The Pursual: Book 1 of The Nome Chronicles

by F. F. John

  “Look at the Ateguns,” Bel whispers. Their large contingent stands still like stone. Each has a fist to their chest. Ika’s mother leans on her husband who whispers something to her. I imagine he gives her a reminder that Ika is in a construct and will come out perfectly fine.

  Bel stiffens beside me. The worm’s mouth rears back revealing more red spikes. I drop my head to avoid the sight of virt death. I can’t avoid the bone-chilling crunch that follows.

  I look at Father. On his right, Portan is recoiling, a hand over his mouth. All around are groans of disgust from the crowd. And Father sits there with a grin.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Invier

  The scenery changes as the trees and bushes around us thin. Mist creeps past our ankles, swallowing us to our knees. As a result, we don’t notice the carpet of exposed roots at our feet. Each of us trips repeatedly as we follow the upward slope of the ground. We now take more, rapid breaths to get the same amount of air we would have gotten for a solitary inhale at a lower altitude. My ears pop from the pressure change and I wonder how much higher we've come since our starting point.

  Over our heads, the canopy is no longer lush. Sadly, there isn’t enough light to burn the fog and brighten our moods. I squeeze my eyes against a headache but it pounds mercilessly. If I could, I’d yank my head off to get rid of the pain.

  Gulping in as much air as I can, I take a look around. The trees in this part of the jungle are unlike anything I’ve seen. Most spring out as if to grab us with wiry branches. On some trees, the bark is completely covered in bright moss that glitters with moisture. Another type of tree has no branches at all. Long green leaves shoot from their trunks at weird, irregular intervals.

  I check my watch. We’ve been in the shell for almost two hours and seventeen minutes meaning there are only forty-three minutes left. A surge of excitement intensifies the thumping in my head and I know it’s time to keep moving.

  “Something’s out there through the trees.” Seth points. Adela pushes past, elbowing him in the process. He yelps.

  “Toughen up, Talum.” She increases her pace. “It’s water!”

  We’ve happened upon a lake with clear water. Nobody has to tell us to get water and one by one we kneel on the edge to fill our bottles. I take a sip and while I’m still not getting as much air as I would like, my headache is gone and I can breathe a little easier. On all sides, the lake is thickly surrounded by the odd trees with leaves for branches. Many of them have thin long green shoots at their top. The shoots end in a pink fibrous material.

  I check my watch again. “We’ve got thirty-three more minutes in here.” Seth joins Adela where she’s washing her face. I’m about to drink from my bottle but something moves in my peripheral vision. There’s nothing there. Wiping excess liquid off my lips, I look around again and for the second time, something moves within the canvas of trees.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rise and I get closer to Seth and Adela. Sensing my unease, Seth straightens and mutters, “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not certain, but I think I saw something move around the tree line behind me,” I whisper. “Let’s stay alert.”

  Having caught what I said to him, Adela stands and checks for any obvious threats. Once satisfied, she asks, “What next, Floran?”

  Our instruction was to stay alive for three hours. So far, we’ve stayed out of trouble, avoiding whatever it was that got Erhart. I hope we can avoid it for the remaining time. There’s no need to run into that creature. We could keep going up what I believe is a hill but that could lead to more of nothing or worse, right into the jaws of something terrible. Studying my watch again, I decide the three of us can wait here by the lake rather than hiking aimlessly.

  “We’ve got twenty-eight minutes left,” I say. “I’m happy to wait out the clock right here.”

  Seth guzzles water and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “That’s a great idea.”

  Adela isn’t convinced and looks around once more. Suddenly, her eyes narrow and immediately enlarge in concern. “Something moved over there.” She points behind me and I whirl around. All three of us stare past the odd-looking trees but nothing steps into the grassy clearing of the meadow.

  “Are you sure?” Seth asks and she gives him a hard, sidelong glance. We wait for several seconds and nothing happens.

  “See, it was nothing,” Seth says, but he doesn’t sound confident.

  I stoop to refill my bottle, when someone calls out, “Help!” The ragged voice belongs to James. Blood seeps through his slashed jumpsuit as he staggers like a drunk man having enjoyed a night of liberal libations. He lets out a fatigued cry and crumples, face first, into the grass.

  Seth and I race over.

  “Bring him to the water.” Adela orders as we approach with him sagging between us.

  Seth puts his bottle to James’s lips but he’s delirious, muttering “It’s coming. It’s coming.”

  “What’s coming?” Adela growls.

  “It’s … it’s … coming.” He’s shuddering as his head swings from side to side.

  Adela whacks him across the face.

  “What did you do that for?” Seth and I yell in unison.

  As if we never uttered a word, she leans in near James and shouts, “What happened to you?”

  The slap works because James’s head no longer rolls around.

  “The snake. It’s coming for me,” he says.

  “What snake?” Seth asks.

  “Spikes. Red spikes.” His movements are jittery. “It’s coming. It’s going to kill us all!”

