by Taylor Leigh
Sinsetun walked forward. He held in his leathery hands a clay jar. ‘Water!’ he bellowed. ‘Which is life giving! Your ability to ration this will show your strength.’ He handed the jar to Victoria. She gripped its rough handle and wondered how she was supposed to lug it all the way up the ridge.
Sinsetun pulled a jagged blade from his belt and held it up so it glinted in the light. ‘And steel! To keep you safe.’
Victoria took the blade and looked at it distastefully. She highly doubted a little knife would save her life in any situation she was likely to encounter. She wouldn’t be able to stop a jackal, much less a plunderer.
Her eyes locked with Reginald. He made a tight face and moved forward to grip her shoulders. ‘Be careful.’
Victoria stared into his dark eyes. ‘You too. I can’t help but think something is going on. Keep your eyes open, okay?’
Reginald’s face grew serious and he gave his head a curt nod.
The gates behind her groaned open. The entire group in front marched towards her as one, forcing Victoria to back up. She stumbled down the steps and before she realised what had happened the gates clanged closed in front of her. She was trapped outside. Her eyes locked with her mother’s through the wrought iron. Victoria glowered. This was something unforgivable.
The first kilometre was not hard. Despite Victoria’s late night it felt good to be out in an unfamiliar setting. A strange sense of adventure that she had never felt before had begun welling up inside of her and it was exhilarating. She had longed for this, hadn’t she? The destination wasn’t exactly ideal, but she was for the first time ever, completely free!
The morning wasn’t so hot and the road was easy going. The only disturbing element was hovering close over her head. The Dead World. It was the day of the Passing and Victoria figured she had at least ten hours, then it would no longer be safe outside. It would be rather tight trying to make it to the temple in time. Rather mental, she thought, to schedule her journey on the Passing of all days.
As she turned from the main road and started up the ridge, her spirits began to flag. The city behind her was still towering high, but it no longer blocked the sun. The road grew rockier and weaved along the very edge of the ridge, rising rapidly. She watched the slave processions far below winding off towards the mines. From this high, they looked like ants. Her muscles burned.
Victoria cursed the clothing she was forced to wear. Her sandals, covered in jangling charms, caught on every sharp rock, and her gossamer dress and headscarf didn’t breathe well, adding to the heat problem. If she didn’t have to meet anyone at the temple, she might have just stripped it off.
By midday she was struggling. The heat and lack of food made her weak and dizzy. She was beginning to feel odd. The desert shifted around her, as if the sand were some living, sinister thing. With every drink of water she took, a strange, dull feeling of confidence increased inside of her. Often, in surprise, Victoria realised how close she wandered towards the edge of the ridge. She hadn’t even been conscious of the fact.
She realised her sense of caution seemed to have completely left when she finished the last bit of water and threw the clay jug to the ground, where it shattered. Although she still had a long way to go, she had somehow managed to drink her entire supply of water in only a few hours. Frugality was not something she was well versed in. Still, she was mildly surprised and dismayed that she hadn’t been able to make it last longer. It was as if she couldn’t get enough of it. Like an addiction.
As the sun slid lower in the sky, it changed the desert to a completely different place. The shadows stretched long over the ground, turning into menacing figures. It was a haunting, bleak landscape, desolate and depressing, but the Dead World above kept everything aglow with a comforting, soft light. For once Victoria was grateful for the watchful planet.
An hour after nightfall, she began to notice vultures drifting about. Considering her pounding headache from lack of water, she wondered if they were waiting for her. The thought for some reason made her giggle.
She stumbled onward, dully aware of the fact that her resolve was failing. The vultures were what she kept her eyes on. They were circling a section of the road above her, zeroing in on something she couldn’t yet see. Victoria was desperate to make it at least that far. She didn’t have any hope of reaching the temple now. Now she simply wanted to reach the top of the next hill.
She finally reached the spot. The huge birds took to the skies with irritated cries and began circling again, clearly waiting for her to leave—or drop. Victoria stopped and leant over, trying to catch her breath. Her heart felt like it would explode. When she could manage, she turned round in a small circle on the spot; eyes searching the road, curious to what had interested the vultures. Nothing.
