Page 27 of Apple Boy

I had no idea what had just happened to me. I knew no man named Lucien. I rested back against the headboard and breathed deeply, trying to settle my nerves. My heart fluttered in my chest. I put together all the pieces of the puzzle that had torn me from sleep and understood that, yes; I was only beginning to understand what the gem could do. A message was sent to me through the Star-fall. The senders of the message were in pain, somehow trapped. Could they be calling from the other side of the veil? I ached for them as their distraught emotions drained from my veins. When they’d gone, I felt desolate and empty, because I was the wrong recipient. I was not this Lucien fellow, and I knew no one by the name of Lucien. I knew not who the collective of voice were or where they were located. It must have taken the last of their strength to project that anguished message to me, but it had been sent in vain, and I could not help them.

I turned to my left and observed the snug, warm shape of Adam in the bed beside me. While my mind was invaded and drowned in sorrow, he slept soundly by my side. I wondered then what would have happened if I’d have reached for him. If his skin was touched by mine while I held the gemstone, would the power have been amplified? Would we have been deafened by the cries of those trapped souls? The thought of it made me shudder. I would not expose him to the danger of a power I had no idea how to deal with myself.

I hoped Uncle Ivon could shed some light on what was going on. I was becoming more intrigued by the power of the gemstone, and also, terrified. Once the Kings discovered that I’d survived my journey on the Trojan Star and possessed a Star-fall, I would be in more danger than I could yet comprehend.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SEREIN

After nearly three months of traveling through the Empire, I had, at last, reached Serein—the fabled, once-magical city that had driven the old king half-mad with jealousy. The Argento horses pulling the Zephyr stagecoach slowed to join the queue of carts, carriages, and hawkers as we approached the west gate. And then after the driver paid a toll, we were permitted to pass into Serein proper.

Crossing the threshold elicited a burning thrill beneath my skin, and my heart sped with excitement. But, this was not the mere joy of arrival. I had never visited Serein before, and yet on entering through the west gate, I felt in my bones as if I’d come home. The rush of heat and sensation subsided, and I moved from my seat to kneel by the coach window and take in the view.

As I stared out of the window, my first impression was that Serein was larger, grander in scale, and more colorful than the Osian capital Altea. In fact, it was the most fascinating city in the whole of the Empire. If it was bewildering for me to see this city unfurl before my eyes, it must have been quite overwhelming for Adam, having come from a backwater town with a few hundred dwellings at most. He knelt beside me, and we shared the small window, enjoying the innocent pleasure of pressing our sides together as the stagecoach rocked and we were jostled along bumpy cobbled streets. His closeness made my skin sing, and I was drawn to illicitly watching his exquisite profile rather than the city. It pleased me to observe the uncomplicated awe on Adam’s handsome visage as he took in the sights. A lock of hair fell from behind Adam’s ear and rested against his cheek. The natural curl of his Montestein stained hair mesmerized me. I longed to reach out and wrap that dark curl around my finger, creating a copy of what we could be together—a perfect circle. As if sensing my lustful thoughts Adam turned, and self-consciously fingered the curl back behind his ear. Then he leaned closer to whisper,

“Ye know I’m glad you’re with me, Winter. T’is all so big. At least if we get lost in the city, we’ll get lost together, right?”

My heart galloped, and a lump stuck in my throat. Adam sounded like a little boy. I was used to sharing witty repartee and lewd comments with my rambunctious bedfellows, but the things Adam said to me were so unexpectedly innocent and sweet that he left me feeling quite undone. Adam had no idea of the power in his words, or that he was the only man ever to make me speechless. My mouth hitched to a smile, and I flashed my eyes at him. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to be a boy again, to run in the woods, and get lost with sweet, young Adam Sewell. I could see it as clear as day. I would leave all of my woes behind, take a couple of horses from the stables, and we would ride together. I would begin again with Adam by my side. It was a flighty, foolish thought that vanished from my mind as soon as the stagecoach turned a corner into a broader avenue.

My attention was stolen by the intriguing sights of vendors on street corners selling rolled up parchments, and of green liveried messenger boys and girls darting stealthily in-between horses, carts, and stagecoaches.

