Surrender (Book 1 of The Baneseeker Project)

Chapter 2 - The Boy

☼

In a side alley between a long-abandoned theatre and an oversize house, a lone ten year-old boy sat atop the remains of a stone wall. Tiny snowflakes danced their way between the buildings, searching for a safe place to land. Higher, a thick layer of hazy clouds continued to make the noon sun non-existent.

"I need more time," the boy murmured, his head bent backward and his gaze aimed straight up.

The snow spiralled down, mesmerizing, almost hypnotic in their pattern. The boy shivered and shook his feet, trying to instill some warmth into them. But they were still wet.

That morning, like most mornings, he had woken at dawn with the intention of leaving the shelter before anyone could notice. He slid down the ladder leading to the loft where he slept and made his way around and between those sleeping on the ground floor, until he reached the open entrance. There, he sat on the frigid stone floor and pulled on one of his boots... and grimaced as he felt a cold wetness seep through his worn sock.

"Put on the other one," whispered a mocking voice from over his right shoulder.

"And remember: five coppers by sundown," murmured another into his left ear.

As he slipped the second boot on and walked out, they waited, one on each side of the entrance, brother and sister, both taller and older than he was. Once he reached the corner of the shelter and was out of view, he had started to run, and had run as fast as he could for as long as he could.

He put a hand in the inside pocket of his vest. One copper, not even pretending to be round, rested there. He had found it in the snow outside of the inn's side entrance. That's where old Talma sometimes traded with the locals and the rare visiting peddler. Still, it was a turn of luck that he had found the coin.

Four coppers remained and he could not fathom how he would get them. He had tried to offer his help, to anyone and everyone, but most ignored him, while those at the logging camp had laughed until he departed, humiliated.

The boy looked over his shoulder and glimpsed the single darkened jade spike jutting out over the hills. He knew the thing stood in the middle of the woods of Sij. He shivered, as he did every time he looked upon the twisted monument.

If he did not find the coins, he could always run... in there.

But he was too scared; of the woods and of the floating lights, which you could only see if you got close enough, usually at night. Usually. Because once, he had seen one shortly after noon hour. It had been a dare. The scariest had not been the sight of the light, but its lamentation, its long wails of pain and despair.

Since then, the tortured moans often intruded his dreams, forcing him awake and keeping him up for the reminder of the night.

Putting his head down, the boy started to sob. Snow started to accumulate on his hands and knees.

"I wish I had more time," he said again.

And through the falling white veil, a voice answered. "No... you don't."

☼

The boy looked up and around. It took a moment to find the interloper.

She stood further down the alley, at the end closest to Sij, her back against the theatre's outer wall, shrouded in shadows. She wasn't looking him, at least he didn't think so. Her head was hidden under the silver hood of a cloak and tipped forward, as if she was resting. Wisps of black hair snaked out, but of her face, he could see nothing. Her arms were crossed over her chest. At her feet, untouched by the snow, rested a curved scabbard on which a blue gem burned.