by Tony Roberts
“You never had any intention of staying, did you?” another snarled, his fists bunching.
Faer laughed, despite herself. “What choice did I have in that? Your ‘hospitality’ is such that the day after my mother dies I am forced out and banished by you all. What sort of people are you?”
“Ones that are better off without any elf-spawn, especially those of the dark brood!”
Faer faced the fifth person, a tall fisherman who was well known to sail the furthest over the ocean, and was said to have seen more than any of the rest. “And what do you know of that?”
“Evil beings, bad blood. Magic users, heartless and cruel. You are of that blood. I can see it, even if your mother’s side coats you in a false skin. Your evil side will assert itself, sooner or later, mark my words. Markus, leave her now, before it is too late; she will enslave you and drain the very life force from your being, leaving you a dried-out, empty husk somewhere by a lonely roadside.”
“You talk nonsense, Veclery. All that time out in the sun and wind has fried your brains,” Markus said. “Everyone knows you’re not carrying a full set of sails. Mother, father, I take my leave of you. You still have two sons; sons you yourselves have said are not a disappointment to you – unlike me. Well, I am lifting that burden from you; I wish to see the world, and since Faer here is going, why not accompany her? She is far more interesting than any of you. I would rather spend my time by her side than listening to your endless complaints about fish, boats, the weather and how seaweed is not as it used to be. Any longer here and I’m sure I’d go out of my mind with boredom. Farewell.”
Faer turned and followed Markus, along the path that clung to the side of a ledge of rock, the open side falling away steeply to a rocky base that would be the deaths of them should they slip.
THREE
The path was rough and overgrown. It had hardly been used in the recent past and certainly not by people. Animals used it, yes, for here and there were tracks and droppings, and the bark of some trees and bushes nearby were scratched or ripped away. What creature or creatures that had done this the two young travellers had no idea. Perhaps it was just as well they didn’t.
“I wonder how far this path goes,” Markus wondered aloud. His cheeks were red with the effort of climbing, for they had steadily gained height as they went inland, and now they both turned and surveyed the route they had come.
The rain was still gently falling so much of the scenery was concealed, but vague dark shapes could be made out; a hill, a valley, a wood. Somewhere down there was the village they had come from, but it was hidden, as if it no longer wanted to be seen by the two outcasts. “I don’t know,” the girl said with a deep sigh. “But I think we will have to find a sheltered place before it gets dark. Hopefully away from this rain. We might need to have a fire.” She turned to Markus. “Do you know how to start a fire?”
“Aye, that I do,” he admitted. “Nobody showed you how to, did they? Not even your mother?”
Faer shook her head in shame.
“No worries, I’ll show you,” he grinned cheerfully. “Did your mother teach you anything?”
“Well, yes. How to cook. What plants to use, how to skin an animal, how to harvest the edible parts, how to use the animal to make items of clothing and so on.”
“Really?” Markus sounded impressed. “That’s going to be so useful! We can use what we know together to survive, just you wait and see.”
Faer nodded, although she didn’t know whether they would be able to survive even their first night out in the open or not. She turned round and looked up at the slope rising before them. At the top the rocks burst from the earth into bare, jagged pillars, rising sheer towards the sky. No path was visible or even surely possible up there, so their route would be somewhere below it, although neither could see it from their position. “Well, we ought to continue.”
They pressed on, finding that the path often doubled back on itself as it climbed up the steadily rising terrain. In one place the path vanished, the land here a mere earthen gash that ended at the lip of the hill and plunged down as a sheer drop hundreds of feet to the bottom of the valley below, the landslide that had taken the path away piled at the foot of the cliff.
They looked at the gap in dismay; it was thirty feet across and impossible to jump. Above them the land climbed almost vertically, but covered in grass, roots, plants and rocky outcrops.
“We go up?” Markus asked, his face twisted in uncertainty.
“I suppose so – I don’t think there’s any other choice.”
