The Tirnano - Book 1 'FINN'

by Peter Emmerson

  In abject horror, the girl clutching the sword ran, retracing her steps towards the glimmer of light at the cave entrance.

  ~

  Mira lay coughing and spluttering at the powerful smell of the acrid liquid which had rained once more over her hair and clothes. Rushing through the waterfall of bat urine had been the final obstacle. She had stumbled from the cave mouth, collapsing onto her face in the lush green grass.

  As she laid gasping deep gulps of fresh air, Mira was unable to believe what she had just seen and experienced. She lay petrified, expecting any moment the tall, pale woman would follow; expecting to be dragged back into the cave.

  Taking a deep breath, she scrambled to her feet and ran, stumbled through the rock cleft to where they had left the horses tethered. Their mounts stood quietly, cropping contentedly at the lush grass. Back with the familiar horses, Mira’s panic began to subside. In a nearby stream she carefully washed the foul urine from her face and hair, whilst still glancing about with fearful eyes, starting at the slightest sound.

  Feeling better once she had washed the bat urine from herself, and, uncertain as to her next move, still full of trepidation, she waited anxiously for Daniel.

  Remembering her master’s sword, Mira lifted it from where it lay and unsheathed it, she examined the fabulous blade, swinging it back and forth to acquire a feel for its weight. Though in size it was greater than any she had previously wielded, it seemed unnaturally light and perfectly balanced. Her father had been thorough in his training, and the competence which the girl had once commanded rapidly returned.

  She sat on the grass at the entrance to the cleft with the blade across her thighs, expecting - hoping her master would join her sooner rather than later. The sun was warm and she dozed, exhaustion and the horrendous experiences of the preceding hour, pumping up her adrenalin, had left her seriously fatigued.

  The sun had sunk almost to the horizon when she opened her eyes with a start. Disorientated she began searching left and right. Search as she might, she could find no sign of the crevice, the rock face was solid.

  No matter in which direction she ran in horror, Mira was presented with the same impenetrable cliff face. There was no way that Daniel could escape, nor could she return to the cave mouth. Mira knew she would have to leave her present location before the sun set, or she would be an easy target for any walking, crawling or flying predator which picked up her scent.

  Mounting her bay mare, she made the decision to take Daniel’s charger with her. Once night fell, tethered - it too would be obvious prey for wolves or worse. Leading the massive warhorse, she made her way along a pathway, following what she presumed was the route they had ridden on their journey to the cave.

  Unable to wear the huge blade on her hip, she strapped Ulrich behind her shoulders in a parody of the way she had seen her master wear it.

  ~

  A mist rose around her.

  Confused, she lost her way; riding from the lightly marked path.

  31.

  Lost

  THE NORTHERN PLAINS

  As quickly as it fell, so the mist dispersed, she found herself in the open, the forest had disappeared, looking all around her, she could see no sign of it.

  The sun was sinking fast, the sky a riot of colour; the unnaturally violent display didn’t register through her confusion. Mira began to panic, she was lost and she knew she could be anywhere. Without another option she decided to follow the sun as it set.

  With startling rapidity the sun disappeared, leaving a pink stain running along the black horizon, painting a bright edge to the darkening sky. Mira noticed a green haze shimmering in the sky, away to her left. In fear she prayed for protection from the impromptu light show, unable to tear her eyes from it.

  The horses kept moving. Mira was content to let them amble at their own pace, all the time hoping against hope that wolves were not trailing her. A thick mist rose around her yet again she could see no more than a couple of paces, and allowed her horse to go where it would. She mumbled a swift a prayer to the saints; that her mount would not tumble into a crevasse, or trip into a hole. She held tight to Daniel’s charger, feeling as she did some tenuous connection.

  The horses began climbing, each step more demanding than the one before it. The air was damp, cold and thin, catching in her throat, causing her to gasp rasping gulps as she tried to pull her next breath. Surely she could not have climbed so high. The mist thinned and she began to see more of her surroundings.

  The temperature was plummeting; her breath and that of the horses’ billowed in great clouds, which she could clearly see in the dim starlight.

  Before long the moon began to rise. Huge clouds raced towards a mysterious green flickering in the distance. In the now bright moonlight, Mira deduced that somehow she had followed a route that had brought her onto a plateau, far above the tree line.

  Moving across a wide field of long grasses she approached a cluster of tall rocks.

  Reaching the circle of standing stones, she slipped from horseback. Pulling the well trained horses down; she lay with them out of the wind, behind the tallest stone. Still she shivered as her body heat dispersed. Thankfully she had been wearing a thick woollen riding cloak over her winter clothing. Without it, and the warmth from the horses, she could have frozen to death before the morning. Mira could do nothing but pull the cloak tightly around her and hunker down out of the wind.

  Snow began to fall as totally exhausted, she fell asleep.

