Chapter 4 Ashin’ Kid
ASHIN’ KID
The orb pulsed like a living heart in Lark’s hands, each beat sending ripples of ethereal blue light across her skin. The air around it seemed to bend and twist, as if reality was warping from its presence.
“No, it can’t be,” Lark said, her voice barely above a whisper. She extended the roughly shaped sphere toward Paq. It glowed in her palms with crystalline twilight. The warmth emanating from it and her pendant combined reminded her of the firestorm, wild, untamed, and vibrating with energy.
“I don’t want it. Do you know what would happen if they found out?” Paq asked, gesturing toward the village.
“Maybe it’s not what it looks like,” she suggested, tracing her fingers along orb’s uneven surface, feeling each knobby ridge and smooth valley.
Paq’s expression soured, his young face carried shadows far too old for his years.
“It could be something else,” she said, lifting it skyward. “Yeah, I don’t know, it could be a gemstone with a bluish essence, not a Hyalite.”
Sunlight filtered through the sphere giving it an ocean-like color.
The blue radiance expanded and contracted with a hypnotic rhythm, each surge sending luminescent tendrils racing across its surface like creeping frost. The lines of light etched themselves into the uneven exterior before retreating, drawing back into depths that seemed to stretch far beyond the orb’s physical dimensions.
The colors shifted between shades of sapphire and midnight, each swell growing stronger, more insistent, as if responding to her touch.
“How would you know what it is? You can’t remember anything from before,” Paq challenged.
The heat of the lark pendant surged, suddenly becoming so warm that she thought it might brand her. The sensation triggered a memory from her past. Lark’s breath caught as the vision seized her. The orb slipped from her grip.
In the memory she stood over the elf, his green eyes fixed eternally on the endless sky above.
They reflected nothing. An ornate box lay beside him.
The surface was carved with runes that were written in a language she had understood then but couldn’t understand seeing them now.
The sound of retreating hooves thundered in her ears as a wagon disappeared into the distance, its passage violent across rough terrain.
In her hands, she held two impossible things: a massive sword that trailed wisps of smoke and a pulsing orb.
The orb’s light was somehow both beautiful and terrible.
Dread filled her like lead as she thought, What have I done?
“Careful with that,” Paq’s voice cut through the vision.
The warmth from her pendant subsided to a tolerable reminder against her chest.
As if handling a serpent, Paq used a stick to nudge the orb back into the leather pack. “We don’t know what it can do,” he said.
“How do you know it’s a Hyalite? Have you ever seen one?” Lark asked, still searching for a way to deny the orb’s supernatural presence.
“No, but I’ve heard the stories about them.
It’s the reason why Nordraven and Lamar are at war, to gain control over the Everburning Forest because Hyalites appear here.
Paragons and Knights are contracted to seek them out and retrieve them for their Kings.
Magi, elves, dwarves, orcs, and dragonriders all use their magic to win these glowing balls.
They’ll kill anyone who gets in their way.
Imagine what Nordraven will do if they find it here, with us.
” His eyes darted to the shadows between the trees, as if expecting armored figures to materialize at any moment.
“You’re overreacting. You haven’t seen one before, so how can we know this is what it looks like?” Even as she spoke, Lark tasted the bitter lie.
“I’ve never seen a rock or gemstone glow like that. This is different. I can feel energy coming off it.” Paq’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might wake whatever power slumbered within the orb.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lark snapped. The words escaped before she could catch them, sharp with an anger she didn’t fully understand.
Paq flinched, curling inward. Lark felt ashamed.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m— I’m just... I’m worried. I’m not mad at you. Give me a minute to think this through.” Her hands shook as she stuffed the clothing back into the pack and started toward the road.
What the ash is happening? she wondered.
The weight of the pack seemed to increase with each step, as if the orb was drawing strength from her uncertainty.
She tried to focus on one question at a time.
How had she acquired something that pulsed with such raw power? The energy it radiated felt familiar.
She couldn’t shake the clarity of her memory of the fallen elf.
Had she been his executioner? She saw no blood in the vision and those striking eyes held accusations she couldn’t answer.
The orb had been in her hands then, just as it was now.
The connection slowly tightened, like a noose around her neck.