“Looks dangerous,” Markus observed. “We don’t have a rope, do we?”
Faer shook her head. “Let’s go – I’ll go first.”
“No,” Markus insisted, putting his hand on her shoulder. “It’s dangerous – I don’t want you falling. I’ll go first.”
“I’m not a child anymore, Markus, and you’re just as liable to fall.”
The young man tugged on a long, dangling root. “Let’s be sensible, Faer. I’m heavier than you – look at the two of us! If I can make it up here, then you’ll make it. But you getting up doesn’t mean I could do it as I’m heavier.”
She couldn’t argue with that logic, so she nodded and stepped away. Markus pulled hard on the root and it held. Using it as a makeshift rope, he grasped it in his right hand and pulled himself up by grasping grasses and rocks with his left. Stones and pieces of dirt rained down as he made his way up and Faer stepped to one side hurriedly. She heard his grunts and gasps as he made his way up, and held her breath a few times as he cried out and more stones came down, but eventually the sounds stopped as did the dropping detritus.
“Made it!” his ragged, rasping breath came to her from above faintly.
She looked up and saw him sat on the lip of a ledge, waving. Faer waved back. As she bent her legs to climb, the sword got tangled in between her legs. It happened three times before she huffed in exasperation, and thought for a moment. Then she untied her belt, took off her pack, unfastened one strap from the latter, looped the sheath through that, refastened it and slipped the pack over her back again, the sword now sticking up vertically from her back. She put her belt on again and wiggled her behind, making sure all was comfortable.
That done, she began her ascent. The root went up for ten feet, then ended in a thickly growing bush with spines and succulent narrow leaves. To the left was a rock with freshly scraped mud on it, so she used this to lever herself over the bush and now was on a less steep slope with long straggly grass. She went up swiftly to the next obstacle, a rock-riven rise that climbed to the ledge Markus was sitting upon.
He encouraged her up. The rocks were handily placed, scattered irregularly across the cliff. Faer found she was agile enough to make good progress, although her shoulders began to ache after a while. Markus kept on calling to her, pointing out the best rocks to take hold of, or which ones not to.
Finally she heaved herself over the edge, Markus’ hands pulling her onto the level shelf that the path ran along. She sat with her back against a handy rock, panting heavily, the sweat drying on her face.
“Well done!” Markus said proudly. “Hard climb, wasn’t it?”
She nodded, unable for the moment to speak. Finally she got enough of her breath back to answer. “Yes. Thank you. That helped.”
“Glad to help.”
Faer looked at him. She smiled, then flung her arms round him, squeezing tightly. Markus was taken aback, but put his arms round her too, wondering at her sudden action. She held onto him for a few moments, then disengaged herself.
Markus let go and sat facing her. “What was that for?”
“A thank you. For everything.”
Markus shrugged. “We’re on our own out here – so why shouldn’t we help each other?”
“Why shouldn’t we indeed?” Faer echoed. She looked about herself. The path went up to the left, turning again out of sight away from the edge. The two sat there, legs dangling over the lip, stari
ng across the void for a while. “Think we are mad, trying to get through this hillside?”
Markus grunted, taking a pull of his water flask. “I don’t see what else we can do, Faer. Unless we had a boat, which we don’t, there’s no other way out of the village. Come on, let’s go; night isn’t far off.”
They both got up, groaning at their protesting legs, and set off. Their progress was much slower now, and they turned left. This time they found that the path cut away from the cliff edge. It ran up through a narrow gully, probably some old watercourse, and made their way through to the end where it plunged into a wood. They found the rain hardly fell to the ground here and were grateful for that at least.
Underfoot the land became less earth and more rock, and the trees more and more sparse. Then the trees ended and they were amongst towering pillars of rock, with dark birds nesting in the upper ledges, calling raucously at the intrusion of the strangers. The path ran true here, very straight, and Faer stopped, puzzled. Markus came alongside and looked about, then at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” she said, looking at the rock walls. “This is too straight to be natural. Look, it’s been cut.”
