by Matthew Wolf
“Diiiieee,” said the soulless voice. An image of Omni and her burning blade flashed. Sun! And Gray twisted the last piece in place. He flinched as light blazed forth from the metal disk, blinding him. The darkness shrieked. It sizzled like water thrown upon a hot pan, steam rising as it shirked from the golden luminescence. Gray thrust the pendant forward, lighting his legs and torso. The darkness recoiled and fled, sluicing from his limbs. At last, it retreated, climbing the muck-covered walls, and fading into oblivion.
Gray watched in shock. He gained control of his breath and after he was sure the darkness was gone, he fell back with a slump. Upon the pendant, all the symbols had coalesced, forming the symbol of wind.
He waited for the pendant to answer, but it was quiet now. Slowly, he rose, grabbing Morrowil and gathering his remaining strength. The pendant still glowed in his hand, lighting the way several paces ahead. He peered beyond and saw more darkness. But with the light of the pendant in his hand, he felt safe. He took several steps and looked back at the door.
Ayva, Darius, and the others would just be getting up now to see an empty bed. They wouldn’t find him now. He turned from the door, and peered into the gloom, hoping he had seen the last of that strange darkness. No use waiting around here. He thrust the pendant ahead like a beacon and started forward. As he walked, the pendant illuminated the tunnel. It was no wider than both his arms outstretched. Thick layers of pale green slime stuck to the walls, obscuring any sign of stone. Some slime was putrid and wet while other patches were dry and lifeless, centuries old.
Fear of the darkness always lurked in his awareness. At times he heard a sound like tiny feet scraping in the distance, but it didn’t sound like the darkness from before. He shivered and thrust his imagination to the back of his mind, as he kept moving. Time blended in the murky half-light of the tunnels. He had a feeling that it wasn’t later than midday, but he could swear he had been walking for days. His ears popped as he moved deeper and deeper into the core of the heavy mountain. At one point, when his feet dragged like steel boots and his lids grew heavy, he found a dry spot, put the glowing pendant in his lap and stole a few moments of sleep. He awoke to the same murky darkness. He knew it hadn’t been long, but he berated himself for wasting precious moments, and with renewed vigor he took to the tunnels. A few times he came to a four-way divide. He would pause and peer ten paces down the right and the left, but always take the path straight ahead. He wondered what was down those side paths, thinking about the strange scraping sounds.
And suddenly it ended.
He found himself before a large flat stone. He reached out, feeling for a seam in the stone, but this time, he realized not only was there no seam, but the stone itself was a part of the mountain. He threw all of his weight against the wall, and pushed with a grunt. It didn’t budge. Reaching into the recesses of his mind, he withdrew a sliver of wind, feeling the stone’s joints, looking for where he could apply pressure, but there was nothing. He pushed harder, slamming his body painfully into the flat stone. With each push, his fear and anxiety multiplied, until his breaths were short and jagged, and sweat rolled down his face. He forced his mind calm, but failed. “I won’t be stuck down here!” His voice reverberated off the cramped walls, emphasizing his solitude.
Gray began to feel the heavy mountain, its thick stone and endless tons of dirt weighing down above his head. His chest tightened, and with a shudder, he imagined it all collapsing upon him. Words filled him suddenly.
Our power lies within us… Hitomi, he thought.
He took a calming breath, and then another. Turning, he walked. When he was at least a hundred feet from the dead end, surrounded in darkness, he began to run, until the run became a full-fledged sprint. He pictured the nexus inside. As he charged, wind followed him. For a brief flash, an envelope of golden light encompassed him, urging him forward. At last, his shoulder rammed against the stone and the earth shuddered upon the impact. With a crash, he burst through and tumbled headfirst. He twisted his body into a fast-paced roll and flew over the falling chunks of stone, dirt, and other rubble.
Coming out of the roll, he stood, a bit shaky and looked back. At his feet, stood the foothills tipped with melting ice. His gaze rose, taking in the full scope of the towering mountains. Turning, he looked at the dusky valley rolling with tufts of dry grass and sparse, hardy flowers. He heard wind. It sounded loud after the long quiet of the tunnel. The absolute silence of the tunnels had unnerved him. He was glad to be out from underneath the weight of the heavy mountain. He looked towards Death’s Gate, when a screech sounded.