Then, a glint caught her eye, shining off the road, something hidden behind one of the many towering rock formations. Knowing it to be stupid, yet unable to resist, Victoria abandoned the path and tread beneath the shadows of the looming rocks. As Victoria approached, she realised what she had seen. A sword lying in the sand. What she saw lying next to it made her heart leap to her throat. It was the still body of a Denizen.
She backed up in horror and numbly began counting. Five. Five armed Denizens lying completely hidden from sight and rather still. Dead? She didn’t see any blood or wounds—not that she was keen on getting that close to investigate. They seemed so recently killed she could almost have sworn one of them moved.
Then one did. Very slowly. It muttered and dropped a goblet. Victoria watched as the chalice rolled to a stop in the sand. It had been so recently used that the insides were still wet.
Victoria’s heart began hammering. She looked round wildly and then back down to the sand. She noticed something else: boot prints. Had to be human. Denizens didn’t wear shoes. Panic began to fill her. Someone was up here and had, what—poisoned them? Why? What were they doing up here anyway?
She gazed at one of the swords lying in the dirt and felt her stomach sink. Sudden realisation trickled through her. She knew why they were up here. They were waiting for her. Even though it made no sense she suddenly knew it was true.
She turned to look back down the steep road she’d been travelling all day. She was much too far away to flee back to the palace. She couldn’t turn around. Even if she did, they would never let her in. Her eyes flicked back up the road towards the temple. She would probably be killed there, as well. The Denizens worked closely with the priestesses. If Victoria was thought to know something about their work with the pods, she wouldn’t make it out of the temple alive.
She stared down at the bodies for a long moment before slowly realising it was idiotic to be in the area as long as she had. She broke into a staggering run back to the road. Victoria knew she couldn’t stay out in the desert. If she was meant to die at the temple, it would be better than dying the horrible death that surely awaited her when the Passing occurred.
On and on the road went. Victoria was past the point of exhaustion; quite sure she would soon collapse into the dust and not rise again. She was fighting a losing battle over the urge to cry. Her muscles and throat ached and she didn’t know why she forced herself staggering onwards. She had nothing to relieve her thirst and cursed herself for downing her water so fast. Cold, wet air from the planet above her hit her skin, tantalising but out of reach. It felt like taking a drink of water and she wanted more.
She finally collapsed, gasping in great, heaving breaths for air. A sudden overwhelming sense of despair flooded her. Before she could stop herself, Victoria broke into hysterical sobs. What point was it all, honestly? Why was she killing herself running to her death? She was doomed anyway. If she went back, she’d be killed, if she went on, she’d be killed, probably after being tortured for information. If she stayed away from both places, she would die when the Passing hit.
She wrapped her arms around herself and doubled over, never feeling so helpless in her entire life. There was no way out.
Her eyes drifted up towards the edge of the cliff, and she sniffed heavily, trying to regain control of herself. Shakily, Victoria pushed herself up and staggered towards the ledge like a drunk. The stomach-lurching drop beneath her was enough to make her head spin. It made her giddy.
The cliff face was covered with giant mushrooms and spongy, thorny vines. Far down in the shadows, Victoria could just see the Bone Vault. Some of the bones were so massive she could make them out from this far away, but most were nothing more than a white blur. What was more visible were the pods drifting up into the bright sky above, rising from the pit far below.
She was flooded with hatred as she stared down at them. She hated the Denizens, hated the palace life she’d been living and bloody well hated the idiotic journey she was expected to go on now!
A quiet thought danced into her mind.
How easy it would be to simply step off the edge. Two little steps and she would plummet through the air, down, down, down, to the ground far below her. She was so high; she probably wouldn’t even feel the impact. She’d just be another bone on the pile. She trembled at the thought, but it festered in her mind, not letting go. If she simply jumped, she’d be free from them all, her mother, Reginald, the Denizens…
Victoria took a small, unsteady step towards the edge, feeling surprisingly calm.
