Aster Wood and the Blackburn Son by J B Cantwell Page B

the burned bodies stacked like garbage inside the little stone church.  
    But I had buried the bodies, I reminded myself. The mountain was destroyed. The dragons dead.  
    Still, the feeling I had that I was plodding back towards a place that would trap me, kill me, would not go away.  
    It took fifteen more jumps until the destroyed range of the Fire Mountains came into view. Owyn held out the scope to me, and through the glass I saw what remained of the once spectacular mountains. Where once a high peak had stood, burning orange in the sunlight, now only a crumble of rock and debris remained. It was as if a giant fist had come down on the jagged peaks, crushing them into a pile of stones no bigger than a man. It had collapsed in upon itself, and the spot where I had escaped the dark tunnel was completely gone. When I had left the mountain that day, much of the outer shell of it still stood. But now, months later, the weight of the granite had given way, and the huge, sheer cliffs were reduced to rubble.    
    Five more jumps and we stood in the valley below the mountain. I held the link out, ready to give the command that would take us in range of the village, and Owyn looked at me expectantly. But when I opened my mouth to speak, no words came out. I stood there, silent, suddenly more terrified than I could ever remember being.  
    Finally, I let the link fall heavily against my chest, turning away.
    I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go back there. Too much had happened. This was all too raw. Too soon.  
    I jumped when I felt Owyn’s hand on my shoulder. He squeezed it.
    “The princess will see you,” he said. “She won’t hurt you.”
    I stared back in the direction of Stonemore. I had trouble breathing past the lump in my throat.
    “How do you know?” I asked.
    “I could hear it,” he said. “In her voice. She still cares for you. She will listen to you.”
    Will she?
    “And what about you?” I asked, turning. “Aren’t you worried that she’ll lock you up again? Or kill you this time?”
    A flicker went across his eyes, and for a moment I thought I saw something there. Doubt. He dropped his head.
    “What matters now is that we get the gold. Only you can take it from her. What becomes of my life is of little importance.”
    “You really believe that?” I asked.  
    He raised his eyes from the ground, stared hard into mine. And I thought I saw that flicker again.
    “I do,” he said.
    The lie betrayed him, flitting behind his pupils like a flag in the wind.
    I knew he was lying. But I didn’t know why.
    I focused, instead, on his words. They didn’t apply to him, but to me.  
    And I suddenly believed that there was a chance, even if it was only a remote possibility, that I would be able to convince Jade.  
    It wasn’t that his life, or anyone’s, was of little importance. It was that, when up against odds so great, only all of our efforts combined really mattered. If I died, the hand of the Corentin’s enemy would be removed. But that enemy would remain, would keep fighting, would keep opposing the evil until one or the other prevailed. Only then would hope be lost.  
    I looked back up the mountain and raised the link, grabbing Owyn’s hand as I did so. It was time to face Jade again, and play my role. The role I finally understood, finally knew, I was destined for.  

CHAPTER ELEVEN

    We landed on the mountain, Owyn on his feet, me on my knees. I looked at the rocks beneath my hands, felt the thinness of the air from the height of the precipice, and knew we weren’t far from our target. When I stood up, Owyn was already walking ahead, up the familiar trail that led to the destroyed village.  
    When we came over the rise and I saw the small buildings below, though, my breath caught in my chest. I didn’t want to go down into that place. Not again.  
    But I did.
    My legs shook only slightly as I descended. My breath only rattled a touch as I reached the first abandoned dwelling. I held