Blood Red Road
Page 12

I touch it. A gift from my mother. I ain’t never had nuthin that belonged to her.
What’s a heartstone? says Emmi.
It lets you know when you’ve found your heart’s desire, says Mercy.
How does it do that? Emmi frowns.
D’you feel how cold it is now? Even though it’s next to Saba’s skin?
Uh huh, she says, touchin it.
A normal stone ’ud warm up next to your body. Not this one. It stays cold until you get close to your heart’s desire. Then the stone becomes warm. The closer you get to your heart’s desire, the hot er the stone burns. An that’s how you know.
I frown. I didn’t think you’d believe in that kinda thing, I says.
I don’t, says Mercy, not real y, but your mother did. She said it showed her the way to Wil em, to your father. So she gave it to me. Said she hoped it would show me my own heart’s desire.
An did it? I says.
Wel , says Mercy, I found this val ey. I guess you could say it’s my heart’s desire.
But did the heartstone turn warm? I says.
Mercy don’t answer fer a moment. Then she says, It’s a long time ago now. I don’t remember.
I look at her. I cain’t tel if she’s lyin or not.
Why’re you givin it to Saba? says Emmi.
Al is always said you don’t own a heartstone, says Mercy, you just become its keeper for a time. Once you have your heart’s desire, you pass it on to someone else. Someone who needs its help.
I don’t need no help, I says. I already know what my heart’s desire is. It’s to find Lugh an git him back.
I’m sure you’re right, says Mercy. Anyways, whether you believe it or not, it’s nice for you to have somethin that belonged to your mother.
That meant somethin to her.
Thanks, I says. I mean, fer this an … wel , everythin. I bet er git goin.
When you get to Hopetown, don’t start askin questions, she says. You’l only draw at ention to yourself an that means trouble. Be on your guard. Don’t trust anybody.
I can take care of myself, I says.
An Saba … take care crossin Sandsea. It’s one of the wild places. Listen to the winds. She hugs me ercely. I wish you’d take my advice an travel by night.
I look at Em. She stares at the ground.
We’l be back before you know it, I says. Me an Lugh.
I reach out to mess her hair an she ducks away.
Wel , I says. Best be on my way.
I pick up my barksack an start walkin. I ain’t gone more’n ten paces before I hear, Saba!
Emmi runs up an flings her arms around my waist, clings on tight. Hurry back! she says.
You be a good girl fer Mercy, I says. I’m countin on you.
I step away.
Bye, Em, I says.
G’bye, Saba, she says.
When I reach the woods, the second I’m out a sight, I take the heartstone from around my neck an stuf it in my pocket.
I know what my heart’s desire is.
I don’t need no stone to tel me when I’ve found it.
SANDSEA
ANOTHER DAWN.
I bin travelin fast. Almost runnin at times. Since I left Crosscreek yesterday mornin, I bin so anxious to make up fer lost time that I kept goin al day an al through last night, only stoppin to sleep fer a couple hours. I don’t feel tired. Not at al . I wish I never had to sleep agin.
Not til I find Lugh anyways.
Here’s my cairn. The marker I left to remind me where the hoofprints end. My heart lifts. Deep down inside, I was afeared it wouldn’t be here. That I’d only dreamed I left it here to guide me.
The hoofprints is stil here. The last trace of Lugh. If no rain comes to wash ’em away, it’l be a long time til the wind wears ’em down an they disappear. Maybe they’l stil be here when I come back with him.
I dump my stu on the ground—barksack, crossbow, quiver. Nero’s bin yin the last lit le while, swoopin an divin at me fer fun. Now he flaps down to have a rest on top of the gear.
I ease my shoulders while I uncap my waterskin an take a long swig. I pour some in my hands an wash the dust from my hot face. Wipe it dry with the ends of my sheema. I pour a lit le water in my eatin tin an put it on the ground fer Nero.
I look out across the wide open desert. Sandsea. It stretches ahead as far as I can see. No trees, no hil s, nuthin but at dry land fer days.
The moment I step past this pile of rocks, I’m in a unknown world. Hopetown lies due north, at the foot of the Black Mountains accordin to Mercy. If I’m lucky, I’l be there in a week. A week, she said. If I’m lucky.
Before I know what it’s up to, my hand slides into my pocket. It nds the heartstone an pul s it out. My ngers curl around its coolness, rub its smoothness.
My heart’s desire. As if a bit of rock could tel me that. I shake my head. If Lugh was here, him an me ’ud laugh about it. I shove it deep in my pocket an swing my gear onto my back.
Let’s go, I says to Nero.
I step past the cairn.
One step closer to Lugh.
I don’t look back.
It’s a Wrecker set lement. Jest like the places in Pa’s scare stories.
Set lements swal owed by wanderin sand dunes, great waves of sand that ’ud cover places in minutes. Then, months or sometimes years later, the sands ’ud move on, an the place ’ud stil be there.
There’s twelve metal shanties stil standin here. Also a couple of rusty cars, a wind pointer an some other crappy lookin Wrecker junk piled up. A dry, mean, pinched kinda place. But it ain’t none of it bin scavenged. If it had of, there’d be no doors or wal s or anythin left on the shanties an they’re al stil here, jest bent an twisted, probly by the weight of the sand.
No scavengers means it ain’t bin free of the sands fer long. Strange to think that if I’d passed here last week or yesterday or even a couple of hours ago, this might al stil be buried out a sight. I could of walked right over it an never known.
I walk through slowly, Nero ridin on my shoulder. I keep a eye open. You always got a keep a eye open. You never know when you’l come across somethin you can use. But I ain’t inclined to take nuthin away from this place. It creeps me out.
There’s a wel . Water’s probly bad, it mostly is in these old Wrecker wel s, but in desertland you cain’t a ord not to check it out. I start to lift the rusted cover when I see the faint markins on it. Skul an crossbones. Deathwater. I drop the cover with a clat er. It sounds so loud in the silence it makes me jump. Nero flaps of in a panic.
Then I see ’em. Three rows of crosses stuck in the sand. The wood bleached silver by the sun, worn away, some to lit le stumps. The crosspiece of one hangs down, ready to fal .
A wily wind sweeps through, bent on makin mischief. It swirls sand around my feet, tosses it in my eyes an makes ’em sting. It moans, deep inside the wel . Rat les at the doors of the shanties. Like somebody might open up and invite it in.
The loose crosspiece lifts on the wind. Drops silently to the ground. Blows away.
Deathwater. Shiftin sands.
Poor bastards.
Livin here.
Dyin here.
As I’m leavin the set lement, Nero swoops down at somethin on the ground. Starts to make the most almighty racket, shriekin an squawkin an flappin al over the place. I hurry over to see what’s causin such a fuss.
What is it now, you crazy bird? I says.