Aster Wood and the Lost Maps of Almara (Book 1) (23 page)

When I finally made it underneath the canopy, the sun had just disappeared behind the mountains. I collapsed to the ground in a heap, and sobbed in earnest until exhaustion overcame me and I faded into sleep.

The entirety of the next day I spent on my back under the trees. I was too listless to bother with anything, even food. The only thing I did ingest was water from two small jugs that Kiron had insisted I pack in the bag.
 

I had a hole in my heart again, but of a different sort. I lay there hour after hour, watching the leaves slowly dance through the sunlight that seemed to race across the sky. I took the green stone dagger from my pocket and examined it in the hot, dry air. Almara’s golden symbol glinted at me as I rotated this hard-won prize in the light. I couldn’t argue with the fact that it had been worth it, worth the sacrifice in order to find escape from the snow world. But despite my victory over death, I could find no shred of happiness about it.
 

The knife was small and heavy. Was this the Stone of Borna? I couldn’t think how I might destroy it, as Owyn had suggested, even if I had wanted to. It was a peculiar color, a lighter green than I had expected jade to be, and seemed both opaque and translucent at the same time. I spent several hours over the next few days holding it up to the light, watching the sun play with the different shades of green deep within the rock.
 

My energy came back to me gradually, over days, not hours. Eventually the gnawing of my empty stomach forced me to rise and eat some of the food stored in the pack. The long hours of meditation on everything that had happened in the snow slowly arranged things in my mind, and the events began to make more sense. Over time, I came to the conclusion that the wolf was not lost forever. He had returned to the form he had started in when I had arrived in the snow world. But he wasn’t
dead
. Had he ever really been
alive?
The sadness remained, though I felt sure that the wolf still existed in some form back in that world.
 

On the fourth day I finally rose. My ankle still hurt, but the days I had spent motionless on the grass had done it a lot of good. I was able to put my full weight on it, and this progress, combined with the regular intake of food, was enough to bring me out of my funk. I began to plan. I would rest one more day, and then set off towards those mountains. This knife was like the book, not obviously a map. I would need to move before I got any hint of which direction to travel in.

That night I tried to come up with a plan. I had two things to find now, not one. I needed the next map to get closer to Almara. But I had made a promise to Owyn that I would seek the Stone of Borna, that I would destroy it if possible. The thought of my friends back in Stonemore made me double up as if I had been punched in the gut. Were they still alive? Were they imprisoned again, destined to be trapped for centuries longer beneath the stones of the city? My insides squirmed with regret as I imagined Kiron underground, his treasure of links stolen from around his neck. And what about Chapman? Poor Chapman would drive himself mad with fear over time.
 

I couldn’t get them out if they had been captured. Not from here. But if I managed to find the Stone, and somehow destroy it, then their captor would eventually meet his end. The destruction of the Stone would result in the freedom of the Stonemorians, maybe for generations to come. Though whether it would result in freedom for my friends, I didn’t know.
 

From here on out, I would keep to my original purpose and follow Almara’s trail as long as I could. But I would also seek the stone. I vowed to destroy it, somehow, should it ever cross my path.

The morning of the fifth day dawned cool, and I rolled over, nestled inside the blanket. I kept my eyes shut, aiming for just a few more minutes of slumber before setting off on the next leg of my journey. But an unfamiliar snorting sound sent me bolt upright, scouring the area for danger.

Fifty feet away from me, under the branches of the farthest tree in the cluster, stood a herd of horses grazing in the morning sun. Horses! My heart leapt in my chest and I jumped up to see them more clearly.
 

There were ten, maybe fifteen of them spread out around the base of the tree. Most of them grazed, a few looked to be dozing. I stood still and watched them for a time, and then began walking carefully towards the herd. Soon, ears started pricking up in my direction, and halfway to them I had a dozen sets of eyes on me. They watched me curiously as I picked my way through the grass, crunching the dry blades underfoot. They didn’t seem fearful of my approach, although I wasn’t that close yet. As I neared I could see the variety of markings they each bore. Some were solid brown or black, but others had patches of white on their sides or rumps, or tan in their manes or tails.
 