‘Mind you don’t get too close!’
The voice startled Victoria so greatly she almost toppled from her precarious position. She whirled round, trying to fight down the overwhelming feeling of vertigo and came face-to-face with an odd man.
‘Who are you?’
He wasn’t a typical Scrabian, and though she would have normally found that suspicious, there was nothing sinister about him, either. As mental as it was, there was almost something comforting about his big brown eyes and kind, boyish face. In a quick glance she took in his dark hair, cut short and windblown and slanted, pointed nose which he gazed down to look at her. Everything about him was thin and gangly.
He was dressed like a middle layer citizen, but he had a threadbare, rumpled look about him. Whoever he was, he was definitely not rich. His trousers were well-worn and his baggy, un-tucked shirt was dusty, covered by a vest which was patched and mended. Though it was hot, he also sported a maroon breech coat that looked like he’d nicked from a nobleman. The coat, too, had clearly seen better days. As far as Victoria could tell, he had absolutely no business at the top of the crag. She glanced down. He was wearing boots and his tracks looked uncannily similar to the tracks she’d seen surrounding the Denizens.
He gave her a lopsided grin and walked forward slowly, offering his hand to her. Victoria felt suspicion ripple through her with each step he took and her eyes fell to his belt, where she noticed a knife.
‘Oh, I’m just a traveller of sorts. Hullo, I’m Tollin. Who are you?’
Victoria blinked in surprise. It was not a question she had been asked before. ‘You don’t know who I am?’ The amount of disbelief her tone carried surprised her. Was she really that conceited?
Tollin made a face and shrugged his thin shoulders. ‘Afraid not. Should I?’ She found it impossible to guess his age; he had a timeless, yet weathered look to his face, making him look both old and young at the same time. A couple days’ worth of facial hair covered his face, giving his appearance an even more absent-minded quality.
He eyed her questioningly, as if asking Victoria if she truly wanted to reveal her identity. She had been just about to inform him she was the High Lady when his look made her catch herself. He could be a plunderer for all she knew! If she told him she was the daughter of the Queen, what would stop him from kidnapping her for ransom? By the way she was dressed she knew she didn’t look poor enough to be left alone, but Victoria hoped she’d be able to pass herself off as a priestess. The temple was where she had been headed, after all. And no-one dared mess with a priestess.
Victoria drew herself up as tall as she could and adopted her most important look, which wasn’t that hard. ‘I’m Victoria, priestess in training at the Tohldolar temple. I’m on my way there now.’
‘Ah, I see! Quite an ambition, becoming a priestess. I hear it involves a lot of blood and wild dancing.’ Tollin’s eyes sparkled, as if he’d caught on to some joke Victoria was telling and was rather enjoying it.
‘It is nothing to jest about! It happens to be one of the most revered positions on Scrabia!’ She stiffened.
‘No doubt more important than that of the ruling class,’ Tollin said, studying his fingernails. He had a high-pitched voice that carried a strange accent; unlike anything Victoria had heard, rolling his words together, mispronouncing others. She had a bit of trouble understanding him.
Victoria glowered and looked round, trying to see where Tollin’s hitched wagon was. He was a plunderer after all, wasn’t he? It was the only explanation she could come up with.
‘How did you get up here, anyhow? Is your camp nearby?’
‘Em, no.’ Tollin, who up till this point had been lost in his own internal thoughts, glanced back up as if in surprise to see her. ‘I walked.’
She frowned. It was an odd thing to do for anyone without any particular reason. She narrowed her eyes at him. Perhaps he’d seen the Denizens, heard what they were planning! It was certainly worth a shot. ‘Did you see anything strange along the road?’
Tollin lowered his brows, thoughtful. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Anything, er, out of the ordinary?’
‘Oooh!’ Tollin held up a finger, smiling. ‘Uh, no.’
Victoria stared. ‘You’ve been left out in the sun too long.’
‘Actually, I think you have. Want some water? You look rather poorly.’