  Adela steps away. “How many more minutes, Floran?”

  “Erhart!” Seth points.

  Erhart speeds towards us. Bug-eyed, he’s unrecognizable. In one hand, he holds a hastily crafted spear and the knife from his utility belt is in the other. His brown hair stands and ruddy splotches cover his face. What was once a white jumpsuit clings in tatters and he only has one boot on.

  Crashing through the trees and over the grass in his wake is Mehrdad. He flounders for a moment only to rush up and keep coming. His jumpsuit is several hues of brown.

  Seth and I lay James carefully on the grass and when the approaching participants reach us, they rattle in scared. Their tones, high-pitched.

  “One at a time. We can’t understand you,” Adela says.

  “Blazes! We thought you died,” Seth says.

  “It almost got me,” Erhart says

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “It’s some type of snake-thing,” he replies. “The one I killed let out a cry before it died and that called more of its kind. They’ve been chasing me ever since.

  “Hold on,” Adela says. “You killed one?” I share the shock her voice conveys. When I last saw Erhart he couldn’t move from fright. And that was before he encountered this “snake-thing.”

  “It happened by mistake but there’s no time to get into it.” He jabs one end of his spear into the ground. “We can’t stay here.”

  “Yes, we’ve got to move.” Mehrdad gestures for us to leave, his eyes frenzied. He can’t stand still and he keeps looking around waiting for something scary to appear.

  I look in the direction they came from and now I’m certain that something is moving in the trees. The leaves on the weird, branchless trees flutter at strange angles and a sense of foreboding sets upon me.

  “Guys,” I say quietly. “It’s time to go.”

  Erhart and Seth hoist James up as Mehrdad groans. “That baka needs to be carried, again?”

  I’m about to glare at him but one of the trees seems closer to the lake than before. Impossible! I rub my eyes and look at it again. Wait a second. It moved!

  “The trees can move!” My voice trembles. A second later, my mouth goes dry as slashing and cracking fills the air.

  “They’re here!” Mehrdad takes off.

  Fifteen of the snake creatures advance sending their red spikes our way. Unable to move, I watch them l
and mere inches from my feet and all the grass they touch shrivels to dust.

  “Are those trees running to us?” Seth asks. I know he can’t believe his eyes. Neither can I.

  “We can’t outrun them all!” I warn and look at my watch. “Twenty-five more minutes!”

  “Stand your ground!” Adela says as she widens her stance and clenches her hands into fists.

  “Get under them,” Erhart yells over the noisy creatures. “That’s the best way to kill them.”

  “Under?” I ask. The thought of getting beneath one of these things is revolting. Brown ooze spills from their sides burning whatever they touch.

  “Yes, under and avoid the sludge!” he warns.

  Seth and I pull out our knives as the tree closest to the lake shoots out a leaf. The leaf pierces one of the snakes, pinning it to the ground as it struggles to move. The tree’s roots wriggle over the grass, moving to its captured prey. As the tree closes the gap, the snake squirms harder to escape, finally splitting in two with the head leaving its body behind. It doesn’t get far before the tree uses two large leaves to scoop it up and put it into where it’s pink fibrous material is. The snake squeals like a tortured pig as it is shoved into the top of the tree.

  “What in blazes!” Seth’s face blanches.

  A snake shoots its venomous spikes in my direction and one whizzes past my ear. More trees come near on their contorting roots and fling their dangerous leaves. One brushes Mehrdad’s shoulder and he cries out in grief.

  The first set of trees race past us and I warn, “Don’t let the leaves touch you.”

  Trees and snakes clash in a hail of crackling. Mehrdad runs to us, a hand on his injury. We all gather in a semicircle around James, who remains comatose on the ground.

  A guttural, inhuman shriek rings in my ears. The trees shoot their leaves at the creatures, trapping them all over the meadow. Nevertheless, more snakes head towards us in a blind thirst.

  One makes it through the barrage of trees and shoots projectiles at us. A spike comes straight for Mehrdad, who grabs hold of Seth and uses him for cover. I shove Seth out of the way but not soon enough. The red spike slashes Seth’s arm then lodges deep into my forearm. The sting is unbearable and I fall to my knees, gritting my teeth in agony. Seth writhes in pain as well by my side.

  Our attacker continues to speed toward us and Erhart charges at it, yelling. As he gets closer to the creature, he dives to his knees and slides underneath it.

  “Erhart,” Seth screams.

  Erhart has completely disappeared. The chaos continues but I can’t take my eyes off the snake. Suddenly, it jerks and wobbles. Then, its head collapses and Erhart climbs out from beneath. He’s even dirtier than he was before. It seems the sludge becomes harmless when the creature dies.

  Buoyed by this knowledge, I whoop. “Way to go Erhart!”

  He shuffles back to us, only for another snake to zoom up to him and slash at his legs. It happens too fast to warn him. He crumples and the snake shoots several spikes into him. His body shivers a few times then he lies still. The worm’s head bites into him and in two chomps, Erhart is gone.

