Waiting for what? Waiting for the end. It was not fear that gripped him; it was the realization that he had given in to the notion of his own powerlessness. Swallowing the dust in the tunnel had stopped him. He had almost died. He hadn’t saved himself. Someone, the dwarf captain, he thought, had lifted him off the ground and brought him out into breathable air with a single move. He couldn’t even save himself. A sense of great shame overcame him. His eyes became moist and his lips tightened. He lifted himself from the stone step and slid against the wall for support as he rose to his feet. He took off the scarf about his neck, and with it he beat the dust off his body. He pushed off the wall and started moving up the stairwell. He brushed away the tears streaming down his cheeks, and his strength returned with each step.
Ty pressed forward after his companions. As he reached the slit window in the tower, the sound of the battle raging outside grew more intense. He peered through the slit in the outer tower wall. He felt his eyes capture a strange sight, a peculiar movement in the chaotic scene. He stepped back down to the slit and pressed against the inner wall so as not to be seen. He could see the enraged gnolls moving about the ruins. He searched for the trolls, for he could hear and feel their steady pounding. He leaned closer to the narrow window. This time he saw clearly what his young hunter eyes had only detected—a jagged shadow emerging behind the crumbling stone wall of the steps on a raised landing. He held back and waited. Soon a low, bent creature stepped back into view.
The form was a man, not a beast, and he stared intently at the tower wall. Ty watched, his heart pounding. He knew this man! His gaunt stature, bent frame and gray hair were unmistakable. The man glanced up at the slit window in the tower wall, and in an instant, their eyes met. Ty pulled back into the shadow as he had done when he first passed by. The man had been watching the slit window. He must have seen the others pass by, thought Ty. He turned and charged up the spiral staircase to rejoin his companions.
He had seen this man before!
Chapter 29
Judging by the variations in light and temperature, Kalo reasoned it had been two days since the Shimmerstrand took him captive. Trapped among the twisting vines and vegetation, he struggled to move his muscles and stretch his limbs. But the vines held him firm. They wrapped around his legs, arms, and torso, and no matter how hard he tried, he was held fast. Two days before, the vines had tightened as if they intended to slowly constrict the life from him, but now they were no longer tightening. They only held him motionless. At least now he could breathe easily; that was an improvement, he thought. When the Shimmerstrand first grasped him, it wrapped his head in a mass of vines, gagging his mouth and shutting off the air into his lungs. In time, he managed to chew through the vine blocking his mouth to ease his breathing.
As he hung suspended in the mass of vines, he tried to piece together the events that had brought him to this crisis. He had carried out the task and cut the captive dwarf free as he had been told. He’d even helped in a small way to rescue the crippled gava. He had not done much, but he had helped. Fighting with the gnolls as they retreated had been strenuous, but quite exhilarating, he admitted to himself. He had cut a few gnolls and had managed to stay out of their reach, he noted with some self-satisfaction. Hanging in the vine mass, it was impossible for him to examine his body for wounds, but he was quite certain he had not even been cut.
The pain he felt was the stiffness in his muscles from being held in one position for so long. At times, when it became excruciating, he would try to scream. No one responded, and the reality of being alone settled upon him. Abandoned—that was his feeling.
Two days earlier, during the battle on the surface, he had felt he belonged, but the primary emotion he experienced then was fear. Fighting other creatures, even gnolls, was not for him. Hasdel and Quillen’s intervention had been most welcome, and he had been thrown to the rear as they retreated. He had wanted out of the mayhem.
