I turn back and hear the faint tread of boots behind me. It would seem dream Lexa is just as curious as I am.
As we approach the caravan, I notice faded red patches of peeling paint, revealing the aging timber beneath. On the front of the trailer is a large harness, flanked by huge, heavy poles.
I eye the strange leather contraptions and wonder what type of animal could be large enough to pull this thing.
My attention is drawn to a large poster pinned to the door of the caravan. The parchment is thick and yellowed, but otherwise shows no signs of weathering.
Lexa steps closer to the poster and reads the words out loud. “Come one, come all! Have your fortunes told by Madam Carissa and your mind read by Edward the Mysterious! Witness the incredible strength of Olaf the Strong and much more!”
My eyes drift down to the picture displayed under the writing. A redheaded man smiles up at us and wears a long purple coat covered in glittering scales. Around his neck is a purple gem twinkling in the light. I lift my hand to the necklace hidden under my shirt.
Lexa reaches out to touch the paper, her fingertips brushing the gem proudly displayed on the man’s chest. “His necklace,” she breathes.
Suddenly a loud voice rips through the air and spills through the open door of the caravan. “No! The guards have them!” A pause. “We need to help them!”
I glance at Lexa to make sure she has heard it too, and Lexa's face makes it abundantly clear that all the yelling was not a figment of my imagination.
A small smile creeps onto my lips as I recall that this is a dream and it is all, in fact, a figment of my imagination. I shake my head and decide just to go with it. I swiftly make my way to the entrance of the caravan and climb the two steps leading inside.
My nose is assaulted by the overpowering smell of some kind of plant currently burning on a plate resting on the counter to my left. My nose crinkles at the scent, and I step further into the small room so Lexa can follow me inside.
I watch with amusement as Lexa's nose wrinkles at the smell, and she casts an offended look at the burning plant in the corner.
Things are scattered haphazardly around the small space. Along the walls, sacks are piled high with bright materials and flowers peeking out through the gaps. Terracotta jars filled with growing plants are strewn throughout the room, resting on every relatively flat surface. A pile of woven mats balances precariously on the top of a sack containing some kind of grain. So much stuff is crammed into this tiny space that it blocks my view of the back of the room.
Slowly, cautiously, I pick my way through the mess, heading towards the back of the caravan. I step over a sack of dirt and edge a little closer to the end.
How can any one person have all this stuff? I was excited just to have my own clothes. No wonder he needs a caravan. There is no way he would be able to carry all this on his own.
Lexa stumbles over something behind me and mutters a series of curse words.
I shoot Lexa a look of amusement. “And you said I fumble about.”
Lexa's cheeks tinge red. “Are we not on a mission? Look to the front, there must be a reason why we are here.” The color in Lexa's cheeks deepens as she carefully steps over a sack filled with string. “It is not like they can hear us anyway.”
Smirking, I edge around a pile of stacked rocks and spot a middle-aged redheaded man lying upon a small bed, writhing about as if he suffered from some terrible nightmare.
Carissa sits on the edge of the bed and wipes a wet cloth over his face, removing the trails of sweat and tears. The blonde woman stands in the corner, a book and charcoal in her hands, scribbling away hurriedly every time the man utters a single word.
Lexa pushes her way into the cramped space and bumps into me. There is not enough room here for all five of us to have personal space, so Lexa and I have to basically stand on each other’s feet.
Lexa's green eyes take in the scene before us and she glances over the two women before her eyes come to rest on the man twisting in the bed.
“The man from the poster,” She utters.
I nod, silently agreeing with Lexa's identification of the man who begins to roll around more vigorously than before. His hands and legs thrash across the bed so violently that Carissa has to jump up to avoid the flailing arms.
Through gasping breaths, the man cries out, “No, leave the children alone! The barrel, light the barrel… Watch out! Behind you… he has a sword.”
The man’s face cringes. “Not the leg, poor boy. Some birthday.”
