“We are citizens doing our country good, sir,” the heavyset man said. “We are part of a larger group lookin’ for folk like yourselves.”
“Oh, right. How noble of you.” Colt smirked. To Owen’s surprise, he complied with the demands of the two men and let the thin man hold him.
“Got this one, Henry, now hurry up with that one.”
“I’m getting him, Laynard, just give me a minute.” The heavier man took out his shackles and went to put them around Owen’s wrists, but when he did, they rattled and fell from his hands into the sand.
“Dammit, Henry. Do you have the jitters again?” Laynard asked, making his way to them.
Colt rushed forward and grabbed the thinner man, twisting his arm until he dropped his weapon. Henry pulled up his crossbow, but Owen spread out his hands and managed to use the power still flowing in his veins to pull it out of the man’s grasp.
“Ha, I did it!” Owen said, smiling as he held the clunky weapon in his hands.
The bolt suddenly shot to the ground, making them all jump. Owen’s eyes widened as he picked the bolt up from the sand.
“You, jitters,” Colt said quickly, holding a knife to Laynard’s neck. “Get over here with your mate.”
Henry’s face paled, but he moved until he was beside them.
Owen grabbed their blankets and bags.
Colt removed his knife and pushed Laynard away until he fell. Then he took up the crossbow from Owen’s hands and chuckled. “What a beauty. Mind if I take it?” He loaded the bolt and pulled back the string until it clicked. “What a beautiful sound.”
“What should we do with them?” Owen asked.
“We probably shouldn’t kill them,” Colt replied. “Then again, how can we be any more wanted than we already are, with bounties on our heads? I hear the bay is riddled with sharks. We could kill them, dump their bodies in the sea, and hope one gets to them before anyone finds them. Especially if we let one bleed a bit. Sharks take to blood quickly, especially chopped-up bits of flesh.”
Henry and Laynard exchanged a glance, their faces white as ghosts, and Owen winced.
Colt squinted his eyes, as if pondering, then laughed. “I’m jesting. In all truth, though, we can’t have you following us.”
Before Owen could understand what Colt was going on about, he heard the bolt fly out of the crossbow. His eyes widened as Laynard screamed, writhing in pain from the bolt that had pierced his upper leg.
“Should I shoot you as well?” Colt asked Henry. “Or should I trust that you’ll help your mate, here, rather than follow us?”
Henry shook his head vigorously as he watched his comrade squirm in pain. “We won’t follow,” he said.
“All right then. Good day.” Colt saluted them before following Owen quickly down the beach, the crossbow still in his hand.
Walking up to the fields, they rose above the cliff once again, with the beach down below to their right. They moved inland, where they blended in among scattered trees throughout long, green grass.
“Not only is the whole region of Torke looking for us, but no doubt the whole country is,” Colt said.
Owen clenched his teeth as he thought of the man that Colt had shot with the crossbow. Though he had been alive when they left, Owen had seen enough wounds like that to know that he could have died. It might have been that he was already dead as they left. The idea brought back images of Amias being shot, and the blood that had oozed through his clothes.
He thought of his mother to distract himself. She had been a healer for a time, up until she got sick herself. There had been no cure for her sickness, but she had not been worried. She continued to help anyone who would come to her door for aid, even if it was in the middle of the night.
Had his mother seen the wound on the man, she would have taken pity and helped him. Had his mother lived, Owen would no doubt be with her and not on a cold road, traveling the countryside with a man he was still unsure that he trusted. And Amias might still be with them.
“You’re quiet,” Colt said.
“Just thinking,” Owen replied, his voice soft.
His stomach rumbled so loud that Colt looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.
“We can try and hunt if you’re hungry.”
Owen shook his head. “Let’s just keep on. If we stop, we might be caught.”
“Right, but we have to eat.”
They traveled past the trees until they came to a grassy field. Owen tried to conceal himself, but the rabbits were too easily startled by their movements. It was hard to lure them and see where they were in the grass.
