James swallowed and looked down, unable to speak. He had to make Derek proud. There was so much riding on it. So much riding on him.
Auri placed a hand on his arm, and he felt warmth in her touch. It strengthened him.
“I must go now,” Auri said. “I’m too long already. Good luck, James.”
With that, she turned and strode from the room.
“Wait! What am I supposed to do when I find the stone?” James called, but the door had already banged shut.
He felt the ground shake slightly as she launched herself into the air. She was gone.
James leaned back against his pillow, confused. He was alive and safe, but he now apparently had to find an ancient, mythical stone and stop Calico in the process. How he’d do that, he had no idea.
“She is gone, supara,” the old man said in a heavy accent, speaking for the first time. “You did not go with her.”
“No,” James said bitterly. “I can’t fly like her. I’m just a Normal.”
“Ah, but you are anything but normal, bacca.” The old man walked to a nearby table, on which sat a basket of food. He pulled out a small, round fruit and held it up. “Peach?”
James sat up with a bolt, ignoring the soreness in his body. He pushed himself backward on the bed, away from the man, who simply smiled, showing several missing teeth.
“It is you,” James said in disbelief. The man from the square, the one who had pointed them toward the temple. “What are you doing here?”
The old man said nothing. He just continued to smile, holding out the peach expectantly.
James hesitated, then reached forward and took the fruit from his hands. It was small and round, one side golden, the other bloodred. The combating colors reached for each other, colliding in the middle in splotches, disorderly but somehow perfectly balanced.
“Will you eat it?” the old man said, tilting his head, his eyes crinkled, a smile still playing at his lips.
James held it up to his mouth, feeling oddly compelled. The man’s gaze made him uncomfortable. He was suddenly aware of the smallness of the room, the intense heat coming from the fire in the hearth. He lowered the fruit.
“I’m not hungry.” He dropped the peach back into the old man’s hand.
“Hmm,” the man said. James had no idea what it meant. The old man turned back to the table, placing the peach carefully back into the basket.
“Who are you?” James pushed himself to a sitting position, his feet hanging off the bed, ignoring the screaming soreness in his muscles.
“My true name is too long for you to say. But you may call me Takarta,” he said, still hunched over the fruit basket.
“Well, Takarta, how did you find me? What do you want?”
“It is not me who wants.” Takarta straightened up and pointed to a pair of boots on the ground. Above them hung a thick jacket. Takarta walked to the door, turned around, and said, “Come.”
James pushed himself off the bed, onto his feet. He wobbled, then stumbled, catching himself on the side table. His leg was no longer broken, but it felt... strange. His balance was off, as if he had been walking one-legged all his life. Unsteady, he took a breath and pushed himself off the table. One step, then another. It was like his legs were a car engine struggling to turn over in the dead of winter, the pipes frozen. Hopefully, that meant once they got warm enough, they would roar to life.
He managed to pull the boots on and throw the jacket around his shoulders. Finally, he followed Takarta, who waited for him at the door, one eyebrow raised.
“Sorry I’m not quick enough for you,” James muttered as Takarta swung the door open. “I did just almost die.”
They stepped out onto a village road. The terrain here was rocky but green, with no snow. Small wood and stone houses lined the street. Beyond them, James saw the snow-covered peaks of the Himalayas, a constant presence.
James followed Takarta through the village. Men and women walked across the sparse streets, wearing colorful robes and dresses. Some carried baskets of fruit or clothing; others pushed carts full of wood or hay. Almost all of them bowed toward Takarta as they passed, murmuring something in Nepali.
They walked up a small flight of rough-hewn stone steps, passing under a line of square, multicolored flags strung over the walkway between the eaves of two buildings.
At the top, they turned the corner and James found himself staring two large cows in the face. They watched him through black eyes, their brown hides shining in the sun. They weren’t even fenced in, merely grazing in the open, large leather collars around their necks.
Takarta and James continued on through the village. A group of children ran past, kicking a small leather ball and yelling and laughing. They reached the outskirts of the village, and the buildings became sparser and the trees and vegetation became thicker. Still, they kept walking. Where was this strange man taking him?
Finally, they reached the end of the path. It stopped at an overhang, jutting out over a cliff. James stepped up to it, and his breath caught in his throat.
A valley extended below them, caught between two mountains. The land was vibrantly green, with gentle, sloping hills covered in long, waving grass. A bubbling stream snaked through the middle, trees and flowers growing on each side. It was amazingly alive, an oasis next to the brutal rockiness of the mountains around it.
James stared out at the land below. The sun illuminated the beauty of a place untouched by man, perfect in its stillness. Amazingly, the same land had nearly killed him for daring to challenge it. It was a land that could be at times beautiful and at