From the center of the herd walked a deep tan horse with a midnight black mane and tail. He approached me at a brisk walk, and the rest of the herd followed behind him cautiously. As he got closer to me he whinnied a loud, clear song. The sound gave me shivers of excitement, and the echoing calls of the herd made my insides leap with joy and anticipation. It was all I could do to keep myself from sprinting towards them.
 

But I didn’t need to run to them. Their strides closed the distance between us quickly, and I soon saw why. They were
huge
. These were not your run-of-the-mill trail horses, not your average working farm horses; these horses were as tall as elephants.
 

I slowed my pace, but the leader did not reduce his. He walked directly towards me, finally stopping when his face was inches from my own. His head bowed down to greet me, his giant nose snorting warm breath all over my face and hair. His eyes were as large as baseballs, and they looked at me with kindness and a strange familiarity. Soon the rest of the herd was doing the same as the leader, and from all sides their tickling noses snorted onto my neck and nibbled my shirtsleeves, sending shivers across my skin. My fear evaporated.
 

It was bliss. To be so small, surrounded by such giants, but to be so comfortable and feel so safe was unlike any feeling I had ever had in my life. Their huge feet, the size of serving platters, could have crushed me to bits, but these were no monsters. No anger or fear showed in their gentle eyes. They welcomed me to this place and to the herd as if I was one of them. Unable to contain my joy, I wrapped both arms around the leader’s neck and buried my face in his warm fur, his dark mane covering my hair and ears. He lifted his head, pulling me up and off my feet, almost jokingly. I let go and landed at his shoulders, and he gave a low snort.
 

I could have stayed there, maybe not forever, but for a good long time, if it weren’t for the heat that started to burn my leg. Looking down, I found the jade knife glowing bright and hot in my pants pocket. I passed it back and forth from hand to hand, and gradually it cooled until I could comfortably hold it once more. As I inspected it, the leader of the herd became agitated. His hooves danced in the grass and he lifted his head, whinnying loudly. The other horses followed suit, and soon the air rang with their song. They began to move away from me, not frightened, but on the move. They acted like little children being called by their mother, and soon they all set off away from me at a brisk pace.
 

I ran back to my tree and hoisted my pack onto my back, frightened that they would leave me behind. Running for the first time in days to catch up, I soon found myself alongside the giant animals. With each step I took along with the herd, they increased their speed, just slightly. Soon they were running at a full gallop, and I was dashing along beside them, laughing as I impossibly kept pace.
 

I felt my heart, hard and strong, as it beat in my chest. Whatever evil may be transpiring in the Fold, I couldn’t deny that I felt alive here,
really
alive. The power that had come to my once sick heart didn’t only heal me, it transformed me. Here I wasn’t just a runty kid with defective parts. I was powerful and strong, my purpose vital and significant.

The warm wind blew across my face as we ran. Their hooves thundered over the grass, and my own feet seemed to barely touch it at all. The smell of sweat and earth filled my nose. The sound of fifteen huge beasts sucking in and pushing out air, snorting and nickering to one another, elated me, and I felt an enormous smile break across my face.

The run seemed to go on forever, and neither they nor I tired. The grass flew by in a blur, and the gigantic animals wove in and out of my path, tossing their heads and nickering to each other, to me. After a time, the ground we ran on seemed almost unnecessary; I thought surely we must be flying. As the frolic took us over miles and miles of plains, the mountains slowly rose up in front of us. The details of the great, granite cliffs came into focus, and as we neared them their peaks rose high over our heads, reaching for the skies above.
 

The leader slowed to a walk as we reached the outer edges of the great cliffs. Along one side, invisible from a distance, he walked purposefully down a path that cut through the mountain. His herd followed closely behind him, and I behind them. For a time we walked single file, picking our way between enormous rock faces that stretched a thousand feet above our heads. They were quiet now; only the soft sounds of breathing and the breaking of rocks under their heavy hooves made their way to my ears. The horses’ massive shoulders rubbed the sides of the rock as they squeezed through the narrower parts. The jade rock burned in my hands, and I became alert, searching for the source that seemed to excite the stone. But I could see very little, sandwiched between two enormous beasts and two faces of rock. Then, quite suddenly, the path opened up, and we emerged into a long, wide gully.
 

