The Outcast and the Survivor: Chapter Eight

Astor shakes his head.

“It’d be too risky, that is if he’s even still alive. Sebastian told the people to look for just one other ranger, most likely me. But if Wade is alive, he won’t be able to find us in the tunnels either, and we can’t risk surfacing to ask those who might know where he could be hiding. We’re on our own.”

“So what now?”

Instead of having an answer, Astor stares at me blankly, his eyes strained and red from a sleepless night. To my surprise, he starts to tear up a little, looking away at that instant to rub them dry.

“Sorry,” he says firmly. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t help being emotional like a helpless child sometimes. It’s useful in some ways to have such a young mind since I’m able to absorb and memorize things easily, like the layout of Vanguard’s underground canals and tunnels, but it is frustrating knowing so much, having experienced so much, and still feeling like I’m a boy on my father’s ranch.”

I put my arm around him and pull him next to me, and he smiles a little. We sit like that for a long moment.

“Thanks,” he says, coughing to clear his throat. “The reason I’m feeling so discouraged is that there’s not a lot of reason to believe we’ll find someone else to open your world stone.”

“But your mother said—”

“The others she spoke of haven’t been heard from for a long time. Even if they are out there somewhere, it will be difficult to find them. We don’t have the time to guess and hope. She should have come with us. It would have been worth the risk, regardless of what other plans she might be considering. Time is our enemy right now. We simply don’t have enough of it.”

At that instant, a thought enters my head, almost out of nowhere like a shooting star falling from the night sky. A memory of a being I am certain is powerful enough to unlock the stone. But could he ever be trusted to not turn against us?

“Is something wrong?” Astor interrupts my stupor.

“What makes you think something is wrong?” I reply flustered.

“You’d started gripping my arm so tightly that your fingers were digging into my skin.”

“Oh, sorry,” I say, taking my arm from around him and lifting my hands to my face.

I forget what I was thinking about for a second, but then it comes back, the echo of an idea so risky, so foolish, that I want to dismiss it entirely. I’m certain it will only end badly, but in my heart, it feels like the only sure choice we have left.

“I know another who can open the stone,” I say softly.

“Who?” Astor asks, eagerness in his voice.

“The Necromancer.”