The Winter War, epub

by Priscilla Shirer

  He handed Mary the book. She took it, holding it in both hands like it was a precious treasure, gazing in awe at the shiny image of the Crest on the cover. “Thanks, Manuel.”

  “Sure. No problem. But I should warn you . . . Opening that book might actually change your life.” He grinned. “Have a nice day!”

  CHAPTER 23

  The Rock

  Evan walked down to the pond and sat on the dock, dangling his legs over the side. He had never seen the pond frozen before. It looked like a giant skating rink. He was tempted to try it out, but his mom had forbidden him to step on the ice. It wasn’t safe, she said.

  He remembered the time he was scared of jumping into this pond because of the sea monster he was certain lived under the water. That was more than two years ago. Before he had ridden a dragon through the skies of Ahoratos. Before he had helped save a prisoner from Skot’os and saved the rec center from an Ent invasion and all the other things he had done that were pretty cool.

  And yet everyone thought his idea about capturing the Olethron was stupid. They wouldn’t even listen to him. His own brother just made fun of him.

  And Ruwach had given him a plain old rock.

  Evan took the rock out of his pocket and looked at it for a long time. He had hoped by now it would have turned into something else, like the Krÿs that changed into a sword or the seed that turned into a shield. He’d tried throwing it in the air and rolling it on the ground. He’d put it underwater and even held it to a candle flame to see if he could make out invisible messages.

  Yet this rock was still just a rock.

  Maybe I’m just as useless as this rock, he thought. Just like Xavier said. Evan was tempted to throw it away. He wondered what would happen if he threw it at the icy pond. Would it break right through and sink? But he had done that with the seed, when he thought it was good for nothing. That turned out to be the wrong move.

  He turned the rock over in his hand.

  There had to be something that made it special.

  The rock was very smooth; it fit into his palm perfectly. In fact, it was kind of nice to hold. He gripped it tightly; it felt warm in his hand, which was getting pretty cold. He should have worn mittens.

  Evan shivered. He got up and headed back to the house, putting the rock in his pocket. He walked through the fresh snow so he could make new tracks and was surprised at how deep it was. With each step his feet sank almost to his knees. He had to jump to make any progress.

  Suddenly he felt something behind him and stopped, frozen. He spun around to face the woods at the edge of his yard. There was nothing there. But the nothing felt real to him, a nothing that was more than nothing. He could smell it too, that scent of something rotting. It was there.

  The Empty.

  Evan gripped the rock in his pocket and trudged toward the woods. He had to see this thing, whatever it was, or wasn’t. For some reason, he didn’t feel scared, only curious.

  He walked into the wooded area and stopped to look around. The snow wasn’t as deep here, as much of it had fallen in the trees above. Sunlight filtered in from the branches, casting strange shadows on the snow. But none of those shadows was the shadow. Maybe he’d been mistaken. Maybe the Empty was really empty, after all.

  A branch above his head rustled. He looked up and saw a large white bird sitting there. He almost gasped out loud. It was the exact same bird he’d seen in the scary forest in the In-Between. It had to be. The majestic bird sat very still and stared at him, as if waiting for him to make a move.

  Evan felt his heart beating wildly. He took a step toward the bird. It suddenly spread its wings and took off, nearly knocking him over with surprise. It flew a short distance and then settled on another tree branch. Just like before, Evan had the distinct impression he was supposed to follow it.

  He took a few steps toward the bird, and it took off again, landing a little farther way. It was going deeper into the woods. Evan got worried. What if he got lost? But he continued to plod through the snow, following the bird.

  And then he heard a sound.

  It was a very small sound. A tiny squeak, coming from farther ahead in the woods. Like an animal in trouble.

  The bird took off again, flying a little farther. As Evan raced to catch up, he heard the animal noise even louder. A crying, whining sound.

  The bird flew out the other side of the trees and into an open area, which was actually the backyard of a house. The whining noise was even more pronounced. Evan started to run, leaping through the snow; his heart pounded a million miles a minute, his chest tightened, making it harder to breathe.

  He ran toward the small ranch house sitting on a little rise in the distance. Snow was piled up high all around the house. He couldn’t see any movement, but he could still hear the whining. As he approached the house, the snow was so deep he practically had to tunnel through it.

  Finally, Evan saw a tiny furry head appear from the top of the snow at the bottom of a deck at the back of the house. He took a breath, somewhat relieved. The little dog must be stuck. And no one could hear his cries for help.

  But who would let a tiny dog like that out all alone?

  The dog saw Evan and started to yip frantically. Evan trudged toward it, calling out, “Take it easy. I’m coming,” as he went.

  Then he saw something pink in the snow.

  Pink was not a color that belonged in snow.

  He took a few more steps and stopped, gasping. An elderly woman was lying half-buried, wearing a pink robe and slippers. Evan rushed toward her.

  “Ma’am, ma’am!” he shouted. “Are you okay?”

  He brushed the snow off the woman and shook her shoulders. She started to move a little, moaning. Evan was thankful she was alive. The dog barked like crazy, its high-pitched yap making Evan’s ears hurt.

