by J B Cantwell
But the corners of his mouth soon turned upward again.
“Still, you cannot deny its beauty,” he said, his face filled with amazement. “It is the heart of Aerit, brought up from the depths of the planet by Jared’s power. It is a wondrous thing.”
He asked to hold the gold piece, but I refused him. I dropped it quickly into the basin, and as the light filled the cavern, I dragged him away.
Minutes later, we were standing on Aeso. The Hidden Mountains loomed somewhere in the distance, waiting for us.
I suddenly felt that things were moving too fast. I felt exhausted from our time on Aerit, and now that we had balanced it and jumped to Aeso, I was grateful that we walked toward the mountains instead of using a link.
I wasn’t the only one. Both Finian and Kiron walked in silence, too, and the only sound was our footsteps in the grass and the skipping gait of Cait, who frolicked around Father’s path as we pushed on.
The Corentin was Jared. Jared was the Corentin.
My dad, his body had become a sort of venue for different people with different intentions, to show themselves. He had become a portal of communication. A guide. And a warning.
My heart ached at the thought. Not because I didn’t want the help, or that we didn’t need the help. But because even with those slivers of blue that shone more brightly in Father’s eyes with each planet leveled, my dad still did not speak to me directly. It seemed that, with the change in the balance of power in the Fold, he no longer wished to hurt me. That hint of blue, and the lack of further attack, had brought me hope that I might see him again as he was meant to be seen. A man. Just one man. My dad. Maybe insane. Maybe sane. It was starting to matter to me less and less as the relentless parade of personalities moved through his body and he still remained silent.
Were they Dad’s eyes that were watching me when I looked up to find them staring? Or were they Father’s, trying to read my actions, trying to determine how best to help?
Or Jared’s? Was Jared’s personality really only the good parts of the man who was responsible for all the evil these lands had ever known?
All I knew was that I was tired. Tired of trying to decide how I felt. Tired of being on my guard. Tired of being the one who had somehow become responsible for the success of this quest.
The storm was visible before the mountains were. Around the base of the great, gray peaks, the hurricane swirled, dangerous and relentless. I wondered if the Corentin knew that we were back here again. Soon, I stopped walking and took out the mile-link.
“This won’t be fun,” I said to the others as they clustered around me.
And again, as when Cait, Father and I had first arrived back on Aeso, we jumped into the violence of the storm.
Immediately my skin felt the sting of the wind. My cheeks was still sore from the storm on Dursala, but there was no escape from this new onslaught. Tiny particles of dirt and sand began stripping my skin, and I shut my eyes and bowed my head into the gale.
“We have to stay together!” I yelled. “Don’t let go!”
Cait’s protesting cries of pain. Finian’s shout of surprise. Kiron’s growl, telling us to keep moving. Even Father, who had moments before seemed excited about the prospect of another adventure, groaned at the pain the wind brought.
It seemed to take an eternity, though it was only a few minutes until we were on the other side of it. Once the wind lifted, and we were within the quiet heart of the storm, we all released our hands and collapsed on the ground, exhausted. Caked sand filled half my mouth. Finian delicately tried to remove the particles from his eyes. Kiron spat onto the ground, shaking his head in an attempt to be rid of the stuff. Cait’s beautiful cheeks were raw, bright red.
Yet she was the first to her feet, excitement lighting her face.
“We can’t stop now,” she encouraged, grabbing my shirt and tugging, as if her desire alone could lift my weight from the ground.
I groaned, wiping my own eyes with the cleanest part of my shirt I could find.
She was right, though, and I stood up. On our first attempt to reach the Stonemorians in the Hidden Mountains, it had only taken us a short time to find them. There was no reason to delay now.
“Come on,” I said. “She’s right. The sooner we find the group, the better.”
As Kiron and Finian crawled to their feet, only Father remained on the ground, his expression something I hadn’t seen there before: fear.
“It’s the same as the last time we jumped through the storm,” I said. “What’s the problem?” I tried to ignore the stinging skin on my face and hands.
He pushed himself up to his elbows.
“I understand now,” he said, his voice barely audible above the storm that raged just beyond where we stood. “I understand why we’re fighting. That there is another part to Jared. I didn’t realize it until now. His thoughts have always been so gentle, so guiding. But now I see.”
“Now you are reminded what the Corentin is capable of,” Kiron growled from behind me. And it was he who extended his hand to Father. “Let’s hope that what you say is true. That the Jared who remains within you is, in fact, the good that remains of the Corentin.” He hoisted Father to his feet and then stared around at the mountains above. “And none of the bad.”
Within just a handful of jumps we had found the spot where Cait’s trail had last run cold. And within minutes I recognized the hunched form of Zacharias emerging from the shadows, a wand raised in our direction.
“It’s us, Zacharias,” Kiron said.
But he would not let us pass so easily.
“Tell me the place where you and I first met,” he said, unwavering.
Kiron snorted.
“We met in the field behind my father’s house,” he said. “You had come to us at his request to teach us the lore of Aerit.”
“What were you doing in that field?” he pressed.
