Aster Wood series Box Set

by J B Cantwell

  “Do you remember me?” I asked, moving my head so that he had no choice but to look at me.

  His lips mouthed the word.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you hurt?” I asked.

  His face scrunched up a little bit, and then he sat up again, pulling up his sleeve to show me a long gash that ran from wrist to elbow. I carefully took his arm in my hands, inspecting the wound, and he winced. It oozed yellow, and a sharp odor wafted up from his moving it. I forced myself to not recoil.

  “It’ll be okay,” I lied, wanting only to bring him relief. “Anything else?” He shook his head.

  Suddenly, he gripped the sides of his head with both hands, as if someone had just rattled his skull from the inside. He closed his eyes tightly, his mouth open in a silent scream of pain.

  “Rhainn!” I said, reaching up for him, unable to grasp his writhing body. The horse shied and took several steps away. “What is it?” I moved after them, the horse prancing, but held in place by an unseen command. Rhainn’s fingernails dug into the sides of his temples and thin trickles of blood oozed out of the wounds.

  Then, the pain released him.

  He slumped forward again, panting, whimpering. I crept towards them.

  “I have to take you back,” he croaked.

  “Take me back?” I asked.

  “He wants you. I’m supposed to take you.” The words seemed difficult for him to get out.

  “But why?”

  A small cry escaped his throat, and he gripped onto his head again.

  “Look in the box,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “What?”

  He held out his foul arm and pointed at the wooden box he had brought, now on the ground several feet away. I had already forgotten about the box. I quickly strode back to it and wrenched off the lid.

  But when I saw what was inside, I was confused. As my fingers grasped the contents, the realization of what this particular gift could mean was slow to come.

  Inside the box, in a neatly coiled loop, was a pile of long, white-blond hair. It could only belong to one person, the one girl I so desperately wanted to save from the Corentin’s grip.

  Jade.

  “Will you come?” he asked, his voice almost a cry of pain now.

  I didn’t answer. I stood staring at the hair in my hand, mouth open, not knowing what I would say if I were ever able to speak again.

  Was it a threat?

  Or a proclamation?

  “Aster!” he squealed, gripping his skull as if he intended to crush it.

  I stared up at him, and my shock melted away, replaced by concern.

  “Yes,” I whispered, turning back to him. “Yes, I’ll come.”

  He whimpered gratefully as his body was finally released from whatever torture had propelled him to this point. The horse’s eyes were wide with panic; it turned and walked back towards the waiting army, Rhainn just barely able to hang on with the little strength he had left.

  I let the box fall back to the earth, but kept the lock of Jade’s hair in my hand, and followed. The fluttering wings of the moth beat against my belly, and my breathing steadied.

  “Where are they?” I asked, catching up to him. “The children.”

  “With him,” he moaned quietly.

  “Are they alright?”

  Big tears fell down his muddy cheeks.

  “I was wrong,” he said.

  “Wrong about what?” I asked.

  “I should have gone with you. Maybe together we could have freed them. But now—”

  “We can still free them,” I said. “The people in Stonemore, that city back there, they know about the kids. They know about Cait.”

  “Cait?” he asked. Then, recognition lit his face. “You have to save her,” he said, urgent. “No matter what he does.”

  “I’m going to save all of you,” I said. “I’m going to—”

  “No,” he said. “You’re not. But you have to save Cait. Promise me.”

  “But—”

  “Promise me.” His brows creased as he forced out the words. It was a look full of so much pain, so much concern for another that it rattled me. It was a look that didn’t belong on a child.

  “Okay,” I said. “I promise.”

  He relaxed, letting out a long breath as his head bobbed up and down with the movement of the horse’s neck.

  I could have asked him where we were going. But I already knew where. I could have been walking through the soldiers all on my own and still found the one tent that belonged to the Coyle.

  We broke through the wall of men, standing tall and hungry at the edge of war. They sneered and spat at us as we passed. But not even they, with their huge muscles and thick armor, dared to defy the wishes of their skeletal leader. The wide swath of warriors parted easily to let us through.

  The children, slaves to the men, bound to serve no matter the circumstance, skittered around. Most stayed near those they were assigned to serve. But some cast glances in our direction, at once haunted and hopeful, their futures uncertain. I shuddered as I imagined them going into battle alongside these ruthless men, trampled beneath their iron-clad boots as they walked the path of war.

  “You have to promise me something, too,” I said under my breath.

  “What?” His voice was tired, quiet.

  “Keep fighting,” I said. “Get yourself out of there. Whatever you do, don’t quit. I’m coming for you. Do you understand?”

  He stared blankly at me, his gaze unfocused.

  “Those hills over there,” I inclined my head just slightly towards the place all of Stonemore had been gathered just an hour before. “That’s where I’ll be. Get yourself out and run for that place, find somewhere to hide. Don’t be a hero, you hear me? Everyone in that city knows about the kids. Let us come for them. But you,” my chest clenched as I looked at him. For reasons I didn’t understand, I felt wholly responsible for the survival of this one boy. “If there’s any opportunity at all to escape, you take it. With or without Cait. Promise me.”

  He nodded drowsily.

