Draxin Alistair (16)'s Arc

Chapter 22 of 22

The wagon rolled south for two days. Draxin sat with his fist locked on the leather grip the whole way. The blade pulled north. Every mile the mule dragged them away, the pull got worse. It tugged at the bones in his wrist. It kept him from sleeping. When he closed his eyes he saw the eye under the cloth watching him back. By the time they reached the hideout in the forest oasis, his arm was shaking. Dante kicked the door open and waved him inside. Mimi steered him to the long table. Spike dropped onto a crate and lit a cigar stub off Dante's. "Put it down," Dante said. Draxin tried. He pried at his own fingers with his free hand. They did not move. The blade jerked north against the table, dragging his wrist with it. Zag squeaked and hid behind his ear. "Still stuck," Spike said. "Fun." "Unwrap it," Dante said. Mimi cut the cloth with a small knife. The red stone came out. The eye in the middle opened and fixed on Draxin. The warmth in his chest lurched toward it like a fish on a line. "It wants the north," Draxin said. His voice was thin. "It won't stop pulling. I can't think." Dante leaned on the table with both hands. He studied the eye. He did not touch the blade. "Tuktoni answers to something. Not to you. You're just the handle." "Then what's the hand?" Spike said. "North," Dante said. "Whatever's up there is calling it home." Mimi tapped Draxin's wrist twice. Same as before. Carry it. Don't fight it. "I tried that," Draxin said. "It's still screaming in my head." She tapped again. Then she took his locked fist in both of her hands and turned the blade until the point aimed due north through the wall. The pull in his wrist eased at once. The eye slid half shut. The warmth in his chest settled. Draxin breathed out. His shoulders dropped for the first time in two days. "Point it where it wants to go," Dante said. "It stops screaming. Fight it, it doesn't." "So I just hold a compass now," Draxin said. "You hold a leash," Dante said. "On the other end is whatever killed the ice and put that thing in the wall. And Frostclaw is already walking the same road, sniffing after you." Spike whistled. "Cool. Great. Love that." Draxin looked at the blade. Aimed north, it was quiet. Turned any other way, his bones hurt. He could sleep like this. He could think. He could not put it down. "When we go," he said, "we go north." Dante pulled the cigar from his teeth. "We were going to. Now we know why." Mimi wrapped the cloth back over the eye, careful to leave the point aimed at the wall. Draxin rested his locked hand on the table and, for the first time since the cave, closed his eyes.