My body stiffens—that description is oddly familiar. Had I not watched that exact scene take place just before we escaped the rebel camp?
I take in a breath and whisper, “No way.”
Lexa glances at me in surprise.
“A tunnel, yes, use the tunnel!” The man screams. “What’s in her hand? It’s glowing blue.” He pants, ripping at the sheets around him. “Purple,” he whines. “Red.”
Silence fills the room for a long moment, and everyone watches the man still.
“She destroyed the tunnel. Such a brave girl.” Another pause.
Lexa grips my arm so tightly that it might break.
The man takes in a shuddering breath. “They are pulling her out of the rubble, and she is struggling to get free.” Another pause. “Oooh.” The man’s face cringes. “I think she broke his nose. What a punch.”
Lexa looks at me hopefully. “Do you think he is talking about Anne?”
I swallow. “He could be,” I venture carefully.
The tormented man’s ranting becomes less coherent. “They are digging… those girls… important… necklaces…” He whispers as he stirs back into semi-consciousness.
Suddenly he bolts upright, eyes wild and frightened. Gasping, he twists in the bed and stares right at Lexa and me. My heart flies into my throat. I thought no one could see us.
I gulp and hold the redhead's gaze, noting his crazed brown eyes and sweat-coated skin.
He waves his arms about and yells, “Run! They are coming! Run! NOW!
I take a startled step back into the clutter behind me, and I bolt upright, Lexa miming the actions beside me. The cracking of the fire and our heavy breathing are the only sounds filling my ears.
Glowing mushrooms make up my surroundings once more, and the green clearing and people are gone. No caravan or cluttered belongings fill my vision.
My eyes dart around, searching for the danger my heart is desperately trying to warn me about.
They dash to Lexa's, and her shocked face tells me we had shared the same dream, the feeling of dread that had been floating about me settles firmly in my chest.
“Run? Lexa gasps looking around wildly. “Run from what?”
Chapter Three
Mutants
It takes me far too long to realize it’s quiet. Too quiet. Where has the humming of the mushrooms gone? Without it, everything seems eerily silent.
I look at Lexa. “The humming...”
Lexa tilts her head to listen, but before she can reply, Tash heaves herself up and turns towards us.
“Are you two okay?” She asks in concern.
Nathanial rises from where he is sitting perched against the rock and peers around the perimeter.
Lexa scrambles to collect her weapons. “We need to go.” She jumps up. “Now.”
Everyone stirs and begins to clamber to their feet. Lucas rubs the sleep from his eyes. “What’s going on?”
The clatter of armour and the sound of men yelling orders comes from across the river. A troop of scarlet guards burst into the clearing across the river from us and look about wildly. One of them points at us, and the force begins heading this way.
Melissa slaps his leg with a smirk. “What did I tell you? Anyone tracking us would come out on the other side of the river.”
A troop of ten guards work their way out of the line of mushrooms and spread out along the river bank. It is only a matter of time before they find a way across the rive
r. One of the guards points at me and slowly drags his finger across his own throat with a grin.
A shadow leaps out from the mushrooms and the man disappears in a flash and a piercing scream fills the air.
The screaming abruptly ends, and after several terrifying moments of absolute silence, the humming of mushrooms resumes. But this time the sound increases, rising an octave with every passing second, until the sound is so high-pitched I feel like my skull might burst.
It keeps rising to the point where no other sounds can be heard over the screeching mushrooms. I struggle forward a few paces and cover my ears with my hands, but the horrific noise continues to beat through my head.
I’m not alone. The guards across the river drop their weapons and clamp their hands over their ears.
Out of the mushrooms, pink wrinkled creatures emerge. Their hairless canine bodies quivering in anticipation as they circle the guards.
One guard stoops to grab his sword and slashes at one of the knee-high creatures and the dog falls easily, its blood spilling onto the sandy soil, but it is quickly replaced by two more. Their long saber-teeth glint with the light of the mushrooms around them as they circle their outnumbered prey.
