The Redstar Rising Trilogy

by Rhett C. Bruno

  “Just give it back, and I won’t tell your mother,” Big Whitney said.

  “You think I care what you tell her?” Young Whitney retorted.

  Now Big Whitney was pushing his tongue against the back of his teeth to keep from shouting at the boy. The truth was, what happened to Rocco had only made Young Whitney more of a brat, unpleasant to be around even in the minimal time Big Whitney spent with him. He wasn’t just a scamp, as Big Whitney admittedly was and had been, but he was an angry one. And Lauryn let him get away with pretty much anything… if he even showed his face around the farm, he never helped tend.

  “If your father were around—” Big Whitney said.

  “He isn’t,” Young Whitney snapped. “I thought you were protecting me when I was little, but I’m not so stupid now. You were up to something, taking credit like that, getting dad beaten. Now, this?” He raised the map in one hand and picked up his candle with the other. “You’re going to tell me the truth, or I’m going to burn it.”

  “Whitney, you’re being ridiculous,” Sora said. “All he’s done is help.”

  “And know your name somehow when he first arrived. Maybe you forgot that, but I haven’t. If you never showed up that day, maybe they would have just taken it out on me. You weaseled yourself into our home, got rid of my father. Now you live next door. By the gods… have you been trying to get close with my mother, you sick freak?”

  “Why does everyone keep thinking that?” Big Whitney said, and immediately wished he hadn’t.

  Young Whitney’s face contorted with rage. It was then that Big Whitney realized this must have been bubbling up in his doppelgänger for years. That mistake his first day in Elsewhere, when he still thought Kazimir’s words of caution were foolishness. He’d barely spoken a sentence to Young Whitney in years, hardly seen him, but seeing the map brought it all erupting to the surface.

  “Look, I’m telling you the truth,” Big Whitney said. “The map is worthless; it’s just a hobby. There’s no fortress, no plans, and I for sure have no feelings for your mother besides gratitude. I’m practically wedded to Alless from the Manor for Iam’s sake!”

  Iam’s name drew a curious look from Sora. Most of the time, when he wasn’t careful with his language in Elsewhere, people stared or repeated themselves on a loop. Not her. She simply looked confused.

  “Then you won’t mind if I do this?” Young Whitney said. He raised the candle to the corner of the parchment, and the flame took to it. “Too bad. This gods-forsaken place would be better off as a fortress.”

  “No!” Big Whitney yelped.

  “Whitney what are you doing!” Sora shouted. She shoved by him, knocking him onto a pile of sticks. Without thinking, she sliced her palm on the whittling knife, then held it over the burning map. The fire leaped off it and into her palm where it dissipated. A few seconds later, the map lay on the ground, only the corner burned away.

  Young Whitney stared at her, then the map, aghast. Big Whitney did the same. It’d been so long since he’d seen her blood magic it caught him off guard.

  It took a moment for Sora to grasp what she’d done. “Whitney, I…” she said.

  “You can…” Young Whitney said at the same time.

  “I can explain.”

  “Is anyone honest around here?” Young Whitney glowered at Big Whitney one more time, then stormed off into the forest.

  “Whitney, wait!” Sora called after him and followed.

  Big Whitney kneeled by the map he’d spent so many tireless hours crafting. Ashes from it brushed against his cheek, carried on the wind.

  “What game is this now?” he said. He swore he’d locked his pantry same as any other day. And he’d made the lock, which meant it was far beyond his younger self’s skills to pick and it hadn’t been broken. A quarter of his hard work, ruined. Months of labor, as if Elsewhere were telling him to stop seeking passage.

  He clutched it against his chest. “I’m trying my best,” he whispered. “Isn’t that enough?” Nothing and nobody answered—not even Kazimir appeared behind him as the wraithlike upyr often did when he lost his way—only silence. All he could be sure of was that his insistence on searching for holes in the barrier had caused Young Whitney to witness Sora’s blood magic, something he’d never done until years after leaving Troborough.

  What it meant, he wasn’t sure. All he could do was brace himself and hope that the history he knew hadn’t strayed too far this time.

