The Infinite Expanse (The Journals of Krymzyn Book 2)

by BC Powell

  Everything she says sounds logical—yet none of it really makes sense. As I’ve learned, my mantra in Krymzyn really has to be “go with the flow.” What may seem impossible to me is just part of normal life here.

  I reach my spears over her head and hold them across the center of her chest. Making sure not to strangle her, I position my arms around her shoulders. When I jump on her back, she barely flinches at my weight. Looping her arms under my legs, she keeps her own spears tight in each hand and pointing forward. Once I’m securely in place, she jogs out of the valley and into the meadow.

  Digging her legs into the ground, my body apparently no burden at all, Sash soon reaches a sprint. At the perimeter of the outstretched branches of the sustaining tree, she cuts sharply to our left. The sudden jolt—much more severe than those I’ve felt with Tela or Larn—almost kicks me off her. As beams shoot out of her body and surround me, I have to squeeze the shafts of the spears with all my strength just to stay on.

  Hills and meadows pass by us in a blur while the rush of air stings my skin. Before I can even begin to estimate where we are, our speed evaporates with the force of an implosion inside a vacuum. We glide to a stop on top of a hill above the enormous Tree of Vision.

  “Unreal!” I exclaim, climbing off her back.

  She turns to me. “Were you able to feel how I separated my particles?”

  “To be honest,” I answer, “I don’t think I had time. I kind of felt you separate, but it all happened so fast.”

  “We’ll try again later, and I’ll go slower.”

  With my skin still prickling from the blast of air, I walk beside Sash down the side of the hill. Standing near the edge of the meadow at the bottom, Eval and Tork wait for us. The gargantuan dark red branches of the Tree sway in front of the cloudy sky despite the lack of breeze, and the lemon-yellow leaves softly rustle in the air. When we reach Eval and Tork, orange strands blazing in their black hair, they both bow to me.

  “We welcome you to your life in Krymzyn,” Eval says graciously.

  I return their bow. “I feel great honor being here,” I say, using the word that seems to carry more weight than any other in Krymzyn.

  Eval steps forward, towering over me. The strength lurking in her toned six-foot-six frame is a striking contrast to the elegant beauty of her facial features.

  “I’m sure Sash told you that I suggested you take as much time as you need to acclimate to your life here,” she says. “Only when you feel comfortable should you begin your Apprenticeship.”

  “I don’t think it will take me too long,” I reply. “I like to tackle things head on.”

  “I’ve noticed that about you.”

  As I study Eval’s black-lined amber eyes, just as they did many years ago, they truly remind me of Sash’s eyes. Not just the way they peer inside me, but the way they actually look. If I were painting Sash and Eval side by side, I could duplicate the first pair of eyes to create the second.

  “The reason I summoned you,” Eval continues, “is to discuss the matter you brought to our attention regarding the Serquatine and Murkovin.”

  “I’m glad you did. Have you found anything?”

  Eval turns to Tork, apparently wanting him to answer. The sharp angles to his features and the almost constant scowl on his face remind me of the fear I felt the first time I saw him. But during every encounter with him since, my respect and admiration for the man have grown.

  “I’m in the process of leading the Watchers on a thorough search of the banks around the Delta. We’ve completed inspecting most of the eastern banks on this side of the river but haven’t found any signs of where they might come out of the water.”

  “How do they normally get across?” I ask.

  “They sometimes climb under the bridge,” he replies. “At narrow points in the river, they’ve been able to suspend rope using hooks thrown across the water. The Murkovin who can blend their light do so over the water of the river. They find ways.”

  “People can blend their light over water?”

  “Only during Darkness,” Sash says. “The reflections from the water during light are too extreme, and it’s almost impossible to find light moving in one direction. Your particles can be torn apart, killing you instantly.”

  I nod to her, realizing there’s a lot more I need to learn about blending my light if I’m actually going to accomplish it. “Even if they make it into the Delta,” I say, returning my attention to Tork, “it seems like they wouldn’t have much chance of success.”

