“Don’t kill Saat without me!” he said as he started to climb. Six yards higher, he disappeared from view behind the living mass of leaves, vines, and branches.
As he had predicted, the climb was easy, not dissimilar to the climbs he had made to escape the Kercyan house in Lorelia. At least this time he wouldn’t find his cousin’s corpse, he thought bitterly.
Though he liked to be the center of attention, he wasn’t rash, and he attached the rope to the tree every five or six yards. Working this way slowed his climb, but at least he wouldn’t fall to his death if he slipped.
He continued to speak to his companions as he climbed, but the conversation ceased when they could no longer hear him. Rey needed his breath to climb; though there were ample holds and support, he still had to climb straight up.
Nearly forty-five feet high, when he had thought he would be leaving the oppressive labyrinth of plants, he was surprised to find that instead it thickened. Soon, he faced a real dead end of foliage, which he got through with great difficulty, using his dagger to cut away the vines.
Life began above this level. The ivy formed an irregular carpet, housing insect colonies, birds, rodents, and even a few reptiles, which fled when Rey entered their world.
The actor forced back his repulsion and continued to climb, every step setting off a flurry of activity. The most nauseating surprise was the snakes, small and scared, but apt to stay camouflaged in the dense vegetation. A close second was the largest insects he had ever seen, which flew right at his face whenever he scared them. After a frenetic flurry of cutting and cursing, Rey finally cleared a worthy vantage point for himself.
Everywhere he looked, the forest was devoid of humanity. No smoke, no construction. The trees were very tall, and he couldn’t be sure, but somewhere out there, there should be the ruins of a keep. And close to there, the portal to Jal’dara.
Unfortunately, many trees were notable for their enormous size. Desperate, Rey mentally noted where the closest, largest trees were.
That’s when he felt a sharp stab of pain in his calf.
A snake was attached to his leg, its jaws clamped shut. Not one of the camouflaged little snakes from earlier, but a long reptile, as thick as his arm, with a strange ring around its nose, staring at him with cold eyes.
Risking a fatal tumble and gritting his teeth against the pain, Rey leaned over and stabbed the animal in the head. If he hadn’t been wearing boots, the animal would have reached his bones.
Horribly mutilated by the blade, the serpent wrapped its body around the actor’s legs, despite his best efforts to escape. That’s when Reyan heard the rustling.
A single glance was enough to make a decision. All around him, more of the strange snakes slithered toward him. Rey could see at least five, but there could have been thirty.
He jumped off the branch and fell the equivalent of two stories before being brutally caught by the rope. Scratched, bruised, and with the snake still wrapped around his leg, he grabbed the rope and slid down as fast as possible, not bothering to check if it would hold him.
His terrified friends saw Rey fall out of the sky. Grigán immediately stabbed the serpent behind its ring, and Léti forced open its mouth, using her dagger as a lever. Luckily, the reptile was already dead. Only a reflex held his bite.
Rey pulled off his boat and groaned, while the rodents and insects he had brought down with him scurried back up the tree.
The wound was deep, considering it had reached through his leather boot. Deep enough to pierce his skin and draw blood from the actor’s calf.
“A snake with teeth!” Bowbaq said, surprised, as he examined the dead reptile. “What a strange thing!”
“It’s almost a kind of eel,” Yan added, before joining his friends around the injured Rey.
Corenn examined his wound. The skin color looked normal, and the reptile had no fangs; there was hope that it wasn’t venomous.
“It’s fine, Corenn,” the Lorelien thanked her. “I think I was mostly just scared,” he confessed. “Don’t worry.”
As Lana wrapped his wound, he stared at the thick layer of plant life above them. How many snakes were up there? How many other dangers were hiding in those trees?
The first giant barkors they came across had nothing they hoped for. Rey’s accident had lost them valuable time, and night was falling quickly in the shadowy world beneath the trees. They decided to continue their search the next day, hoping a new start would bring better luck.
Despite the cold that crept into the night, Corenn wouldn’t allow them to start a fire, or even a lantern. If there was any chance that fire brought out the Wyvern, they would do all they could not to confront it.
No one fell asleep until late that night, and only then because their fatigue was as strong as their fear. They huddled close together in the darkness, without the stars to light the night. The forest bustled with noise: growls, cracks, pattering paws, smacking jaws, and insects singing.
“This could be our last night in this world,” Yan whispered, as much to himself as to Léti.
“Why did you say that?” the young woman mumbled. “We won’t die. Not before we grow old.”
“No, I mean tomorrow night, we could be in Jal’dara. We are going to see gods, Léti.”
“You already saw one,” she said soberly.
“Yes, but . . .”
He didn’t finish. After all, he was the only one who understood what such an encounter felt like. In the birthplace of gods, it must be tenfold stronger.
More tired at dawn than when they had gone to sleep, the heirs began their search anew, aware that today’s hunt would decide their entire future.
It had been a dékade since they had spoken to anyone outside of the group. Now the Oo country, deserted and monotone, silent and loud at the same time, made them deeply conscious of their solitude. In this forest, only a strange half-light separated night and day, and the heirs felt like they were walking in a dream.