“If I recall correctly, I was planting tubers,” he said. “The cold of winter had not yet passed, and I shoved each chunk of potato deep into the ground with my numb fingers. Is that enough for you, old friend?”
“And when I came into the house of your father, what did you learn?”
Kiron laughed.
“I learned that you enjoy a pipe after dinner, and did not worry whether or not your wet socked feet stuck out before our fire would offend.”
Zacharias smiled.
“And…” he said, approaching now and lowering his wand.
“And the story of how the Corentin had come to be,” Kiron said. “Though now that story might have to change some.” He shot a knowing glance toward Father, and reached forward to shake Zacharias’ hand.
The people of Stonemore crowded around us as we entered the overhang where they rested. Erod’s head, taller than any of the others, watched cautiously from twenty feet back, and I saw, just barely, the top of Jade’s white-blond hair through the crowd.
My breath caught in my chest as I recognized her, the only true family I had in this place so far from Earth. Father seemed not to count; his awareness was so transient, occasionally violent, and undependable. Now that I knew Jade’s possession was controlled by Erod, seeing her brought me nearly as much relief as returning home to my mom might’ve done. None of the ill will I had held for her just weeks ago remained.
I dropped my bag and walked out of the crowd to her. I could see, even from far back, that she had tears in her eyes. At the same moment we both opened our arms to each other, both relieved that the other was still alive.
“It’s ok,” I said. “We’re back. We actually balanced most of the planets.” My disbelief was clear in my voice. I could hardly understand all we had been through, myself. I pulled away from her. “Are you ok?” I asked.
She nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hand. I could tell she was trying hard to remain stoic and brave. I didn’t press her.
“What happened to your face?” she asked.
“The storms,” I said, wincing a
s she touched one cheek with a single finger.
“We need to get you cleaned up,” she said. “Are the others this way?”
“Yeah,” I said, though the past hours had been such a blur that I couldn’t tell her whose injuries were the worst.
“There were no impostors while you were gone,” she said, though she glanced around nervously as though she might’ve missed one.
“You look thin,” I said.
She nodded.
“Yes, there hasn’t been much food around,” she said. “Only Kiron’s tea to keep us feeling full. But that feeling always passes as soon as our stomachs realize it’s not real food.” She placed one hand over her hollow belly as she spoke. I had gone hungry, too, but only part of the time. I felt guilty, almost ashamed, at the fruits from Dursala that still lined the insides of our packs.
I turned to Erod.
“Are Elidor and Tristan back?” I asked.
“Tristan, yes,” he said.
“What about Elidor?” I pressed.
“Elidor …” Erod didn’t finish his thought, leaving the words hanging in midair as I realized the truth.
Elidor was dead.
“What happened to him?” I asked, my breath catching in my throat.
“Tristan will tell the story,” he said. “Something about a beast.” His eyes looked somber. “But they leveled their share of the planets. Elidor even managed to find the pedestal on Aeso. It wasn’t even far from here, just back in Stonemore. He fooled the guards somehow, I don’t know how. The old man’s magic was always impressive to behold. He left Tristan in the forest and entered Stonemore alone and undetected. It wasn’t until he was out of the cavern, Aeso leveled, that trouble caught up with him. A man. If you could call him a man, I guess. He was a monster from what Tristan said. A sick servant of the Corentin, always followed by a flock of young child slaves.”
I stopped breathing altogether. This description matched only one being I had ever met.
The Coyle.
Suddenly, my thoughts jumped not to Elidor’s plight, but to Rhainn’s.
“Did Rhainn come?” I asked.
“No,” he said, a little confused. “It’s been dry since—”
“No, I mean the boy,” I said. “His name is Rhainn.”
“Oh, the boy,” he said. “Yes, a boy did come, and he stays with the townsfolk. He’s mute. We haven’t been able to get a word from him.”
“Where is he?” I asked.
Erod turned and pointed, and alone in the deepest part of the overhang, a young boy sat huddled.
Rhainn.
I ran for him, desperate to see the boy I had unintentionally left behind. But as I got closer, his eyes grew wide with fear, and he began to scramble backward.
“Rhainn?” I called. “It’s me. Aster.” I slowed my pace until I stood ten feet from him. He looked like he would bolt at any moment. “Don’t you remember me?” I asked.
He stared, uncomprehending. Then he gave me the slightest of head shakes.
He’s damaged. It’s sort of like when Cait—
Cait!
I turned and yelled, running now in the opposite direction.
“Cait!” I called. “Where is Cait?”
Her little head bobbed out from behind Father, and she looked alarmed at my rapid approach. But I smiled, and her alarm turned to confusion instead. When I reached her I swept her up into my arms and turned toward Rhainn again.
For a moment he seemed just as frightened as the first time I had approached. But then something in his face sort of cracked, and I saw a glimmer of recognition in his eyes.
Cait scrambled out of my arms.
“Rhainn-y!” she called.
She hit the ground and ran for him. He seemed confused by her, too confused to run away, and soon she was leaping for him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He did not return her embrace. He simply sat there, the little girl he had tried so hard to save gripping onto him.
Larissa emerged from the crowd and ran to us as fast as her centuries-old legs would carry her.