  “When thirst for sap consumes them,” he replies, “they lose all conscious thought. You have to remember that the Delta is quite large and very few people dwell here. If they cross the river and scale the wall at a gap between Watchers, we may not even be aware of their presence. They can quickly rip a limb from a sustaining tree or attempt to attack a person for blood before escaping.”

  “We’re also considering another one of your theories,” Eval adds. “They may have used the Serquatine you saw to tow them across the river. Serquatine have tremendous strength in water as well as the ability to calm the flow. If a Murkovin kept a weapon at her neck, she could easily pull four or five across the river, even with her arms and legs tied. They could have then scaled the wall unseen.”

  “How do they get over the walls?” I ask.

  “I assume you’ve seen the ladders on the inside of the wall,” Eval says.

  “I’ve noticed them,” I reply, referring to the steel ladders spaced about a mile apart.

  “They’ve learned the approximate location and throw rope with hooks attached over the wall. The Constructs periodically move the position of the ladders, but the Murkovin run along the outside of the wall until their hooks catch the steel.”

  “Don’t the Watchers see them?”

  “There are only fourteen Watchers on the wall at any given time. The way they’re spread out leaves a three-mile section for each of them to guard. During Darkness, the other fourteen Watchers stand watch on hills inside the wall. A Watcher may not be able to reach the ladder prior to a Murkovin climbing over.”

  “Maybe you should increase the number of Watchers,” I say.

  “The population of the Watchers has always been, and will always be, the number of balance. Never forget that all things in Krymzyn exist the way they are for a purpose.”

  While glancing at the outstretched boughs of the Tree, I consider the different scenarios. “If Balt was helping them,” I eventually say to Tork, “it would have been a lot easier for them to enter.”

  “That appears to be the case,” he replies with a hint of anger in his voice. “It’s become quite apparent that Balt was providing aid to them.”

  “I never doubted that he was,” I remark.

  “We searched his habitat. He had numerous items a Watcher wouldn’t typically have. A shovel, chisel, hammer, and pick—all tools of the Constructs. There were also several long lengths of rope.”

  “Darkness is coming!” Sash interrupts.

  I turn to her, but she’s squinting up at the clouds. She drops to one knee and rests a hand on the grass.

  “Larn, meet me at the Empty Hill. Darkness is falling.”

  “We’ll speak again soon,” Eval says, bowing to me. “We wanted to update you on our progress as well as to welcome you to Krymzyn.”

  “Thank you,” I reply.

  Sash firmly tugs at my shirt, so I run behind her up the side of the hill. By the time we reach the top, the light begins to recede, the clouds darken while churning into motion, and silver beads of rain begin to fall.

  “Jump on!” Sash yells.

  The moment I’m on her back with my spears across her chest, she locks my legs into place and sprints down the slope. The whiplash isn’t as strong as it was when we came to Sanctuary since traveling speed is reduced during Darkness, I once learned. Even with almost no light, we cover several miles in a matter of seconds.

  After we reach the top of the Empty Hill, Sash lets go
of my legs. When my feet are on the ground, she throws her practice spear to the grass, takes mine from my hand, and tosses it beside hers.

  “Be at the ready,” she says.

  I crouch with my real weapon in front of me, rain pounding down from a blackened sky above. A flash of light crosses over the next hill and streams across the meadow. Curving around the dark red tree branches lashing through the air, the light recedes into Larn sprinting up the slope.

  “Stay with Chase!” Sash screams to him.

  She charges down the hill just as Larn reaches my side. I’m hypnotized by Sash as she agilely bounds through the perilous branches. Like a world-class gymnast, she maneuvers the limbs with a combination of a ballerina’s grace and a samurai’s strength. In seconds, she’s spiking the tree with stakes from her pack.

  “Don’t watch Sash!” Larn shouts at me. “Keep your eyes on the hills!”

