Reality's Plaything

by Will Greenway

  She looked at him and wrinkled her nose. “This smells so bad, I’d almost rather keep the wounds.”

  He wished for the energy to laugh. “Don’t worry, it tastes worse than it smells.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She frowned. Pinching her nose, she tilted her head back and gulped half down. She thrust the bottle into his hand, shuddered then grimaced. “By Carellion, that’s vile!” She shook herself. “Bleaahk.”

  “You’re lucky. I had to drink two full ones before they figured out how to make it work on me.”

  A greenish glow surrounded her swollen eye, bruised cheek and neck. The injuries slowly dwindled to a fraction of their former size.

  Sarai let out a breath, the tension in her body relaxing. She touched her face. “The healing is as powerful as the taste is bad.”

  Bannor stared at the glass container half-filled with the odious substance.

  “Go on,” Sarai urged.

  “Don’t rush me.”

  “Nystruul’s out there, remember?”

  “I know I’d rather fight him than drink this stuff.”

  Sarai peeked out of the cleft. She came back and grabbed his shoulder. “He’s coming!”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “I’m not joking. Drink the potion!”

  Bannor sensed a genuine note of urgency in her voice. He tightened his hand on the glass. In his mind, he envisioned the tracery Wren had shown him. He touched it. His skin glowed gold as his Nola’s defenses lowered to accept the potion’s magic. He tilted his head back and let the burning, ultra-sour liquid slide down his throat. His tongue felt as if it tried to die in his mouth.

  He shuddered. His wounds shimmered green. It felt as if insects were marching back and forth beneath his skin. His heart beat erratically.

  Gradually, the ringing in his ears stopped, and the sounds of the rumbling ocean returned. The burning in his chest dwindled to a dull ache.

  He could take a full breath again without feeling as though he would split open. He swayed in relief, feeling some of his strength return.

  Bannor returned the vial to the holder, shut the box and thrust it back in the pack. He shouldered the satchel and stepped behind Sarai who poised at the opening.

  “How far?”

  “Fifty paces now,” she said tightly. “He looks like scarecrow after someone’s set fire to it.” She shivered. “Any ideas yet? My sword’s gone and so is your knife. All we have is Wren’s blade.”

  “Just run for now.”

  They dashed out of the cleft and down the beach. Bannor blinked in the sleet, straining to make out the area behind them. The stick figure of Nystruul reached out a spidery hand and clawed the air. Red pinpoints of light gleamed in empty eye sockets.

  The avatar made a hissing sound. Words drifted on the wind, a lisp that only something more snake than human could utter. “Accept the inescapable, Starfist. You shall soon tire. I have time.”

  Bannor pushed faster. A patient stalker, that’s all he and Sarai needed.

  They passed the area where he had first awakened and rounded a curve in the beach. After running several long stones-throws they slid to a stop. A headland jutted out from the cliff into the waves.

  Sarai gasped. His chest tightened.

  Trapped.

  Breakers lashed the stone, shooting high into the air through hollows in the rock. The smell of salt and seaweed hung heavy in the air. The silhouette of the jagged prominence looked like the riddled remains of some gigantic sea creature that had slithered out of the depths and died as it surmounted the cliff.

  The sharp ridges, hollows, and fluted sections of granite wet from rain and pounded by the sea would be difficult to negotiate under the best of conditions. This cliff would be both ally and enemy. If he and Sarai survived the ascent, they could stand off an army from any one of the hollows high in the face. It would also provide shelter from wind and rain.

  He glanced back. Nystruul wasn’t visible yet. “We have to try it. Your eyes are better. See if you can find us a way up to that notch over there.” He pointed to a squared off indentation shielded on two sides. It lay midway up the cliff, but looked reachable using boulders and outcrops as foot and handholds.

  Sarai drew a breath, wiped the rainwater from her eyes and forged forward.

  He followed her as she picked through boulders covered with cone-shells and moss. Farther out the spray from the crash of the breakers gusted over them. Salt stung his eyes. Beneath his hands he felt the vibration of the waves hitting the point.