Perched upon a rocky crag was the hawk. “Motri… is that you?”
The bird cocked its head sideways, its burnished eyes examining him. It let loose another screech.
Gray shook his head with a laugh, “I have no idea how you got here, but I’m glad to see you.” He looked north and raised his arm. “I’m headed that way. If you want to join me, I’d appreciate the company. It’s a pretty long road.” The bird had proved its intelligence before, and though it couldn’t understand his words, he sensed it knew the meaning behind them. Still Gray was glad there was no one there to hear him.
The hawk merely ruffled its golden plumage.
“Well, I’m going north now,” he called, walking backwards. The hawk remained. He sighed, and at last turned. Putting his thumbs beneath the pack’s straps, he headed north along the weathered valley.
Night faded, and morning came. As he walked, he nibbled on the food that Mistress Hitomi had given him. The Shining City’s mountains sat behind him, far in the distance now. He imagined the hawk back there, and wished he had the bird’s company.
He didn’t feel tired, but as he walked he began to grow thirsty. He coughed at the dusty feeling in his mouth, swallowing his own saliva. The feeling in the back of his throat grew to a burning thirst. He ate a few flowers that he knew to be safe, but they didn’t stave his thirst. It grew worse. He licked his lips, and the roughness of cracked skin made him wince. He envisioned diving into a lake and drinking until his belly swelled, but the images didn’t help. All he saw was bone-dry rocks and stretches of dry land, when he glimpsed a glimmer on the horizon.
As he got close, the sound of rushing water was loud. A sigh escaped his parched lips. He stumbled towards the sound, and minutes later saw the great rushing Sil. Falling to his knees at the green bank, he scooped handfuls of water and drank deeply. When his thirst was fully quenched and his lips no longer stung, he looked up. Blocks of gray stone hundreds of times bigger than him lay on the grassy bank. Two square pillars rose to heights taller than any building in the city, just fifty paces away.
In the gushing current of the Sil more behemoth blocks rose, sticking up from the deep-running water. Far across the great river, more impressive blocks of stone lay toppled. Thin tubers and green vines had already begun to trail up the massive hunks of stone.
A memory came to him at the sight, something Darius had said, “Piddler Lane, the main road of Lakewood. Follow it north, and in a fortnight, it will lead you to the famed Bridge of Suns, which is only a short jaunt from Tir Re’ Dol itself.”
“The Bridge of Suns,” he repeated, eyeing the now dilapidated crossing. Well, if Darius was right, he was getting close. Gray did not spend long in grief at the Kage’s total destruction. After filling up an empty leather skein with the crystal clear, he looked upstream. A loud screech drew his attention upward. Perched upon a broken pillar, was the hawk, watching him with an inquisitive tilt to its head.
“Well, welcome back,” he called. With a hand, he scrubbed the back of his head in thought. “I need to find a bridge, one that’s preferably not destroyed. You don’t see anything from up there, do you?” he asked.
The hawk peered out over the landscape from its lofty position, its golden-feathered head swiveling, and then looked back. Again, its head tilted.
“No, huh? Well, guess I’ll just have a look myself!” he said and hefted his pack, heading upstre
am. He looked up with a smirk and saw the hawk, circling overhead as expected. With a laugh, he picked up his step. Each time he glanced up, the hawk was there, as if watching over him. A ways up, behind a shroud of vegetation, Gray spotted a small rope bridge that skimmed the surface of the Sil’s quick waters. Somehow, the Kage’s hand had missed the bridge.
Gray crossed the rickety bridge. The landscape shifted. Looming on the horizon were dark storm clouds that threatened rain. He traveled for several more miles before he came upon a large grassy cliff. In the past, he had poured over Mura’s many maps. If the maps were accurate, the greatest city this side of Death’s Gate lay beyond that precipice. But an ill feeling rose inside his gut as he approached the edge, and the scene struck a knife blow to his heart.
The earth was charred for miles, and lying in the stain of black were ruins as far as the eye could see—fallen towers, broken walls, jagged walkways, and shattered bridges. Smoke rose from the ashes, thick black plumes that blotted out the blue sky. Those were the dark clouds of rain he had seen. He fell to his knees in disbelief.