He could still remember hearing Ty call out. He had answered, but he did not hear his friend call again. As he was being driven back, back across the Shimmerstrand—to his own safety—his fear for Ty had grown stronger with each step away from danger. The closer he had come to the safe side of the gorge, away from the gnolls, the greater his fear for the life of his closest friend. Suddenly, the need to rush to Ty’s aid had overwhelmed him. He’d bolted forward into the onrushing gnolls and fallen instantly. Beneath the fury of the battle raging above, his legs had been caught up in the tangled web of vines. He had raised himself and begun to crawl free of the vines and the churning legs of the gnolls, who were oblivious to his presence beneath them. Then the Shimmerstrand had begun to sway. He’d tried to raise himself but was crushed by the stampeding gnolls into the mass of vines anchoring the Shimmerstrand to the bank. Falling into the growth, he had been drawn down immediately.
He had moved to lift and free himself but was only pulled deeper into the tangled maze of vines. At first, he thought it was the weight of the battle above pushing him into the vines below. But as he scrambled on his stomach, he could feel the coarse strands of vegetation entwining themselves around his limbs and body, wrapping around his face like a muzzle, drawing him downward like a rock sinking into the sea. With each surge of the battle, he had sensed the pull and force of its weight. Trapped in the web of vines, he felt the Shimmerstrand flailing in the fight. With each thrust of the fight on the bridge, the hold on him had tightened as if he were responsible for the battle above. He could still remember how helpless he felt, unable to move and voiceless to cry out. As he hung, motionless, the sounds of fighting above and the churning of the vines had blended into a dull hum. With each passing moment he had grown weaker until finally he closed his eyes and lay still in the clutches of vine mass.
The ceaseless aching throughout his body had taken its toll; he had given up his struggle. He had succumbed to his prison, and his only solace was to finally allow himself to drift into sleep.
Perhaps it was the lack of nourishment or the strange circumstances of his capture, but occasionally, in his sleep state, he thought he heard a voice speaking to him. Each time, he would snap awake and clear his mind of the delusions. Then he would feel the hunger deep in his stomach, the thirst in his throat. He knew he was growing weak and losing his sense of reality. A terror gripped him, for he was beginning to understand that it was only a matter of time before he would ultimately accept his fate and become a permanent addition to the tangled vines and vegetation.
He was fully awake now. Again, as he had in his sleep state, he heard the voice, clearer this time. Closing his eyes, he blocked out the sights before him and strained to listen. It was not just one voice, he suddenly realized. It was voices, voices of young women like the fair-skinned girl in Riverlok. They all spoke the same words in unison, like a chorus. Again and again they called to him.
Who are you? What have you done to me? Who are you? What have you done to me?
It went on and on in his mind. He opened his eyes and frantically searched for the source of the sound among the vines wrapped around him. He could not see anything. As he twisted, small dried twigs snapped about him. The sound of the breaking bits of wood was alone in the air. He heard the snapping plainly. There was no other sound mixed in. There were no voices calling in the air. Yet the words were pounding in his mind. And then he realized he wasn’t hearing the words; he felt the words.
Who are you? What have you done to me?
He became aware that he was slipping into a state of delirium. The pain in his body and the relentless words without sound finally overcame him, and he answered aloud. “My name is Kalo!”
Those were the first words he had spoken in over two days, since he had called out to Ty. His voice was weak and strained. Abruptly the voices of the young women calling to him stopped. There was silence, and it startled him alert. Instantly, he forgot the pain that surged through his body and the ache in his stomach from the lack of food and water.
Blinking as he shift
ed his eyes from side to side, he sensed his body was caught and held in such a way that he was looking down through the vines toward the ground. He could see reflected light and some warmth so that he sensed it was daytime. He listened attentively to the silence. Then it happened. He felt the words.
Kalo, what have you done to me?
Chapter 30
It took a moment for Kalo to realize the nest of vines had called him by name. They must have heard him! He answered aloud. “I haven’t done anything to you! Why do you hold me?”
There was no answer for a time. Then it came.
Kalo, I am hurt. I am torn in so many places. What have you done to me?
Kalo was silent. After a time, he asked, “Are you the Shimmerstrand?”
I have many names, and that is one. You may call me Shimmerstrand if you wish.