  Moving with care, Sarai tested each hand and foothold before moving on. The promontory rose dark and forbidding above them, lines of strata streaking diagonally up to a hooked claw at the crest.

  Crossing to the base proved perilous, negotiating slimy jags, avoiding water filled depressions and unstable slabs.

  As they climbed, tiny shapes scurried into the cracks. Between the rumbles of the waves he heard bubbling sounds and the scrabble of chitinous feet.

  Sea bugs. He’d been pinched by one the very first time he ever ventured to the ocean. It taught him not to reach into a crack even after small ones. You never knew when a bigger one might be hiding close by, ready to make a meal out of your finger…

  This whole adventure had been like that; always a bigger bug hiding in shadows, waiting to feast on him.

  He glanced to the beach. Almost lost in the haze of rain and mist, he could discern a spindly figure at the base of the cliff, undulating as though boneless. His heart sped. Even if they made it to the hollow? What then? He made sure Wren’s sword was secure in his belt. He sensed Nystruul was speaking to them, but the monster’s words didn’t carry over the rumble of the swell.

  Bannor took hold of Sarai’s calf, as she started up a boulder. She turned. He pointed to the figure of the avatar veiled by sea mist. Her glowing eyes widened. Swallowing, she moved faster.

  What to do? The avatar did have time on its side. There were limits to their endurance. Eventually, it would corner them. He looked at Wren’s sword, ultra sharp, that would be their last resort—a quick, clean end.

  Sarai climbed. He made sure to place his hands and feet where she did. Her night-sight picked up details he would never fathom under the deceptive moonlight.

  Jagged edges rasped under his fingers. He took slow breaths, moving in a steady rhythm as they worked up a crevice that would lead them to the alcove he’d pointed out. Sarai had risen to this task, picking her course with precision. He suspected that sometime in his mate’s long life she’d been formally trained to climb. That knowledge had gotten them this far, but training could only do so much. They had no climbing tools and secure handholds were growing harder to find.

  Sarai’s breathing became labored as the ascent grew steeper. Gaining a firm purchase on the slippery granite often took several tries. He saw in the stiffness of her body that she knew every instant counted. Safety versus urgency; to climb this treacherous face any faster meant courting a painful death shredded on the rocks below.

  Bannor searched for Nystruul. His stomach churned. The creature was already close enough to hurl one of the fire bolts it had struck him with. It clambered over the boulders slowly, claw-like hands clinging to the soaked stones like spider’s feet.

  It stopped as if feeling his gaze. Its red pinpoints fixed on him. Bannor’s skin crawled. The word ‘soon’, drawn out long and sibilant, cut the wind enough for Bannor to hear. It echoed in his mind. Soon, it would all be over, one way or the other.

  Sarai pushed up and edged across a narrow cornice above him. The hollow in the rock still lay a stone’s-throw higher. His muscles were burning. She must be tiring too.

  A creak, then the grate of leather on stone. Sarai yelped. His heart seized and he snatched for her. She plunged past, hands clawing the air. “Bannor!”

  Sarai. His throat constricted. Heart hammering, he twisted to find a way to see down the face. No. No. No. He couldn’t see her. Had she caught hold? “Sarai!”

&nbs
p; No answer.

  “Soon—very soon.” Nystruul’s words slashed through the roar of the sea. In the distance, a cliffbird cawed its ugly laugh.

  * * *

  Pain can be a horrible distraction, or a catalyzing focus.

  Fear is the same way. I understand love can do the same thing in an even stronger measure. For myself, I cannot attest to the truth of the statement. While many have loved me, I have never been foolish enough to love them back.

  —From the Dedriad, ‘musings of an immortal’.

  Chapter Thirty

  « ^ »

  Precariously perched on the cliff side, the drizzle running in his eyes, Bannor howled. It was primal sound wrenched from the depths of his guts. Sarai had vanished into the darkness between the outcrops. This far up the side of the point, the rain and mist made it difficult to see. Below, Nystruul clambered across the rocks like a spider. Breakers pounded the point. The wind moaned through the clefts, raking Bannor with icy fingers.

  “Sarai!” he screamed.

  No response.