  Furious at myself for not remembering that I have a duty during Darkness, I search the hills for any sign of Murkovin. I slowly turn back and forth, scouring one side of the stormy countryside while Larn keeps watch on the other.

  After a few minutes pass, I look in the direction of the tree. The clouds overhead still froth in place while rain pelts our bodies. Sash is already removing stakes from the trunk, pausing each time she takes one out with her cheek pressed to the bark for only a second. When all seven spikes are in her pack, she sails through the whipping branches and sprints up the hill to where Larn and I wait.

  “This may be a long Darkness,” Sash yells over the downpour. “I need more stakes from our habitat. I’ll meet you at the next tree to the east.”

  She dashes down the hill towards our habitat while Larn offers me his back. Sash and I both leave our training weapons in the grass but keep our real spears with us. As soon as I leap on Larn’s back and clutch the shaft across his chest, he runs to the east. Out of nowhere, maybe from the thought of Sash being alone at our habitat during Darkness, the words she spoke after my dream about the Murkovin shriek inside my head: “Bad dreams are often warnings.”

  “Stop!” I scream in Larn’s ear.

  He slides to an abrupt halt. “What’s the matter?” he shouts.

  “Go to our habitat as fast as you can! Sash is in danger!”

  Like a thoroughbred exploding out of the gate, Larn bolts in the same direction that Sash went. He cuts sharply around a hill and bursts into light at the valley leading to our habitat. When we reach the ravine near the door, he slips out of the beams, slamming to a stop on the wet grass.

  I jump from his back and race towards the tunnel with Larn following close behind. As I rush through the dark opening, a body pounds into my chest. Stumbling backwards, I whip my spear up in front of me but freeze when I see the collision was with Sash.

  “Why are you here?” she asks in surprise.

  “My dream,” I say, gasping for breath. “I thought you might be in trouble.”

  She flashes a smile at me. “Thank you. There were no Murkovin here.”

  With my heart still racing, I let out a sigh of relief. Sash hurries past me but suddenly stops to look up at the sky. The clouds slow to a standstill, scarlet light flickers through their edges, and the last silvery drops descend to the ground.

  Chapter 7

  “I hoped for a longer Darkness,” Sash says. “We’ve had so few recently, and I don’t want our supply of sap to run low.”

  “It’s strange how long we’ve gone without Darkness,” Larn comments.

  “When was the last one?” I ask.

  “Two morrows before your Ritual was the last,” Sash answers. “Four morrows have passed without Darkness.”

  “Is that uncommon?” I ask.

  “It can happen,” Larn replies, “but not often. This Darkness was exceptionally short in duration.”

  “Sorry about the false alarm,” I apologize to Larn. “I had a dream about Murkovin attacking our habitat.”

  “Never feel bad about having concern for the safety of others.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “I’ll get our things from the Empty Hill,” Sash says to me.

  “I’ll go with you,” I offer.

  “No,” Sash replies. “Stay here with Larn. It will be faster if I go alone.”

  “I’ll get our things, Sash. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it.”

  “I said I’ll get them,” she snaps.

  She instantly breaks into a sprint out of the ravine. I watch as she surges into light, confused by her sudden outburst.

  “Don’t try too hard,” Larn says. “Especially after Darkness.”

  “I just want her to know I’ll always help,” I reply, turning to him.

  “She knows. But sometimes, she doesn’t want help. She needs to be herself after Darkness.”

  “Why after Darkness?” I ask.

  “She wants to honor the tree. It’s part of being a Hunter, and something they usually do alone.”

  “She could have just told me,” I mumble.

  “She’s tired from Darkness, and it makes it difficult for her to control her temper. I’ve seen it several times.”

  I remember when, long ago, she unleashed her anger at Balt after Darkness, the indignation and outrage flowing out of her. And then, a few minutes later, her displeasure was directed at me when I made a negative comment about trees attacking people in Krymzyn. I know the difficulty she has controlling “extreme” emotions she feels from my world at times. I’ve seen it firsthand—especially anger.

