Aster Wood and the Lost Maps of Almara (Book 1) (11 page)

“Aster,” Larissa called after me and I turned. Her face had slackened and the folds of her skin knit together over the bridge of her nose with worry. “Take care of my brother, eh?” I nodded, and then followed Kiron out onto the rocky bluff.
 

He was already several paces away from the house, walking swiftly towards the spot we had landed. I jogged to catch up with him.
 

“Come on,” he panted, “before she notices.”

“Notices what?” But no sooner was the question out of my mouth than Larissa’s shrieking was audible from inside the house.
 

“Get the link!” Kiron boomed. “Now!”

I scrambled for the map, stuffed deep into my pants pocket. Kiron gripped my arms with both of his hands and looked me in the eyes.
 

“You better get on with it before she gets out here,” he said impatiently.

“Kiron, you stinking goat of a human being—” she yelled over the wind, which had picked up again. She was barreling towards us over the rock, Crane barking at her feet.
 

“Now’s the time!” Kiron yelled, “unless
you
want to be one of her experiments, too!”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I thrust the map up above my head and hollered, “Go!”

The force of the jump knocked both Larissa and Crane to the ground, and Kiron and I escaped into the black of space.

As we spun away from the mountaintop, flashes of light blinked behind my tightly closed eyelids. I tried to pry my eyes open against the whirlpool of air that twirled me like a child’s toy, but a wave of nausea forced me to squeeze them shut again. I hunched over, clutching at my stomach. The jump was unpleasant, but Almara’s link wasn’t painful like Kiron’s had been.

When we landed, it was on hard cobblestone. I stayed crouched down, and my hands pressed into the cold, dirty stone of the street. I was gasping, and a sweat broke out all over my body as I tried to force down the large lump that threatened in my throat. I sat down on the stone, and found the air was cool, helping me regain my head. Whatever there was to see during the jumps, I wasn’t sure if it was worth it trying to look again.

Kiron sat back against a stone wall opposite me. We were in a long, narrow alleyway.
 

“What happened?” I asked. “What did you do?”

He smiled between gasps, his eyes closed as he rested his head back against the stone. From beneath his coat he produced a thin, crumpled page. It was from the book.

“You took the spell,” I said slowly. “Why?” No wonder she had come after us.

“Lissa was never meant to continue past Aerit,” he panted. “Pa was clear as crystal on that fact.”

“You tricked her.” I was impressed despite my concern.

“Lissa has more power than me, that’s for sure. But she’s arrogant. Arrogance breeds ignorance. I’ve always been the brains of the family.”

After we both caught our breath, I asked, “What about Crane? She’s sure to do something horrible, isn’t she?”

“Nah,” he said, getting to his feet and brushing the dirt from his clothes. “Lissa’s soft spot has always been animals. No matter how much she hates me, she’d never hurt Crane. Though, after this, I suspect he won’t be mine anymore. She’ll keep him from me, just outta spite. No matter. That mutt will have a great life with her. She adores dogs.”

“But why do we need the spell?” I asked. “Aren’t we supposed to use Almara’s links? We won’t need to be making more, will we?” My stomach squirmed at the painful memory of the jump from Kiron’s farm to the mountaintop.
 

“I needed something to convince her to take Crane. Without an offering, and a good one, she woulda said no, just to punish me. The book was the only way. But I couldn’t let her have the spell. We have it now, in case we ever need it. Here.” He handed it out to me.

I stared blankly at the paper and then at him. “But— why are you giving it to me?”
 

“It was always meant for you,” he said. “You’re the one meant to be on this quest, not me. I’m just along for the ride.” He shook his outstretched hand impatiently.

I took the thin paper and folded it carefully, putting it in my pocket. Then I took his hand and heaved myself upright.

As my breathing slowed, distant sounds found their way to my brain through the ringing in my ears. I was thankful for the cover of a deserted passage. We must have been far enough away from the people of this place that they hadn’t heard us land. Beyond the shadows, the sounds of men and horses, wagons and commerce came to me. I steadied myself against a stone wall, and held up this most recent link. We both peered at the page.