  We walked, eventually coming to the last of the army, and continuing on beyond them. Ahead, the shape of the Coyle’s tent came into view, the flaps of the entrance waving in the stiff wind just as I had expected them to.

  Rhainn slid off the horse and hit the ground on all fours. His body was stiff, as if his muscles had all been used to a point of exhaustion so severe he could no longer command them. I reached down and gripped him under his arms. He tried to throw me off, unwilling to accept the help, glancing nervously towards the tent. I released him, and he stood up as tall as his battered body would allow. He stood at the door, waiting for me to enter the tent before him. I tried to catch his eye, wanted to somehow communicate to him that everything would be alright, even though I had no idea if we would even survive the next five minutes. But his head was bowed, eyes downcast to the ground.

  My teeth clenched. Had I been feeling less reckless, more like saving my own skin, I would have cast my own eyes down as Rhainn did. But at the sight of him, just a boy, so beaten and worn, anger boiled within me.

  I lifted my chin and pushed aside the hangings, walking through, towards my audience with the one who had the power to crush me to dust with the flick of his finger.

  And I held my head high.

  Chapter 24

  It took me a moment to adjust to the dim light. Rhainn followed me inside, closing the flaps behind him, blocking out the protective feeling of the sun. The air was hot and sweet, lit by just a few small, glowing orbs of light that hung suspended in midair.

  The children were in their rows, just as I had seen in the vision. My breath caught in my chest as I quickly studied their faces, searching for signs that they had been turned into the beasts I had seen. Not a single gaze shifted from the figure at the end of the tent, and I felt sure that if I were to wave my hand in front of their eyes, their lids wouldn’t flutter. But their faces were clean, unmarked by the one who sto
od now to greet me.

  The man who stood was not the skeleton from the army village who had threatened me before. He was whole and clean, his skin and eyes intact. He approached me, gliding down the aisle, a long flowing robe floating above the floor of the tent. He moved with such grace that I found myself looking at the ground, wondering if he had any feet at all hidden beneath the fabric.

  As he neared, I saw that his eyes did not hold the usual onyx cast of someone possessed by the Corentin, and I was confused. But only for a moment. Once I looked into them, a deep, dark blue, I didn’t want to look away again. Some part of me, the part that wanted to go to sleep and forget that any of the horrible things I had experienced had ever happened, felt that I could have looked into those deep blue pools forever.

  He stopped, standing a few feet away. His movements were slow and purposeful, as though trying not to alarm me. Then he extended one hand towards me and bowed his head.

  I froze, unsure. The gesture had been unusual enough when it had been made by Kiron’s men. It was a sign of respect, and a pledge that they would follow me. But seeing this man, this Coyle who was feared and abhorred, submit to me in the same way was entirely unexpected. I didn’t know how to react.

  His head stayed bowed for several long moments, his hand extended, waiting for my blessing. But I didn’t give it.

  Finally he lifted his face again, one eyebrow raised ever so slightly as he regarded me. But if he felt any anger at my lack of acceptance, he didn’t betray it.

  “So you are the one,” he said mildly, tilting his head slightly to one side, “who has been chosen to destroy us.”

  I stared, entranced again, waiting for him to speak. His voice has almost like listening to a song, and once I heard it I found myself eager for more, just so I could listen. I thought that, if he talked to me for long enough, I might be able to memorize the tune.

  He started to extend one hand towards my face, and I thought he meant to caress my cheek. Then he withdrew it, as if the thought had occurred to him that his uninvited touch might be unwelcome. He dropped his hands and folded them gently in front of his body.

  “I might have relieved you of this life back there in the camp, when you came to steal away my most prized possessions.” He lifted his arms out to his sides, gesturing at the children sitting around him. “Though I was, of course, unable to do away with you before you disappeared. Surely you remember our first meeting.”

  I tried to make sense of his words, but I felt as though I, too was now floating above the ground. He spoke of the first time we had met, but it seemed to me I had always known him, every moment of my life.

  “He had wanted me to kill you, of course,” he went on. “He was most displeased when you slipped out from under me. But I told my…friend that I expected you to be quite agreeable to work with now that the situation has changed. And, indeed, you are already much less hostile than I might have expected.”

  Hostile?

  My mind struggled with the word. It rang some sort of bell, like something I had been sent here to say or do, but had forgotten.

  Why was I here? Images flashed in the corners of my brain, but then vanished before I could focus my attention on them, leaving nothing but a wide, comforting expanse of emptiness in my mind.

  He turned, gesturing for me to follow him down the aisle to the end of the tent, where two throne-like chairs awaited us.

  Automatically, I moved forward towards them. The staff slipped through my fingers with each step on the hardened dirt floor, and I felt quite safe. In fact, I felt a lot more than just safe.

  I felt fantastic.

  My mind was liberated, gloriously emptied of all of my worries and troubles. In that moment, all that existed in my world was contained within this tent. All that mattered was whatever this man had to say, and the opportunity to gaze again into those dark, crystalline eyes.

