The Trials of Ildarwood: Spectres of the Fall, page 19
“How much for a muffin?” Willen asked the pointy-faced woman standing just inside the bakery window.
“Just a Starling, once you earn one,” the woman replied.
“Great! I’ll take two,” said Willen, his grin wider than ever as he held up two Ildarglass coins in front of her.
“Ha! Nice try!” said the woman. “We’re not allowed to take Selyrian Starlings out here–at least, not from any of you. Nope, if you wanna buy somethin’ from us, you’ll need to earn yourselves some Ildarwood Starlings, like these.” Carved into rounded squares, the coins were made of an iridescent black Ildarwood and bore the same images on each side as the Ildarglass Starlings the boys were accustomed to.
“Great,” Willen scoffed as he stuffed his illicit coins back into his belt. “Any chance you’re willin’ to accept trades instead?”
“Absolutely!” the woman eagerly replied, giving Willen and Jarryn both just the slightest bit of hope. “I can trade you one muffin . . .” she began before pretending to think for a moment, “for a single Ildarwood Starling. How’s that sound?”
“Like you practice your jokes on your cats,” Willen answered. “And I’ll bet they don’t think you’re very funny either.”
“Why, you rude little—”
“Everything okay here, Miss Benson?” Darrick asked as he approached, leaning upon his new Willowood staff.
“Oh, look! An Ildarguard where literally no one needs one!” Willen announced. “Where were you and all your useless friends yesterday when the rest of us were gettin’ attacked?”
“We can’t be everywhere at once,” Darrick replied. “Besides, you two still made it here in one piece. A bunch of other kids weren’t so lucky.” Pointing toward movement near the forest’s edge, Darrick added, “We just found three more about a half mile away. They were attacked first thing this morning. I honestly can’t believe the Cynders actually risked comin’ this close to Westwatch. That never used to happen.”
“Maybe that’s ’cause they’ve got no reason to be afraid of you,” said Willen.
“I’m not the one they should be afraid of,” Darrick replied, and with a motion of his head, he turned their attention toward a balcony on the tower. There stood Delaniya Brent, who cast her gaze across the marketplace in search of any overt signs of trouble.
“My brothers said only Ildarguards are allowed to protect us out here,” Jarryn said. “What can she do?”
“It’s not about what she can do; it’s about what she can see,” Darrick explained. “Principal Brent has a huge Ildarstone map in her office that shows every inch of the Ildarwood between the center of town and the Deepwood, and she uses it to keep an eye on everyone and everything that happens out here. That’s how she makes sure we all stay safe.”
“No offense, but it doesn’t really seem like she’s doin’ a very good job,” Jarryn noted, though the moment the words passed his lips, he swore Delaniya’s gaze turned abruptly in his direction.
“There’s no law against bein’ a Cynder,” Darrick replied. “They’re just as much a part of the Trials as the Ildarwood, but that doesn’t mean they can get away with whatever they want. Sooner or later, they’ll do somethin’ they’re really not supposed to, and that’s when she’ll give the Council of the Ildarcourt all the proof they need to justify expulsion. Somethin’ for you two to look forward to one day.”
“What makes you think we’re gonna cause any trouble?” Jarryn asked nervously.
“You mean aside from tryin’ to use Ildarglass Starlings out here when you’re not supposed to?” Darrick countered. “Let’s just say we’ve been warned about some of the kids we might run into out here, and you two are both pretty high on that list.”
“Wait, why? What’d I do?” Jarryn demanded, though Willen seemed to savor such a distinction.
“Well, for one thing, you hang around with the likes of him,” Darrick answered, “and for another, I’ve spent enough time out here with your brothers to know what kinds of trouble to expect from a Gricker.”
Though Jarryn resented the implication, he knew his brothers all too well to contradict Darrick’s perceptions of them, so all he could manage in response was a meager “I’m not like them” before looking away.