  The sun rose and swiftly warmed the air, melting the light snow-covering. Mira woke, facing the rising sun. Climbing unsteadily to her feet, she stamped in an attempt to bring back circulation, and then stood for a while slapping her arms about her body. Feeling warmer she began to investigate her surroundings, and found a small stream bubbling up from beneath one of the tall rocks.

  Lying on her stomach on the damp, cold ground she drank deeply to quench her thirst, and then encouraged the horses to drink. Mounted, she moved out from the rocks, her aim being once more to follow the rising sun. In her mind, heading east should give a route down the mountain, and ultimately to the Lizard’s encampment.

  Ahead was a low mound. Spurring her horse to the top, she gazed for a while at the vista before her, astounded at the vast open expanse. The plain was covered with unfamiliar purple headed grasses which grew as high as her knees. She guessed they would easily reach her chest were she not on horseback.

  A chill wind blew from the snow capped mountains in the far distance. The grass rippling like waves reminded her of the warm waters of the sea where as a child, she had swum with her older brother. That same sea which had so swiftly turned violent, and had taken her brother’s life swamping his little boat with huge waves.

  In wonder, she watched a large herd of large oxen make their way past her vantage point. They were close enough that she could hear clicking as their horns touched. It was a magnificent sight. She attempted to tally their numbers, but promptly gave up for there were far too many. She could make out other herds in the distance; they too, were travelling in the same direction.

  “Now which way?” she shouted, her voice loud and outlandish in this place of almost silence. Her mount flicked an ear at the sound, and then took another mouthful of the strange purple grass.

  In the distance stood a tall mountain, towering over the others clustered about its feet; a volcano if the tendril of smoke that climbed from its peak told the truth. She decided to make her way towards the new landmark.

  Her horse had taken but a single step when Mira was struck a heavy blow from behind. Unbalanced she fell forward, tumbling from the horse. She rolled down the incline, striking her head on a rock. A dark curtain fell over her. As she blacked out, she was vaguely aware of a harsh screeching and jabbering.

  32.

  Captured

  The Northern Plains.

  Mira had no idea of how much time had passed before she opened her eyes. She found herself being carried face down, rough
claws grasping her wrists and ankles, suspended between four creatures, which from her restricted viewpoint looked as though they could only have escaped from her worst nightmare. They reminded her of statues come alive; those same statues that she had seen grimacing their ugliness from the high corners of the cathedral roof in O’buda.

  From the way that they carried her, frequently one or other of them almost dropping her, swinging from side to side in time with their erratic, jerking flight, they obviously had little care for her well being. Mira presumed she was fated to be their next meal. They jabbered animatedly amongst themselves as they flew, their diaphanous wings flapping loudly.

  They seemed satisfied with their capture.

  Swooping out of the sun which had been at her back, they had struck her hard. Mira had no chance to protect herself. Now she swung suspended, the ground some distance below her; she assessed her opportunities for escape.

  Not many - she blacked out again.

  Her shoulders and hips were screaming in pain from the angle at which she was being carried when next she opened her eyes. She had the mother and father of all headaches. Pain was battering her in pounding waves; waves which were synchronised with the swinging, buffeting flight of the grotesque creatures.

  Blood oozed from a gash in the side of her head, she guessed it had occurred when she struck her head as she fell. The blood had run down the side of her face and seeped into her coat.

  If they dropped her from this height, she would be lucky to escape without serious injury or even death, but she felt desperate enough to risk it.

  Determined to escape, she began shout and struggle, almost immediately the four creatures began fighting to stay aloft, her shaking and twisting disturbing their ability to fly and carry her at the same time. Their wings began flapping strenuously, striking against their companions’. The jabbering ceased, replaced by what sounded like cries of anger and surprise. After a moment or two, Mira ceased her struggles and waited to see what the creatures’ reaction would now be. She wondered what they had said, but they were closed to her. That they had speech and some intelligence was obvious, but it was not a speech or intelligence that she could communicate with.

  The repulsive monsters were now hushed, flying carefully, watching her constantly; there was now almost a dread in the grip on her wrists and ankles. They were almost waiting for her next move, or perhaps considering dropping her to bring to an end her games. As they hadn’t immediately released her, Mira guessed they preferred that she were alive.

  Through her pain, Mira attempted once more to find her bearings. She searched for the smoking mountain. In surprise she realised that she was no longer being carried across grass plains, but was passing over a bleak landscape; a black scar which cut through the countryside as far as she could see. The ground was littered with sharp rocks and deep cuttings through which ancient streams had long since ceased to flow.

  Her concern was compounded by an impending certainty that the creatures were about to descend, she could feel that Ulrich was still in its scabbard; her riding cloak she guessed, still strapped to her saddle. She had removed it as the sun promised a day of unnatural heat.

  Once Mira had stopped struggling and let her body hang limply, the creatures had settled back into their erratic, bouncing, shoulder wrenching flying style. They seemed more careful, but soon the jabbering began again. All of a sudden they swooped to the ground, dropping her just outside the shadow of a rock formation which they scrambled under. Her head and upper body were in shadow, her legs in the bright sunshine.