I stare in horror at the wrinkled beasts. Evolution truly weaponized these beasts, or perhaps this was the work of Darkmor's magic? Their long thick tails boast a massive spiked club that swings menacingly from side to side.
The creatures single out a target and launch at that guard, using their tails to reduce the guard to a red pile of mush within seconds.
The beasts dive upon the body, fighting one another for a mouthful. Splatters of flesh and blood fly everywhere. Even from here it isn’t a pleasant sight.
One of the dead guard’s comrades raises his sword and charges at the animals, but the sound of the screaming mushrooms dulls them.
I look away from the gruesome carnage and stagger towards Lexa. I don’t make it very far before something drips onto my sleeve. I pause and consider the red droplet on my clothing and slowly I raise my hand to my nose—it comes away scarlet.
Glancing up at Lexa, I find her nose is bleeding. A quick look around tells me everyone is in the same position. A flash of pain bursts through my head, and I double over, trying desperately to even out my breathing. But the screaming mushrooms make it impossible to relax.
Lexa points at the group of guards, yelling something, but the roaring of the mushrooms drowns out everything else. Slowly a trickle of blood crawls out of Lexa's right ear.
This noise is going to kill us.
I glance back at the dogs tearing through the remaining guards with ease. That’s if they don’t get us first.
The dogs rip the scarlet guards apart as they try to flee. Men stumble around the clearing with their hands clamped over their ears.
Some try to fight off the beasts but eventually they fall, their blood creating a pool around their still thrashing bodies, their mouths move in pained silent cries. The roaring of the mushrooms leaves no room for any other kind of noise.
It takes an unbelievable amount of effort to pull my sword from my scabbard, and my shaking hands proving to be of little assistance. My head throbs with almost unbearable pain, and my vision begins to darken.
I have been through worse than this and I am not going to be beaten by a sound. I wipe the sweat from my eyes with the back of my hand and stumble towards the fire, Lexa following close beside me with the tip of her sword dragging in the dirt as she struggles through every step.
Our companions join us, their faces stark white against the crimson blood streaming from their nose and ears.
My lungs tighten impossibly further, and I battle to bring air into my body, each of my efforts leading only to the smallest reward of oxygen.
Tash falls to her knees, and Lucas follows, sprawling in the dirt far too close to the fire. Nathanial stoops to Tash, but the sound defeats him and he slumps beside her. Melissa is the last of them to crumple to the ground.
Black spots float across my vision, and my knees begin to buckle. It is almost as if I fall in slow motion. A tug on my hand as I fall brings my attention to the right. Lexa has taken hold of it.
The moment we hit the dirt, light bursts from under out shirts and a shifting bubble forms around us. Mercifully the sound stops. But the roaring of the mushrooms is replaced by a deafening ringing in my ears.
The pounding in my head lessens, and I can think a little. Lexa tugs my hand, and together we crawl to the other side of the fire where our companions lay writhing in pain.
I recall the rock fall in the rebel camp, and I am unsure if we will be able to get them in our bubble. The rocks that fell had merely landed on top. But maybe we could form the bubble with them already inside?
I squeeze Lexa's hand and point at our companions. I try to speak but the words are soundless to my own ears, and Lexa just tilts her head in my direction. I sigh and take a deep breath, preparing myself for what I know I must do.
Letting go of Lexa's hand, the roaring of the mushrooms comes back, worse than before. It is as if the temporary silence has amplified it. I force myself to crawl to the other side of our fallen fellow rebels. Once there, I hold out my sweaty dust covered hand to Lexa.
Lexa struggles towards me and her clammy hand claps onto mine. The light bubble returns, enveloping us, our companions and part of the fire. I let out a sigh of relief as the pounding in my ears replaces the sound of the mushrooms.