  We reached the two chairs, and he gestured for me to sit. I obeyed automatically, and found the chair to be immensely comfortable. I looked out over the crowd of small children who sat staring, and I felt nothing but serene calm. My vision drifted over the tops of the heads lazily, as if watching a beautiful sunset or an early snowfall.

  Then my eyes found Rhainn, and my brain seemed to jam.

  He was on all fours, bowing to us like a beaten dog. He looked up, just for an instant, and his eyes met mine.

  My head exploded. All of the memories came rushing in at the same time. The enslaved children. The cursed city. The men and women who stood on the wall waiting to defend it right this minute.

  Defend it against the might of this strange, smooth man sitting beside me.

  My fingers tightened around the long locks of white hair in my fist. I fought to not search the room for Jade, to not call attention to my sudden release from this trance, so much like the way I had felt when I had first entered the newly painted trap that had been Stonemore.

  I tried to pretend that nothing had changed, tried to keep my body relaxed so that the Coyle wouldn’t discover that I had broken through his strange power, but my breath quickened, and my palms began to sweat. When I refused to make eye contact with him again, I caught the first hint of his impatience as his voice hardened just the slightest amount.

  “Ahh,” he said smoothly. “This boy has some sort of hold on you, I see.” His head inclined towards Rhainn’s hunched body.

  I stared at the floor, suddenly seething with anger. It had been a trick, just like so many others. As I inspected the dirt at my feet, I swore that if he lay a single hand on any one of these children, I would rip him apart with my bare hands.

  “They are not in pain, you know,” he went on, standing again and walking amongst the children. He knelt down gently sliding one finger down the jaw of a small boy a couple rows back. The boy turned his head, staring blankly into the Coyle’s eyes.

  My breath caught and I stood up from the chair, ready to fight.

  “They are safe here, you see, from all that transpires in the real world out there. They are…protected.” His finger tapped beneath the boy’s chin, and the Coyle regarded him as if he were a fine treasure in a vast collection.

  “And what about the others?” I snarled, suddenly finding my voice. I looked towards Rhainn. “They don’t seem very protected.”

  “Yes, well, everyone has a different role to play, do they not?” he said, standing again. “But give it time. I suspect that, if you will allow me to show you, you might just consider staying on here for a while. I see that you do enjoy being with the children. That is something that you and I share.”

  He stopped and knelt beside another child, a girl, staring at her with a look so hungry on his face it made my blood run cold. I glanced at Rhainn, and the pain on his face was palpable. He kept looking back and forth between the girl and me, and I understood.

  It was Cait.

  Her face was as blank as any other in the room, though something about her seemed more beautiful, more pure than the others. Her dirty brown hair hung down around her shoulders as she was forced to look into the eyes of her captor. He was inching closer and closer, his mouth open as though he intended to rip her to pieces with nothing but his teeth.

  “But why should I?” I interrupted, trying to distract him. He shook his head slightly as he was torn from his own, sick trance, and stood again. “What can you offer me that the others can’t?” I looked out over the sea of children, careful to keep my eyes focused away from his.

  “Oh, child,” he said. “Surely even a babe like you can see that the other side is the losing side. This is the place where you can learn how to use your power. I am told it is new to you, the skills you have acquired.” He stepped towards me again, and I let out a long, silent breath as he moved away from Cait. “Few can help you as I can. As you can see, I specialize in the training of children, and while you are nearly a man, I think I could still find a way to assist.”

  “Where is she?” I asked, my jaw clenched, unable to hold the question in a
ny longer. The pile of her hair sat in my lap, and a variety of terrifying scenarios played in my mind like a television screen that only showed horror films. I tried to keep my heartbeat steady as I imagined Jade, dead at this monster’s hands.

  “Do not worry,” he said smoothly. “I realize the way things might look from your perspective, but you must understand that I needed to get your attention.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him gesture to Jade’s hair. “Your friend is as safe as she has ever been.”

  So not safe at all, then.

  “I want to see her,” I said.

  He snorted, raising a hand to his nose as if embarrassed by the crude sound of his own laughter.

  “No, that will not be possible.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “We are not here to discuss, or visit with, your friend,” he said. He glided between the children. “She has made her choices. As must you.”

  “And you want me to choose to stay with you. Why?”

  “My only desire is to help,” he said. “As you can see,” he gestured to the children, “I do have a fondness for teaching the young our ways.”

  “I don’t want your help,” I said, unable to contain my disgust.

  He paused. I could feel him staring at me.

  “Oh, but you do,” he said quietly, moving to stand right before me. He leaned over and put both of his hands on the arms of my seat, trapping me there. “I know you do. Once a man feels the power coursing within him, it is there to stay. Those things you wish for, things to make up for what you’ve lost, they are within your grasp at this very moment. Can you not feel it, the connection between all that you desire and your hand on that instrument you hold?” He looked down at the staff in my hands, reaching out a long finger. “It is a rude weapon, I will say that.” He touched the wood with the tip of his outstretched finger, and I flinched away from him.

  “Get away,” I said. I squirmed like a little child and slipped through the space between his arm and the chair, scrambling to one side, the staff distinctly sticky in my palms. Flashes of horror fought for attention in my mind, and I backed up through the crowd of children. He turned, watching me, but didn’t approach.