Page 22 of Apple Boy

“Be careful with that necklace; it belonged to ma-mah.” She sobbed meekly as she handed the jewels over. My chest tightened with anger. I was furious that these gentlewomen were suffering so. Then Mr. Perrybarr stepped in front of Mr. Maitland.

“Empty your pockets.” He demanded his voice reedy and sly. Maitland did empty his pockets, but not without making his stand. He blustered loudly as if somewhere in the thick woodland behind us someone would hear his distress and run to our aid.

“When the Twin Kings find out ye robbed an’ murdered on the City Road, ye’ll hang, I tells ye! HANG! And I fer one will be front row watching ye both swing!” He roared, his accent thick Corvayan.

Fitzwarin turned and shot him a loaded glare, and suddenly the bluster evaporated, and Maitland clung to his wife’s arm. Mrs. Maitland remained stoic and stony-faced, and when Perrybarr stood in front of her, she gave him a fierce matriarchal glare. To her credit, he did shudder, as if she was about to put him over her knee and spank him. Mrs. Maitland took her sweet time as she removed delicate silver chains from her wrists, and counted out each copper, silver, and gold coin from her purse into Perrybarr’s hand until her green silken purse was empty.

“Ged down here man!” Fitzwarin was waving his bloody sword and dancing away from the whip cracks delivered by the coach driver as they dueled.

“Join ze ozzers, or you vill regreddit!” Fitzwarrin cautioned, but the stagecoach driver was not going down without a fight.

The horses whinnied with anxiety, and the stagecoach rolled on for half-a-meter, the driver balancing on the roof as if he were indeed riding the Zephyr. I saw it then, Fitzwarrin had pushed his hand up the sleeve of his cobalt blue frock coat. I saw a glint of silvered metal as he retrieved another weapon—a throwing knife. Perrybarr suddenly stepped in front of me blocking my view of the altercation. He eyed me curiously as if he were wondering what riches I had hidden on my person. Instinctively, my hand slipped into my trouser pocket, and I gripped the Star-fall. It was my inheritance, and I would not let this scoundrel have it.

“You don’t want to take anything from me. I have nothing of value, now stand aside.” I said in the lordliest voice I could muster. To my surprise Perrybarr’s eyes glazed and he stepped aside, just at the moment I saw Fitzwarin aim his throwing knife.

I felt Adam twitch at my side; he too seemed to anticipate what was coming next. He reached out and clasped my hand. At that very same moment, I roared “NO!” in reaction to seeing the cruel thin silver blade about to fly. I was gripping the Star-fall in my left hand, and Adam clasped my right.

In a heartbeat, something occurred—something I had not expected. Warmth spread through me from the places where Adam and I joined to the Star-fall in my palm. Inside my chest, a curious sensation began as if a weight or a barrier dislodged, and now I was free to flow, to expand and grow. The rush of power sent my senses sky high. I was all things. I rode the whispers of the wind; I burned in the blistering heat of the sun, I was in the precipitation that gathered and made clouds above our heads. I was the frigid earth and all of the buoyant life that wriggled within it. I seemed to be flying, watching proceedings from a bird’s eye view. I witnessed the deadly scene playing out below. I saw myself and Adam hand-in-hand, and we were beautiful. I saw the elderly women, their mouths, and eyes wide with shock at what they knew was about to happen. I saw the glisten of the silver blade as it left Fitzwarrin’s hand and God’s, I was so angry.

I came back into my body. My anger pooled in my chest, as vast as a sudden thunderous raincloud. But I was not alone in this shell of me. There was no longer an I—there was only we. I was Adam, and Adam was me. We swam into one another, our souls blissful at our joining. We were complete and in wordless agreement about what to do next.