The water that had cut this path through the mountain looked to have long since evaporated. The remains of the stream bed were barely visible beneath the new growth that overtook the pebbles that had once laid underwater. After the whole herd was through the opening, the leader approached me. He lowered his head and nudged my hair with his nose. Then he turned and walked farther down the gully.

I followed him deeper into the mountain, the herd resting in the rocky, shaded entrance. We walked until they were nearly out of view, and he stopped short in front of a particularly smooth face of the rock. Here the jade dagger became too hot for me to handle any longer. I fumbled with it, tossing it from hand to hand, until finally it fell, searing a welt along my forearm on the way down. It clattered to the ground, and I blew at my burning arm and fingers. I removed a cloth from my pack and wrapped the handle and blade carefully, covering every part that could potentially burn me, and stuffed it deep into my pocket. When I looked up again, the horse was watching me. He seemed to be waiting.

The granite in this part of the gully was damp. Along the sides lowest to the ground grew a thick bed of moss that crept up the face of the rock a hundred feet above our heads. The horse brushed his nose over the green blanket, like a common horse sniffing for a treat. He nuzzled the moss, working his lips from side to side, over several square feet of rock, and then took a gentle bite from the sheet and tore a swath of it away.
 

Up until this moment, I had considered these horses to be nothing more than what they appeared to be. The were surely magnificent and huge and beautiful, but were they of equal intelligence to a human? No, I didn’t think so. They had animal minds and animal senses, not intelligence that rivaled my own.
 

But beneath that six inch patch of moss was something that quickly changed my mind about this. Under the curtain of green a tall, deep crevice extended into the rock. I stared at the leader of the herd in wonder, and he looked back at me with the knowing eyes of a wise old man.
 

The horse gave another snort and blew a breath in my face before he started off again, walking back towards his herd. I watched him go regretfully, wishing I had known before now what he really was: an intelligent soul, and a friend. I wanted to stay with him, or for him to come with me into this dark mountain. But there was no question; this would have to be where our paths split. As the echoes of his hooves across the smooth rocks began to fade away, I heard him whinny loudly to his companions on the far side of the gully, their responses ringing out towards him as he returned.

I turned and peered down the path that lay before me, my eyes searching for a sign of what was to come. And then I took my first step down the passage, alone, into the darkness.

I was immediately blinded. The walls of the cave were chalky black and reflected almost none of the light that peeked in through the crack I had just walked through. The knife in my pocket burned, and I removed it, unwrapping it carefully. It shone brightly, and beneath the beam of light I could make out the rough path in front of my feet. I held it in front of me like a flashlight. It was constantly glowing now, and I hoped that meant I was headed in the right direction.
 

I picked my way down the path, moving as quietly as I possibly could. The crack went on and on through the rock. Nothing seemed to threaten me here. There was no being, human or beast, and no sound except the light tread of my own feet.
 

It was impossible to tell how long I had been in the throat of the mountain with no light of day to give me any clues about the passage of time. I ran my hands along the walls occasionally as I walked, searching for differences in the structure of the rock, or maybe a path that could be easily missed in the blackness. But the mountain did not divulge any of its secrets until, suddenly, the walls were gone completely.
 

I stopped dead in my tracks, confused by the lack of hard stone on either side of me. Holding the knife up, I saw that I was in a large chamber. I tried to see the edges of the mountain around where I stood, but the only thing I could make out was the ground for a foot around me, no further. Three paces backwards was the crevice I had just walked out from, and I went back to it, relieved when my hand met the solid, black stone. I followed along the outer edge of the cavern wall, shining the light up and down rhythmically as I walked, searching for a new path to follow, or a new danger to flee from.