Jay - Ahern's Burden
Trust

The main road to the city of Nasje took less than a day on horseback from Theaton. During the kingdom’s better days, the city was one of two devoted solely to collecting and recording the history of its citizens. If Flog could not find what he needed in Nasje, he would travel to Benly and then onto Evertine if necessary. Nasje resided to the south of the capital and would take two full days to reach if someone chose to walk. Flog had to walk but he would never make it if he used the main road. No longer a bright and industrious path to travel, the way had fallen to thieves and men of desperation, unless one traveled with a strong company. Only those with nothing to lose traveled its course.

Flog had everything to lose. His goals had realigned, and he saw what he needed to do. It was clear, and he would take every precaution to ensure safe passage.

The charred remains of the Stofelle Forest reminded him of the battles fought to preserve his homeland. Not one tree had been spared. But as life often does, Flog found an abundance of young saplings springing up through the blackness. The contrasting colors gave him hope as he traveled as well as courage at their determination.

Along his way he came upon what used to be a small, nondescript village. He tried to recall the name of the populace village but failed to remember. The homes were a mixture of stone and wood dwellings, but it didn’t matter with what material the houses were constructed. Flog saw one building with stone walls taller than him. He was drawn to it. The building was circular with a staircase that ran along the exterior wall. About midway up the first floor the walls ended, but the staircase continued the rest of the flight. He had never seen a staircase to nowhere and the image weighed heavily on his mind. He pictured a family having dinner on the lower level and seeing children playing up and down the stairs. The upper level would have been where they slept and hid from an intruder. Did the family escape before the timbers were knocked down and the house burned? The playful images vanished.

Flog turned to exit when an odd sound caught him by surprise. He ran outside and towards the back of the building. He drew his bow and waited. He took two short breaths and jumped around a pile of stone and let his arrow fly.

Pleased he hit the target, Flog walked towards his dinner and pulled the arrow out of the wild turkey. The bird had enough meat to support him for several days. He plucked and cleaned the bird and buried the carcass. He figured the wild dogs would grab it before the next morning, but he didn’t want to risk anyone following him either.

Flog walked through the destroyed village and continued on his journey through the Stofelle Forest.

The night brought more unfavorable conditions even without the rain. He risked a fire to cook his bird, but the wind chilled him to the bone. He slept with one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other clutching a small dagger.

He set out the next morning at dawn and was thankful for the spot he chose to sleep. He read the tracks of several individuals passing close by him in the night. Luckily the group missed him.

Late in the day, Flog reached the ruined castle fortress at Nasje. The exterior walls had been pulled down and left in huge piles of stone and mortar exposing the vastness of the destruction.

The city had three entrances, and none were without risk. He waited for the sun to lower and chose the west entrance. Once he passed the main piles of rubble he found a small side passage and stayed against the taller walls on his way to the inner city.

While traveling down a narrow alley he heard a noise from an adjacent building and drew his sword. He checked his surroundings, fearing an attack. After several heavy breaths, he found he was still alone, and relaxed. And then he heard the noise a second time and knew it wasn’t paranoia. The door on the other side of the alley, five large paces away, squeaked again. Flog tightened his hand on his sword and used it to push in the unlocked door.

Inside the house, Flog had a limited view of anything, but felt a warmth exit the doorway and he knew the structure was occupied. He thought about moving on but heard distant voices and entered the home to take refuge.

Two candles burned on the small wood table, surrounded by three chairs. Flog scanned the room with his eyes and held his breath. He felt a presence to his right and focused his senses in that direction. He heard a quick intake of breath and knew a young child was watching him.

“I do not intend to rob or harm you,” he said, putting away his sword holding his hand in the air. “I mean to pass on.”

Letting his eyes focus in the dim light he could make out the half-silhouette of a small girl hiding behind a chair.

She leaned out to see Flog and he saw her eye twinkle from the candles. Her face was dirty. After a quick scan of his surroundings, Flog started a conversation.

“Are you alone?”

The girl didn’t move.

“Where are your parents?”

Again, the girl stayed behind the chair.

Flog looked around the small room and reached inside his pocket. “Would you like some food?”

The girl didn’t answer, but slowly came out from behind the chair.

“This is fresh,” he said, showing a small strip of turkey. “Here.” He placed the meat on the table.

The girl came out in full view and he gave her room.