The outline of a city had appeared. A perfect square was outlined into the center with several streets lining the perimeter. From each corner a wide lane cut through the streets diagonally to the square. In the center a golden ring twinkled at me.
 

“Where are we?” I asked, handing him the map.

Kiron studied the map. “Aeso, I believe.” He looked at the buildings on either side of us and ran his free hand over the stone walls. “Probably in the city of Stonemore.”

I looked down the alley towards the street beyond.

“But how do you know?”

“I don’t,” he said. “But I’ve seen a schematic like this before. It is likely.” He held the page close to his face, examining each line. “That’s where the next link hides,” he said, pointing at the circle.
 

I began to brush the dirt from my own clothes, but he stopped me.

“No, stay dirty. Your clothes are already unusual. You’ll blend in better with a little dirt on ‘em. Ready?”

I folded the map, tucking it into my pocket next to the spell page, and we began to cautiously make our way out to the city beyond. We stayed back, hidden in the shadows, just close enough to observe the bustling lane before joining the foot traffic. This was a busy place. Women walked past the alley carrying bushels of wheat and fruit, children skipping along in their wake. The hooves of enormous horses clacked against the stone; some drew smart coaches, some open carriages carrying items for trade. It looked like a town on Earth from a thousand years ago.

Aside from the nerves I felt at being in a strange place, again, I was mostly relieved at what I saw. These people were busy going about the daily chores of life. Women chased small children that went astray, scooping them up out of harm’s way whenever a horse passed by. Men and women alike hauled provisions through the streets, some headed for the market, some for home. Shopkeepers with empty shops stood in their doorways watching the crowds amble by, waiting for business. Hopefully nobody would notice our presence here at all. We might be able to slip right through this place, none being the wiser.

Kiron lead me out into the lane and I resisted the impulse to keep my hand on the blade of the ax. I was a stranger, yes, but would they notice? As I walked I found that, for the most part, they seemed not to. Kiron pretended he knew exactly where he was going, so all I really had to do was keep up and try not to draw attention to myself. I tried to keep my pace at the same time casual and purposeful. If I ran, they would see me. If I gawked, they would see me. If I kept the pace, as they did, I would be, hopefully, invisible.
 

Well, almost invisible. The occasional child stopped and pointed in my direction, tugging at the skirt of his mother to look. What was it? I looked down at myself, and back up at the passersby. My clothes? My boots? My hair? That had to be it. Most of the people here had dark hair; the lightest I saw was a medium brown. And here I was with a mop of white-blond, bursting through like a flashlight in the dark. The adults didn’t seem to notice or care, though, so I continued forward and made a note to rub some dirt into it at the earliest opportunity.
 

People and horses traveled every which way on the lane, but the majority of them were headed in a single direction. We followed the crowd silently, towards what I didn’t know. I studied the city around me. Aside from the roofs of the dwellings and shops, all the buildings here were made entirely of the same mottled, gray stone. Decoration, or color of any sort, was sparse on the storefronts. Either they didn’t care for such embellishment or they didn’t have the means for such things; the grimy, gray dress of the citizens around me made me suspect the latter. These people weren’t living in squalor, though, and aside from the occasional child with muddy cheeks, most faces were scrubbed clean.
 

My eyes scanned the facades as I walked for any sign of Almara, but I found nothing. On one side of the street in front of a small shop, a butcher was cutting fish on a long table. Perched on his shoulder, a small gray tabby cat watched the scene with interest, waiting for the right moment to make his move. A small group of children were gathered around the man, absorbed as he chopped off head after head of the day’s catch.
 

Thwack
, went the knife.

“Eeeeek!” squealed the children as the fish’s head jumped away from its body. The adults nearby smiled despite themselves, as did I. Three other smaller cats scampered about at the butcher’s feet, searching for fallen morsels.

Farther down we passed a boy about my age, maybe twelve or thirteen, following behind an important looking man dressed in finer clothes than the rest of the crowd. The boy carried a satchel and a scroll of paper, which he was scribbling onto with a large, ornately decorated pen. The man spoke with authority to a shopkeeper, who wore a solemn look, and the boy paid me no notice as I passed by.
 