  “Why does Darkness do that to her?” I ask.

  “It happens with all Hunters to a certain extent. They give so much of what’s inside them to take the sap, to ensure that the trees feel nurture and respect during the process. It drains them, especially Sash because she feels so much. Hunters are solitary, spending much of their time one on one with the trees and communing with them.”

  I don’t answer for a moment, realizing there’s still a lot about Krymzyn—and Sash—that I don’t know. “I was surprised at how quickly she seemed tired. We sparred for hours . . . twenty times as long as this Darkness lasted, and it barely seemed to affect her.”

  “She’ll always feel exhaustion after Darkness. It depletes her energy—more than just physically. You need to be aware of that.”

  “Thanks. I’ll remember,” I say. This is the first time I’ve been with Larn since the incident on the bridge, and I want to take advantage of the moment alone with him. “I felt really bad about what happened to Miel. I felt like I was responsible for her death.”

  “You can’t think that way,” he calmly replies. “The Murkovin would have attacked with or without you there. We needed to make that journey to the Mount for the items we brought back. If you hadn’t been with us, Sash wouldn’t have been there either. Not only Miel but also Tela and I probably would have been killed with that many Murkovin attacking. We only survived because of Sash.”

  “But I think they attacked because I was there. Or maybe because of Sash, but she wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for me. Balt wanted to kill her.”

  “While that may be true, as you’ll quickly learn, Travelers understand the risks we take. Danger is inherent to the tremendous speeds at which we travel. Frequent trips through the Barrens put us at risk of Murkovin attack. Just as Hunters may be injured by a tree during Darkness, Travelers face their own hazards.”

  “I still wish I could have done more in the fight,” I say. “But I was impressed by what a badass you are.”

  “Badass?” he repeats.

  “It’s a word for a really tough fighter in my world.”

  “Then I thank you for the compliment,” he says. “But I never could have defended Miel against that many Murkovin by myself. We were fortunate that Sash was there.”

  “She’s amazing in a fight,” I reply.

  “Better than anyone in Krymzyn,” Larn says.

  “How many Murkovin can Sash take on?”

  “I’ve seen he
r kill three Murkovin by herself in the Barrens. She could probably handle four or five. After that, they would overwhelm anyone, even her, but most of us have difficulty with more than one.”

  “I guess that doesn’t really surprise me,” I say.

  “Her physical and mental abilities are greater than any creature I’ve ever seen or heard of.” Focusing his eyes more intently on mine, he lowers the volume of his voice to almost a whisper when he speaks again. “But there’s a tiny part of her that she keeps hidden. I saw it in her when she was a child. That part of her is delicate and fragile, and she doesn’t always know how to protect it.”

  “I know,” I say, somewhat taken aback by the personal nature of the conversation. “I’ve seen it too, and I’d never do anything to hurt her.”

  “I trust that’s true. I believed so when you leapt into the river after her, something no one else here could have done. You never hesitated and would have given your life trying to save her.”

  “I absolutely would have. And I’ll do the same for anyone else here.”

  “That is our way,” he solemnly replies. “I indeed look forward to serving as your Mentor.”

  He turns his head towards Sash streaking around the base of the hill. When the light catches his face at a certain angle, I can’t believe that I hadn’t noticed the resemblance before. How could I have missed the same high cheekbones in a diamond-shaped face and the thin, straight nose? Sash’s lines are certainly more feminine than his sharp features, the curves of her cheeks and chin softer, and her lips fuller. But for that split second, I see Sash in his face. It’s an unmistakable resemblance.

  She stops in front of us with our training spears in one of her hands. As I look at her face, her eyes seem distant and tired. After the full “day” we’ve had, I realize I’m exhausted as well.

  “Unless you need me for something, I’ll be on my way,” Larn says.

  “Thank you, Larn,” Sash replies.

  “Chase,” Larn says to me, “let me know when you’re ready to begin your training.”