Markus ran his hand along the sides of the canyon they were at the entrance of. “You’re right. I wonder who did this?”
“And when?”
The young man shook his head slowly. “No way of telling. Could be ten years ago, or a thousand.”
Faer slowly nodded, her mind lost in the depths of time, in wonder. The upper reaches were natural, or as natural as she expected with their fissures, ledges and irregular shapes, but certainly the bottom half, about thirty feet or so, was clearly cut. She ran her hand along the cut rock once more, then slapped her thigh and strode resolutely forward. “Come on, Markus, it won’t do us good just standing here.”
It was darker here, the towering rock casting a shadow on the two as they slowly walked along the long passageway, but Faer had little difficulty in seeing. Ever since she could remember, she had no problem with the dark. Her ability in seeing where everyone else couldn’t, had also marked her out as different, and the resentful villagers had seen that as another piece of proof that she was not right. Maybe this was something else that elves could do? Something else to ask someone about.
Markus looked apprehensively at the rocks, at the birds circling above them, cawing loudly, their cries amplified by the narrow canyon. At the end of the canyon the rocks peeled aside to reveal a large open space, hemmed in all round by high rocks, but with one wall, the one facing them, with a remarkable feature.
A carved entrance to a building that ran into the cliff behind.
They stood there with their mouths open for a while, until the fading light compelled Markus to tug on his companion’s sleeve. “Let’s find a place to light a fire. It’s getting dark.”
Faer agreed and looked around. There were a few dried husks of wood scattered near the edges of the open space, and detritus all round. Clearly nobody had been here for a long time. The carved entrance was immense, dominating an entire cliff face, six huge fluted columns rising from a stone platform up at least fifty feet to an intricately carved pediment, with carved figures inset. They were weathered to such a degree it was impossible to see what they were. Four massive steps led up to the platform upon which the columns rested, and behind the columns stood a set of double doors, each one five feet wide and twenty feet high.
She slowly went up the stairs, looking at the doors, wondering what they were made of. Clearly some kind of metal, but not one she had ever seen before. Inset were more carved figures, most of which were oxidised and featureless, but a few she could still make out. Horses, something she had never seen but recognised from what some people had drawn in the sand when sailors occasionally happened by with trade. A few men, or what probably were men. Battles. War. She traced a few outlines with her finger, then looked at the handles.
Immense knobs of metal, ribbed and knobbly, possibly like a fruit, but one she didn’t clearly recognise. One door was slightly ajar, about a foot inside the other, and she indicated to Markus to help push it in further. The two leaned against it but it refused to budge. Dropping their packs and all belongings, the two dusted their hands, looked at one another with determination, and then threw themselves with all their might against the defiant portal. It gave two inches, then with a shriek of protest, refused to move any more.
Faer regarded the gap. “I can squeeze through that,” she said, “what about you?”
Markus looked thoughtfully at the dark opening. “Not sure – it’s really dark in there. Can you see in?”
Faer popped her head through the gap. The air was cool against her face and she waited a few moments as her eyes adjusted to the blackness. Vague shapes began to manifest themselves, carvings, statues, supports for the roof. Nothing moved, nothing glowed with the warmth of life. Her night vision could always pick out living beings that way in the dark. She turned round and shook her head. “Nothing alive in there.”
Markus grunted. He looked at her closely and smiled.
“What?”
The young man pointed at her eyes. “They go really big when you do your seeing in the dark thing. Like totally black all over – no brown. It’s changing back now,” he added, seeing the colour gradually return.
“Don’t you like it?” Faer asked, concerned.
“Oh, it’s good – I like it. Makes you what you are.”
Faer looked at him for a moment. The reddish glow that coated his skin in her vision faded and then he was ‘normal’ once more. She supposed her eyes had changed back. “The others didn’t like it – they were scared.”