“Child!” she sang at the sight of Cait, and she gripped her tightly in a hug.
“Dear one,” she said, turning to Rhainn. “This is Cait. The girl I spoke to you about.”
Rhainn looked into her eyes, as helpless and hopeful as a very young child. Then he looked back to Cait sheepishly.
“Rhainn-y?” Cait whispered.
“He doesn’t remember you, child,” Larissa said. “Nor anyone else.”
Larissa’s face was slack, like a person who’d been through too much pain in too short a time.
“How did he get here?” I asked. “How did he find you?”
“He was released,” she said. “That monster down in the village tossed him out. Tristan found him wandering aimlessly in the woods behind Stonemore and brought him here. At first we were worried that he might be an impostor, like all the other Asters had been. But his lack of speech and state of general misery made us think otherwise. We think he was sent here on purpose.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused. It wasn’t like the Coyle to release anyone, much less the boy he had snatched right out from under me.
“We think he was like … a gift,” she said. “A warning of sorts.”
I turned back to Rhainn, my stomach turning over. He had been the prisoner of the Coyle this whole time, then. Despite my guilt, I couldn’t imagine how I might’ve rescued him amidst everything we had been through. And now he sat before me, eyes frightened and body shaking like a leaf. Who knew how he had been tortured during the long months since I had last seen him? We would be lucky if any of his former self survived. I had been too late to get him away from the monster that was the Coyle. I turned to Cait who, surprisingly, did not wear the look of blame that I had expected to receive from her.
“Cait, I’m so sorry,” I said. “If we had come sooner, maybe then we could’ve—”
She hugged me then, cutting off my apologies. Surprised, I wrapped my arms around her, too. As she gripped me around my middle, I found that I felt like crying. But a burning sensation in the back of my throat was all that came.
“I wish we could’ve come sooner. I didn’t know this would happen.”
She released me from the hug, looking up at me with her huge blue eyes and, to my surprise, smiled.
“He’s back,” she said, her voice a whisper.
Then she moved over to sit beside her brother. Her tortured, damaged brother. She turned her smile to him, then. And he looked down at her, not friendly, but not afraid, either.
“We’ll get him well again,” Larissa said. “Now Kiron’s back, he can make one of his brews to bring him back to us.”
Something in my brain gave a little pop at these words, and I remembered that we still carried just such a potion. I sprang to my feet and ran for Kiron. Without explanation, I dug into the pack that was still strapped to his back.
“What’re you doing, boy?” he asked.
But he didn’t stop me. Instead, he shrugged off the pack so that I could lay it on the ground. I found the vial quickly and, without explanation, disappeared again, back to Rhainn’s side.
The boy looked confused, but when Cait saw the vial, she recognized it and beamed up at me.
“This will help you,” she said to Rhainn. “It helped me when I couldn’t speak. I was dying, and it made the hurt go away.”
“Drink it,” I said, holding it out to him.
He reached for the vial, nervously taking it. Then, with shaking hands, he emptied the contents into his mouth and swallowed thickly. The taste must have been horrible, because he grimaced, disgusted. Then, he sat back against the stone of the cave.
We watched him, waiting for the magic to take hold, to heal him so we could get answers to the many questions we had. But nothing happened. No recognition came into his eyes. No words fell from his lips.
I tried not to panic. I had been hoping that by offering him the healing medic
ine that had helped Cait, and had helped me long ago, that I might’ve been freed from the guilt I had carried after losing Rhainn.
But it took a while for it to help Cait. Hours. Days before she was really better.
I clung to these thoughts, hoping desperately that they would hold as true for him as they had for Cait and me.
I stoppered the small vial and headed back to Kiron.
“We’ll need more of this,” I said, handing him the empty vial. “I hope you saved some ingredients from Dursala.”
He peered down at me, then nodded.
I turned back to face the people who had been left behind, some by me, some by the quest, and readied myself for their questions.
Chapter 22
The tea that night was made slightly thicker by the addition of the remaining fruits and nuts we had saved from Dursala, magically adding their nutrients to the mixture. Having been regularly fed of late, I found it lacked something in terms of the satisfaction I might normally have felt after a meal. But everyone from the town seemed full and happy. Some even lay backward, patting their near-empty, emaciated bellies as if they had just finished a feast.
We would need to complete our task soon. It wouldn’t be long before the villagers began dying of starvation. I felt guilty enough for even having drunk my share of the concoction. Tomorrow I would resist it, save it for someone else who needed the sustenance more than I did.
Kiron stood and made his way to the center of the group.
“We need to know,” he said, addressing Larissa, “what happened to Donnally. I don’t see him among you.”
The look of misery on Larissa’s face grew darker, and Tristan gave an audible hiss from his place around the fire.
“He did not survive,” Larissa said.
It was her answer, but it was not enough. She looked as if every word she uttered caused her some kind of physical pain.
“You must tell us what happened,” he pressed. Then, when she gave no reply, “Lissa. We need to know.”
Slowly she raised her gaze from where she had it trained on the ground.
“I found him quickly enough,” she said. “They took him back to their hive immediately. It was a help to me that they didn’t see me coming. They were too wrapped up in the fight.”
