They were soon away, but not before the Lyrats had retrieved the dropped weapons. As they passed the scattered body parts of the Krowen, Wist felt nausea rising once more. The brutality of these fluid killers with whom he rode, shocked him. Had there been the spark of humanity in those Krowen? Did they deserve to die, slaughtered like beasts?
He heard scuffling in the distance as they passed by the fence marking the rear boundary to the graveyard. Shifting in his seat, Wist could make out small shapes at the far end of the fence.
‘Desert dogs,’ said Faric, answering the question that had been on Wist’s lips. ‘They shall dispose of the Krowen’s remains. Nothing is wasted on the sands.’ Soon the burial ground was far out of sight, leaving the dogs to their feast. Tyla kept pace with the horse without having to exert himself. Its working canter would have left Wist far behind, but the Lyrat did not appear to be struggling to keep up.
Wist could see that they were approaching the edge of the massive rift that ran across the horizon. The line marked the edge of the upper plain. This was the split that N’tini had described and Wist had glimpsed as he had staggered from the desert, and it appalled him. The violence that had torn the earth cried out to him through time to penetrate his heart. The incision in the earth felt like a violation of his soul.
Tyla pulled his mount to a stop as the edge of the rift drew close. Wist averted his eyes from the edge of the upper plain.
‘We shall need to walk from here,’ said Faric as he dismounted. Wist grunted as he landed at Faric’s side a moment later.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked, unable to discern a route in the night’s gloom.
‘There is a pass just ahead,’ replied Faric. ‘I shall take the lead and Tyla the rear. Use your hand and make sure you are in contact with the wall at all times.’
They proceeded towards the cliff and just a few steps from the edge, Wist spotted the path they were to take. The raw shock he had felt at seeing the rift had passed, but now that revulsion had been supplanted by other emotions. It looked just wider than the horses and its slope was formidable. It was suicide to attempt this at night.
‘You’re not serious? Surely not. It’s pitch black. How can you hope to get us and the horses down that?’ Wist used his anger to pin back his fear.
‘We shall accommodate you with our pace, but we cannot stay in the upper plane. Has tonight taught you nothing?’ Faric asked. Then he turned away and led his mount along the edge of the precipice to the tight path. Tyla motioned to Wist that he was to follow, so he forced his dread down and pushed himself forward, legs shaking as he walked. Faric progressed smoothly from the flat ground to the steep slope without a noticeable transition in his pace. Adjusting his balance and weight to compensate for the gradient, the Lyrat confidently walked on.
Wist’s foot slid as he misjudged the first couple of steps on to the path. The world spun on its axis as he tumbled. His shoulder connected with the ground. His right foot had slipped, and he had merely ended up with a bruise on his arm. His fear was replaced with embarrassment at his awkwardness. It would probably be better if he had been strapped to the horse. He got up and made his way gingerly onto the path.
‘Where are we heading to?’ he asked Tyla.
‘Save your breath,’ the Lyrat replied. ‘You shall need your strength.’
Frustrated at the lack of answers, Wist stuck out his right hand and ran it along the ragged stone wall as he walked. Caressing its rough surface scraped the skin of his hands, but at least it gave him a point to anchor himself. As they descended, the sense of disorientation grew in him. He had never suffered from vertigo, but dizziness was gaining a hold.
‘Talk to me. Please talk to me,’ he said. ‘I need something to focus on. Tell me anything you like, but please help me.’
‘Very well,’ said Tyla. He thought for a moment, looking uncertain or perhaps unsure of himself for the first time. ‘I shall tell you of the Klal.’
‘Yes. Please. Anything,’ said Wist, grasping at the desert warrior’s words.
‘Long before the dawn of man,’ Tyla began, ‘when the world was young, there was only the Klal and the beasts, living in harmony. The Klal were content to live amongst the animals, tending to their needs, revelling in the beauty of the world. The world, in its infancy, was a simple place; bountiful and rich, it supplied everything they required.
‘For years uncounted they dwelt this way, toiling by day under the sun, dancing under a blanket of stars at night. And, for many of the Klal, this would have sufficed. They would gladly have lived this way until the Sun dropped from the sky. But for others, a darkness grew in them. Where once silence and peace filled the dark night, the whispering voice of discontent spoke to them from the blackness.’
Wist found himself drawn into Tyla’s tale, his heart settling back to its normal rhythm. His feet found the path more easily in the dark as his stride settled in with the pace of the story.
‘It spoke of division and domination,’ Tyla continued. ‘Visions of power and magic assaulted them as they slept. Soon, the once united Klal had divided: those who succumbed to the lure of darkness departed to find what they desired, those left behind grieved for their kin. Unable to understand why their brethren wished to leave, they could only mourn their loss - and hope that one day they would return.
‘And so they waited for their kin to return, but life for the remaining Klal had to return to normal and soon they resumed the routine they had enjoyed. But every year they would mark the departure of their kin with a festival to celebrate their life and bravery. Songs would be sung to honour the departed and to hope for their return.’ Wist bumped his hand along the rough stone wall as he listened to the tale.
‘And return they did. During the years in the wilderness, the wandering Klal had found nothing but pain; the dreams of freedom that had tempted them from their stasis had been a mirage. But they had discovered how to hate. They blamed their self-imposed exile on those they had left behind. Surely, they would not have freely chosen to leave? They had been forced out by their kin, they told themselves. Frustration had given way to hatred. Cruelty and bitterness poisoned their souls. The returning exiles enslaved their brethren, dominating them utterly.
‘But even in this they could find no satisfaction. The only way to cleanse the world was to utterly destroy these weak Klal, they told themselves, and then finally they could be free. They could be rid of those that had held them back and then cast them out.
