I don’t even know if he’s safe.
The thought makes me cringe with regret. I did what I thought was necessary, but I left them all behind to deal with the aftermath without me. What if I never make it back to them?
Squinting out to the horizon, all that’s before me is sand. Lots and lots of it. The landscape is foreign, the region inhospitable. All I have to go on is the sun’s location still locked in the sky and impressions I received from Adrian.
I run my tongue over my parched lips, wondering how much longer I can survive without a larger water supply. The tiny pool I discovered has run dry and it’s only a matter of time before I dehydrate completely. My stomach grumbles, empty. Time is running out and I have nowhere to turn to. No one to turn to.
Brushing the sand off my legs, I slowly pull my NanoTech jacket back on, careful not to disturb my blistered skin as I leave the safety of the rocky alcove. I clutch the Caudex to my chest and trudge through the drifts. The sun blares down, making the suit unbearably hot, but I already know what happens if I leave it off.
I’ve walked for days, trying to find some sort of clue to why I was left here. Any clues to lead me to my next destination, but all I’ve seen is more sand. There are no birds, no creatures of any kind stirring…just me and my book. I lift the Caudex above my head, trying to shield the sun from my eyes as I walk, but after a while the weight of it is unbearable.
In the distance is an outcropping of stones, much larger than any I’ve seen so far. I make it my destination as I continue onward. The ground begins to look more like a vast ocean spread out in front of me.
Keep going, Runa. You’re almost there.
Sweat cascades down my back and my legs give out.
“Just a second…to rest.”
The Caudex lands in a heap in front of me. Wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, I squint in the distance to my destination. It seems just as far away now as it was when I started.
The breeze picks up, sending sand flying around me. The pages of the Caudex flip back and forth furiously, and I reach out to grab it before some of the brittle pages rip. As I do, an enormous set of black claws extend from the open pages, reaching outward from inside the book and into the sand storm around me. With a mixture of amazement and horror, I step back as a muscular black arm follows, then a large black face. As realization dawns, I squelch my scream and scramble back, trying to put distance between myself and the emerging Salamander.
Effortlessly, it slinks out of the Caudex, then stomps from side to side, huffing and hissing at me.
“Stay back. Do you hear me?” I scream at the creature, kicking sand its direction.
A long pink tongue flickers out, as if mocking me for my feeble attempts. The Salamander slinks from beside the book, making its way toward me, despite my protests.
I grab a rock the size of my fist and hold it above my head.
“Don’t move or I’ll be forced to use this.” I warn, unsure if the Salamander has any idea what I’m even saying. Truthfully, it doesn’t matter— it will know soon enough if I’m forced to use it.
I quickly scan the open desert around me, watchful of any reinforcements—other Salamanders, juncos—Videus. The Salamander halts in front of me, turning its head from side to side, sizing me up. Blue flickers of electricity zap between its toes, making me extremely uneasy.
Whatever you’re going to do…do it. I don’t have all day.
With a final huff, the Salamander spins around, its tail slamming into my hand and knocking the stone clear out of my grasp. It lands a good ten meters away with a soft thud.
Surprised, I scramble on my hands and knees for a larger stone. The Salamander wastes no time, rushing back to me. Its face is inches from mine and it lets out a shrill cry like nothing I’ve ever heard. The reverberation sends a shiver up my spine. Instinctively, I cover my ears and lower my head. The squeal abruptly stops and I wait with my eyes squeezed shut for its inevitable attack. When nothing happens, I take a chance and look up.
The Salamander watches me closely, tilting its head to the side. I swear its ice blue eyes see right through me. For a moment, I forget myself and lean inward. The corner of its lip pulls back in a snarl. Then it closes the last few inches between us, its breath foul, like it recently ate something rotten.
Perhaps it did.
After a moment of standing utterly still, it again spins in its spot, and begins to saunter away. When he reaches the Caudex, he nudges the book shut and glances back at me.
“Hey—don’t you touch that,” I call after the beast, pushing to a stand.
Startled into movement, I rush to the book I’m meant to guard with my life. The Salamander huffs, as if reprimanding me. Confused, I pick up the Caudex, clutching it to my chest and step back, watching the Salamander closely. I cock my head to the side, narrowing my eyes.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask, more for myself than for the creature.
As if understanding my words, the Salamander looks into the distance at the rock outcropping I’ve been trying to reach—then returns its gaze to me.
“Oh, no…not on your life,” I say as a strange understanding settles in, “If you think we are going there together—or worse—you’re deluded. I don’t care if you came out of the Caudex.”
Again, the Salamander huffs. However, this time, he starts walking, leaving me in the full blaze of the sun alone. For a moment, I watch, partly relieved he’s on his way. A more annoying part of me is telling me to follow it; that I shouldn’t be so stubborn.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I shake my head, and take a seat in the sand, “Kani would tell me I was mental if I followed it. She’d be right.”