  Without moving her head too obviously, Mira could see the creatures drinking from a tiny stream under the overhanging rock. She lay where they had dropped her, she had fallen at least a couple of body heights. Her shoulders hurt, but a mound of soft black sand had saved her from serious injury.

  The creatures were crouched deep in shadow. Once more they began jabbering animatedly, perhaps discussing her for they glanced frequently in her direction; her struggling had without a doubt spooked them. Presuming the fall and original blow to the head had killed her, their surprise had been evident. Mira stayed as still as possible giving the impression that she was once more unconscious or even dead, hopefully lulling their senses.

  They returned to quenching their thirst, lapping like dogs. Mira prepared herself. Leaping to her feet she drew Ulrich and rushed at them; with one swipe she struck the head clean from one of the creatures’ shoulders. The remaining three attempted to clamber from under the rock to take to the air, but she was amongst them, the sword slashing left and right, almost with a life of its own.

  Within moments the mastiff sized creatures were dead. In her frenzied attack, boiling anger had welled up in her, anger at their cowardly ambush, anger at their obvious plans for her, anger that they had carried her so many leagues from her original position making it even more difficult to find her way home.

  Mira had sliced chunks from the creatures; their thick blood splashed around her. The smell and the sight of it seeping into the dry soil were too much to take. In reaction to the previous violence she retched, and then, unable to stop the ensuing gut wrenching spasm, she emptied the entire contents of her stomach, what little there was of it. Bile spilled out onto the ground, mixing with the black stain of the monsters’ blood on the dark soil.

  Staggering blindly from the scene of carnage, she sat on a nearby rock for a moment in an attempt to bring herself back to her senses. She felt so very alone, the loss of her father, her colleagues and Baron Daniel, cut so keenly that she began to weep. Mira felt as though a vital part of her had been amputated.

  33.

  THE GOLDEN QUEEN

  The Desert Sands will Burn

  Mira rose, and began to walk in the direction of the only landmark that she could still recognise - the smoking mountain.

  The heat, even though the midday hour had passed was unbearable; it was like being inside an oven. The temperature was sapping moisture from her body. She staggered on, driving herself. Forcing herself to place one foot in front of the other, for hour after hour she plodded onwards.

  Her tongue felt as though it was stuck to the roof of her mouth, it had been many hours since she had last taken a drink. She had been thirsty and in need, but hadn’t been able bring herself to drink from the stream under the rock, once it had been tainted with the foul creatures’ blood.

  She continued stumbling, moving almost without thinking as the sun fell below the horizon. The moon made a dramatic appearance, and the ground around her began to brighten. As the temperature fell, she became aware once more of her predicament. She felt totally bewildered. Her mind focused on her friends, would they be wondering where Milo, Daniel’s young man servant, had disappeared to? Mira thoughts went to her dear father, who had fought so long to keep her by his side, while men and boys left to fight their wars, and girls were banished to convents for their protection.

  Mira felt as though the whole world had deserted her.

  Somehow she managed to keep walking. Her thoughts were becoming fuzzy; she could only just concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

  The night was bitterly cold; the heat which had beat down on her from the sun and up at her from the sand through the day, disappeared quickly, to be replaced by a freezing cold wind blowing from the snow capped mountains in the far distance.

  Mira took frequent rests, sucking on a small pebble to stimulate her mouth juices, a trick her father had taught her. Before long, there was no saliva left to stimulate, her lips were dry and cracked. Her only way to stay warm was to keep walking.

  By the time the pre-dawn snowfall began, Mira was so desperate for water that she scooped up the dirty snow and chewed on the ball. It wasn't long before the sun rose and began to melt the snow; as she had nothing in which to retain the melting snow, she ate as much as she could, while she could. In protest, her stomach began to cramp; the pain taking her to her knees.

  When the spasm subsided, she used some of
the remaining snow to clean her face and neck of the smeared blood; she then held a fresh ball against the cut on her head to alleviate the throbbing and stem the flow of blood that had re-started.

  Chewing on the balls of snow had given some relief, but as quickly as the snow had come, it was gone, melting into the dark sand and drying almost instantly. The sun resumed its relentless attack on her almost as soon as it cleared the horizon.

  The heat began to build, sapping her strength once more. She considered discarding her jacket and the sword but something caused her to retain them. The shoulder straps felt as though they were cutting into her, it felt as though she were carrying a massive weight on her back. Mira stumbled on, still aiming her steps towards the smoking mountain, which seemed just as far away as it had the previous day.

  Before long her eyes began to burn from the incessant glare that reflected from the black rocks as she weaved her way through them. Her tongue was swollen, and once more felt as though it was stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her head was pounding. The wound on her forehead had begun to bleed again; her whole body felt racked with pain.