“Shouldn’t you be out patrollin’ or somethin’?” Willen asked finally, his patience all but exhausted.
“Good idea,” Darrick replied. “Catch you soon?”
“You can try,” Willen countered, though for once he did not smile. After waiting until the boy in Ildarguard attire was finally out of sight, he turned to Jarryn and said, “What a dingbat,” before proceeding deeper into the marketplace.
“So now what are we supposed to do?” asked Jarryn.
“I guess we’ll have to figure out a way to earn some Starlings. Shouldn’t be too hard–it looks like most of these places are lookin’ for help–so now we’ve just gotta find the one that’ll give us the most money for the least amount of work.”
“You think there are any farms out here that need help?”
“There’s no way I’m gonna go work on a farm,” Willen scoffed. “We need somethin’ easy . . . somethin’ like . . . ooh, I love fishin’! Let’s do that!”
“I don’t really like to fish,” Jarryn replied. “Why don’t you go check it out while I see what kind of shops are down here?”
“Okay, sure, whatever. Just don’t go pickin’ somethin’ lame on me,” Willen warned, leaving Jarryn behind to explore on his own.
Turning into an area of the marketplace where many of the craftspeople sold their wares, Jarryn could not help but marvel at the skill of the blacksmiths, the intricate furnishings of the woodworkers, and the elegant designs of the clothiers. With each shop he passed, he wished he had even a fraction of the talent necessary to create such incredible goods. More than anything else, though, he began to regret that his only talent in life appeared to be a knack for hard labor.
“Looking for anything in particular, young man?” a woman asked as Jarryn passed by the door of an Ildarglass forge.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jarryn nervously replied. “You wouldn’t happen to know if there are any farms in this part of the Ildarwood that might need help, would ya?”
“Well, let’s see. Miss Empleton’s farm is about a mile or so north of here. She’s got all sorts of orchards, but she’ll work you harder than an Ildox if you let her. Then there’s Signora Fiori’s gardens a few miles southeast from here, but ever since her caretaker took control of things, they’ve stopped hiring anyone but Broken–probably to save a few Starlings, if I had to guess. There’s a smaller place further south, though, that’s run by one of the Preceptors. Her name’s Etta. She doesn’t usually need much help, but she is getting on in years, so it might not hurt to ask when you see her.”
“Would it be against the rules if I asked you to help me draw a map?” Jarryn asked, reaching into his satchel for a piece of paper and a pencil.
Laughing at the question, the woman replied, “I’m guessing you haven’t seen the one on the other side of the tower yet. That’ll tell you where all the Preceptors teach their lessons out here, and what days and times they’ll be there. Most of ’em have to split their time between here and the deeper sections of the forest out east, but the farmers and gardeners never travel, so they’re always around if you need ’em.”
“That’s great!” Jarryn replied, cheerful for the first time since he had entered the Ildarwood. “Thank you so much!”
“I’m happy to help,” the woman said with a smile, “but before you go, are you sure you really want to spend your free time out here toiling in a field?”
“Well, yeah. That’s kinda the only thing I’m good at,” said Jarryn.
“As far as you know,” the woman countered. “Have you ever even tried to craft something out of Ildarglass before?”
“Not really, but even if I did, I don’t think it’d come out very good,” Jarryn confessed, his eyes glancing at some of the more artistic pieces displayed inside the window. “I couldn’t even figure out how to make a bowl out of clay at school. Everyone else got the hang of it, no problem, but I had such a hard time, the teacher just told me to make a plate instead. That wasn’t too hard, ’cause, you know, plates are flat, but it still came out pretty ugly. I couldn’t even convince my momma to eat off it. She said it looked too much like it was in pain.”
“Well, creating something with Ildarglass doesn’t really require your hands,” the woman explained. “It’s more like an art of the mind, or a craft of the imagination. If you can picture something clearly enough inside your head, you can make whatever you want take shape right before your eyes. Here, come with me. I’ll show you.”