I close my eyes and focus on bringing air into my lungs. That was too close. I don’t think we would have lasted more than a few more minutes with that sound.
With my free hand, I clap my palm to my thigh. Nothing. No sound at all.
Panic rises within me, and my throat constricts as if I am being strangled. No. No. Please don’t be deaf. There is no way I will survive this world without my hearing.
I slap my hand against my thigh again, desperate to hear anything. Pain sparks through my leg, but not a single sound reaches my ears. Tears sting the back of my eyes.
I blink furiously. No Claire, keep it together, we need to get out of here, and then you can mourn the loss of your hearing.
Looking around at the group, they look as bad as I do. I whimper as painful ringing fills my ears, and a smile creeps onto my face. A sound. I am going to take this as a positive sign.
Tash and Nathanial begin to stir,
I glance across the river at the dogs and they have already devoured most of the guards, and are now they are looking for a way across the river.
One of the dogs eye the flat rocks that make a pathway from one side to the other. They are too far for a human to jump, but I wouldn’t be surprised if these beasts could do it.
The lead dog cocks its head as its red muzzle drips blood onto the dirt between its front paws. It backs up and makes the leap.
I hold my breath.
Both its bloodied paws land solidly on the first rock and it prepares itself for the next leap.
Grief falls in my stomach like a stone. We can’t fight them in this state. Seasoned guards in full body armour couldn’t fight off these dogs once the debilitating sound of the mushrooms reached their ears.
Other dogs begin making the leap. One with a leather purse bag clamped between its jaws, struggles with the first jump, its paw slipping into the water behind it. It rights itself and proceeds across the river with the others.
The dogs, about twenty in all, begin circling the ground where we lay sleeping not even an hour ago. It would seem they cannot see us, but they can find the scent we left behind.
Lucas rubs his head and wipes his face as he returns to consciousness. He visibly starts when he sees the pink wrinkled creatures surrounding us. He flails his arms about and points wildly, saying words I cannot hear.
Had our situation been less dire, his silent performance would have been hysterical.
Melissa gives him a shove and a look that says ‘shut up’ clearer than any words could have.
The near
est bloodied dog turns its long snout in our direction and begins sniffing the ground vigorously. It trots towards us, leaving bloodied footsteps on the ground with every pace it takes.
Other pink creatures converge with the first, eagerly sniffing around our bubble. One gets too close, and its nose makes contact with the light. The bubble flashes green, and the beast leaps back with its hackles raised, beating the ground with its club-like tail.
The ground beneath me vibrates with the force of its blows.
Pain sears through my arm and lines appear along the underside of my forearm. Sapphire light bursts through the cuts and fills the bubble with a strange blue hue.
The hand in mine tightens, and I glance at Lexa, the lines on her neck are pouring green light like an unchecked fire.
Another dog touches the bubble, igniting another green flash. Another line appears on Lexa's neck. I glance at my arm, but I didn’t get a new wound.
Don’t get me wrong, my magic wounds are appearing steadily, but only Lexa's seem to coincide with the green flash of the bubble.
Another dog throws itself at the bubble, and again it flashes green. Yet another line appears on Lexa, this time across the back of the hand holding mine.
I look around desperately. There must be something we can do. I shudder to think what will happen if we drop the light while the mushroom noise is still going.
My eyes land on a faintly glowing rock about the size of my fist, sitting inside the bubble. A river rock. My eyes dart to the fire. That could work.
With my spare hand, I reach for the smooth rock and chuck it in the fire.
Lexa looks at me in alarm. “Claire, they could explode!”
The words are so faint I almost miss them, but they make tears sting my eyes. I'm not deaf and my hearing is returning.
I shake my head and look at Lexa, shouting back, “I am counting on it. If we put enough of them in the fire and let go long enough to move away, they might explode near the dogs.”
My throat feels raw, but I do my best to keep the sound high. Yet even with my raised voice, my words are barely audible.
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