Colt sighed impatiently and tossed the crossbow out into the long grass.
“Colt!” Owen started. “What was that for?”
“That man will end up reporting it stolen and it’ll only single us out more. No use in keeping it. Besides, it weighs a ton. I don’t like it.”
In the distance, Owen spotted a few houses and a barn nestled within the field. The land sloped upward and down again around the houses, creating a sort of barrier of rocky hills halfway round the barn and house. Standing behind one of the bigger rocks, they kept out of sight as they observed the area.
A few men were heading toward the houses, while a woman walked with a pail in her hand. A wagon sat nearby, loaded with carrots, celery, and corn. Owen’s mouth watered.
“Those look good,” he said, pressing his hand against his stomach.
Colt looked at him briefly, then nodded ahead. “We can distract them and take some.”
Owen looked at him sharply. “I didn’t mean I wanted to steal from them. Maybe we can give them some coin for a few carrots.”
“They’re preparing their harvest for winter. They’re not going to take our money for their rations. Besides, folks like this aren’t generous.”
“That’s a bold accusation. You don’t even know them.”
Colt shrugged. “Been around enough of them to know. This region, it’s nice, and this farm looks well kept. They won’t give anything to us. Look at us. We look like shit, and probably smell worse.”
“We have to eat.”
“Then stay here, out of sight.” Colt stole away quickly.
“Wait, Colt—” Owen called after him.
After a few minutes went by, he grew nervous and peeked out from behind the rock.
A tap on his shoulder sent him jerking around, his heart pounding. When he saw it was only Colt, he relaxed and put his hand on his chest.
“My heart almost burst from my chest, I swear,” he said.
Colt laughed at him. “Sorry, mate, couldn’t resist. I’ve been known to be sneaky. Or perhaps you’re not very good at detecting humans. Aren’t you Astrans supposed to be in tune with these kinds of things?”
Owen made a face at him before he nodded to a half-filled burlap sack in Colt’s hands. “You took some veggies, then?”
“Right, glad you noticed. You can either thank me or sulk about it. Either way, we should probably go quickly.”
As they left, Owen caught sight of a man running and yelling after several squealing pigs.
“I suppose that was your doing,” Owen muttered, walking fast.
“I’m rather proud of that one, actually.” As they walked, Colt gave Owen a carrot and an ear of corn, then swung the sack over his shoulder.
Owen bit the end off a carrot, uncaring of the dirt residue staining the ruddy vegetable. He ate ravenously and moaned as he chewed.
“It’s good, but not that good,” Colt said, eating one himself.
“I haven’t been this hungry in a long time. I’m afraid of running out again.”
“We won’t.”
Owen glanced at him. He wanted to trust Colt, but he was still afraid of the looming abandonment. What would he do if they reached Avathon? He did not want to be left. He pushed the thought away and instead focused on the scenery.
By now, the sun was high in the sky. With his stomach full, Owen went back and forth between eyeing t
he line of trees to the north and focusing on the grass fields to the south. Though they were off the main road, he was still nervous about guards and armed civilians. No doubt the two they had encountered earlier in the morning had already alerted others, and with he and Colt being wanted in the region—no doubt the whole country—nowhere was safe.
Owen fingered the hilt of his blade. It was warm to the touch. He thought of its mysterious power to slice through steel and wondered who it had belonged to before his father.
The wind picked up, and with it came a whisper, the one he was growing used to hearing.
“I’m still waiting, Astran. When will you talk to me?”
It startled him enough to make him jump and look around. He immediately closed his mind for fear of shadows.
“What’s wrong?” Colt asked.
Owen inhaled as he took in his surroundings. He shook his head a few times and looked down at his shaking hands. “You didn’t hear it, did you?”
“Hear what?”
“The whisper. The voice.”
“To be honest, I can’t decide if you’re having some kind of spiritual enlightenment or going mad.”