  “Whitney!” Sora shouted again as Young Whitney disappeared into the brush.

  Whitney sighed, folded the map and tucked it into his pocket, sighed again, then stood. He lightly jogged after them, knowing he needed to give them a chance to work things out. If he’d seen Sora use blood magic at their age, after all that time knowing he’d been lied to, he would not have been okay.

  He shoved his way past sharp branches, swatting them as they poked and scratched at his face and arms, but he continued.

  “This part of your game?” Whitney whispered at the sky. “Fallen god bastards. Where’s Iam when you need him?”

  The terrain dove into a steep slope down a hillside coated in years worth of rotting leaves. Whitney slid a bit, but it was on purpose. Surefooted as a goat, he used stumps and roots to slow his descent.

  “Whitney!” Sora shouted up ahead. The boy’s head twitched slightly, almost turning around, but instead, he hopped a few rocks to the other side of the stream. Sora followed.

  Little bastard is fast. It was a poor choice of words, what with Rocco’s passing.

  He wasn’t real!

  But he was, and that meant Young Whitney was every bit as real as Big Whitney was. This was his world now as much as he resisted it. As he got closer, Sora caught up to Young Whitney. Big Whitney crouched behind some bushes within earshot to give them a bit of privacy—but only a bit.

  “Were you planning on telling me you were a gods-damned witch?” Young Whitney asked.

  “Witch?” Sora looked hurt. “I’m not a witch. I can do a little blood magic, that’s all.”

  “Right, and old Mrs. Dodson only drinks a little.”

  “That’s not fair, Whitney.” Sora pointed her finger. “I would have told you, but I knew you’d act exactly like this.”

  “Well, aren’t you some kind of a genius? You knew that if your best and only friend in the world found out you’d been lying to him for, how long? A year? Two? Ten? You just somehow knew he’d react in a completely normal and rational way. Bravo.” Whitney clapped his hands slowly.

  “You’re a real piece of shog, you know that?” Sora punched Whitney in the arm, and this time it wasn’t playful. “It’s not like I chose this, you know.”

  “Oh, someone forced you to cut yourself and throw fireballs?”

  “That’s not what I meant. You have parents—”

  “Had.”

  Sora growled. “You’re insufferable. You know what I meant! My parents died so long ago I don’t even know what they looked like. Do you know I don’t even know their names? Wetzel is all I’ve ever had, and he’s taught me a few ways to protect myself. Take care of myself.”

  “It’s a good thing he did. If he’s all you ever had, then I guess I’m not needed anymore. Good luck with your life, Sora.”

  Sora grabbed hold of his tunic, but he yanked it away then turned around and said, “It’s too late. You’re the only reason I stuck around in this gods-forsaken town, and even you can’t be honest with me.”

  “Oh, c’mon Whitney, you know that’s not what I meant.”

  “It’s all a yigging joke.”

  “What?”

  “Life. My mom won’t scream at me no matter what I do or how much she wants to. Her employee’s a fraud. Everyone remembers my dad as this kind, loyal man, and now you. Nobody’s honest, nobody cares. Why should I?”

  “Whitney…”

  “No, I can’t take it anymore.” And with that, Whitney took off, scaling the cliffside.

  “Whitney, wait!” Sora
shrieked, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

  “It’s too late, knife-ear. Goodbye.”

  Hearing that term seemed to stop Sora in her tracks. “Fine, go you selfish child!” Sora screamed. “You think your father was cruel, you’re so much worse you’re a… a” She threw her hands up in frustration then ran directly toward Big Whitney. She was so distracted she didn’t even see him, but he could see the shimmer of tears on her cheeks.

  That little shog-faced prick.

  As soon as Sora passed, Whitney made his way for the small cliff. His fingertips found a jutting rock, and he started the climb. Fire stirred inside of him. He imagined this was how Sora felt anytime she called upon Elsewhere. It was like molten lava burning a hole in his chest, begging to escape by any means necessary.