In the distance, tracks of an army scarred the earth, the only thing that was clearly identifiable. Quickly, he got to his feet, wiped his eyes and searched for a way down the steep ledge. He found a less steep section and half-tumbled, half-ran down the dirt cliff.
By the time he reached the ruins, shadows stretched. A pale moon cast the ruined city in a sickly luster. Slowly, he moved through the ruins, his cloak dragging in the rubble. His throat clenched as he wove between the fallen buildings. The wind switched directions and suddenly the stench of burnt flesh filled his nostrils and he gagged. “Who could do this?” There was no answer, only the eerie silence of the dead. ‘A short jaunt from Tir Re’ Dol.’ The words and Darius’ cheerful tone rang in his ears.
He looked for signs of life amid the ruins, but he couldn’t stifle his wrath, and he didn’t want to. It burned like a furnace inside his gut. He stopped in the darkness. The sun had set fully, and as he had done in the tunnels, he unsheathed the pendant and twisted the symbols to make it glow. With the sudden flare of light he saw what stood before him and his stomach lurched.
Ahead, was a mountain of bloated bodies—men, women, and children. Ravens, their coats like ink-drenched shrouds, crawled over the pile of carcasses. They cawed and pecked, their calls a rising cacophony. Gray’s blood pulsed as the birds screeched and fought for scraps.
Picking up a piece of burnt timber, he swung at the closest raven. The bird took off in an explosion of feathers. He swung and they cried in rebuke, but refused to leave. Out of the corner of his eye, a shadow darted. He threw up the timber defensively, but sharp talons scored his arm. Suddenly, another blur shot down from the night sky, brighter than the rest, and the mass of black feathers collapsed.
It was the hawk. “Motri!”
The hawk turned to the others and attacked in an exchange of wild talons and sharp beaks. As the last raven flew off, he caught his breath and a figure stepped out from behind the ruined wall.
The figure was half-lit by a shadowed moon. It loomed head and shoulders over Gray. Its broad shoulders hunched inward as its barrel-chest heaved in short, eager breaths. Gangly arms nearly skimmed the ground. Gray watched its claws that gleamed like tarnished daggers.
“Saerok…” he breathed.
Fox-like
“I THOUGHT THAT MIGHT ATTRACT YOU,” the saerok said in a sinister hiss.
Gray delved into his mind reaching for the nexus. In his panic, it eluded him. He felt nothing, only a black void. An even deeper panic set in. On his back, beneath his cloak, was the weight of his bundled sword. He couldn’t reach it in time.
“You humans sicken me, the stench of your arrogance. But you are weak creatures,” the saerok hissed, extending and retracting its claws rhythmically. “You realize how weak you are, do you not? Your large stone cities, your shiny skin you call armor. All of it, a lie! You are frail things.”
Suddenly Gray’s arm shook with tremors of darkness. Panic took hold. Not again. His heart thundered inside his chest as his back pressed against a wall. “Why are you here?”
“I knew more would come, so when the others left, I stayed.”
Gray tensed as the creature took a long step forward. “But why kill me?” he asked, trying to delay the beast.
Rope-like muscles rippled beneath a thin layer of fur. “It’s simple. You are weak, so you should die.” The saerok lifted its gangly arm and the hawk appeared with a cry, lashing at the saerok’s eyes. Using the precious moment, he scrambled to his feet and ran. Behind him, he heard the hawk cry out in pain and he glanced over his shoulder. The hawk was nowhere to be seen, and the saerok was gaining on him, loping on all fours impossibly fast. Gray tore through a ruined archway and turned again. He skidded, one hand sliding along the ground as he took the corner. The saerok’s gangly arm swiped at him, skimming his head. Gray turned, taking another path and dread filled him. It was a dead end. The creature loomed in the corner of his vision, gaining ground. Gray sprinted, not slowing as the wall approached. In the last moment, he ducked. The beast flew over his head and slammed into a stone wall and rubble crashed around him.
