His intentional ignoring and paying zero attention to her had taken care of the issue quickly. She had moved on to Victor Marks, who had been happy to have her notice. The deliberate ignoring strategy had always worked, even on the inquisitive third graders, back in the days when William was a new phenomenon, a novelty in the small town, although it had taken awhile at first.
It had never been that difficult for William, to keep his distance from everyone. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t have been allowed to make an acquaintance or spend time with kids his own age while he was in Bristlecone – sure, it would have been difficult to maintain both a good friendship and his enormous secret, especially when he disappeared every weekend, and would never have been around to attend birthday parties or snowboarding trips. It would have been difficult, but probably not impossible.
The thing was – he had never wanted to. He could never wrap his mind around the kids in Bristlecone. They weren’t like him, or maybe he wasn’t like them. Most of them were only interested in such ridiculous things — television shows and video games.
William didn’t understand any of it, couldn’t join in with the conversations. He always spent most of his time in Bristlecone studying, reading, and missing his home — always missing home.
How had he not noticed how much the girl had seen? Maybe he had just never perceived that kind of persistence being possible coming from her. Quinn Robbins had always been a quiet girl herself. She was a year younger than William was, so he had never been in class with her, but he knew from things he had overheard that other kids and teachers considered her smart.
Her mother was the town’s second grade teacher, so he had heard a lot about the family, though he’d started living in Bristlecone a year too late to have experienced being in Megan Robbins’ class himself.
Quinn had always had friends among the classmates she had grown up with, and everyone seemed to like her, though William had often seen her group of friends congregate in places around town without her.
She was close to her family; he had noticed, a few times when she was out with her younger brother and sister, how she smiled and laughed when she was with them.
Honestly, Quinn Robbins was the last person he would have ever expected to find him at the bridge, let alone to follow him closely enough to see him going through.
It had been stupid of him not to be more careful, more secretive around the gate. It had been the first thing drilled into him, when he had started living with Nathaniel in Bristlecone, to always be careful, never act suspicious, never even to approach the gate if there were signs that anyone was around. He guessed he had grown complacent. He had never even come close to being caught. He hadn’t been watching. Stupid. Now, the girl had seen him.
Just as he had climbed up the second step of the bridge, he had seen her, caught a glimpse of her watching him, almost hidden by a boulder, about halfway up the riverbank. There he had been, exposed, one foot already invisible. It hadn’t been a decision, really. There wasn’t time, and he was too stunned to be rational about anything. He had just done it: stepped through the gate and disappeared.
Once through the gate, William, heart racing, sat down by the wide riverbank, trying to catch his breath. What had he just done? How much had she seen? What would she do? How could he have let this happen?
She was bound to freak out. She might even start searching for him. What if she called the police? Even if she didn’t, what was he going to say when he went back to school and she started asking him questions? He sat there for a long moment. When he was finally calm enough to manage it, he let out a low whistle.
Immediately, there was a rustling sound from the leaves of a nearby tree. A moment later, a large bird swooped toward him, folding in her massive black-tipped wings as she glided to a stop a few feet from him. He rummaged in the front pocket of his backpack, pulling out the treat he’d saved: beef jerky from Art’s Pump n’ Stuff. He broke off a small piece, pinching it between his fingers. The bird strutted straight toward him as he held out his offering, allowing William a quick pat on her snowy head before she snatched up the snack.
“Hello, Aelwyn. I’ve missed you.”
The bird responded by poking her beak into his hand, looking for more beef jerky.
He chuckled, and broke off another small piece for her. Suddenly, a small movement in the corner of his eye made him freeze in place. Of all the possible consequences of the girl seeing him disappear through the gate that had been running through his mind, this was beyond his worst imaginings.
There, above him on the bridge, the girl had just materialized. She had followed him. She was here. Fear flooded through him. What was he going to do now? He scrambled through his backpack for a scrap of paper and a pencil, quickly scribbling a short note.
He whispered a quick command to the bird, and offered her the remainder of the beef jerky. There was a quick flutter of wings, and in the next heartbeat, she was soaring above the trees.
* * *
Quinn gasped. The broken end of the half-missing structure was no longer broken, and it no longer ended. Instead of the disintegrating, broken concrete-and-stone edge, a wide stone walkway arced across the entire river. Cautiously, she put her other foot forward. The stone and mortar that should not have been there held firm. She spun around, ready to run back down the stone steps, but the sight stopped her cold.
The sun that should have been directly in front of her had moved, and now dipped below the tree line far to her left, casting strangely long shadows that cut obtrusively across the landscape. Even in the fading light of the irregular dusk, she could see that everything was different. Where the rocky riverbank should have sloped up to the highway, there was now a vast expanse of trees and open fields. Lights from unfamiliar buildings glimmered and sparked to life in the distance.