Similar to the day before, they walked toward the cluster of trees Rey had spotted. But failure stacked up and pessimism began to spread, more so because it became so difficult to locate themselves as they moved farther from their original location.
Midday came and went without any better results. They ate quickly and returned to their search, knowing that the next few decidays were all they had left.
“The portal will light up like the one on Ji,” Léti reminded them, as the idea came to her. “Perhaps we should post someone in a tree to look for it?”
“No one will climb up there again, unless I ask for it,” Grigán said.
“Supposing we see it, we might not have the time to reach it, anyway,” Corenn added.
Time passed, and still they found nothing. If they hadn’t had Grigán and his compass, they surely would have gotten lost. The forest was so large.
In the fifth deciday, as they anxiously watched the sun drop toward the horizon, the vines above them bustled loudly. By the time the heirs stopped to listen, the sound was gone.
They kept quiet for a moment, everyone trying to see or hear something in the branches, but the Oo country had settled into its peaceful quiet.
“We probably scared an animal,” Corenn suggested.
They started their search again, still curious what kind of animal could make so much noise. The ivy mass was solid and had supported the weight of a human. It was disturbing to think of such a large animal living above their heads.
“The keep!” Bowbaq cried out suddenly. “It’s there! I found the ruins!”
They guided their horses over to his. The giant, with Ifio still perched on his shoulders, smiled like a child. In fact, they could all easily perceive the gray form of a crumbling tower, abandoned for centuries.
“The portal is close,” Lana said enthusiastically. “We are so close!”
“Don’t get too excited,” Grigán tempered, despite his own desire to join his companions in their joy. “Now we have to be even more careful. Don
’t forget that something may be waiting for us.”
The heirs quieted, but the excited mood and their joyful smiles said enough.
“We shouldn’t lose this landmark,” Grigán continued. “We are going to search in larger and larger circles around this area, until we find the portal.”
“You don’t want to go see the keep?” Rey said, surprised.
“I do, but the Wyvern could live there, and that’s enough to kill my curiosity.”
Slightly frustrated that they couldn’t explore the ruins, the heirs did as the warrior said. As Léti grabbed her rapier, Yan did the same with his broadsword, and Rey soon followed suit.
The first circle kept them nervous and joyful at the same time. By the second, they had lost all joy and were only nervous. By the third, they had lost their view of the ruins, and were guided only by Grigán’s compass.
Yan started to wonder if his memory of the Rominian script were inexact, and if the portal really was close to the keep’s ruins. And how should they interpret “close”? Maybe his companions were nursing similar doubts. If so, they didn’t say anything. Not yet.
They discovered the portal together, at the same time. It couldn’t have been any other way; it was that imposing. That they hadn’t seen it earlier was only because it was surrounded by a group of centuries-old lénostores.
The portal was carved into a barkor that was at least forty yards tall. The portal itself, which the ever-present ivy declined to approach, was more than twenty yards tall, and eight wide. Larger than a house.
Grigán walked through it on his horse, touching the Ethèque symbols deeply carved into the dry bark. They were the same as on Ji, and in Sohonne. The Oo portal was the third the warrior had seen. Perhaps he would finally cross through.
The others dismounted and approached the monument respectfully. Lana, who had never before had a material connection to their ancestors’ adventure, cried under the pressure of many emotions.
“It would obviously take a long time to burn this,” Rey commented, as he wrapped his arms around the Maz.
“What do we do now, friend Corenn?” Bowbaq asked.
“We wait for nightfall,” the Mother answered without hesitating. “We prepare ourselves.”
And we pray, she said to herself. Because if the Guardian came, they would lose much more than a dékade.
No one was hungry, so they skipped their last meal. Yet the interruption might have helped them pass the time, because they found it nearly excruciating to wait. Time felt slow, very slow, until the sun finally dipped below the horizon.
The wait was difficult for all, but more than for anyone else, the slow passage of time weighed heavily on Yan. The young man knew that the expedition’s success depended on him. If he had misunderstood Usul’s gift, or how the portals worked, or if it simply didn’t open tonight, crushing their hopes . . .
His companions all had their weapons in hand; even Bowbaq carried his mace with him every time he moved. Corenn had accepted a dagger from Grigán, and Lana held Rey’s crossbow.
Yan carried his broadsword and its sheath at his hip, but he knew it would be useless against the Guardian, who was probably as large and terrifying as the Leviathan described by Achem.
They jumped at even the smallest sounds, but more often than not, it was simply the horses roaming in the forest, munching on moss and branches low enough to eat, walking farther and farther away. If the heirs crossed the portal, they wouldn’t need horses anymore, and if they didn’t, they would have plenty of time to find them.
They had left their baggage near the portal, but knew they would abandon it if they had to flee the Wyvern. As such, they all carried their most prized possessions with them. It was a strange spectacle to see Grigán armed from head to foot, or Lana carrying her copy of The Book of the Wise One while pacing in front of the portal.
The night’s cold soon pushed them to huddle together, as they had the night before. This time they were standing, and no one wanted to sleep.