  He couldn’t leave Sarai on the rocks where that creature might find her. The pulse in his temple throbbed. How would he get to her? He didn’t even know where she’d slid. A fissure separated him and the outcrop that blocked his view. All he could do was cross the cornice and try to climb down on the far side of the fissure.

  Heart pounding he clawed his way onto the ledge, conscious of the poor purchase of his toes on the brittle rock. Sidling with extreme care, he struggled to stay focused on his destination. He knew a monster lay below. Bannor felt if he looked down now, he’d be like a bird mesmerized by a snake.

  Sarai, please be all right. You have to be.

  His foot slipped. Heart leaping, he caught himself with his hands and managed to lift his legs and place his foot farther up the cornice. Gasping, he edged two quick steps to a broader ledge.

  He looked down. The mist from a breaker obscured the outcrops below.

  Please.

  Like a shroud being pulled away, a gust parted the fog. At first he saw nothing, then movement. A few paces down, Sarai clung to the rock wall. A dark streak that must be blood drew a jagged line down the middle of her forehead. A twenty pace drop into rocky teeth and surf yawned below her.

  “Sarai!”

  She took a moment to look up. Her entire focus appeared to be holding on. She blinked glowing eyes. She sounded dazed. “Bannor?”

  “I’ll drop a rope to you. Hold on.”

  “I—will.”

  Leaning against the cliff, he unshouldered Wren’s pack and pulled out the hair rope. There was far more of the cord than they needed. It made the handling clumsy. He threw a coil around a projection higher on the face, and then put a loop around his waist as security in case Sarai pulled him off the ledge.

  A sibilant wheeze came from somewhere down the cliff. “Starfist, I s-see you. Soon.”

  The avatar was too close.

  His chest felt like a giant knot. He had to get Sarai, even if that meant letting that fiend catch him. Bannor felt the creature’s unholy attention. He blocked out the queasiness in his stomach.

  “Bannor?” Sarai’s voice shook. “Scared.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t let go.” He paid out the rope until the tip of the strand swayed near her hand. Sarai started to loosen her grip to grab it. “Wait. Let me drop some more.”

  Sarai nodded. She swayed. “Bannor?”

  “I’m here.” The rope was in position. He doubled the cord around his wrist so it wouldn’t slip.

  “Bannor…” She trailed off. “The stone—”

  Nystruul’s rasp drowned out the rest of her words. “Soon we dance, Starfist.” The sound made Bannor’s neck prickle. The creature had to be less than a stone throw away now. “Singed me bad, savant. It’s my turn.”

  Bannor looked for the avatar.

  No sign.

  Where?

  He couldn’t worry about it now. “Grab it, Sarai. I’m braced.”

  Sarai didn’t move. Her fingers appeared to be loosening.

  “Sarai! Get the rope.”

  “The stone…” The words grew faint, parts of them washed out by the rumble of the waves. “Feel … stone…”

  She must have hit her head; be hallucinating.

  He moved the rope back and forth so that it thumped against her arm. He made his words sharp and distinct. “Sarai, grab the rope!”

  Moving as though in torpor she reached out one-handed for the rope. The action seemed more as a result of his command than her own volition. A shock went through him as he expected her to fall. She must have a purchase with her feet he couldn’t see. Sarai took hold.

  “Both hands, Sarai! Hold tight.”

  She clutched the rope. He felt her weight bear down on the line. Muscles burning, hand-over-hand he reeled Sarai in; a little up, rest, more, rest. The rain made the line slick and there were no knots to aid his grip. Rubbing the line dry with each pull added to the difficulty. Sarai felt like a mountain pulling against his weary body.

  “You okay? Sarai? Answer me.”

  A nod.

  “Help me with your feet.”

  Where was Nystruul? During a rest, he glanced around. No sign. The monster had taunted him as it grew closer; now nothing. The possibility of the avatar coming at them from an unexpected direction made a shudder go through him.

  Sarai found traction on the wall, lessening the burden on Bannor’s throbbing arms. Normally, he wouldn’t even feel her weight. The fight, stress and climb had worn away his energy. Being perched on a rock knob no bigger than a bread loaf made the task doubly arduous.