Was it a memory or a dream? The question burned in her thoughts as she emerged onto the road, her feet carrying her in restless circles. If that was a memory and not a dream, and I did take this orb, who was I?
“Lark, are you okay?” Paq’s voice carried the tremor of genuine concern as he cautiously approached.
“I don’t know, Paq. I have no idea who I am. I don’t know where I came from. Then you show me this bag with that in it...” her voice trailed off, so the only sound was the crunch of gravel beneath their feet.
Paq shied away again, and the gesture sent a spike of pain through her heart. Even now, after bonding to the point that she felt more his sister than Ellowin in a few short days, her presence inspired fear.
“It’s not your fault. I’ll be okay. We just need to figure this out,” she murmured.
“How? You can’t remember.”
“Let’s start with what we know.” She gestured to the road, “You said I was walking here, just outside the village, which is along Lamar’s northern border.”
“That’s right, we’re at the south edge of the Everburning Forest, northwest of Astral City,” Paq responded.
“When I found you, you had this far-off look in your eyes. Your face wasn’t full of color like it is now.
It was white, like those Lords and Ladies from the paintings in Astral City.
Except, you weren’t wearing any powder or whig.
Your hair wasn’t fixed up like you have it now in that bun, it was all kinky and frazzled, a real wild mess. You looked lost.”
“Okay, good. I was disheveled and lost.”
“Disheveled?” Paq’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“It means I was how you described me. Something traumatic had happened. But my clothes were clean,” she added, peering into the bag.
“No, you were wearing those dirty torn-up clothes you have on now. The brown pants, some poorly fitted boots, and that long sleeved shirt, all stained and patchy.”
“I thought you gave these to me. Didn’t these belong to one of your siblings?”
“I only got Ellowin as a sister. It’s tight on you, but that get-up is much too big for her. I don’t know what all those brown stains are, but you weren’t wearing what was in the bag,” Paq said.
Lark tried to remember their first meeting. “Was I wearing this necklace?” Her fingers traced the familiar contours of the lark pendant.
“That’s why I named you Lark,” he said with a nod, a ghost of a smile crossing his face.
“What happened when you found me?”
“Let’s see. What’s the first thing you remember?” Paq’s voice held an edge of hesitation.
“Being at your family’s farm.” The memory the only solid ground she could find. The warmth of hay in the barn, the steady sound of horses breathing in their stalls, the feeling of finally being somewhere. These sensations were real, weren’t they?
Paq ran his hand through his dirty brown hair and whistled through the gap in his teeth. “Lots happened before then.”
“You took my things, but I didn’t resist?” If she had known what the Hyalite was, why hadn’t she fought to keep it hidden?
“You didn’t put up any fuss. You were like a mind-numb person. When I opened the pack and saw what it held, I tried to give it back to you. You didn’t seem to know what it was. That’s why I hid it out here in the forest. Didn’t want anyone back home to think you were strange.”
“They did anyway,” Lark frowned.
“That’s because you are strange.” His simple honesty somehow hurt worse than any judgment.
Lark narrowed her eyes, feeling the familiar surge of otherness that had haunted her since awakening to this false, unsteady reality.
“After that, I asked you a slew of questions, but you just moaned at me like a cow, or no. It was more like a mongodo grunt. You know?”
“Mongodo?” She saw a flash of massive beasts, steam rising from their armored hides, the ground trembling beneath their hooves. The image felt real, yet how could she know such things?
“Yeah, they’re similar to wild cattle, but bigger, tougher hides. Dragons love to eat them, too,” Paq said, seeming to enjoy knowing more than she did about something.
The mention of dragons sent another ripple through her consciousness; massive wings blocking out the sun, the smell of smoke and sulfur, a roar that shook the very foundations of the world.
“Anyway, I took you to town. You followed without any fuss,” he explained.
“There was a broke down wagon some folks were fixing. They asked for a hand; you just picked the thing up. Never seen anyone pick up a loaded wagon by themselves before. The folks put the wheel back on, thanked you, but you never said a word. Just continued staring off in that disk-el-viled way.”
“Disheveled,” she corrected automatically, the scholarly word feeling strange against the rustic backdrop of their conversation. Another piece of herself that didn’t quite fit.