Slowly, Quinn let her eyes scan the area around her. The river was no longer a rocky, mountain creek underneath the bridge. Now, a wide expanse of water flowed lazily between the bush-covered banks on either side. Downstream, the river continued uninterrupted to the southwest but seemed to widen significantly just past a break in the tree line. The view upstream was the most shocking. Instead of sloping up into the familiar peaks of the mountains she had seen all her life, a long valley spread out before her, sparsely populated by stands of trees and varieties of grass and wildflowers. In the distance where the horizon began to merge with the night sky, Quinn could just make out the outline of a thick forest.
“Now you’ve done it.” The sound of the voice below her jolted her like an electric shock. In the same instant that she registered the frowning face of William Rose, Quinn stumbled and fell down the steps at the end of the bridge, right into the bushes.
“Fabulous,” William muttered, bending down toward her to assess the damage.
Her mind reeled as she tried to reason with herself. The rational part of her that had decided that she was dreaming was at war with the side that could see the strange landscape, hear the unfamiliar calls of strange birds and feel the blood seeping into her jeans from the gash on the inside of her right leg. She let William help her out of the shrubbery. He sat her down at the end of the bridge, and she leaned back against the steps as he pulled up the leg of her jeans to examine the source of the bleeding.
“It doesn’t look too bad; a little deep, but I’m going try to patch it up without stitches, at least out here,” William told her, removing a small pouch from his bag. He worked quickly and methodically, cleaning the wound with a bit of clear fluid from a glass vial, and spreading on some kind of thick, yellow goo.
Quinn stared, watching his steady, practiced movements and trying to clear her head. Suddenly, a stinging sensation brought everything sharply into focus.
“Ow!” She jerked her leg out of his grasp.
“Sorry. That will be the gauna root; it stings at first but accelerates healing. Don’t rub it.”
She scowled, pulling her hand back. Gauna root? “Where are we?” she dema
nded.
William looked down at her calmly, his eyes meeting hers for the first time. Gray eyes, deep gray, nearly the same color as her own. He studied her face, looking as if he were trying to decide something as he wrapped her leg in a long bandage, and then began re-packing his supplies into the compartments of his leather pouch. A look of determination crossed his face, and he finally spoke. “Can you stand? It will be dark soon and we still have a fair distance to walk.”
Quinn coughed. The shock and strangeness of the situation combined were becoming too much for her. Her mind screamed for something – anything familiar. Part of her began to sincerely hope that this was a dream and she would awaken in a few moments in the safety of her own bed.
My mom! She thought suddenly. She needed to be home before her mother called in the morning.
“I’m not walking anywhere, except back to my car and home.”
He sighed, studying her face again. When he answered her this time, his tone was resigned, but sincere. “There’s no way back to your home tonight.” He finished storing the pouch back in his bag and stood, hoisting the heavy backpack onto his shoulders. “The gate is closed. You’re just going to have to come with me and we’ll get this sorted out later. Do you think you’re okay to walk?” He offered her a hand.
Gate? “What? Wait.” An edge of panic was rising in her voice. ”Go with you where? Where are we?” She quickly pulled herself to her feet, refusing his hand. The pain she felt when she first put weight on her leg only served to heighten her anxiety. He had wrapped it very tightly. Wincing, she turned slightly, pretending to look at the river, hiding the sudden moisture at the corners of her eyes.
“Try taking some deep breaths,” he suggested.
His calm, almost disinterested demeanor finally got to her. “Oh that helps, William. Like saying ‘don’t panic’ ever helped anyone stay calm.” Ignoring her still-stinging leg, she stormed at the foot of the bridge, looking in every direction as if somewhere amidst the trees she would see the path back to reality. When that yielded no answers, she turned back to William. “You didn’t answer me. Where are we?”
“My home.” He turned and gestured toward the forest in the distance.
“Excuse me? Your home? You live with your uncle on Bray Street.”
“You were following me there as well?”
She blushed slightly at the accusation, but she was still angry, and she didn’t relent. “Well, if anything about you made sense – first you run in front of my car, and I almost hit you, then with the accident, and then you just disappearing all the time. What was I supposed to think, William?” What had started as curiosity was quickly becoming something she had never imagined.
“You weren’t supposed to think anything. You followed me. Where did you think I was going?”
Quinn paused. William’s questions were too direct. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted.
“Why have you been following me?”
She shrugged and stammered for a moment, her mind searching for what she hoped would be the least embarrassing response, finally opting for offense as the best defense. “What kind of person walks off into the woods in the middle of nowhere every Friday at sunset?”
“What exactly were you expecting when you walked off of a broken bridge in the ‘middle of nowhere’?” His unimpressed and unsympathetic retort came quickly and left her unable to respond.
“You got yourself into this,” he said shortly. He turned and started walking. “This way.” Without checking to see if she was following, he began heading down the narrow slope to a point where the dirt path widened out and curved in the direction of the twinkling lights. Not until he reached the bottom did he stop and turn, raising a questioning eyebrow at her.