Once Flog was an appropriate distance away from the table, she jumped out and snatched the meat. She shuffled partially behind the chair.

Flog smiled and stepped back when he heard footsteps coming quickly down the alley.

“Mabi?” A man stuck his head into the doorway.

Flog had backed into the corner and held his breath. Judging by how much noise the group produced, Flog assumed there were at least half a dozen men outside.

“Mabi?” the man repeated and started to enter the room.

The girl came out from behind the chair, halting the man over the threshold.

“Good,” he said, relieved. “Have you seen or heard anyone come through?”

Mabi shook her head.

“Ring the bell if you do,” the man concluded and closed the door before leaving with the others.

Flog waited until their steps faded. He went to the door and opened it enough to stick his head into the alley. “Thank you,” he said, stepping back into the house. “My name is Flog. Was that man your father?”

The girl nodded twice.

“I have to go,” Flog said, not wanting to test fate twice in one evening. He smiled at her for no apparent reason. “Stay warm.” He headed for the door after placing another piece of turkey on the table. He again peaked into the alley and looked back one last time. The girl had already taken the meat.

Flog traveled in the opposite direction of the crowd of men and headed towards the main courtyard. When he arrived, he found the grounds in the same condition as the rest of the city. Piles of rubble were everywhere, and he had a difficult time finding suitable ground. He hid behind different piles when he heard noises in the distance and made his way to a small, partially blocked passageway. The main entrance to the town hall was sealed shut by an enormous pile of broken stones.

From the side entrance, Flog made his way down empty halls and staircases. The years had not faded his memory of the castle floor plan and he quickly descended deep into the ancient building.

Before the light left him, he wrapped some loose cloth around a stick and made a torch. Although he knew his way around, he feared his path may have been altered or blocked and he needed his vision unobstructed while he traveled deeper into the earth.

Flog saw no one, if you discounted the rats he scared off with his torch. The room he needed to find would be in the north wing, two floors down from the main level. He could only hope the archives fared better than the rest of the castle.

Flog changed course twice to go around blocked hallways, but when he reached the archive’s entrance, he found the solid wood door intact. It did look as though someone had tried to burn their way inside but failed. He pulled on the handle, but the door didn’t move.

Could it be that easy? Flog thought.

He moved to the left side of the door and placed his torch on the ground. Then, he stuck his dagger on the underside of the top hinge and grabbed a small rock. With ease he tapped on the bottom of the handle and the iron pin squeaked, almost in pain after years of nonuse. Flog grabbed the top of the pin, and after some exertion and several more squeaks, removed it from the hinge and laid it on the floor. Flog repeated the process on the bottom pin and had to steady the door before it fell on top of him.

The record vault was a long skinny room, wide enough for two men to walk past each other and deep enough that it would be difficult to see the end with his torch. Flog had only the one and had to make do with what he saw in front of him.

His father had given him detailed accounts of the castle. As a child they would visit often and walk through its halls. And though he had never been in the records room, he knew its layout. The old wooden shelving on each side of the center isle was covered with decades of dust and cobwebs.

Flog picked up a few small scrolls and gave them a quick glance before he rolled them up and put them on an empty shelf near the door. Hundreds of scrolls lay beyond the light of his torch, untouched and forgotten.

Once he had a small collection of scrolls and loose parchment, he headed out and took and nearby staircase leading to an open hall next to a western facing window. After leveling off a pile of stones, he covered them with a small broken table top. He used smaller stones to hold down the edges and began reading through the documents.

He found that time had not forgotten the scrolls as most of them were faded, torn, or all together illegible.

After reading what he could from the pages he borrowed, he returned them to the records room and repeated his process with as many as he could carry at one time without damaging them.

Many of the official decrees were well-preserved, but they served no purpose for his search. A few hours passed, and he took a break by following a rising staircase to breathe some fresh air. His goal was cut short when he found the stairs impassable. He settled for a window overlooking the eastern portion of the abandoned city.

Flog’s mind turned back to when his father walked him through the streets. He would spend an entire afternoon listening to him recite stories about his fathers and what the people accomplished. He thought about the residents and wondered what other devices they created and what they could have developed had the war not destroyed their way of life. The records vault held much of their history, but it failed to replace the people or their spirit.

Behind him he knew the sun would soon set and thought it best to find an appropriate place to stay for the night.

I’ll search more tomorrow, he thought, and headed down the stairs to find a nook to crawl into.