A pulse of energy that began at the core of us wracked through our bodies. The word “NO” that I’d thought exploded from my mouth came from Adam’s in unison. A rush of power backed that word. Fitzwarin took to the air as if he’d been hit by a wild Argento horse and God’s, how he flew, his limbs flailing, both the sword and throwing blade leaving his grasp. He landed further up the road in a crumpled heap and then, spooked by what had just occurred the horses galloped forward and trampled his body for good measure. I was sure no man could have survived that.

Shocked, Adam let go of my hand and I turned to meet his confused, and yes, outraged gaze. The question in his eyes was accusatory. He appeared to be angry with me. It was as if he was asking “What did you do? I didn’t understand. We had just saved everyone, so how could he be angry with me? I was gutted at seeing that look of disappointment, and I could not form an answer to the unsaid question. I turned away from him and saw everyone else was looking at me as if I wore two heads. It appeared that they all knew that I was the source of the power—and, more importantly, all must know that sorcery is banned in Erias. No matter that we had just thwarted that scoundrel Fitzwarrin, I had to think on my feet, or I would be joining Mr. Perrybarr on the gallows.

The Star-fall felt warm and comfortable in my palm. “The horses startled and ran over Mr. Fitzwarrin. Mr. Perrybarr is returning your items of value, and then we will continue with our journey.” The blank-eyed expressions I recalled from the harvesters at Blackdown fell upon the faces of my fellow passengers—all except for Adam. I leaned to his ear and in an urgent whisper, “Please” I beseeched, “I’ll explain later.” He moved a step away from me. The action stung. Then, as if he had considered my plea and agreed, he scowled and then nodded flatly. A lump lodged in my throat, and I could say no more.

The driver and my fellow passengers moved to tidy the scene as if they were in a trance. The bodies of Fitzwarin and the guard were retrieved and bundled in the cabriolet at the back of the stagecoach, and there too a sobbing Mr. Perrybarr was tied up and made to sit with the bloodied corpses of his fellow highwayman and the guard he’d murdered.

We all returned to the cabin of the stagecoach, and with the atmosphere more subdued, and a little more leg room for us all, we continued on the journey to the next staging post.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE CLEAVED OAK

Just after midday we stopped at a roadside inn named The Cleaved Oak. We would not make it to the city this day. The stagecoach driver sent a boy from the inn to fetch guards from the nearest village, and the bodies of the dead men were laid in an outbuilding with Mr. Perrybarr shackled beside them whimpering like a whipped dog. We would await the guards, make our telling, and overnight here.

My mind was a jumble of confusion, and I needed time away from Adam for I could sense him and his anger as if he were still a part of me. We had not shared a word since the incident on the road, and the tension between us was so thick I could have sliced it with a knife. I decided to stretch my legs and assumed Adam would deal with procuring our bedchamber.

The afternoon was clear and bright. A cool breeze flowed down from the Silua Montis Mountains toward the Wide Sea. I followed a well-trodden trackway that skirted the perimeter of the land between the inn, a storage barn, and the stables. It led to a grassy clearing where a collection of rocks and charred wood showed travelers stopped their overnight if the inn was full. I walked on into dense woodland. Birds called to one another from the treetops, and the simplicity of their songs soothed me. I did not understand what had happened to me on the road. The Star-fall may have been the size of half a walnut, but at that moment it felt like a lead weight in the pocket of my britches. I paused, inhaled the earthy scent of the woods deep into my lungs, and then looked up into the autumn canopy of scarlet, copper, and gold. I was transfixed by the myriad of fluttering multi-hued leaves that danced among the shafts of sunlight in the high boughs. It felt good to be alone for a time in such beautiful woodland.

I walked on, lost in my thoughts and when I came back to myself, I found I was standing in front of a huge ancient oak tree. I stood, looking up at this most peculiar of trees. The forests of Thorn were populated by many species; however, I had never seen anything like this particular tree before. It was split cleanly down the middle as if sliced by some mighty blade and by the weathered appearance of the wound it had occurred some years ago. I pondered on what could have done such a thing. There were no giants in Erias, and sorcery was banned these past twenty summers. I had no idea. Could it have a force of nature? Could a lightning bolt aim so precisely as to cleave an oak in two. But, the most curious thing about the tree was that one half still lived and was in glorious health, its leaves turning gold and caramel brown, ready to fall, while the other half of the tree had blackened, withered, and died. They shared the same roots, so how was that even possible?