He felt the vines about him loosen slightly. He did not test them. He bore the pain a little longer. “Can I move?” he asked. His bonds immediately slackened, but he did not move.
Will you help me?
“Yes,” Kalo replied as he began to move for the first time in days. His muscles ached. Each twist was painful, so he moved slowly, pressing against the walls of his vine tomb as he carefully lifted himself up. He rolled over and could now see for the first time where he was.
The brightness of the overcast sunlight through the vines caused him to squint almost to the point of closing his eyes. He had been held deep in a nest of vines, fifteen feet from the surface and fifty feet below the edge of the chasm. From what he could remember, he doubted that he had fallen in this deep. He had to have been deliberately drawn down.
Slowly, he grasped the thick vines and began to climb out of the mesh of growth. It took time, as he was both cautious and tired. The vines that had held him captive were now his ladder to freedom. Steadily Kalo made progress toward the top. Each foothold brought him closer to his freedom. When he was able to raise his head and arms into the open air, he closed his eyes and stretched his limbs. Gradually he opened his eyes to the light of day, allowing the gentle warmth of the sun to soak his weary body. Finally, he found the last bit of strength in his tired muscles, placed his hands on the vines about him, and lifted his legs out of the entanglement. When he emerged from the vines, he startled a flock of vultures feeding on the last scraps of gnoll remains near the north entrance to the Shimmerstrand.
He scanned the surrounding land where he and his companions had fought the gnolls three nights earlier. Useless fragments of weaponry and armor littered the matted grassland. The corpses of the gnolls, picked apart by hungry vultures and other scavengers, dotted the area in front of the Shimmerstrand where the battle had raged the hardest. The odor of the dead was less severe, but similar to the stench at the site of the massacre five days earlier. But he had been through much since then, and its effect on his senses was not the same. Kalo turned and looked across the great chasm. He was alone. He clawed his way up the vine heap that had anchored the north gate of the ancient vine bridge and touched the ground for the first time in three days.
He was alive, but a great loneliness gripped him. He had looked upon the Shimmerstrand as his captor for all these days, and now, suddenly, he felt she was his liberator and dear friend and he had left her without a word of gratitude. As soon as he stepped away from the nest of vines, he no longer heard the chorus of the maidens’ voices. He now realized he had listened to their soft gentleness constantly for three days and never tired of hearing them. It wasn’t until the third day that he became conscious of their speaking to him, but he knew now that they had always been there, calling out to him. Even in the imprisonment of the vines, their voices were distinct from the pain. They were more than separate; they helped him bear it. He was free of the vines, but he longed for the Shimmerstrand. He reached back and touched her as though compelled by an unseen force. In his mind, she responded.
Are you hungry, Kalo?
“Yes, and thirsty.”
Movement occurred instantly throughout the nest. Suddenly a small rodent appeared on the surface, bearing a nut. Kalo was startled at first; then he watched with wonder as the nest of vines came alive. More and more creatures, squirrels, mice, and birds, deposited nuts and berries and a gorge of water. Then they vanished as quickly as they had appeared. Kalo stepped forward. He tasted the food tentatively at first, then sat down on a heap of vines and feasted. It was as delicious a meal as he had ever had. When he was finished, he reclined in a bed of vines, closed his eyes, and relaxed his limbs. He had never felt so peaceful. A sense of comfort and serenity overtook him, and he fell gently asleep and rested there. As day turned to night, he came into a half-awakened state several times. But each time, he closed his eyes and let the slumber take him.
At dawn the next morning, he awoke. He was resting on his back, eyes closed, and his mind raced to reconstruct his last few days in the Shimmerstrand when he felt her speak to him.
Will you help us, Kalo?
“Yes,” answered the Riverman, still lying on the bed of vines with his eyes closed. “In any way I can. But would you tell me who you are? How you came to be? How is it I can hear you?”
We speak to all men who pass over us. But you are only the second man to hear us in forever time. We would love to tell our story.