A few steps into his descent he heard a faint cry for help and backed up to listen. This time he heard several barks heading towards him. He looked over the edge and saw someone running from a pack of wild dogs. The individual turned down an alley and Flog recognized the young girl he met earlier.

Flog abandoned his desire to find a bed and hurried down the stairs. Once outside, he stopped to locate the commotion and sprinted.

He needed to hurry if he was to help. The sun was setting, and he knew it would be harder to fight off a pack of dogs alone in the dark. It didn’t take him long to find the young girl cornered by half a dozen snarling dogs at the back of a dead-end street.

Mabi didn’t notice Flog when he came around the building, and in a last effort to scare away her attackers, she threw her empty pail towards them. The dogs avoided the pail easily and it skid through them until Flog trapped it under his foot.

Mabi saw Flog and her eyes went huge with desperation.

Flog could not recall a time when he’d seen so much terror on the face of someone so young.

The dogs were only interested in the girl and thought they were alone.

Flog drew his sword and yelled for the dogs to have his attention.

At his sudden outburst the dogs made an about face, viewing him as a greater threat.

Mabi remained trapped at the back of the alley.

Instinctively, three of the dogs moved to surround Flog, and with skill, attempted to distract him in one direction or another while another jumped at him from the rear.

Flog heard the leap and stepped aside with a slash. He and the remaining five dogs moved deeper down the alley, towards Mabi.

The dogs stayed persistent but Flog was able to bring down a second when Mabi’s father, Ponter, and a few other men arrived.

When Flog cut open the third, a fourth bit deep into his left calf. Flog clinched his teeth without screaming and swung his sword down behind him. He cut off the dog’s head with its teeth still lodged in his muscle.

Flog fell to one knee but was rescued by the other men and their clubs. They quickly made easy work of the last two.

Mabi ran to her father and jumped into his arms.

The other men surrounded Flog.

He pushed up and managed to stand with his weight on his good leg.

“Stand aside,” Ponter said. He broke through their circle and diagnosed Flog’s condition. “Sable, Bane, assist him. He requires attention.”

The two men stowed their clubs and walked forward.

“That will not be necessary,” Flog petitioned. “If I may be on my way, I do not wish to burden you.”

The two men looked back at Ponter.

“You are in no way a burden this night, or any night for as long as I breathe,” he claimed. “You saved my daughter. I would be remiss if I did not bring you back to my house and repay what I can.”

The two locked eyes and Flog nodded after a searing burst of pain ran up his leg.

Bane assisted Flog while he cleaned his sword and returned it to its sheath.

The other four men collected the dead animals for what would be their first hearty meal in weeks. Sable took Flog’s other arm and helped him down the street.

Mabi remained in her father’s arms while they led the way to their home.

“Mabi! Ponter!” said a woman running down the dark alley. She ran straight into the arms of her husband and daughter.

“We are well,” Ponter said, trying to console his wife.

“I heard the dogs and Sable told me who they were chasing,” she said, trying to explain.

“Come inside,” Ponter said. “Please, Suni, the sun has set.”

Suni nodded and carried her daughter into the courtyard. She was unaware they carried an outsider behind them.

“Suni,” Ponter said, when they had covered the courtyard and entered the house. “It is not because of our efforts this night that you still have your daughter.”

Suni examined Mabi for cuts and bruises.

Outside their home, Flog stood in the middle of a simple courtyard with one arm around Sable and Bane.

“How’s the leg?” Sable asked.

“It hurts,” Flog admitted. “That mutt had long teeth.”

“My wife has an ointment that will take away the edge,” Bane said. “You shouldn’t feel pain in a few days.”

A few days? Flog thought, not wanting to look alarmed. “Have others received similar wounds?”

“Oh yes,” Sable said. “I don’t think anyone has been spared a bite from one of those monsters.”

“But after tonight,” Bane jumped in, “none of us will be bitten again.”

“Careful Bane,” Sable cautioned. “What he means to say is, there are other packs we still have to deal with, but the six we took down tonight were one of the more dangerous.”

The others who had collected the dead animals walked past them to the back of the house.

“We’ll bring you inside when Ponter tells his wife you’re here,” Bane explained. “She won’t be expecting you.”

