The Outcast and the Survivor: Chapter Ten Read online

to tell him, but an uneasy premonition stops me before the words leave my lips. It feels unwise, like maybe he’ll misinterpret what happened. He wasn’t really ever that fond of my idea to come here, though he went along with it as Julienne had promised. I’ll tell him at some point, but not right now.

  “Let’s get going,” I suggest.

  Astor gets up and places his pack over his shoulders. I do the same, and we set out, though we don’t have any direction on where the Necromancer might want us to meet him. I’m surprised he didn’t summon us like he had me, but perhaps he wanted us to wait until we were well-rested. That was his explanation yesterday for why he wanted to delay our departure until morning. Then again, I wonder if that wasn’t simply so he could get me alone.

  We walk the same way I did in the night. I try to make it appear to Astor like I’m unsure of where to go, but he glances at me suspiciously a few times. I ignore him and call out to the Necromancer, but there is no reply.

  The still of the palace is troubling. Not only do the lingering spirits from the night seem strangely absent, but I can’t feel the Necromancer’s shadowy aura either. Maybe this is a consequence of what he did to me, though I don’t feel any other difference, any dramatic change within, but should I?

  “Does something seem off to you?” I ask when we near the staircase.

  “No,” he answers tersely. “Same creepy castle. Part of me hopes he’s gone. That maybe we can get out of here before being trapped by some treacherous surprise.”

  The Necromancer wouldn’t just leave. It wouldn’t make any sense. That is until I think about the world stone and toss down my pack to check if it’s still inside.

  “What are you doing?” Astor says.

  “Nothing,” I say as I remove the animal-skin pouch and sense the dark gem brooding inside.

  It feels stronger today. I remember the sensation I had when I first saw it, when Julienne was so shaken by it. The next time I held the pouch, I expected to feel that sensation again, but it was surprisingly lifeless like before, a heavy rock in my pack and little more. Now I can sense it here in my hands. I can perceive its vitality. I am indeed a new person. A stronger one.

  We continue down the stairs, but I slow as I reach the bottom. I can sense the Necromancer now, but only faintly, enough to give me pause. Astor continues unbothered as though he doesn’t feel anything different, so he is the first to enter the chamber and see the Necromancer lying limp on the ground.

  “Kaela,” he gulps.

  I stop at his side a dozen feet from the outwardly lifeless conjurer, but I don’t dare to get any closer. Astor appears just as apprehensive, his face pale and nervous.

  “What do you think happened?” he asks.

  There is no answer I can give without explaining that I’ve been here before, so I ignore the question. Instead, I close my eyes and imagine the last time I saw the Necromancer, standing just where he lies now. Maybe I was dead when I fell. He said the gift could kill me, and what I experienced last night beyond my body might as well have been death. Were the words he uttered in that moment meant to bring me back?

  “We’re here,” I say softly, hoping to somehow stir him.

  To my relief, it does. He gets up slowly, like he is waking from a slumber of his own, but not the same way a person might. He doesn’t use his arms or legs to push himself up from the ground, but rather flows up as if he were a light smoke leisurely rising from a hot spring in the winter cold.

  “Shocked that even a demon needs his rest?” he directs toward Astor, a mocking smirk on the corner of his mouth.

  His appearance is the same as last night, much livelier than Astor is accustomed to. Still, Astor doesn’t question it like I did, instead pushing forward with renewed bullishness.

  “It’s morning,” he says. “Time to send us away.”

  “Of course,” the Necromancer replies, turning to me. “I trust you slept well, princess.”

  I nod, and he looks back toward Astor. It seems that neither of us feel inclined to reveal the events of the night to him, and I’m content with that. Still, I wonder how I got back to my bed if what he did to save me truly left him without strength.

  “Give me the stone,” he requests politely.

  Astor looks at me skeptically, almost hopelessly. I am unsurprised to see him so nervous at what is about to happen. He has lived many lifetimes, understanding what this world is and yet being trapped in it. This is all new for me, making it easier to accept that in just moments we will be among different stars through incomprehensible magic.