“I’m not mad. It must be the dagger.” Owen tore his hand away from it. If the voice was speaking through the blade, perhaps he should throw it away, but that did not seem sensible.
“What a minute.” Colt stopped and looked up, as if in thought. “You’re telling me that dagger is talking to you?” He smiled crookedly. “What do you talk about? Does it fancy you? Tell jokes?”
“Ugh.” Owen stormed away.
“What? I’d like to know.”
“No, it doesn’t tell jokes. And it doesn’t seem to love me. At least I don’t think so. It just wants to talk to me.”
Colt raised his brows. “Wow. That’s—um.” He cleared his throat before looking at Owen. “You’re mighty odd, mate. I mean for real.”
“Yeah. So I’ve been told.”
“You’re all right with that?”
Understanding Colt’s playful antics, Owen nodded. “Yes. Are you?”
Colt flashed a smile, nudging him before they continued on.
Chapter 18
Their plan to make it to Edgewater in one day turned to two, as they took long breaks in between walking to avoid looking suspicious to anyone in the fields or on the back roads. On their second day, they neared Edgewater. The coastal town stood out in the harsh sunlight. Though the day was cool, the warmth of the sun was a refreshing delight compared to the dreary weather that had followed them along so far.
Owen limped slightly, his feet aching. He could feel raw blisters rubbing against the inside of his damp boots. When they stopped near a cluster of boulders not far from the town, he took off his boots and massaged his feet.
His lips pulled back in a taut wince when he examined a red blister on the side of his foot.
“You got a salve for that?” Colt muttered around the pipe in his mouth.
“Yes, just not a lot.” Owen pulled out a small jar of clear salve that helped heal scrapes and raw patches of skin. He dabbed his fingers lightly in it and covered his blisters. Then he wrapped his feet with bandages and stretched his legs out.
Colt took the jar of salve and smelled it. “You make this yourself?”
“Yes. It’s come in handy. Most of it is eucalyptus oil.”
“Didn’t know you made medicines.” Colt took a few puffs off his pipe and blew the smoke away.
“I don’t very often. Just for the basic ailments.” The breeze blew a few strands of hair into Owen’s face as he took the jar back. “My mother was a healer.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Owen nodded, tucking his hair behind his ear. “She made a lot of medicines. Sometimes I gathered the plants for her. There was always someone sick to take care of. Then she got sick herself. I was afraid to go near her.”
The air grew quiet, save for the singing of birds overhead.
“What did she have?” Colt asked.
“I don’t know.” Owen looked at the sea in the distance. “Amias told me it was something she couldn’t pass to me. Eventually I helped her more, but on her deathbed I was afraid. Afraid I would get what she had, afraid of losing her. And then I did. I was only ten.”
“That’s young to lose your mother.”
Thoughts of his father filtered into Owen’s mind, but he snuffed them out like the flame of a candle before he could question himself. “What about you? Where are your parents?” Owen squinted at Colt in the sunlight.
Colt raised his brows and shrugged. “Don’t know where either one of them are. My mother was a whore, but she was good to me. Then she just disappeared. The women I lived with, they eventually put me in an orphanage. I didn’t stay there long.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what? Growing up in a whorehouse?” Colt took several puffs off his pipe and looked away. “Kindest women I ever met. But I saw some things I shouldn’t have too young.”
Owen wanted to ask him more, a pang settling in his chest for his companion, but he let the conversation rest and instead got to his feet to continue toward Edgewater.
The seaport village was alive with bustle. In the harbor, docked boats rocked against one another. The water glistened amidst the gentle wash of waves. Owen watched the fishermen haul in crate after crate of fish. Some pulled in nets full of crabs.
What enraptured Owen the most was the beauty of the village. The path from the docks winded upward left and right, shops lining the way, their shingled roofs painted red, while their buildings were washed in white. Even this late in the evening, people sauntered in and out of the shops. There were two taverns, one just off the dock and another high up above on the hill.