Flog couldn’t argue. He took the moments of fleeting sunlight to admire his surroundings. The open courtyard had only a few pieces of furniture, but the ground had been swept clean and looked well cared for. Two recently planted saplings came out of the two evenly spaced voids of stone pavers and would provide ample shade when they matured. The gate behind him was of solid wood and looked sturdy enough to keep out large animals. The structure at the end of the courtyard was not built as a residence. The individuals who used the building had retrofitted it to their needs.

Flog had a mixture of emotions at once. A feeling of sadness because of the uncertainty of which these people had to deal with every day, but he also took courage when he saw how resilient and intuitive they had become. In the end, he grew proud of them and although his leg hurt, for the briefest of moments he was glad the dog bit him.

“Suni,” Ponter said in a stern voice, “I need you to listen.”

The urgency in his tone pulled her attention away from her daughter.

“We have a guest,” Ponter said, after they locked eyes. “He saved Mabi.”

Suni didn’t speak but held her husband’s gaze.

“He is waiting in the courtyard.”

“You brought a stranger to our home?” she said, in a raised whisper.

“I had to,” Ponter said plainly. “He is injured, and we owe our daughter’s life to him because of his bravery.”

Suni looked back to her daughter. “This man helped you?”

Mabi had stopped crying and nodded emphatically.

Suni looked up to her husband and then back down in thought. “We’ll have to risk a fire to let Inga produce her ointment.”

Ponter nodded. “We already need a fire to cook the meat.”

“You have meat?”

Ponter nodded.

“Are you sure?” she asked. This question had nothing to do with a fire and everything to do with trusting a stranger in their home.

Before Ponter could answer, Mabi ran from her parents and through the courtyard. Ponter and Suni exited in time to see Mabi rush Flog and wrap her arms around his waist.

Bane and Sable looked down to Mabi and then to her parents.

Ponter put his arm around his wife. “Does that answer your question?”

Inga prepared her ointment, which burned when applied, while the family did their best to arrange a comfortable bed. The others prepared the animals for dinner. Flog showed courage in the procedure and with the help of tiny hands holding onto his, he managed to make it through without screaming.

“I know it burns,” Inga said, “but you won’t feel pain this time tomorrow.”

Flog nodded and laid down against the far wall while the others enjoyed a small feast in their protected courtyard. They didn’t have music or dancing but Flog could feel their joyful mood.

Despite the trust Mabi showed for him, Flog was never left alone. Not that he could have gone anywhere with a searing pain pulsing on his calf.

“How is your leg?” Ponter asked, stepping inside.

“If I don’t think about the burning,” Flog said, “I can almost relax.”

“It will heal tomorrow,” Ponter confirmed. “I had a nasty cut on my upper arm and after a day I had no visible signs of injury.”

Flog nodded, not sure of what to say. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” Flog admitted.

“It would be fitting to share our food with the man responsible for bringing it to us.”

Flog nodded and rolled onto his left side.

“Please stay,” Ponter insisted, “Inga wouldn’t approve of her patient moving around. I will bring you meat.”

Flog tried to protest, but instead relaxed and let the medicine burn his leg.

Ponter returned a moment later with a small bowl of steaming dog meat with his daughter in toe.

“She asked to see you,” he said.

Mabi knelt beside him and smiled.

“She’s grown fond of you,” Ponter said. “She’s never taken to anyone this quick.”

Flog nodded and before testing the temperature of the meat, placed a small piece on his tongue. He squinted as the food burned the inside of his mouth.

“Careful,” Ponter said, “it’s fresh off the fire.”

Flog managed to chew away the heat and swallow. “Thank you,” he said. “It’s almost hotter than Inga’s ointment.”

Ponter smiled at his levity.

Whether as couples or one at a time, everyone visited Flog and thanked him. A few of the middle-aged women made several trips and stayed longer than the others. “Goodnight,” Ponter told them more than once.

With everyone in bed, including Mabi in the next room with her mother, Ponter began prying into Flog’s motive for being in the city.

“Where do you normally reside?” Ponter asked, pouring the two some water.

“My home is in neither city nor town,” Flog said after drinking his cup. “I live on a small farm two days’ walk northeast from Theaton.”

“Do you have family?”

“No,” he answered. “None related. I do have several wild chickens and pigs to keep me company.” Flog knew Ponter wanted answers and since he didn’t fear Ponter, and felt obligated to be honest, he answered each of his questions.

“What is it that has brought you to our fine city?” he asked.

“I’m looking for answers to a riddle,” he said.