She wondered what if this was what it felt like to go crazy. Briefly, she contemplated just going back up on the bridge, to see if it would take her back home, but dismissed the thought as soon as it came. The same instinctive need to know that had caused her to walk off the end of the bridge soon had her following him.
William appraised her limping stride as she made her way down the slope. For a split second, it looked as though he was extending his hand toward her again, but she might have imagined it.
“Would you like some ibuprofen?” he asked.
“Guana root and ibuprofen?” She snorted. Her irritation still had the best of her. “I’m fine, thanks.”
She heard him sigh beside her, but he didn’t say anything, just started walking. He led her along the dirt footpath winding downhill from the bridge, in and out of patches of enormous trees. They walked for a while, the stands of trees giving way to farmlands and soon to roads and houses scattered through the valley until a small town appeared in the distance.
“We’re going to my home...” He paused in a way that indicated there was more to his words than he was prepared to say. “This is my real home, the kingdom of Eirentheos,” he added, as she started to respond. “My Uncle Nathaniel is here already, and the rest of my family as well. I’ve sent a message on ahead to let them know you’re with me.”
“A message? You have a cell phone that only works here?”
The expression on his face as he regarded that question told her she would get no more answers from him now. Thoughts and questions bounced around in her mind like ping-pong balls. Though she hid it from him, as they walked, she tried his advice – taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself and regain control of her thoughts. The pain radiating through her leg made this more difficult, but she was determined not to mention it to William. She would walk on her own, to wherever they were headed.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, the exercise and fresh air had worked to calm her down. Wherever they were, it was beautiful here. She could see that. The night was warm, and although the sun had now completely disappeared, a bright full moon hung in the sky, allowing them to see their way easily. Something was strange about the moon, but she couldn’t place it. She had never seen so many stars. She scanned the sky for a long time, looking for constellations she recognized, but she could find no familiar patterns in the sparkling night.
As they grew closer to what was obviously a more populated area she could see brick walls surrounding the town proper. Cottages and shops nestled together along the narrow, stone streets. The glittering lights came from windows and low streetlamps that lined the streets. A tall, long building dominated the western landscape, forming a shape she’d only seen before in books and movies.
“Is that a castle?”
“Yes, it is,” he replied simply. He seemed lost in thoughts of his own.
The pain in her leg was growing steadily, and gradually she became aware of a warm, wet sensation in the lower part of her jeans and her sock. A wave of nausea washed over her as she realized what was causing it. Suddenly dizzy, she felt an overpowering need to sit down.
“Uh, William?”
“Yes?” he turned to her quickly, looking alarmed by the sound of her voice. His eyes immediately darted to her leg. Somehow, in the next instant, she found herself lying on the ground in a patch of soft grass.
Propping her head on her rolled-up jacket, he pulled out his pouch of medical supplies. He produced a pair of scissors and began cutting away the bloodied bottom half of the leg of her jeans, before she could protest. She’d liked those jeans, too.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at her after he’d appraised the cut, “I should have stitched it to begin with. I just wasn’t sure how I was going to get you all the way home from the bridge if you couldn’t walk.”
After digging around in his leather pouch again, he pulled out a small glass vial and an odd-looking syringe; it was made of glass and metal, and was very old-fashioned looking. It was also the scariest thing she’d ever seen as she suddenly registered the word “stitched” with what he was about to do.
A larger wave of nausea hit, and beads of sweat broke out along her forehead.
He must have seen the color draining
from her face, and he quickly hid the needle again inside the pouch, but it was too late; she’d seen it. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s just...” the nausea won, and she rolled to her side and vomited in the grass. Mortified, she didn’t know how to respond when he gently reached over and pulled her hair out of the way. When she was finished, he helped her sit back up, handing her a small cloth he produced from the leather pouch so she could wipe her mouth. He watched her expression – she wondered if he was mentally placing bets over which color was going to take over first – the nauseous green, or beet red.
“Looks like she handles needles about as well as you do.” The new voice startled both of them.
“Thomas! What are you doing out here?” William rose to greet the boy who had walked up behind them. The two of them hugged tightly for a long moment, which utterly surprised her. So maybe William wasn’t completely anti-social.
The first thing she noticed about the boy was his incredible resemblance to William. They both had the same dark hair, deep gray eyes, high cheekbones, and pale skin. Comparing their heights, she could tell that the boy was younger than William was, but his shoulders were already much broader and he was more muscular.
Red was definitely winning now – it had been bad enough having one person see her like this.
Studying him caused a niggling feeling inside her, too. He was so – familiar, even though she was sure she’d never met him before.
“After Aelwyn brought your note that the girl had followed you, I thought I’d come see what was going on for myself.” The new boy grinned. “It looks like you might need some help.”
Seeds of Discovery Page 6