  Evan wasn’t sure what to do. Go and get help? But if the lady lay out here in the cold any longer, she might die. He summoned all his strength, grabbed her under her arms, and dragged her, inch by inch, toward the porch steps, all the while talking to her: “I’ve got you, ma’am. Don’t worry.”

  He managed to get her only halfway out of the snow, lying across the porch steps. He stopped, exhausted, took off his coat, and threw it over her body.

  “I’m going to go inside the house and call my parents, okay? Don’t worry; everything will be fine.” The woman moaned a reply.

  Evan stumbled into the house, saw the old-fashioned corded phone on the wall, and picked up the receiver. His hands were shaking so badly from cold and fear that it took him a while to dial his house number. His mom answered. The words rushed out of Evan’s mouth in an unbroken stream.

  “Mommomanoldladyfellinthesnow­andsheshalffrozenandIcantgetheroutpleasecomeandhelp!”

  “Evan, slow down. Who is it?”

  “I don’t know. Other side of the woods . . . she has a little dog . . . I heard it crying . . .”

  “Oh no. It must be Mrs. Johnson. I’ll call 911. You stay with her and try to keep her warm until we get there!”

  Evan hung up, grabbed some old afghans from the living room sofa, and rushed back outside again. He brushed the snow off Mrs. Johnson and wrapped her as best he could in the blankets. She was shivering; her lips were blue. The dog lay down at her side, whining and licking her hand.

  “They’re coming, Mrs. Johnson. They’re coming. Don’t worry.” Evan spoke the words over and over. Then he thought of the rock. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at it. Suddenly he recalled Ruwach’s words: stone of remembrance.

  “Ruwach,” he said aloud, holding on to the rock. “Please help. Make Mrs. Johnson okay.” The rock was really warm from having been in his pocket. He placed the rock in the old lady’s hand under the blanket. He closed her fingers over it. As he did, her shivering subsided, and she stopped moaning. She opened her eyes and looked at him. Her
lips moved slightly, mouthing the words thank you.

  An ambulance and a police car arrived a few minutes later, along with his mom. The paramedics lifted the old lady onto a stretcher and brought her into the house, where they proceeded to check her vitals and warm her up. They announced that she was okay, no broken bones. They were pretty sure she didn’t have any frostbite either.

  “Good thing you found her when you did,” one of them told Evan. “If she’d lain out there any longer, we might have lost her.”

  Mrs. Johnson managed to tell them that she had taken her little dog, Bentley, out to do his business but missed her footing and fell off the deck into the snow. She couldn’t get up because it was so deep.

  “How is Bentley?” she asked in a thin trickle of a voice.

  “He’s okay,” said Evan, who had wrapped the dog in two blankets.

  “Thank goodness,” she said. “Thank goodness you came when you did. How did you know to find me?”

  “How did you find her?” his mom asked. “Her house is over a half mile from ours.”

  “I . . . heard the dog crying,” Evan said with a shrug. “He’s got a pretty loud cry.”

  His mom looked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. But she just smiled and hugged him. “I’m proud of you, Evan.”

  “We’ll need to take you to the hospital for observation,” one of the paramedics said.

  “My Bentley!”

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Johnson. We’ll take care of him until you’re well again,” said Evan’s mom. Evan glanced up at her and smiled.

  “Oh, thank you. His food is under the sink. He takes a half a cup in the morning and evening, mixed with a little applesauce. For his digestion.” Mrs. Johnson was already sounding better. “And make sure to take his favorite pillow. He won’t sleep at night without his pillow.”

  “Got it,” said Evan, cuddling the little dog so the old lady would know he would take good care of him.

  Before the paramedics rolled her out to the ambulance, Mrs. Johnson held out her hand to Evan. It contained the rock.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Evan took the rock, smiling at her.

  “What is that?” asked his mom.

  “Oh, just a rock,” said Evan.

  But he was pretty sure now that this little rock wasn’t just a rock after all.

  CHAPTER 24

  On the Bench

  Day 30

  Xavier struggled to pull his books from his locker while leaning on his crutches. His knee throbbed. Sweat broke out on his forehead. It was his first day back at school since his surgery. He had never imagined how hard it would be to deal with the ordinary tasks of life. The doctor had warned him not to put any weight on his bad knee for at least two weeks. He’d even told Xavier he should use a wheelchair. Xavier had refused. Now he wasn’t sure he’d made the right choice. He didn’t know how he would manage two weeks of this.

  “Hey, can I help you with those?”

  He glanced around and found himself looking into the eyes of Cassie Cavanaugh. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks and shook his head.

  “No, I got it,” he said.

  “No you don’t,” she said. She took the books from his locker and put them in his backpack for him. “I broke my arm once. Fell off a horse at camp. It’s no fun.” She smiled. Xavier looked quickly away from her and put the backpack over his shoulder. Then he situated his crutches again.

  “Where’s your next class?”

  “Uh . . . just at the end of the hall.”

  “Great. It’s on my way.”

  They started to walk together through the crowd of kids, Cassie slowing to match his pace. Xavier saw a lot of kids stop and stare at him; he wondered what they were thinking.