And so the chorus of voices began to sing its tale. Kalo kept his eyes closed as he lay back to listen.
In a time long ago, a great war rose up among the races. Men, dwarves, and elves fought against the beasts of the evil power. It was a terrible war, and many lives were lost. But there were many brave warriors. One such group was a band of young elven archers. They were trapped on the northern side of the great chasm as hordes of gnolls were pressing in on them from all directions. Their only escape was to the south across the chasm and then back to their home, Ilmyria, the land of the elves. There was no way across, and all seemed lost. Each elven warrior prepared to fight and to die. Many took out the locks of hair their lovers had given them to carry into battle, as is the custom among the elves. It was then that a plan was formed from their yearning to be reunited with their maidens at home. They would braid the locks of the maidens into a long strand and shoot it across the chasm. They would then escape across the strand. That is what they did, and the power of their desire to return gave the locks of their loved ones the power and strength to bear them home. The strand so shimmered from the power that its light blinded their pursuers and no one could cross after them. In time, over hundreds of years, the power turned the strands into a living vine. And that is our story.
“It’s a beautiful story,” said Kalo. “And I shall tell it over and over.” For the first time, he heard joy in the voices of the maidens. “Now, how can I help you?”
We are hurt, Kalo. We cannot see, so we do not know what to do. Please tell us what has happened and what we can do.
Kalo climbed down from the heap of vines and walked to the edge of the chasm. The Shimmerstrand was torn in two. Half of the vine hung from the north bank and half hung from the south bank. The chasm fell straight down to the river below on each side. No one could descend the cliff. Even if Kalo climbed down the torn vines, it would not reach the base of the chasm. There was nothing he could do. Kalo walked up to the Shimmerstrand and placed his hand on a vine. “I am afraid there is nothing I can do,” said Kalo.
What is it, Kalo?
“The vines are severed. There is no way to reconnect them,” answered Kalo.
What can we do, Kalo?
“Nothing. The vines cannot be reattached. I cannot reach the ends,” said the young Riverman.
Tell us what to do, Kalo.
“Can you bring the two ends together? I think not,” replied Kalo. The Shimmerstrand did not answer. Instead, a flurry of activity began in the vines. Again, mice, squirrels, and other small creatures appeared in abundance about the Shimmerstrand, cutting free broken ends and tying other ends together. Small birds circled overhead. One by one, they tried to lift the torn en
ds of the vine from the chasm. Then pairs tried to lift the torn ends, with little success.
“The birds are too small to lift the main vines,” called out Kalo. He understood now that he was the eyes of the Shimmerstrand. As he spoke, a small flock of birds rose into the sky and vanished from sight. Kalo was growing into his role. “The mice could bind the tied vines,” he suggested. He continued to give direction. The small Shimmerstrand creatures worked to repair the vine bridge all through the morning. Kalo supervised their work and reported to the Shimmerstrand, who in turn directed the creatures of the vine. Occasionally, without his request, the creatures brought food to Kalo. There was a bustle of activity on the vine bridge. Kalo’s instructions grew less involved. Small improvements were made, and soon the project came to a halt.
Are we finished, Kalo?
Kalo looked over the vine bridge. The vines were trim, with strong ties connecting torn vines where they could. But it was inescapable: the main vines remained severed in the middle. Half of the Shimmerstrand hung down the north wall of the chasm, and the other half hung down the south wall.
Kalo answered, “We have done all we can, Shimmerstrand. It’s over. I’m afraid I cannot connect you.” He let his body collapse as he dropped onto the nest of vines. His mind was in a daze. What troubled him most was that he had known this regretful end was coming from the very start. He had allowed himself to become caught up in the excitement of the work and had deceived the Shimmerstrand by his enthusiastic participation. He was now more than embarrassed; he was ashamed. “It’s hopeless,” said Kalo finally.
The Ruins of Melda Page 17