As I continued on, the street got more crowded. I could see up ahead that the narrow passage became suddenly wide, and as we passed under the archway that marked the end of the road, I was deposited into a large, open square. Booth after booth of fruit, meat, linens, and trinkets were scattered about the place. People walked in every direction, large packages underneath their arms or strapped to their backs, as they went about their shopping. Kiron pulled me off to the side and spoke quietly in my ear.

“This is the square shown on the map,” he said. “Whatever we’re looking for, it should be here. We’ll start in the middle and work our way out from there. We’ll search separately, it will call less attention to us, but stay close. I’ve heard of this place.” He looked warily around. “We’re unlikely to find friends here.”

“Ok,” I said. “What if we get separated? Shouldn’t we have a place to meet or something?” I was getting nervous. I tried not to imagine what might happen to me here if my guide suddenly went missing.

Kiron looked all around, and then up at the arch that hung over the entrance to the square.

“Right here,” he said, gesturing to it. Carved into the enormous stones that made up the arch were the words
Stonemore East.
Behind where we stood was the door to a tailor’s shop. “We’ll meet at the tailor’s if anything happens, ok?”

I nodded.
 

“Remember, stay in sight. Stay close.”

Together we dove into the market. I focused my attention on the merchants who sold the smaller items, trinkets and books, searching for anything bearing Almara’s mark. Kiron followed my lead and looked at the stalls opposite the ones I searched along the row. He had explained that not every link would be a paper map, even though the first three had been. He had instructed me to focus my attention on finding the symbol, no matter what it was drawn onto.
 

The tables were stacked with pottery, little wooden boxes, the occasional silver pendant, cutlery, and every other mismatched item imaginable. I was lost in a sea of possibilities. I tried to stay focused on reaching the precise center of the square. The sellers watched me closely, but it was my hands they paid attention to. Of course, I was no thief, but in a busy place like this there must be plenty of kids looking to snatch treasures off of tables when nobody was looking. I kept my hands open and where the merchants could see them, and doing this I was able to work my way through the square without arousing suspicion.
 

Patrolling the square were official looking men who rode gigantic black horses. They steered them up and down the rows two by two, their eyes constantly scanning for trouble. They were impressive and intimidating, dressed entirely in black, spears attached to the sides of their mounts. The people in the market moved out of their way as they passed, clearly not wanting to tangle with them. I steered clear as well. Mixing with what appeared to be the law was not something I was keen to do.

I made it to what appeared to be the center of the square and turned on the spot, trying to measure the distance between myself and each of the four sides of the center. Kiron paused and nonchalantly inspected a table of pottery while he waited for me to move. This was as good a place to start as any. I stopped at a table that was piled high with small, metal cups. Their elaborate carvings caught my attention, and my eyes moved greedily over them, searching. The man behind the table stood up to his full height and peered down at me.

“What’s your business here, son?” he asked. “What does a sprout like you need with wine cups?”

I looked up into his face, my mouth falling open despite my best efforts to keep it shut. The man was huge.

“Uh,” I stammered, taking in his wide stance and, unmistakably, the handle of a dagger that jutted out from underneath his coat. “I thought they looked very pretty. I’m, uh, looking for a gift,” I finally got out.

“A gift?” he replied suspiciously, his eyes narrowing.

“Yes, sir,” I said, trying desperately to recover a little of my courage. “I’m looking for a gift for my mother.” I may not be a thief, but in this case I had little choice but to lie.

He rested his hands on the table, the tips of his fingers tense.

“You have silver?” he asked.

“I’m saving up, sir. May I…may I touch one?”

“What’s your name, boy?”

“My name?” I asked stupidly. My mind raced to come up with a false name. I didn’t know why, but I felt that it would not be wise to tell the people here my true one. I grasped at the first one that came to mind, my father’s. “I’m Jack,” I looked about wildly, trying to think of an appropriate last name. The walls of the square, the cobblestone streets, the dress of the people, all led me to conclude, “Jack Gray.”