I resided in a large city and had visited all the capitals of the Empire, and yet, as we surveyed this city, I could feel in my expression that I too reflected the innocent awe that was writ-large on Adam’s face. It was all too evident from the quality of the artistry in the architecture that this city was extraordinary—and that old King Emmerich had failed in his bid to create a city more beautiful and captivating than Serein.

Through our small picture window, the architecture of the city was of such intricacy and timeless beauty that I could not fathom how it was created. Human hands could not have made it. I was sure of that. Tall, shaped, stone buildings with windows fashioned in all kinds of geometric forms, and set with multi-hued glass. Exquisite doorways of carved dark timber and intricate facades cut in a pale yellow stone that caught the sunlight and sparkled. And on the walls, detailed murals rendered in richly colored pigments, or glass tesserae mosaic arranged to merge spectacularly with the paintings. The buildings of the city were interlinked—joined by covered bridges and counterweighted staircases that traversed streets and alleys making me aware that, just like a living theater, there was more going on behind the scenes of these multi-layered buildings than my eyes could see. I was intrigued to find out more and to explore this city. But that was for another time.

The coach rocked, and my fingers brushed Adam’s for not longer than a moment. My eyesight blurred. I felt the rush of intense heat inflame my blood once more—the blending of attraction and the pull of power. My other hand was in the pocket of my britches. I did not recall when I’d instinctively slid my hand inside and curled my fingers around the gem. It was warm against my palm. Since I’d grabbed the Star-fall up from the dusty courtyard at Blackdown Farm it had been pulling at me as if it wanted to tell me the secrets of how to wield it, but to what aim? I was no mage. I was the next Duke of Thorn, and there was no magic in my family. Therefore, I could not be a mage.

My eyes grew wide in reverence as I considered the building facades with new eyes. What had once appeared as stunningly beautiful took on a new ethereal shimmering quality. The elemental symbolism carved in the friezes and murals was alive. It reminded me of the fact this had, at one time, been the magical city. Even though just twenty summers had passed since the city mysteriously lost its magic, tales of Serein had passed into myth and legend all over the Empire. The stories told that the power no longer flowed here, and all sorcery was gone from the Empire. But, from what Adam and I had already done, and from the way my blood sang as soon as we crossed the threshold, I knew that the stories we heard were not true.

Looking up to the horizon I saw a part of the legend of Serein for real. The Great Council’s tower stood tall and imposing on the distant skyline and at its pinnacle, where once legend told there stood a colossal obelisk of deep red magical gemstone, nothing remained. I instinctively gripped my small cabochon of the priceless gem. Again, it seemed to warm and throb in my hand. The sensation was pleasurable, and in turn, a rush of comfort ran through me. Maybe it was the Star-fall that was glad to be home?

I remembered hearing stories that told of the giant Star-fall, and how it sent forth a magical protective barrier over the whole city, giving the light of Serein a rose-tinted hue. It must have been a glorious sight. What had become of that pillar of invaluable Star-fall?

“Look, isn’t that beautiful,” I said to Adam, pointing out an official-looking building where entwined vines ran up the length of columns. It looked like the butterflies carved upon the vines were fanning their wings. Initially, I thought it must be a trick of the light, but then they all took to the wing. I gasped in surprise and turned to Adam. He wore a confused scowl on his face as he peered at the building, and his eyes narrowed their focus.

“Eh, I guess?” He said ponderously, “If ye like that kinda thing.”

I was surprised by Adam’s answer. How could he not appreciate the work that had gone into carving thousands of intricate leaf motifs on such tall columns? How could he not love the butterflies? I pursed my lips to prevent calling him a philistine. Adam was, after all, just a farm boy from the Pasturelands. How could he know of art and culture and beauty, the likes of which was schooled in? Adam could read and write, which I understood was a rarity among the peoples of Erias, but I supposed that he had little access to books or scrolls and relied on tavern talk for tales of other lands. I’d promised Adam I would show him ‘the ways of the world,’ and to my mind that did not just include bed-play. I vowed to myself that I would bring him home with me one day and show him all the beauty of Thorn.