Following the woman up into her shop, Jarryn found himself surrounded by some of the most unusual and eclectic Ildarglass items he had ever seen before. On the walls were various weapons hung beside decorative plates, fancy clocks, and abstract art. On the shelves were pieces of armor surrounded by dozens of sculpted flowers with ornate designs. Even the display cases featured an array of obscure instruments designed to inflict pain–every one of them flanked by hordes of tiny Ildarglass animals with enormous, glistening eyes.
After stepping behind the main desk, the woman repositioned a dancing frog beside a sinister-looking scythe and said, “None of the items you see here were forged by a practiced hand or metal tools, and they were certainly not the work of endless hours beside a raging fire with melted sand. Nope. Each and every one of these pieces was made by someone whose mind saw things their hands could never even begin to recreate. That’s the blessing of Ildarian glass–it can take whatever shape you can imagine and serve just about any purpose you desire.”
“And you made all of this stuff by yourself?” Jarryn asked, overwhelmed by all the possibilities surrounding him.
“Just the weapons,” the woman replied, “but these little darlings are all Grunt’s work. Hey, Grunt! I’ve got a young admirer of your work out here who’d like to meet you!”
Seconds later, a man of immense stature emerged from behind the nearby curtain. By far the tallest person Jarryn had ever seen, Grunt stared down at him as if Jarryn were little more than a toddler who had somehow wandered off from his mother and gotten lost.
“Oh, um, hi,” Jarryn managed.
But before Grunt could respond, Willen leaped up into the shop and said, “Hey, there you are!” Only then did he notice Grunt and freeze where he stood. “Whoa, looks like someone’s been eatin’ their vegetables!”
“Oh, is this a friend of yours?” the woman asked Jarryn.
“He’s really more like my apprentice,” Willen answered, his eyes fixed on the massive man before him. “Who’s he?”
“Grunt,” the man grumbled, though with so much authority that Willen mistook the seemingly curt answer as a forceful command.
Then Jarryn was forced to watch on helplessly as Willen hunched himself over and began grunting like a primate–causing immediate offense to Grunt and his horrified wife, who both mistook the childish display as some crude form of imitation. What followed was several moments of chaos as the large man cursed and roared while hurling object after object across the shop until both boys finally fled out into the street.
“I can’t believe they actually let someone that unstable work out here,” Willen said between breaths once they finally reached the safety of a darkened alley. “I guess it’s a good thing I found you when I did. Can you imagine what might’ve happened to you if I hadn’t shown up?”
“I’m tryin’ not to,” Jarryn replied with great annoyance.
“Don’t worry. It looks like there are plenty more shops on the other side of the tower we can check out.”
Taking the long way around the tower so as to avoid the wrath of Grunt, Jarryn and Willen soon found themselves staring at a group of forty Ildarbound gathered at the entrance to Westwatch Tower.
“Great, more crowds,” Willen huffed. “What do you think the big deal is?”
“That lady back there said there’s a map of the Ildarwood near the doors,” Jarryn answered, still lamenting the conclusion of their encounter.
“Really? That’s awesome! Go push your way through and make a copy of it for us.”
“What? No way! That’s rude!” Jarryn protested, but Willen merely huffed and motioned for Jarryn to lean in closer.
“Look, big guy. We really need to find somewhere to work and somewhere to sleep, and the longer we wait, the less likely it is that we’ll actually find either one. Now, I realize it’s not far off from what you’re used to, but do you really want to be poor and homeless for the rest of the year?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Good. Then get movin’. And try to look mean, so no one gives you a hard time.”
So frustrated had Jarryn grown by that point that his expression immediately soured, but so oblivious was Willen upon seeing it that he simply patted Jarryn on the back and said, “Yeah, just like that. Now go!”