Most of the folk who walked around the higher part of town were of a different air. Those adorned in bright, prim buttoned-up shirts kept above the docks, while fishermen and workers lingered down below in stained clothing and worn hats.
Turning back to the ocean, Owen closed his eyes. The smell of salt tickled his nose, and for a brief moment he imagined himself on a boat, looking at the shore of Emberton.
He pulled out his journal and sketched the horizon. He spoke aloud as he wrote, “‘Edgewater is bigger than Emberton. The ships sail for the village and the folks praise the men who bring in the fresh scent of fish. If I were out at sea, and glanced at the village, I believe I could see it, rising like orange stars on the horizon.’”
“See what? Something good?”
Owen jolted away from the rock wall to see Colt. “You scared me. I didn’t even hear you coming.”
Colt shrugged and smiled. “With stealth like mine, I could almost be an assassin.”
Owen smirked. “Sure, an assassin.”
“What are you doing up this way, besides talking to yourself? I thought I said to meet me down below.”
“There’s so much going on here,” Owen said as he watched people move quickly to and fro, most of them carrying crates. “And you were slow coming in through the gate.”
“Hey, I already looked like the more suspicious one of us,” Colt said, his voice low. “We’re lucky there are no Legion guards. I don’t think word of us has spread down this way.”
Owen grabbed his bag from the bench behind him and walked with Colt. As they made their way down to the inn, he asked, “Do you think the fishermen offer rides aboard their boats?”
“If you want to swab their decks, maybe.”
“What’s so wrong with that? Labor for fare. Sounds like a decent trade.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought of traveling out to sea, but I’m not about to be anyone’s deck bitch. We’d have to see how much coin they want.”
Owen chuckled. “You really do have a lot of pride, don’t you?”
“Eh.” Colt shrugged.
“Oh!” Owen grabbed Colt’s arm.
“What?” Colt’s eyes widened, hand on his hilt.
“It’s a bakery and a cafe.” He pointed at a near
by shop with a long windowpane. “Look, they have tea and sweets and candies. I haven’t been to one since I was eleven.”
“We can eat at the inn down below.”
“But it’s desserts. Look, they even have honey rolls and chocolate fudge.”
Colt strolled up to the window and glanced at one of the items sitting on display. “A whole cake for more than the price of a night’s sleep and a meal at an inn. Three times over.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
Owen sighed as he looked through the window. “But it looks so good.”
“Come on, Owen,” Colt called.
He finally turned and caught up with Colt to go back down the path to the tavern near the dock.
“Looks . . . nice,” Owen said, noting that it was a bit shabbier than the other tavern overlooking the bay.
“There are two sides to Edgewater,” Colt said. “The rich stay up top and the poor linger down here. And we’re not rich.”
They tried to rent a room, but when Owen reached for his money pouch, he found it gone.
Owen searched his bag, and then his pockets before he sighed and said, “Maybe I left it out when I got my journal out. Or someone took it. I swear it was in my bag.”
“And where was your bag when you got your journal out?”
Swallowing hard, Owen recalled setting his bag on the bench behind him. He had stood for a while sketching the ships in the bay. “I . . . left it on the bench. I grabbed it after you came.”
Colt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. He reached for his own coin pouch and rented the cheapest room for a night. It was small and cramped, with a single bed, a small fireplace with little wood, and a small table.
“A room,” Colt muttered, “or a closet?”
“I’m sorry about the money,” Owen said.
“You’re a thief’s dream, you know that?”
“I didn’t think about it.”
Colt changed out of his clothes and smelled them. “These stink,” he muttered.
“Mine too,” Owen said. “Is there somewhere in town we can take them?”
“And what, work for the money? I have very little coin left, Owen. I’m not about to waste it on washing our clothes.”
Beyond the Core (The Starborn Series Book 1) Page 22