  “How will we get back?” Astor asks as I untie the strings around the pouch.

  “I will wait. The place you land will remain open to me so long as I am here listening. Go there and call out to me, and I will bring you back.”

  “And what if you are resting again?” Astor sneers.

  “You’ll have greater problems to worry about than that,” the Necromancer snaps back, then looking at me as I hand him the opened pouch. “It is likely that those on the other end will present you with another way to return when the time comes. For the sake of those you care about, I remain unsure which way will be wiser, so I will leave it to you to decide.”

  I continue to be taken aback by his willingness to trust me. Deep down in my mind, I’ve continued to doubt what his true motives are. What he says has always pointed toward an interest in something about me I can’t quite grasp, but to me, a being so powerful should be concerned with dominion above all things. That’s what I sensed when I first met him, but now I am not so sure. He no longer seems invincible like he did before. I sense that he collapsed after helping me because I had taken his strength, or he had given it to me to keep me alive. If he is truly so vulnerable, it makes what he might be planning even more mysterious. Perhaps he wants me to help him, or somehow sees me as a possible ally. The thought seems ridiculous, but why else would a being as powerful as him take such great interest in me?

  He removes the world stone with his hand and winces as though it is doing to him what it did to Julienne. It doesn’t overpower him like it did her, however, and his temporary grimace is soon replaced by a look of fortitude and strength.

  “Though it seems complex, sending you will be quite simple. In a few seconds, you will be…”

  And he is gone.

  Light flashes all around brighter than any whiteness I thought possible. After a moment it weakens, but I still can’t see Astor, only a glassy void next to me where he stood refracting light like a crystal into an array of colored beams. I reach my hand out, but it disappears from sight as it penetrates the strange prism of light. Slowly, the scenery fades entirely, and I emerge onto a shore looking out toward an endless body of water.

  Some of it rises up several feet in the air and then topples over violently, the sound of it rushed inland by a cold, vapory wind. I reach up and rub my chilled arms as I watch. The warmth of the plains is gone, though I hardly miss it considering the enchanting landscape before me. I have never seen such a body of water. I’ve heard of them, lakes and seas without bounds or ends. They are in some of the legends our people tell of distant waters beyond the misty plains.

  In those myths, it is said that the moons pull the water toward them, only to release them leave them crashing down. I thought the idea was so fantastic when I was a child that in seasons when the largest moons drew closest to Kalepo, I would go to the reservoir to watch the water in hopes it would happen. I was so sure that if I believed, the waves would rise. They never did, of course, but now I finally get to see them, though I had to travel a whole other world for the experience.

  “I’ve never seen the ocean before,” Astor says, startling me.

  As we stare out at the water, almost in a trance, I begin to notice stray rays of orange lighting up the clouds above and realize it is only morning. I look up and admire the heavens, the clouds slowly breaking apart to reveal a crescent moon and an open sky. My heart fills with peace, and I breathe in a deep breath ov
erjoyed at the sight of this wondrous place. We are truly no longer in the plains.

  I turn around excited to see the rising sun, but something else instantly grabs my attention. At the end of the beach, running far into the distance in both directions, is a wall of forest, and sticking out of it right in front of me is a windmill. Its design doesn’t differ much from the windmills in the fields surrounding Kalepo, though the blinding light obscures it.

  “Should we take a look?” Astor asks.

  “Yeah,” I reply.

  After we start walking, I try to refocus my mind back on what brought us to this wondrous place. I can imagine others being tempted to forget why they came and simply trying to maintain their hold on such a paradise, but somewhere in this beautiful place is a person who needs to be saved, and we have no idea where to even begin. Except a windmill.

  Near the end of the beach is a solid cement barrier with stairs built into it. There is no sophistication to its design, nor any sort of artistry. It seems to serve its purpose just fine, maybe to prevent flooding, but it is peculiar to find architecture without any sense of elegance, not like in Kalepo where art is found in everything as one of the only means of true expression.

  At the top of the stairs is a roadway, one constructed in a similarly plain manner, but it has fallen into even more severe disrepair. Its surface is covered with dark pebbles, some of which