  The wall was smooth, but he found plenty of hand and footholds. It would have challenged most, but it was easier than scaling the Whispering Wizards tower, and he’d done that carrying the Splintering Staff in his teeth on the way back down. Close to the top, he felt something pelt his shoulder. Figuring it was just a stone bouncing down from above, disturbed by Young Whitney or an animal, he kept going. Then he felt another and another. The fourth one hit him squarely on the head.

  “Hey!” he shouted, looking up to see Young Whitney throwing rocks down at him. “Cut it out!”

  “Then leave me alone, freak,” Young Whitney yelled back. All his talk of leaving yet he hadn’t made it far. “This is none of your business.”

  “You, have, no…” Whitney huffed, throwing his leg up and rolling onto the clearing, “...idea, how wrong, you are.”

  “This isn’t about you,” Young Whitney said. “You can go back to your little house on my farm and finish out your days doing gods-know-what with my mom. I’m done. This place is shog, and I’m through living in it.”

  He turned to walk away again, and Big Whitney grabbed his shoulder.

  “Geez, kid, just stop for a second,” he said, still panting. “You’re acting like a lunatic.”

  Young Whitney stopped but didn’t turn around. His shoulders heaved like he was holding back rage.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Big Whitney said. “Trust me.”

  “Why’s that?” he barked, whipping back around. There was something about his eyes, something violent and unrestrained.

  Big Whitney raised his hands, palms out. “Just calm down, and you’ll see reason.”

  “Reason? I see reason better than ever before. This place is worthless. The people are worthless liars. There’s something more out there, and I’m going to find it. Something real.”

  “I get that,” Whitney said. “More than you could ever understand, I get it. But here’s the thing… it’s going to seem like a good idea for a while. A long while, really. Truthfully, up until right now.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Leaving here. The world is amazing. I’ve seen more than I could fit in a million books. Dwarves, dragons, big, strange octopus-looking things called wianu, giants, giant women.”

  “What is your point?”

  “My point is that nothing in this world is more important than what you have right here, right now.”

  “Which is what? A mom who’s been broken since dad died? I have exactly one friend here, and she’s been lying to me for ages. Why shouldn’t I leave?”

  “You love her,” Big Whitney said.

  “You’d better yigging take that back.”

  “Why can’t you just admit it?”

  Young Whitney, who Big Whitney had to admit wasn’t very young anymore, drew his fist back to punch. Whitney had always been fast—that was what being a thief was all about—but farming for so long made him strong as well. His hand snapped up and his fingers closed around Young Whitney’s balled fist.

  “Stop it,” Big Whitney said, but the boy kicked at him instead. Big Whitney scooped under his leg, still holding his fist and lowered him to the ground. Young Whitney thrashed.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Well, I want to hurt you, home wrecker,” Young Whitney said.

  “You’re out of your mind,” Big Whitney said through his teeth as he struggled to hold the boy down. “Mother—your mother is not my type. She’s… old.”

  “She’s like your age, shog-breath.”

  Whitney flipped the boy over onto his stomach and wrenched his arm behind his back, pulling it up with a sharp jab.

  Young Whitney screamed.

  “If I let you go, will you stop attacking me?” Big Whitney asked.

  He didn’t respond, but Whitney took it as a ‘yes.’ Before releasing him, Big Whitney slapped the boy hard in the side of the head. “Don’t you ever call her knife-ear again, do you understand me?”

  Young Whitney clenched his jaw.

  Big Whitney hit him again. “Yes?”

  “Yes,” Young Whitney said reluctantly.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Suck shog.”

  Big Whitney laughed and let the boy go. He rolled away the moment he was free, then sprung to his feet, defensive.

  “You gonna leave me alone now?” Young Whitney asked.

  “Not a chance,” Big Whitney said.

  “What are you really doing here, Willis?”

  “Clearly, the gods sent me here to make sure you don’t make the same mistakes I did and run from here, you worthless piece of shog.”

  “Gods, huh?” Young Whitney scoffed. “I heard you talking about Iam. No one talks about Iam here. Not even Father Drimmond. So, you show up talking about that evil bastard, you’ve got a map of our town with X’s marked all over it, you kill my dad—”

  “I didn’t kill your father.”