“Yes they were, and they’re stupid. Why couldn’t they see that someone with your vision was an advantage at night? It’s different, yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s something to be frightened of.”
Faer sighed. “Well they are the way they are and I’m glad to be free of them.” She looked at the gap. “Let’s get in there and see if we can make a night camp. I’m hungry.”
“Me too.” They picked their stuff up and Faer squeezed through, looking carefully left and right. The chamber was immense; that much she could tell. Everything about this place was massive. Did giants once live here? If so, what had happened to them? She felt a little frisson of fear run through her. Behind her Markus passed the packs through and she took them and put them down on the flat stone floor. Her eyes were getting used to the darkness again. Markus grunted and pushed against the gap, holding his breath. Faer turned and took hold of his arm and pulled.
Suddenly Markus was through, gasping in pain. “Ow, that hurt,” he said, ruefully rubbing his chest and bottom. Faer suppressed an urge to giggle. She turned round again and looked carefully into the chamber. “What do you see, Faer?”
“Over here,” she pointed to the left, then realising he couldn’t see at all, added, “to the left, are stone benches against the wall. Further back are statues of animals and huge winged creatures, I don’t know what they are but they look fierce. At the back is another door. To the right more statues and benches. It looks like an entry chamber, or a hall, but it’s immense. All of stone. It’s cool, all the same temperature, no running water, no living creatures – oh, except crawly things and spider things, I can see now, little dots here and there.”
“I’d love to see in the dark,” Markus said wistfully. “Can we sit down? I’d like to start a fire.”
“Yes, let’s stay near the doors. The air’s stuffy in here and it smells old. Dry, but old. What do you need to start a fire?”
Markus told her. Wood, some kindling like straw or very small twigs or even better, dry grass. It was damp out there so some of that may not be possible. Faer left him and went searching, leaving Markus shivering in fear by himself, and he sat right next to the door so he could see out. He saw her moving about in the twilight, picking up things. He watched her, looking at her body moving, his eyes straying to her behind as she bent down.
His heart beat faster.
She returned, her arms full. She handed them through first before following. In the poor light from outside, Markus arranged the wood in size order, then picked up the soft, light dead grass Faer had found. “Good,” he said nodding with approval, “this is great. Watch this.”
He rummaged in his pack and brought out a block of wood, a small oblong piece with a hole in the top. He then got a second piece of wood, a long thin piece with a tapered end. Then he picked out a piece of string and looped it twice round the long piece of wood before finding a third piece of wood, tying one end of the string to one end, and then bending the wood into a bow shape, fixing the other end of the string to the other end and then holding the bow at a cross-angle to the upright thin tapered piece, the point of which he placed in the hole in the oblong. “Faer, put the kindling around the hole where the pointed part touches it.”
She did as he said and watched fascinated as he began to pull the bow back and forth, spinning the thin upright piece of wood. After a few moments the kindling began to smoke, and suddenly burst into flame. She cried out in surprise and delight. Markus gently blew at the glowing material, and added thin sticks. Smoke began to rise, eddying slightly as the wind from outside caught it, and he withdrew his oblong and other pieces of wood.
He continued to blow, adding a few more pieces of wood. After a few moments he leaned back, satisfied, feeling slightly dizzy with all the blowing. The flames of the fire were licking at the twigs. “We’ll need more wood to last the night, Faer, but I’ll keep this going. Can you get some more?”
“Yes – that’s amazing,” she said, impressed.
“Father taught me how to do this – we had beach meals of fish we caught.” He looked wistfully at the flames. “Guess we’re both full of memories of Selanic, eh?”
Faer murmured in response, and got up to get more wood. By the time she returned, most of the original pile was ablaze and the chamber lit up with the warmth of the fire. They sat around the fire and ate their supper, satisfying their hunger. Markus could see some way into the chamber now and they discussed the winged creatures that were carved atop tall square pediments.