Reluctant though he was, Jarryn did as he was told and pushed his way through the crowd, although he never missed an opportunity to apologize along the way. Not a word did anyone dare speak to him, though many scowls did he receive as he went.
Once Jarryn finally reached the front of the crowd, the map of the Ildarwood he found before him was unlike any he had ever seen. Made from a glistening black material which had been marked with a silver spectral ink, it looked more like a puddle in a gently blowing wind than a piece of painted parchment. In the center stood Westwatch Tower, with little markings to denote the shops, and in various locations around it were points of interest Jarryn made sure to note. To the north and south were all three farms Jarryn had heard about earlier, and on the left and right sides of the map were two prominent structures–the Astercourt, on the westernmost edge of the forest, and a place called the Oculum, in the center of the Midwood Ridge, to the east.
Four spots in particular were marked with stars encircled, each one denoting the location of a Preceptor whose life lessons were not optional to learn. All other stars revealed locations of other lessons he could attend–none of them required to advance beyond the Ridge at year’s end, but each a potential new source of Starlings.
Not a single spot did Jarryn miss when transcribing a map of his own, yet his handwriting was so poor that even he struggled to read it. With utmost care, he checked every detail twice. Then he took one last look at the map to confirm he had not missed anything. Only once he placed a finger upon the blackened parchment one last time did he notice the subtlest silver ripple in a location far off to the south of where he stood.
“What’s that?” he whispered before running the tips of his fingers over the spot. As he did so, a subtle vibration caused him to recoil. Concerned that others might notice his strange behavior, Jarryn ran his finger over other locations and pretended to read those as well. Not one caused the same sensation.
“Took you long enough,” Willen huffed once Jarryn finally returned to him moments later. “Find anything good?”
“Not really,” Jarryn replied, “but there is one place I wanna check out really quick, if that’s okay. It’s not too far, so I’ll probably be back fast if you just wanna keep lookin’ for someplace we can work.”
“Nah, that’s okay. I might as well just go with you,” Willen said. “Besides, it’s probably better we don’t split up, right?”
“Yeah . . . right,” Jarryn agreed reluctantly before taking a deep breath and leading Willen back toward the Ildarwood.
The two spoke little on their journey, so concerned were they both that they might wander inadvertently into yet another ambush by a pack of hunting Cynders. Staying off the well-worn paths in the hope that no one would either find or follow them, Jarryn pushed through thick brush and wild briars in pursuit of the mysterious location on the map.
“You sure this is the right way?” Willen asked impatiently at one point, his cloak stuck yet again on tangled vines with jagged thorns.
“Not really,” Jarryn answered, his eyes moving quickly from the map to the forest and back again.
“What do you mean, ‘not really?’ Why did we even bother comin’ out here if you don’t know exactly where you’re goin’?”
“I didn’t ask you to come with me. You could’ve stayed at Westwatch.”
“Sorry for tryin’ to be a good friend. How was I supposed to know you were leadin’ us out into the middle of nowhere?”
“I thought I was your apprentice, not your friend.”
“Oh, come on, Jarryn. I was just jokin’! Besides, I’m pretty sure it made the big guy laugh . . . you know, right before he went all crazy and started throwin’ stuff. By the way, I’m pretty sure we’ve passed that same bush back there three times already, so it’s okay if you need to admit we’re lost.”
“We’re not lost,” Jarryn insisted, stopping for just a moment to look around. “I know it’s out here somewhere.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you should try askin’ one of the trees for directions.”
“I don’t need to,” Jarryn replied as he heaved a sigh of relief. Pushing through one last wall of brush, he found himself staring at an abandoned cottage in the middle of an overgrown clearing.
“Whoa,” Willen managed. “They actually put this on the map?”
“Nope,” Jarryn answered, leaving both of them perplexed and amazed, yet for wildly different reasons.
Approaching the front door with care, the two boys readied the Ildarwood sticks they carried with them for any signs of danger. Then, ever so cautiously, they both dared to step inside.