  “Erhart!” He saved us all only to experience virt death seconds later.

  My stomach churns. Seth’s face pales and he vomits. It smells horrible, making me queasy. I take in big gulps of air to ward off a vomiting session of my own. Four more worms get past the trees and head for us.

  I chance a look at my watch just as it beeps. We only have five more minutes.

  “Come on guys,” I yell and grab James’s arm. Adela grabs the other and we drag him as far away as we can. My injured arm throbs in pain. Over my shoulder, a tree chases the worms shooting its leaves at them. A leaf lands on James’s foot and his foot melts before my eyes. A brindle-colored, thick pulp spreads up his legs. Lips curled in a revolted grimace, Adela flings him off and James gets eaten by the hazardous substance the leaf left behind. Disgusted, I fling his arm and back away.

  Soon, all that’s left of him is his torso and upper body, but it’s decomposing rapidly. Streaks of red fold into the ooze with a sizzling sound. I’m unable to look away from the gore until Seth grabs me by the arm and drags me away. I move swiftly but steal another glimpse. All that’s left is James’s head and it looks like it won’t be spared.

  Leaves and spikes shower around us as we scream in terror. Five minutes must be done by now.

  My timer beeps loudly. It’s at zero. “What are they waiting for? Time's up!” I say, doing my best to avoid the barrage around us.

  Pain charges up my back and I yell in misery. Whirling as I hobble, a long bloody leaf lies on the ground behind me. I’ve been slashed. My legs falter and I slow, unable to concentrate on moving with the group.

  The world bursts into a bright white light.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Neith

  Five participants step out of the shell to a crowd on its feet. Exiting first is Mehrdad, who is booed and called a “coward.” A smoldering glower at his critics is his sole reply.

  Next, comes Seth, Adela, and Invier who step out to cheers. Ika, Erhart, and James—all three having been killed during the challenge—sit waiting for the other competitors to arrive. But, I don’t care about them. I’m only interested in learning how Invier did in this competition.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen of the great Nomes and Lower Houses.” Portan begins with a flourish then bows to my father as he’s done each time he’s spoken to the crowd. “Titan Reffour and the hostess of this entertaining Pursual, we have all witnessed another intense competition come to an end.” He now gazes upon the participants. “Many displayed the exact attributes we were hoping for—bravery, courage, the ability to sacrifice one’s self for another.” My heart swells as chants of “Invier” fill the auditorium. They love him and if he keeps doing well, there’ll be little opposition to us being together.

  “It saddens me to say, however, that cowardice was equally on display during this last challenge and there are consequences for that,” he announces to boos aimed at one person. Mehrdad.

  “Scioness Reffour, can yourself and your lady-in-waiting, Dogenne Mezan, come place wreaths on the competitors?”

  Bel and I rise from our seats amidst clapping and yelling. We float down on a zart then stand next to Portan.

  “In seventh position is Scion Ategun.”

  The Ateguns stand, fists on chests yet again and Ika gives them a weak smile. He no longer displays the defiance he showed right before he was eaten in the virt. Now, he stumbles forward with slouched shoulders.

  “In sixth place, we have Scion Saint Esprit.”

  James steps to me and lowers his head. The silver wreath manages to stay in place on his thin hair. When he lifts his head, he winks. I hope that was meant for someone in the stands. It sends a shiver of revulsion through me. It’s a well-known secret that he has a penchant for touching young girls inappropriately. Could he be flirting with one of the young girls behind me?

  “In fifth place, Scion Cyra.”

  The jeering increases once more and I return to Portan who waits for it to die down before speaking again. “It must be said that Scion Cyra was doing well until he made certain erroneous decisions which cost him valuable points.”

  Boos ring out but Mehrdad remains doggedly calm. When I approach to place his wreath, his gaze rakes over me with chilling contempt. The crowd’s reaction must be difficult for him to swallow, especially with how badly he performed today. I try to hide a satisfied grin but fail.

  “Scioness Seltan captures the fourth position.”

  The crowd is on their feet for Adela whose tight expression doesn’t budge. Portan regales her with more positive words as I take a silver wreath from a glass plate in Bel’s hands and place it on her head.

  “In third position is Scion Talum who did his best to make Scioness Seltan, and we the viewing public, laugh.”

  Seth bows his head and I place the wreath upon his head and it doesn’t stay put. His
curly mop presented no such problem yesterday but today, it slips off no matter how I hard I try. The crowd finds this entertaining and laughs each time the wreath slides through his hair. After several attempts, he decides to hold onto it and bows to me with a grateful smile that triggers applause. This guy knows how to have the crowd eating out of his hands. Invier should take some lessons from him. A kiss on the cheek makes his face redden.

  “Second place goes to Scion Vesta, who killed not one, but two of the skuliki.”

  Skuliki. So, that’s what those disgusting things are called. I must ask Portan if they and those scary trees truly exist in nature or if they were a creation of someone’s warped mind.