He rose, not wasting a moment to see if the beast survived. As he sprinted, he peered over his shoulder. The saerok shook off the rubble, and rose to its full height. With a rumbling snarl, it took to all fours again, loping faster than any horse. Gray veered, sprinting down the maze of ruins, trying to slow the beasts’ momentum. Still the saerok gained with astonishing agility until he felt it hot on his back. He dove and gave a strangled choke as it gripped his cloak. Gray kicked and swung. His cloak pin broke, and he dashed behind the wall.
The saerok landed with a thud in front of him—it had taken the ten foot wall in a single leap. The beast ran its claws along the wall, creating a thin screech. “You cannot escape me! No human has been a challenge. But I’m going to enjoy eating your flesh. The others left, the fools, heading south to the city that shines. But, I knew more would come.”
Gray summoned a smirk despite his fear, “The people have been warned. This time you will fail.”
“I think not. Your own precious kind will let us in and my brothers will bathe in their blood!”
Our own people will destroy us… In the last moment before the creature struck, Gray reached for his blade. He pulled it from beneath the pack in one fluid motion. The saerok grinned, eyes widening for the final blow. With the power of the wind, the white cloth fell from Morrowil. The wind flowed over his arms and encased the blade giving it an impossible burst of speed. The creature’s eyes flashed wide as he sliced its chest, cleaving the beast from neck to groin.
The sword’s tip fell to the earth, limp in his hand. A soft rain fell from the night sky, coating the ruins of Tir Re’ Dol and the saerok who lay in a mangled heap. He knelt and cleaned the blood from Morrowil in a puddle of water.
There was a movement, a small rustle of something behind one of the squat walls. Gray’s pulse jumped, his senses spiking. The nexus came, and his power filled him, golden and dark. He threw his hand to the noise and a bolt of air flew from his fingertips. The corner of the wall shattered.
There was a frightened scream and a voice called, “Gray! It’s us!” Two shadowy figures appeared from behind the wall. Darius stood with his hands raised, and Ayva stood behind the rogue, watching Gray fearfully.
“Ayva… Darius…” Tendrils of wind quickly fell from his fingers. “I didn’t mean to…” his legs trembled and gave way, falling to his knees.
“Gray!” Ayva shouted, and the two rushed to his side. “Light, are you all right?” she whispered. He nodded and she smacked his arm, “Fool! Rushing off and getting yourself nearly killed! What did you think you were doing?”
“How?” he asked looking between the two.
She ignored him. Her eyes turned to the corpse behind him, mouth parting.
Darius cursed, flinching, “Is that a saerok? It’s even uglier than the stori
es say! It looks like something from a nightmare.”
“It is a nightmare,” he answered, and then shook his head, “what are you two doing here?”
“You killed that?” Ayva said, her blue eyes wide. “Are there anymore?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. Suddenly he remembered the hawk. Motri had saved him, buying him time to flee the saerok. “Motri…”
“Who?” Ayva asked.
“There was a bird, it saved me,” he explained.
“A bird saved you?” Darius scratched his head. “Where is it now?”
“He was back there a ways, near the dead,” he said, trying to rise. “I think he’s hurt.”
“Go check,” Ayva said to the rogue.
Darius grumbled but sprinted off, returning moments later. His face was drained of color as he wiped his mouth. He looked like he had recently vomited. “I saw the pile of bodies. The smell… I’ve never seen anything so awful. But no hawk.”
“He was there,” Gray insisted. “I’ll check myself.”
“I checked everywhere,” Darius replied in anger. “There was no dicing bird, just blood and bodies! Did you take a blow to the skull?”
“I’m sure it simply flew off to safety,” Ayva said. Safety… The word shot through Gray with a flush of fear. The Shining City. He groaned and tried to get up again. Ayva pushed him down easily. He felt so weak. Is it from using my power?
“Let me go,” he growled.
“You’re obviously hurt. You’re not going anywhere,” she replied.
“I have to warn them!”
“Warn who?”
“Everyone!” he answered, “They’re in danger!”
“Of course they are,” Darius grumbled, he nudged Ayva, “See? I told you, he clearly hit his head.”
“You don’t understand,” he said in frustration, “The saerok said our own people will let the dark army into the city. Mura and the others will be slaughtered!”