The stagecoach rocked, and Adam reached out to steady himself. His hand landed atop mine. The warm sensation I’d felt from holding the gemstone darted through my fingers like a dog on the hunt, and it mingled with Adam’s touch. I turned to him, and his astonished mouth dropped open. Now he saw what I saw—the vine carvings and the animated butterflies. Our joining gave me a delirious, lustful rush of desire to my groin. I wanted it… wanted more. Touching Adam while holding the Star-fall was deliciously intoxicating and it pained me to let him go. Alarmed by my lustful need, I unclasped my hand and let the Star-fall drop into my pocket. I removed my hand from Adam’s. All I could see now were the grey pillars and not a butterfly in sight. I observed Adam, who still gawped at the buildings, but his brows now knotted in confusion.

“Where’d they go?” He turned to me, and as our eyes met, we studied one another hungrily. My base urges begged me to give Adam what we were too tired to manage last night. I would lay Adam over the banquette seat behind us and take him right there in front of Mr. Jennet, Miss Pym, and the Maitland’s—and from the lust filled stare Adam reflected, I’d wager at that moment he would have let me. It was an outrageously erotic thought.

Adam’s green eyes questioned me. “Do it. Do it again!” He urged hungrily. I wanted to touch him but no. What had I been thinking by allowing this to happen in company? I reluctantly shook my head.

“Not here, not now”, I said from between pinched lips. As understanding dawned Adam’s greedy expression softened. “Sorry,” he mouthed.

It was a relief when the entwining power and desire drained from my body. The exchange that had just taken place was thrilling and troubling in equal measure. I was changing in ways I could never have imagined even a week ago. The magic seemed to grow exponentially each time Adam and I touched. It scared me, excited me, and gave me a rush of lust the likes of which I’d never experienced. The thoughts of what would happen if we discovered how to use the gemstone together, and what we could do was alluring. Would I become power hungry and seek revenge for all that had befallen me by using this divine magic? Would I become as cold-hearted and brutish as Col Sewell? Could Adam even control his part of the connection? What would happen if I held the gemstone when Adam and I made love? I wanted that to happen desperately and so pondered on the intriguing premise for the remainder of our journey.

The Zephyr’s final stop was in the City Market Square. Our coach was one of a line of ten unloading and reloading for the next journey. Four young boys in blue Zephyr uniforms swarmed over our stagecoach like insects, releasing the baggage and tossing it from hand to hand until it met the ground. Wearily, Adam and I exited the coach, stepping onto cobbles, a freezing day and into crowds of bustling city folk. Adam darted to retrieve our small packs. He handed me mine, and I nodded my thanks. I hitched my bag over my shoulders and pulled my green woolen cloak tight to my body. Everyone we’d traveled with was now desperate to be on their way, and so we said our farewells to the Maitland’s, Miss Pym, and Mr. Jennett. I hoped that the version of the robbery I’d impressed upon their minds with magic would last, because we could not afford that truth to be bandied about.

Adam stood looking skyward with an expression of astonishment on his face. I followed his gaze and observed the multi-leveled rooftops flowing from where we stood in the center point of this vast city, up towards the highest escarpments in the north, and down to the port and the Wide Sea in the south. He swept his dark curls back from his face and turned in a slow circle, “Gods, it’s all so big!” He declared. “Now I know how a bug feels looking up from the grass in the orchard.”

It was an apt analogy, and his naivety coiled my innards. I wanted to reach out and caress his cheek, but I denied that urge.

I understood the workings of cities, and despite its architectural beauty, in some ways this city was no different to any of the capitals I’d visited on my travels. I had been at a loss in a backwater market town like Mallowick, where everyone knew one another’s business and a stranger-in-need was met with derision and scorn. But in the city anonymity can sometimes work in a stranger’s favor. If you know the workings of a city, you can survive in the shadows. I understood how to get my bearings in the city, and I sensed how to move with the crowd as if the knowledge was born in my blood. I also understood that if one was not careful, the city could swallow a body whole and spit it out as naught but skin and bones.

The market in the Serein was ten times the size of the Mallowick rural market. This market was held in a vast cobbled square, containing four equidistant fountains with a giant fire pit in the center. The buildings surrounding the square were three or four storeys in height and appeared primarily to be comprised of shops, taverns, inns, and the Zephyr station. An upper mezzanine walkway joined the buildings, as did counterweight bridges and movable stairways to enable customers to reach the higher levels of shops. Market stalls offered anything and everything a person could desire. Some of the smells delighted my senses, others, not so much. The bazaar snaked out into the side streets, mingling with rows of shops selling miscellaneous tat and finery.