“Answers?” Ponter said. “You believe our city will answer your riddle?”

“I don’t know if it can,” Flog admitted, “but that is why I am here, to search and discover for myself if what I am seeking exists.”

“And beyond answers,” Ponter said. “What is it you seek?”

“I do not wish to put you or your family in danger,” Flog said. “My research will come with a price. The less you know, the better off you will be.”

“Flog,” he said, after a pause, “I know there are forces in this world I cannot explain. I know some control great power and authority. I respect you for wanting to protect my family a second time, but if you would trust me as I have trusted you in my home, you would know that I will never betray you. I have no reason to.”

Flog held his gaze.

“If I knew what you were looking for, I may be able to help.”

Flog rubbed his eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Why did we go to war?”

“To defend ourselves from invaders,” Ponter answered.

Flog nodded. “The last ten people I asked gave me the same response.”

“It’s true,” Ponter insisted. “Groodaria was attacked by the…”

“None of them were Groodarian,” Flog said, cutting him off. “They were Chaldrian, Koshian, Trykinian, Ondorian and Matian. They all expressed the same emotions, claiming they were the victims of aggressive tyrants. One woman said, from a blood-thirsty nation.”

Ponter didn’t know what to say.

“In response to your question,” Flog continued. “I am seeking to understand why we went to war. And by extension, how the Idols came to power.”

Flog expected Ponter to flinch at the mention of the Idols, but he kept his poise. He looked to be in thought.

“I know our former kings kept extensive records,” Flog continued. “I intend to search through those records and learn for myself why we went to war. I know the answer is in their records.”

“You’re speaking of old documents,” Ponter said. “How do you know they still exist or that you can find them?”

“Will I be well enough to walk tomorrow?” Flog asked.

“By midday you should be well enough to move around,” Ponter assured him.

“Tomorrow then,” Flog told him. “Tomorrow I will show you what I have found.”

Against Nuvi’s advice, Barclay attempted to build his strength. He would rise on his own from the couch or bed and walk around the inside of the house. He found his legs were strong, but his mind would fog over, and the room would spin. The lightheadedness made him fall more than once. He was fortunate he always fell into the bed or the open floor. Despite Nuvi’s nasty glares, his strength continued to improve to the joy of Jay and his daughter.

Wiping his eyes after finding sleep difficult, Jay rose from his bed and headed to the main room with his mother’s book. Unaware that anyone would be up at this late hour, the image of someone on the couch startled him. The low-dancing flames gave off the impression that the person was coming towards him and he backed down the hall.

“Come in,” Barclay said in a gentle whisper.

Jay thought about sneaking away but decided against it.

“Have a seat,” he said, patting the pillow next to him.

Jay did as Barclay instructed and settled in with his mother’s book. He snuck his finger in between the pages and his bookmark before turning to Barclay. “Why are you awake?”

“You sound like Nuvi,” he said. “I wasn’t tired, and sleep is difficult right now. Besides, this is the only time I can walk around without Nuvi telling me to take it easy. Why are you awake?”

“I don’t know,” Jay said honestly.

Barclay looked down to Jay’s lap. “We need to discuss what you have read.”

Jay nodded, flipping the book open and tilting to get the most from the fire. “I’ve made it this far.”

Barclay saw how much he had read and nodded his approval.

“Her words are difficult for me,” Jay said honestly.

“I had a difficult time reading her book as well.”

Jay relaxed. “There are so many ways to hide a message. How will we know which one to use?”

“I have an idea,” Barclay said, “but which method do you think we should use?”

“I don’t know,” Jay said. “I could start in the beginning and go through them all, but that would take a long time.”

“Your mother wasn’t going to make it easy,” Barclay said. “I think we need your father’s journals.”

“I have all the poems memorized,” Jay said proudly. And before Barclay could counter, Jay recited all five.

“Explore your heart, X-plore your soul. Plead with the judges, explain your role. Contemplate our moments, teach the young and old. Attitude is everything, teach of the former fold. Indeed, many have wanted, only a few have obtained. Nothing quite compares to, someone happy and untamed.

“Staying the same, you say it’s wrong. Staying on top, time ticks on. Expecting to succeed, me, I’ll always try, sometimes, it’s all a lie.