To be honest, Victoria didn’t feel just the thing. Since she’d started the journey her giddy dizziness had increased to the point she felt sick. Not to mention she had moments before just been contemplating jumping to her death. Before Victoria could protest Tollin tossed her a flask of water. She couldn’t stop herself from unstopping it and draining the contents into her mouth.
She made a face as the last dregs dribbled down her chin, only now having the sense to question what was pouring into her mouth. ‘It tastes funny. What did you do to it?’
Dawning horror started to fill her. He was going to drug her and kidnap her.
Tollin grinned disarmingly. ‘Don’t worry, love, it’s not poisoned. More like what I didn’t do to it. Never good idea, taking water from Denizens.’
Victoria uneasily handed the flask back to him. ‘What are you doing way up here, anyway?’
‘Oh, yes! Right. Waiting.’
Victoria narrowed her eyes again. Waiting? She felt a chill. What if he was waiting for her…like the Denizens? Could he be another assassin? He certainly didn’t seem the type, and he was certainly taking his time about it. ‘Waiting for what?’
‘For the Passing,’ Tollin said simply.
Victoria scowled. ‘Passing? You mean when the Dead Planet tries to invade our world?’
Tollin peered up. The Other World was so close Victoria thought she might be able to brush it with her fingertips, and it was growing steadily nearer. She could almost feel it now.
Tollin stuck out his lips thoughtfully. ‘Well, I guess that is one way to look at it.’
‘But where will you go when it gets here? It’s dangerous to be out!’
This high on the rise, there were no caves to hide in. Most of the boulders had been lifted away through the years. It was all bare sand and buried rock.
‘Up.’ Tollin pointed skyward.
‘What do you mean up? Do you mean to the Dead Planet?’
‘Uh, if you mean Scottorr by that, then yes.’
Victoria gawked at him. ‘Scottorr? What the bloody hell are you talking about? You’re mental.’
Tollin looked offended. ‘Why am I crazy for that? Yes, Scottorr! None of that “Other World” nonsense. If boulders can be lifted, why can’t peopl
e?’
He bobbed up and down on his heels. The man seemed to be bursting with energy, unable to stand still.
Victoria started walking again, anxious to be free from this stranger. ‘They just can’t, that’s why!’ she called over her shoulder.
Tollin stood on tiptoe to yell after her. ‘You could come if you want! It’s quite pretty there!’
‘No thanks!’ Victoria spat, eyes rolled heavenward.
She hitched up her skirts and marched faster.
She couldn’t quite hear Tollin’s next words, but they sounded something like ‘Suit yourself. Hope it’s a nice wedding.’
Victoria had pushed any thoughts of jumping from her mind. Her meeting with Tollin was, strangely, what pushed her on. She knew it was mental, but she couldn’t help but feel he had been there for a reason, perhaps to stop her from jumping.
Though Victoria kept walking, she wasn’t sure where she was walking to. She was still following the road, but had no intentions of going to the temple. Victoria felt driven towards a destination, but she couldn’t figure out what that meant. She just needed to find cover. Time was beginning to run out.
The razor thin trail she climbed twisted along the ridges of the range and bridged over stomach lurching canyons. Knife-edged rocks sliced at her decorated sandals and caused her to trip, sending her dangerously close to the edge. On top of that, she wasn’t sure if she was simply short of breath, or if the air was getting thinner, for it was getting harder for her to breathe.
A strange noise slowly began to reach her, the sound of something heavy hanging in the air. She glanced up; the Dead Planet—or as Tollin had said, Scottorr—was directly above her. It was so close she almost fell backwards looking at it.
She could see the landscape, dotted with different greens and white. Huge expanses of blue stretched beyond her line of sight. She could see clouds drifting and swirling, it was mesmerising. Morbidly beautiful.
Something hit her on her nose and she jerked in surprise. She pulled her hand away and stared at her fingers, now slick with water. Another large drop struck her shoulder. She realised with shock what was happening, she’d never been outside for the phenomenon, always well protected underground, but she’d heard about it. Water was starting to fall from the sky from the world above. When that happened, the planet’s pull was almost at its strongest.