  Closer. Only two paces to go. Sarai never weighed so much. His arms felt made of wood.

  He called to Sarai. “Still with me, Little Star?”

  A nod, nothing more. Sarai didn’t look up. She held to the rope like a rag doll, her body limp except for an occasional kick against the rock face. Bannor couldn’t see how she stayed on the line.

  He glanced around. Where are you Nystruul? He let out a breath. Odin, I miss you, Wren. Smug little witch, you always knew what to do. At least you seemed to. That made all the difference.

  “Sarai, you’re almost here.”

  She mumbled, her words thick as though she were drunk. “Here-yes, close. Feel it.”

  Limp strands of silvery hair flicked in the breeze. Blood dribbled across Sarai’s brow, down the bridge of her nose and into her mouth. Crimson stained her lips.

  The damage looked superficial. What could be wrong with her?

  Pull.

  Only a little farther. Could Nystruul have done something to her? He’d been on the wrong side of the fissure though.

  Reach.

  Why was he fooling himself? Nystruul was an avatar. He found them, even isolated in some unknown corner of the cosmos. The creature survived immolation in the full fury of a storm. Immortal. Unkillable. It could have killed him long ago.

  Pull.

  Nystruul wanted him alive. Sarai would be a lever to make sure Bannor did what they wanted. Probably, they planned to make him succorund, an avatar host, as they tried with Wren. They probably planned to make him an avatar like Nystruul, something no longer human.

  “Bannor,” she mumbled. “Stone—here all the time.”

  What? He braced for last pace of rope. It didn’t look as if Sarai would help much. He needed a way to balance her on this tiny projection.

  The light in Sarai’s eyes looked almost gone.

  “Sarai, you have to wake up! I need you alert.”

  Bannor took a big lead and pulled. As Sarai drew closer, the glint of something metallic caught his attention. It jutted from her right shoulder.

  A fiery hand gripped his insides and crushed down.

  A dart.

  “No!”

  From somewhere higher on the cliff, he heard hideous sniggering. “She has little time, savant. I restore your star. Come.”

  He was outmaneuvered by the slow patient stalke
r. He was a hunter. He should have known better than to try the cliff.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. He heaved, pulling the limp form of his mate to within reach. Half dead and she still hung on. No way to crouch without throwing himself off balance. There was only room for his feet on the knob. She didn’t look capable of standing on her own. Sarai would have to hold around his neck.

  Her eyes were closed. When she spoke it came out in a slur. “Almost, my One.”

  Bannor fought to keep his voice level. “Sarai, stay with me. When I pull you up, take hold of my arm.”

  “All be better soon…”

  No help.

  He couldn’t spread his legs to brace that last arm length. Done wrong, her weight would flip them both off the cornice.

  Nystruul’s hiss came from above. “Hecate awaits you, savant. Hurry. Your star soon strays to the heavens.”

  He must concentrate. Forget the avatar. Save Sarai.

  Her hands were spaced apart and when he pulled her close he gripped so as not to smash her fingers.

  “All right, this is going to be scary.” Odin, yes, it would be. He needed to jerk her up to where he could grab her around the waist. No margin for error. Do it wrong and they toppled off.

  “Elemental,” she whispered.

  “Here we go,” Bannor said. He bent his knees and tensed his arms. Sarai’s head lay at the level of his toes. He must heave her from there to shoulder level in one clean motion without throwing himself off balance.

  It made him wish he’d practiced more in the contests, where men demonstrated their strength. The snatch was little different than this.

  “On three,” he spoke as much for himself as Sarai. He focused. His heart pounded. His chest became a solid mass of burning. “One-two-three!”

  His arms went taut and his knees straightened as he wrenched on the line with all his remaining strength.

  Sarai gave a cry as she lurched upward. Perhaps it was instinct or Bannor’s fervent desire; she grabbed for him.

  Eyes clenched shut, Sarai’s arms locked around his neck as he captured her around the waist. “Got you!”

  The balancing rope around his waist slipped. They both started to topple. He gasped and threw out a gripping hand as a horrible queasy out-of-control feeling shocked through his limbs.