After all I’ve been through with these creatures, there’s no way I’m going the same direction. They have a direct connection with Videus and the last thing I need right now is to be taken over—or captured. The little blue stone around my neck glows brightly, tugging itself toward the Caudex. Curious, I crack open the monolith to see if there’s new information. Flipping through slowly, page after page is still blank.
My eyes rest on the two passages which have been there from the very beginning:
In the age of the elders, the acropolis served as the source of foundation for all of Pendomus—long before the invasion of dying Earth. The structure was the most beautiful in the world, truly a spectacular sight. Inhabitants of Pendomus kept the site sacred above all others. When humanity released its scourge upon the land, nature conspired to protect the acropolis, burying it deep within itself. Creation itself split apart into five equal fragments. Each held its own special gift, none more important than the others. They hid themselves away, waiting for the day their gifts could be resurrected to restore balance to Pendomus.
My eyes fall to the five-petaled flower drawn in glowing metallic ink.
The Everblossom is the image used to invoke the five, and key to the one who can reclaim its purpose. Once known to grow even in the most frigid of storms, the Everblossom was finally destroyed when humanity laid waste with their misguided efforts to terraform the planet. All cycles of Pendomus ground to a halt as the planet was locked to the closest star in an attempt to eradicate the new inhabitants.
I shake my head. Of course there was life here before; it has always been obvious to me, despite the history. The trees were examples of that.
Before my eyes, as if being written by an invisible hand, these words appear:
The original inhabitants of Pendomus were known as the Four Pillars. They connected all elements of Pendomus into a cohesive elemental planetary system…Salamanders, Waterbears, AirGliders, and the elusive TerraDweller. Together, they managed and maintained the balance of all things. None was higher regarded than the other, but each was powerful beyond measure.
When humanity reigned down on the planet, it was the gentle Salamanders who were the first of the Pillars to come forth, offering their assistance and making their presence known. Feared for thei
r ability to conjure the element of creation and destruction, they were also the first to be manipulated and eventually, conquered by the humans.
As the AirGliders came to their aid, offering their intellect and support to relieve their comrades, many too were unable to maintain their distinction. Their minds were all too easily corrupted.
It was the Waterbears who were all but annihilated by the covert efforts of those they once trusted, their partners in balance. When the Salamanders and AirGliders were taken, the Waterbears were unaware of the shift in power. As the balance of the Four Pillars crumbled, only a handful of Waterbears remained.
The TerraDwellers remained stoic and centered. Refusing to engage in the initial battles, it was their lack of intervention, as perceived by the other three Pillars, to be the undoing of Pendomus. To this day, the TerraDwellers remain concealed, perhaps biding their time deep within the depths of Pendomus until the evidence of the prophecy’s initiation has come to pass.
I lean forward on the book, running my hands over my forehead.
So there is a prophecy.
What does it say? Why can’t they describe it here?
I sit back and shake my head. How could any of this be foretold? It doesn’t make logical, scientific sense.
“Wow, I just let my Helix show,” I snicker at my train of thought.
Logic gets you so far—but it’s not everything. There’s so much I’ve seen and experienced lately, and my training and education in the Helix never prepared me for it. Yet here I am, relying on old thought patterns.
The Salamander huffs nearby, then covers its nose beneath one of its paws as it lies down, waiting.
With a sideways glance at the large black creature, I return my gaze to the book.
The Helix was extremely efficient in drumming into our heads not to trust anything unless the scientific facts back them up. Part of me does agree—everything does have a scientific answer, but we just don’t have the know-how or tools to understand it yet.
A month ago, I could say with certainty, I had no concept of these creatures of the Four Pillars. So who knows what else could be hidden on Pendomus that no one is aware of.
Though the Caudex doesn’t go into specifics of their bodily types, I know I’ve seen the juncos known as the AirGliders. They were fairly obvious. Though I’m sure Caelum and his cronies really don’t want to be seen as the peaceful proponents of thought and reason.
I look up at the face of the Salamander who appears to be studying me closely. Obviously, I’ve dealt with them; and clearly the Waterbears. Well, Waterbear.
I lower the book to focus on the horizon beyond. I have, as of yet, to come across anything resembling a TerraDweller. How will I know one when I see it? What if they’re worse than the others? What if I do meet one? Will I come up against something I can’t handle?
What makes them so elusive? Are they dangerous?
Most of these details on the Pillars are ones I’ve heard before. Adrian told me most of this at the waterside of the pond when I had gone through the Tree, though she didn’t specifically call them this.
I cast my gaze to the rogue Salamander as it stands up, giving up on me as it starts tromping further and further away from me.
Okay, maybe I do get it. The Salamanders weren’t always bad. They were made to be that way—by us.
I glance down at the open pages, and sigh.
Follow her.
The words write themselves on the page, but vanish before I have the opportunity to look again. For a moment, I’m not even sure it was really there, but then the next sentence follows in its place.
She will guide you to where you need to be most.
I blink to a completely blank page.
Am I hallucinating? It could happen, considering the heat.
I close the Caudex and stand up. With the book tucked under my left arm, I shield my eyes with my right hand. A bubble of energy surrounds the Salamander, much like Tethys’ shield does for her.