“On the lighter side of life, man doesn’t care about the rye. Neither the grass nor the man, instead pondering whether we can fly. Stuck in a corner, caught in a cage, intending to fight with his own rage. Even the few who lead this mass, never know what is to pass. Contending for the perfect mind, even the omniscient they cannot find.

“The light shinned though the window, heaven struck me in the face. Every beam is cherished, life is as fast as we race. Instead of looking for the easy way out, getting as much as you can. Have the heart to do something more, toward the light is where I stand.

“When life becomes repetitious, déjà vu happens more than once. Remember to keep your secrets hidden. Do it, don’t be a dunce. Prosperity is the adopted religion, pain does not disappear. Pride is what is temporary, live in harmony, without fear.”

“I know you have a good memory,” Barclay said, “but there may be more in the journals. It would be beneficial to have them while you studied until we leave.”

Jay closed the book on his finger. “I’ve been thinking about that,” Jay paused. “Do we have to?”

“What? Leave?” Barclay asked.

“Yes,” Jay answered. “Do we have to? I know you want to protect your family,” Jay said, trying to win the point. “I have thought about the consequences.”

“Have you?” Barclay said, not sure if he should be angry at Jay for what he was suggesting.

“Yes,” Jay responded, “and I understand the risks. I would stay if given the choice, but this is your family and I will do what you feel is right for them.”

Barclay was grateful Jay finished his petition with respect. But even with his admiration, he could not put his family in danger. “The three men who attacked us in the library are nothing to what could come crashing through the door.”

Jay nodded. He had hoped to find some wiggle room, but Barclay stood firm and he knew he would not win this argument. “How long do you plan on staying?” Jay asked.

“When I am able to get around,” Barclay responded, “we will leave.”

Jay nodded but didn’t say anything. He kept his eyes low, towards his mother’s book.

“Nuvi told me about the night you met,” Jay said, wanting to change the subject.

“Yes, I know.”

“What happened to the two guards?”

Barclay looked to the fire and back to his hands.

Jay waited for him to tell the story or change the subject.

“They gave chase when they saw Nuvi running,” he began. “I knew that if they caught her she would be punished.” He paused again. “When they gave chase, I grabbed my bow and with a lucky shot, I killed the lead man.”

Jay knew the story had some type of tragedy but didn’t expect Barclay’s reaction.

“The second arrived to see what happened, and I shot him while he looked at his friend. He fell dead on top of him.”

Barclay paused for a long time.

“I knew I had done something horrible,” he continued. “I wanted Nuvi to be safe, but I had no intention of killing those men. I shot the arrow to slow them down, and when the first hit the man I knew I had to take out the second before he could raise the alarm. I didn’t want another war, and I climbed over the barricade and threw the men into the gorge.”

Jay sat quietly trying to take it all in.

“That is why Nuvi doesn’t know the story.”

The two sat quietly for a long time.

“Jay,” Barclay said, breaking the silence.

“Yes?”

“In the library something happened to me,” he began. “When I was struck by the wolf. The glove he wore changed me.”

Jay stared, not sure as to what he is saying.

“The glove is called a muzzle. I had only seen a picture of one before that night, but I knew what they were doing the moment he put it on. Using a muzzle takes away abilities.” Barclay looked at Jay. “I have lost the ability to teleport.”

Jay sat on the couch, stunned.

“I’ve been trying to teleport for a few days, but I can’t.”

Jay thought about the implications. He and Barclay had used teleporting with such frequency that it seemed impossible to think of him without it. “But you teleported us here,” Jay said, trying to prove Barclay was wrong.

“Yes, I did,” he admitted. “The weapon must not have taken affect yet, but I can guarantee you that the muzzle has taken away my ability to teleport.”

Jay sat back and took a deep breath.

“You will have to teleport to Taq and retrieve your father’s journals.”

“I have never teleported beyond my line of sight,” Jay reminded him. “You’re telling me I have to travel half way across the world.”

“Yes,” Barclay admitted, “but you will have to if you ever want to see his journals again.”

Barclay could see fear growing in his eyes.

“Relax,” Barclay said, trying to calm him. “You do not need to do it this moment, but you should prepare.”

Jay sat back on the couch and closed his mother’s book on his lap. After a moment he left the couch without a word and returned to his room.

Barclay leaned over and knelt in front of the fire. He laid two logs onto the low flames. He stoked the embers until they began to overwhelm the new additions. With the fire growing again, he slipped back into his bed to test how well he could find sleep before the morning.

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