“We could at least light a little fire,” Rey suggested, his teeth chattering. “It wouldn’t kill anyone.”
“I’m not sure of that,” the warrior responded. “We have to wait.”
Standing, frozen in the darkness, Yan noticed once again how strange his life had become. He had never thought he would travel east of the Curtain, let alone be standing here in the heart of the Eastian Kingdoms, waiting for a magical door to open to another world.
“I heard something,” Léti warned them suddenly.
Corenn turned around to look at the portal, but nothing happened. They heard no whistling sound, which would accompany the opening of the portal.
“No, no!” the young Kaulienne explained. “I heard something in the trees!”
Their horses had heard the same thing. They froze, then burst into a gallop in the next instant, commanded by the most basic animal instinct: to survive.
Grigán grabbed his bow and nocked an arrow toward the sky. Curiously, the ivy had avoided the divine barkor, except at the highest branches, but the surrounding trees were crawling in the stuff, just like the rest of the forest.
In the following silence, they could hear their own heartbeats, but only briefly. The leaves shook, branches cracked, and they knew a large animal was moving toward them.
“The Guardian,” Léti whispered.
“Silence!” Grigán said sternly.
He was looking for where the monster would approach and, in the profound blackness, he had only his hearing to aid him.
A branch cracked, to their left. Then another, in front of them. Then to their right, an instant later. Another in front? She can’t move that fast, the warrior thought. Maybe there are many of them?
Listening more closely, the sounds from above were uniform and spread out at the same time. He came up with another theory.
“A snake!” Grigán announced in a low voice. “The Guardian has the form of a damn snake!”
His companions shivered, alarmed at the image of a monstrous, undulating snake approaching from above the ivy. The gigantic creature was the queen of this forest. The trees could support her weight because her thirty-foot-long body was spread along many branches.
They listened, appalled, to the abominable slithering as the sound grew.
The Wyvern was headed for them.
“Grigán, we could light a fire now,” Rey proposed.
A whistling sound burst into the night, and became a deafening racket. Behind them, a small luminous point appeared in the middle of the portal, illuminating Bowbaq, who worked with a piece of flint.
A spark flew from his hands and fell into the small pile of dry branches they had gathered.
The light in the portal grew to its peak and blinded them with its brightness. The gigantic trees in front of them shivered like grass in the wind.
A small flame grew under the giant’s breath.
The light from the portal was replaced by a darker mist. Yan approached as close as possible, a knot in his throat.
Grigán kept his eyes on the forest as he released the tension in his bow, set aside his unused arrow, and nocked a new arrow to the string.
The small flame gave birth to others, larger and more voracious. Bowbaq nourished them with sticks, trembling with fear and cold, entirely focused on his mission.
The portal’s mist dissipated, leaving behind an image of a mountainous landscape. It was night there as well.
Grigán dipped his modified arrow into the flames, and it took.
The forest exploded. The Guardian appeared. The heirs took a step back, holding back cries of terror. Yan forced himself to concentrate on the portal. Rey almost dropped his rapier.
They saw a serpent that looked exactly like the one that had attacked the actor. Exactly, except for the size. This one was thirty times larger.
The monster opened its mouth and spit like a furious cat. It seemed as if it would try to swallow them in one bite, though it was still fifteen yards away.
The Wyvern slithered to the ground and raised its head six feet high. The rest of its body disappeared into the trees. It was titanic, Corenn thought. And furious.
The monster flared its crest and spit again. Then it slithered toward them, much faster.
“Yan, go!” Lana implored.
Yan put his hand in front of his face and gazed at the other world between his fingers. It seemed so close. If he hadn’t felt the strange sensation of passing his hand through water, the illusion would have been perfect.
He pushed his hand forward and felt nothing. In the deceiving darkness, he wondered if he were still too far from the arch. So he took a slow step forward, and entered Jal’dara.
Grigán pointed his fiery arrow at the monster for a long moment, but mortal weapons did not scare the Guardian. As such, the warrior lifted his bow to shoot the arrow into the trees; it traced a luminescent arc before landing in the vines overhead.
The Wyvern stopped and watched the arrow’s trajectory. Then it slithered toward Grigán, angrier than ever.
The warrior rapidly nocked another flaming arrow, handed to him by Corenn, and launched it, and then another. Léti lit as many fires as she could in the dry forest. The heirs stopped at the warrior’s signal. As they had planned, Rey doused their own fire with a gourd full of water.
The Wyvern was only five yards away. It raised up to a third of its height, dominating the mortals. They walked away, slowly. The Guardian looked at them distractedly, but its attention was focused on the growing fires around the forest.
It took a last look at the heirs, then at the landscape beneath the portal, and turned back to the forest, hurrying to fight the fire that threatened Oo.
“Yan’s gone!” Léti shouted.
The heirs gathered around the ancient barkor and gazed at the birthplace of gods. As they always had, they felt an unexplainable amazement, an enthusiastic fascination. They stared in awe at this landscape, which, despite its beauty, looked much like their own.
Shadow of the Ancients Page 25