  “Whatever,” he continued. “He wouldn’t have died if you hadn’t interfered."

  “He wouldn’t have died if you didn’t steal that crown!”

  “Crown? What yigging crown?” Young Whitney asked. “It was a necklace. I knew it, man, you’re crazy.”

  That gave Whitney a reason to pause. Was he crazy? Was he imagining this? At the start of this adventure into death, he’d believed he was dreaming. Was he right and had never woken up?

  “You some kind of Shieldsman?” Young Whitney asked.

  Whitney laughed harder than he remembered doing since before Sora exiled him. The thought of wearing that ridiculous costume like Torsten. He wiped a tear from his eye and said, “You’ve got no idea how funny that is.”

  “Well, your story makes no sense. So either start talking about why you really want me here or I’m walking."

  Big Whitney considered telling him everything but worried what might happen if he did.

  "Okay, fine.” Young Whitney turned to walk away again.

  “I’m you!” Big Whitney blurted, forcing the boy to turn back.

  Young Whitney’s head tilted. All the anger fled his eyes, instead replaced by a blank stare that Whitney found far more chilling. “What does that mean?” his younger self said. “What does that mean?” It wasn’t the first time Whitney heard someone in Elsewhere respond on a loop and it rarely, if ever, meant anything good was about to happen. "What does that mean?"

  “Not really, I mean,” Big Whitney clarified. “I’ve made the same dumb mistakes you have. I told you I had a friend named Sora. She was more than a friend, way more, and I left her just like you’re planning to leave yours.”

  Young Whitney’s head straightened and his eyes refocused. “We aren’t like that.”

  “I’ve seen how she looks at you.” It was true, and Whitney couldn’t believe he’d never seen it when he was younger. “Shog, kid, I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

  “Like I said, crazy.”

  “If you don’t have feelings for her at all, then go back there and tell her goodbye. For real. Tell her you’re going off on some grand adventure to see the world, that you’d rather run away from your problems than face them. Tell her this is for the best. Do it. I dare you.”

  You
ng Whitney blew out a breath. “You’re a dick.” He shook his head and started back on his path to wherever the wind was going to take him.

  “You can't. Because it’ll hurt too much.”

  Big Whitney watched for a few seconds. The Elsewhere barrier was just beyond a large tree, and Young Whitney was about to pass through it.

  “Coward,” he said.

  “Liar,” Young Whitney replied.

  And with that, Young Whitney crossed through the barrier. Whitney watched as light coruscated across the now rippling surface of the transparent wall which he now saw stretched over the whole town like a dome.

  As the barrier undulated, Whitney caught a glimpse of something beyond it, darkness unlike any he’d seen before in his life, and then as quickly as it started, it ended, leaving only eerie silence.

  He thought about Sora, both Soras. He’d just had to witness one of them experience the same heartache his own must have when he’d been the petulant, selfish child who couldn’t even gather enough guts to say a proper goodbye. Sadness—no, not sadness… that word wasn't nearly strong enough. Sorrow filled every pound of him. Six years. It took six years in this shogpile to figure out a lesson as simple as how horrible a human being he had been.

  A sudden shift made Whitney’s heart leap and his stomach flip. No longer was he surrounded by thick trees and the sound of a bubbling brook, but instead, he found himself on the bank of the Shellnak River. He looked over each of his shoulders in turn, searching for something, anything to tell him what had just happened.

  After a moment, he realized he was standing in the same place he and Kazimir had arrived so many years ago, but the remnants of the Ferryman’s boat were no longer there.

  Did I do it? Did I escape Elsewhere?

  Hope flooded over him, enveloping him like a warm blanket. He turned and saw Mount Lister practically sparkling in the distance. Puffy, white clouds frolicked along against a sky painted bright blue. Then, something happened. The blue sky darkened, turning a harsh shade of reddish-purple. The clouds disappeared. Loutis stained the sky alone, pale and pathetic as ever.

  “No, no, no,” Whitney said, the rush of hope drowned by despair. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.”