Later, I joined Adam in the tap room of the Cleaved Oak Inn. He appeared to be in a morose humor and was hugging a flagon of ale while staring distantly into the dancing golden flames in the hearth. A carcass of mutton roasted over the blistering fire, the melting fat making the flames dance and sizzle, sending out the most delicious scents. I drew out a chair, the legs scraping harshly against the well-worn timbers boards of the tavern floor. I sat and rested my clasped hands upon the scrubbed table, which, by its gnarly appearance had survived a brawl or two. I nodded a greeting to Adam, and expressionlessly Adam nodded back. I waited a moment for Adam to say something but the atmosphere between us still exposed a painful, icy distance. I had no idea how to bridge this gap that had grown since the events on the road.

Was Adam having second thoughts about keeping my company? I’d developed a deep fondness for Adam. He was my friend, in fact, he was currently my only friend, and in my deepest secret heart, I wanted him to be more than that. Being thrown together on the road like this had expedited and intensified our friendship and pushed it into intimate unknown territory for Adam. I’d looked forward to waking in the morning because I’d slept beside Adam. I wanted to know how he was and what he was thinking about. Between us, there was none of the shy courtesy of my friendships from back home that had burned slowly and developed over months or years but still left me wanting. Adam and I had never exchanged invitations, notes, or gifts, and we had never attended a social event together. There was no need for him to seek the approval of my parents, and as far as I was concerned Adam’s father mattered not, and his mother encouraged our friendship, so that was permission enough for me.

I did not know why what had happened between us on the road made Adam step back so far as to barricade his heart and curl inside himself. I would have thought that sharing such an intense, powerful connection would have brought us closer, but no, that was not the case at all. The intensity of what happened appeared to have repelled him. Did he not understand that I was still working out what was going on too?

Adam’s mood frustrated me so much, and at the core of my twisted feelings, I understood that my ire came from the fact that I simply… missed him. I missed the ease of communication we’d shared these past four days. Since the moment I’d set eyes on him in the market square he’d opened to me, welcomed me, cared for me when no one else would even acknowledge my existence. But now Adam was afraid of me. He had closed down, and it seemed for a time as if all was lost.

I wondered then if I should throw all caution to the wind and tell him about the Star-fall? Knowledge of the existence of that priceless gemstone would put him in yet more danger, and I’d never wanted that. But I supposed he was my companion and therefore he was already in danger for traveling with me. I was concerned that Adam believed I’d made him do something arcane against his will—that I had taken from him without consent and violated his trust. But as I recalled it, he was the one who had instinctively reached for me, not the other way around! We were both ignorant as to the power we shared, and Adam had unknowingly completed the circuit to set the sorcery in motion.

I remembered that feeling when we joined—the wholeness and rightness of the Star-fall linking us. I wished I had not remembered because the loss of that all-encompassing powerful love now left me hollow and bereft. I longed to reach for him and experience that completeness again, but I knew I could not. Was what we had done in saving our fellow passengers so bad as to deserve his icy silence?

I began to speak in a bid to break down this barrier between us, and as was my nature when I was out of my depth, I rambled nervously, seemingly without a care as to whether he was paying attention or not. So, I told him of the beautiful autumn woodland and the colors of leaves that I had never seen close up before. I spoke of coming upon the cleaved tree I’d discovered in the woods and told him that I believed the inn was named after it.

The landlady, a generously bosomed woman in her middle years who had introduced herself as Astrid, served us our meal of mutton stew accompanied by a rather toothsome rustic seeded bread of a kind I had not tasted before. Overhearing my chatter, she butted in.