  “So,” said Cassie, “I meant to tell you that was a really great game until . . . well, you got hurt.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Xavier didn’t like to be reminded about the game. Not that he could ever stop thinking about it.

  “Does it still hurt?”

  “Yeah.” It hurts, he thought. And not just physically. “Not as much as before.” He paused. “I should have quit after I fell the first time. Then it might not have been so bad.” It felt good to tell her this, to unburden himself of this nagging thought. What if he had just sat out the rest of the game, iced his knee, put his pride aside? Then maybe he would still be playing. He was hounded by what-ifs these days. What if he had sat out the game? What if he had not gone over that bridge?

  “Are you going to the game tonight?”

  Xavier glanced at her, startled. “I wasn’t planning to.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, because . . . I can’t play. So what’s the point?”

  “So what if you can’t play? I think you should still be there. You’re part of the team, right? My dad always says that. When you’re on the team, you’re on the team, no matter what.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  They had reached Xavier’s classroom. Cassie turned to look directly into his eyes. “So, I’ll see you at the game?”

  “I . . . guess so.”

  “Good.” She gave him another smile and walked away.

  Xavier didn’t know what to make of Cassie Cavanaugh. He felt all mixed up inside whenever he talked to her. He sat through math class, thinking about what she had said. As much as he hated going to that game and sitting on the bench, he knew Cassie probably had a point. It was the same thing Mr. J. Ar had tried to tell him over the weekend. He still had a job to do. He was still on the team. Even if it was from the sidelines.

  Besides, she would be there.

  So when his mom picked him up from school, he asked her if she would take him to the game that night.

  “I thought you said you didn’t want to go to the games,” his mom said as she drove home.

  “I changed my mind.”

  His mom didn’t respond. She only smiled to herself.

  * * *

  Xavier, wearing his team jacket, arrived in the locker room that night as the other players were getting into their uniforms. They gave him high fives and fist bumps. Coach Cavanaugh came in for the pep talk just before the team was to go out to the court. He saw Xavier and nodded.

  Xavier made his way into the gym with the team and took his place on the bench, setting his crutches underneath. The rest of the team went out on the court for warm-ups. Xavier rubbed his hands together, feeling awkward and lost. He had no idea what to do. He glanced up at the stands, searching for familiar faces. He saw his parents and Evan and gave a little wave. His dad raised one hand and pointed a finger at him. Xavier pointed back. He had told them not to bother to come since he wasn’t playing. But they hadn’t listened to him. He was kind of glad.

  He looked up to the top of the bleachers, where Cassie was sitting with her friends. She smiled and waved. He smiled and turned around quickly, sure that his face was already bright red.

  He watched as the team gathered around the coach for one last pep talk. As the players broke up to start the game, the coach came over to him and patted his shoulder.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Blake,” he said.

  “Thanks, Coach.”

  Once the game started, it got easier. Xavier was soon absorbed in the battle on the court, watching everything the players did, noting the habits and strategies of the other team. He began to shout suggestions and encouragements, cheering when they made baskets. He was surprised at how different the game looked when he wasn’t thinking about playing. He could see the bigger picture. He could read the plays before they happened and see when players weren’t in their zones.

  At halftime, the team gathered for a huddle. They had been playing pretty hard but were down seven points. Coach Cavanaugh talked about ways to put up a stronger defense against the other team’s superior shooti
ng ability. Then he turned to Xavier.

  “What do you think, Blake?” he asked.

  Xavier swallowed hard, surprised the coach was asking for his opinion. He was only a sophomore, after all.

  “Try more bounce passes,” he said finally. “They’ve got some tall guys, and there’s been a lot of steals because you’re trying to pass over their heads. So go under, or around, or even between them. They’re all up in the air, so you have to go low. Keep them guessing.”

  Coach Cav smiled. “Good idea,” he said.

  The Lions made a comeback in the second half and won the game by three points. The crowd in the stands went wild. Even though he hadn’t played a single minute, Xavier felt like he’d had the best game of his life.

  His family came down to greet him.

  “Congratulations, son,” said Mr. Blake, giving him a hug. “I’m proud of you.”

  “I didn’t even play,” he said.

  “I think you know what I mean. Mr. J. Ar would be proud of you too. He’d hoped to come, but he just wasn’t up to it. Maybe you could call him and tell him what happened.”

  “Sure,” said Xavier.

  When he got home, Xavier called Mr. J. Ar and told him about the game. “Good job, Xavier,” was all Mr. J. Ar said. But those three words meant so much to him.

  While he was trying to fall asleep that night, Xavier noticed a bright shaft of moonlight fall across the room and illuminate the stick he’d gotten from Ruwach. He’d almost forgotten about that stick. He got up and hopped over to it. He took hold of it in both hands. It didn’t seem so much like a crutch to him now.

  Maybe it was meant for something else.

  Then he noticed a tiny Crest, engraved into the stick just above where his hands held it. He stared as the Crest seemed to lift off the stick and hover in the air before him, glowing golden, like a tiny star. He reached out and touched it.