“Fantastic. The first creature I see in days, and the one meant to help me is the same type of creature who tried to kill me and my friends,” I mutter, dragging my feet, but following after it.
I keep my distance, but the Salamander must recognize my presence, slowing its own pace to allow me to catch up. Wind whips a flurry of sand up and I turn my back and close my eyes. In the distance, I swear I hear the Salamander cackling.
Great, one of these creatures with a sense of humor. Just what I need.
I miss Tethys. Without a doubt, I could trust her.
The connection of safety is not evident with this Salamander, despite what the Caudex nudges me toward. Of course, my brain rebels. There is a nagging piece in the back of my mind reminding me trust with Tethys wasn’t always there, either. In fact, she was the most feared thing on the planet before I was able to communicate with her. After our first encounter, I had every reason to be scared to death of her.
When I reach the Salamander, I continue walking. The ice blue eye on the side of her head briefly glances my direction and she huffs, looking away as she carries onward.
We walk in complete silence, neither one of us seeming to want to give in to any kind of truce. After a while, though, the full brunt of the sun’s heat begins to wear on me. Sweat pools in the small of my back and beads across my forehead and neck. My lips are parched and right now, the only thing on my mind is finding someplace with water.
The large rock outcropping is finally growing closer, but by my calculations is still an hour or two off. Much too long.
I feel the stare of the Salamander as her eyes briefly flicking from our path, to me.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, more for myself, than for her.
She snorts, but it sounds almost like an indignant laugh; as if she knows something I don’t.
I raise my eyebrows and turn to look at her.
“Do you mind?” I say, “I don’t appreciate the tone.”
For a moment, I’m completely serious, staring into the bottomless blue depths of the Salamander’s eyes. We both stop our progress and I bend over, laughing.
I’m completely projecting my own thoughts onto the Salamander, not the other way around.
Her curious eyes watch me, but I laugh even harder. It feels good to laugh—even to have someone to project thought onto, considering I’ve been alone for a couple of days. I never realized how much I enjoy the company of others—whether inside my head, or beside my body.
“Come on. Let’s do this,” I say, shaking my head.
My feet feel heavy as I drag onward, training my eyes on the destination on the horizon.
I can make it if I just keep going…
After a short distance, inky black tendrils creep in from the sides of my vision and I drop to my knees.
“I think I need to take a—break,” I say, bending forward and clutching at the sand.
I feel my body dropping as darkness takes me over completely.
Drip, drip, drip.
I lick my lips, trying to find my voice to ask for some water. A gritty, cracked texture meets my tongue, and I open my eyes.
Surrounded by complete darkness, I blink hard, expecting something to change. When it doesn’t, I clamber to my hands and knees, feeling around at the space in front of me. Cold, wet, and rocky is the landscape beneath me. I stand up, nearly slipping as I do. Beside me, something growls and I freeze, completely still.
There’s something in here with me. But where is here?
Suddenly I remember the Salamander, the trek to the outcropping and I take a tentative step back.
“If…” my voice wavers, “…if that’s you—please, just…let me know.”
There’s a scratching sound, then an electrical charge builds beside me. The hair on the top of my head begins to rise and flames burst from the feet of the Salamander. Blue lines of electricity jump from the flames, zapping between its toes, connecting to the arcs from its other feet.
I inch toward the wall, nodding.
At least it’s only her.
But how did I get here? What about the Caudex?
I search the ground beside where I was and find it resting a meter or so away.
“Did you bring me here? What happened?” I ask, eyeing the Salamander.
She tips her head in acknowledgment and stomps toward me. Backing away quickly, her head nudges my knee, pushing me deeper into the tunnel.
“Stay back, please. I’m not ready,” I say, trying to sound strong, even if my insides are something quite to the contrary.
She continues to advance, huffing and swaying in a strange kind of dance as I continue to edge backwards.
“If you brought me here, that’s great and all, but I’m really not in the mood to figure you out right now. So, if you don’t mind…” my voice cracks, but I continue, “I’ll be on my way from here. Alone.”
With that, my foot sinks into a pool of water, sloshing around my NanoTech boot and up to my knee. My boot and trousers instantly turn black, as they start working to expel the moisture.
My parched lips scream at me and without thought, I bend down, scooping as much of the water as I can into my cupped hands. I pull the cold, wet liquid to my lips and drink it in deeply. Over and over again I refill, drinking until my stomach aches and my lips are sated. My belly rumbles with the first ounce of anything hitting the depths of my stomach in a long time. When I can’t drink another drop I take a seat against the stoney wall, giving my insides a moment to calm down.
The Salamander sits a few meters away, watching me as I glance up. Its head is slightly cock-eyed and tilted, as her heavy black eyelids slide open and closed.
I take a deep breath and sigh.
“Thank you,” I finally say, nodding my head in acknowledgment.
The Complete Pendomus Chronicles Trilogy: Books 1-3 of the Pendomus Chronicles Dystopian Scifi Boxed Set Series Page 24