to sleep. It had been nearly two full days since I had rested. But with each whistle of the wind, I found myself more and more awake.
The stars above twinkled as brightly, though the wind continued. Something about this wind didn’t sit right with me. As the night wore on, it gradually changed, its tone speaking to me in a language I couldn’t understand. The more I listened, the more garbled the message became. But the brief joy I had shared with this weird little girl was soon gone, replaced by a dread I didn’t yet have a name for.
Eventually I, too, succumbed to sleep. When I finally awoke, it was not due to the sound of more wind, but instead the total silence. Sometime while I slept, the powerful gusts had vanished completely. I stood up from the sheltered mouth of the cave and took in the landscape. Not a single blade of grass seemed to move in the still air.
At first I was worried by Jade’s absence from the campsite, but I quickly found her once I climbed up on the mound atop my shelter. She was standing on the edge of where the grasslands met the rocks, staring out across the motionless plains.
I walked up behind her, looking over her shoulder at the view.
“This quiet concerns me,” she said, unsurprised by my approach.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“For a land to abandon all of its natural ways, and with such suddenness…” she turned, facing me, and then started to walk back to the camp. “We must use extreme caution from here.”
I turned and followed her. “What do you think it is?”
She looked at her feet as she walked.
“Nothing good,” she replied.
Jade did the trick with the knife again, and soon we were on our way, this time veering slightly to the left and back into the low hills that surrounded the mountains. After no more than an hour or two of walking this way, we caught our first glimpse of the ocean. The slight scent of salt was in the air, though no wind could be felt here, either. The stillness made me uneasy after such howling winds the night before. Usually the world, even Earth, is full of sounds, birds chirping, bugs creeping, but here there was absolutely nothing. Still, the sight of the ocean buoyed my hopes. At least we were headed in the right direction.
The overwhelming quiet changed the closer we go to the ocean, until finally I could recognize an actual sound that wasn’t the stomping of my boots on the ground. When we reached the cliff that separated the land from the sea, the dull roar of the waves far below was audible, though still quieter than I expected. The lack of wind had an effect on the waves as well, and they were muted as they softly licked the shores of the beach.
The closer we got to the ocean, the brighter the knife became. Jade would stop every hour or so and redirect our route. Soon we were climbing over the jagged rocks that lined the cliff, eventually descending on a narrow path down the face of the granite that carved the barrier between island and air.
Jade, in the lead now, soon halted our progress. Over the past twenty four hours or so she had become quite agile compared to the weakened state I had found her in, and her excitement over finding the link was palpable. She turned back to me.
“I think this is it,” she whispered. “We must be incredibly quiet. If the cave is not deserted, then we will surely be roasted.”
I stared at her blankly. “What do you mean, roasted?” I asked.
Her eyes shifted away from mine, looking suspicious.
“Jade, where are we?”
“We are in a place where beasts once dwelled,” she said softly, “but it is my belief, and hope, that they no longer do so.”
I felt a familiar twinge of nerves in my stomach, and a hot knot of anger rose up in my throat. “What sort of beasts are you talking about?” I asked through gritted teeth.
She looked out over the ocean as she spoke the words that brought terror into my heart. “This was once the lair of a dragon.”
“What?” I exclaimed, more loudly than I had meant to.
“Be quiet!” she hissed, looking back at me sharply. Then she peered around the edge of the cave entrance, looking for signs of trouble. She turned back to me. “It is almost certainly deserted,” she said.
“If it’s deserted, then why do we need to be so careful?” I challenged.
“Because dragons can live hundreds, sometimes thousands of years. The legend was that he was long gone, but it would be prudent to still exercise a little caution. Don’t you agree?”
“I do agree,” I snarled, “but it would have been nice to know what I was getting into before you led me to the edge of a giant cliff before telling me!”
“You would have never come,” she mumbled, her eyes casting downward. “People who are older than children, or who think they are older than children, seldom listen to their advice.”
She had me there. How many times had I tried to explain to my own mother that I was healthy enough to lead a normal life? Even here in the Fold, where I had powers beyond the average person, I was still thought of and treated like a young child.
“Look,” I said, “I’m a kid, too, in case you haven’t noticed. And if we’re going to be doing dangerous stuff you need to tell me ahead of time, alright?”
She nodded.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked.
Looking a little more hopeful now at the change in my tone, she breathed, “We will go in as quietly as possible. You will watch the mouth of the cave, and I will go to where the rocks are piled. Father told me that the dragon who lived in this mountain was rumored to be a hoarder of minerals as well as treasure, so it is believed that a wealth of Maylin history is buried in this chamber. I will find the rocks I need, there are only two, and when I come back out we will flee to find a safe place where I can work with them.”
“What will the rocks do?” I asked.
“They will break free the link, and then we can leave this place.”
“Sounds simple enough,” I said.
&n
bsp; She smiled. “It may or may not be simple, but if things go as planned then we will escape this strange change in the weather tonight.”
The real possibility of returning home struck me at that moment, and I felt hopeful that she was right. Maybe, with Jade at my side, Almara was just a jump or two away. Maybe he hadn’t gone far at all, not wanting to leave his daughter too far behind.
“Let’s go,” I said, feeling renewed energy. I was ready to go home.
We crept around the edge of the cave opening. Jade stopped, peering inside, a look of dread on her face as she inspected the enclosed space. I could hardly blame her. She took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold.
We found ourselves inside an wide, tall cave. The walls on all sides were burnt black from the fire of the beast that had once called this place home, and vicious cracks ran down the stone. The light of the sun, dropping low in the sky, opposite the cave combined with the light that emanated from the dagger was enough for us to make our way inside without disturbing anything. Silently we crept farther in.
Suddenly, a gust of smoky wind blew at us from deep inside the cave; it was so unexpected that it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I spun around searching for the threat, certain that my worst fears would be realized, but no danger revealed itself.
“I think we should change the plan. Let’s stay together,” I said in her ear in my lowest whisper. She nodded silently.
As we moved deeper into the cave the wind coming from within it increased until we were both squinting our eyes to protect them from getting filled with dust.
“What’s happening?” I hissed to her.
“I don’t know,” she cried.
We pressed on and finally reached the far wall of the cave. Through the strange interior gale we saw giant mounds of silver treasure, and to one side a large pile of every sort of rock imaginable. I quickly knelt by the pile and began digging through the rocks.
“What do they look like?” I shouted to her over the noise of the wind.