‘And now they had the means to do so. In the wilderness, they had learned to unlock the destructive power of the magic within them. In using it, they had woken a terrible anger; and it ate at them, yearning for release.
‘And so the exiles prepared to destroy their brothers. Together they focused the dark magic they had learned. Bringing their will and malice to bear - they tried to force the uncorrupted Klal out of existence. The peaceful Klal that had been enslaved could not bring themselves to act against their own, even in self-defence. Their hearts held no hatred, only pity and hope.
‘But the darkened Klal were taught a cruel lesson. What has been made could not be unmade. No power in the world could extinguish the Klal and the force they unleashed tore through the earth.’
Wist stumbled on the uneven ground. He clutched at the wall as he fell, partially stopping himself, and he landed on one knee. Dragging himself back to his feet, he clutched his right wrist as it burned in pain. Touching it with his fingers, he found it damp.
‘Damn it,’ he said, still holding his wrist. He had torn the skin on the rough stone.
‘Here, use this,’ Faric passed a scrap of cloth to him to use as a bandage. He tied it tight around the cut. Tyla checked on Aviti while they were stopped.
After allowing a few seconds to fix the rag to his wrist, the party began to move once more.
‘Thank you’ muttered Wist. ‘Please Tyla, continue. Sorry, I…’
‘Yes,’ said Tyla, pausing for a moment to find his place in the ta
le. ‘The Klal had set loose a power that they could not stop. It rent the earth, splitting it into the parts we know today, as the energy they released bore down deep into the land in search of peace. And the ocean poured into the tears in the world, calming the angry earth.’ The Lyrat's voice lulled Wist’s raw nerves as he settled back into his steady pace of the story.
‘The Klal were scattered far and wide. Some found themselves atop huge mountains gazing out over snow-capped peaks and cavernous valleys. Others sat amongst rolling hills and rivers that glistened in the sunshine. A few gazed out to the sea at the border of a desert so vast they would never find its end. Fewer still faced the harsh tundra; ice and wind were their only companions.
‘And so they adapted to their new lives. Some grew in stature and strength to meet the physical demands of the land. Some left their magic behind, choosing to use their minds to tackle life’s challenges. Some say this was where the races came from: the Giants, the Dwarves, the Intoli and the Humans. Others claim the dark races were also spawned this way. The only things we have that the Klal left behind are their tale, their songs and their poems.’
As Tyla finished his story, Wist could see that they had almost reached the flat, vast expanse of the desert floor. ‘Thank you, Tyla,’ he said, truly grateful to the Lyrat for the distraction, although the tale of the Klal’s betrayal by their own kin had done little to settle his deeper anxiety about his future.
‘Where do we go now?’ Wist asked as they made their way out on to the flat desert. ‘We must help Aviti. Throwing her around on a horse for half the night will be killing her, and you must be exhausted. We’ve got to stop somewhere.’
‘Over there is a small cave,’ said Faric, pointing along the cliff face. Wist picked it out easily. The night had lightened notably; sunrise was fast approaching. ‘Our people use such places to shelter from the day’s heat when they travel. With all of them approaching the city, it should be safe. I shall ride ahead.’
Wist could see the tension on Faric’s face as he spoke, but before he could say anything, Faric mounted and galloped away. Tyla moved the horse that carried Aviti forward, leaving Wist to follow once more.
‘Will she -’ he hesitated, fearing the answer. ‘Will she be OK?’
Tyla looked at him, incomprehension passing across his face. ‘You wish to know if she will recover?’
‘Yes,’ he replied quietly. ‘And, what happened to her? Why did that thing back there not kill us?’
Tyla strode on as he thought about his response. ‘She saved your life. The force you felt, that swept you from your feet, came not from the shapeless blackness that assaulted her, but from within the girl.’
Stunned, all he could think of saying was, ‘Her name is Aviti, please call her Aviti.’ How could she unleash such a force? ‘That’s just not possible,’ he protested. ‘The force I felt was like standing in a hurricane. You can’t simply summon the wind because you want it to be there.’
‘We have many amongst the tribes who can achieve just that, although not with such force. Most come to their Gift at a much younger age and must practice to hone their specific talent. If this is the first time she has used her Gift, and with such an expenditure of energy, her -’ Tyla stopped, then corrected himself, ‘Aviti’s body will be in shock.
‘Once we reach the safety of the cave I can aid her. I am somewhat skilled in healing. I will do what I can for her, but she must want to live, I cannot force her.’
Soon they were at the mouth of the cave, where Faric met them and urged them inside.
5 - Something Real
The fire burning at the back of the cave, drove out the last of the night’s cold. Sitting with his back to the wall, close to the fire, Wist watched Tyla. After the Lyrat had laid Aviti down on a bedroll, he had set to work. His hands moved over her prone body, never making contact, but never straying more than a few inches from her. He worked without a sound, absorbed in his work. Perspiring heavily as he moved, Tyla appeared to hover on the point of exhaustion.
Wist stood and walked around the fire to where Faric was preparing to rest. After building the fire, Faric had bedded the horses down in a small chamber that led off the main body of the stone cave and then he had made his own bed.
‘Why isn’t he helping her?’ he asked.
Faric eyed him for a second, shaking his head before turning away. ‘He aids her’.
‘How?’ He felt anger fighting with despair for control over him. ‘He isn’t doing anything. He said he’d heal her!’
‘Do not disturb him.’ The Lyrat sighed and then turned to face him. ‘Sit.’
Wist stayed standing for a moment, looking over to where Tyla continued his ministrations. He desperately wanted to help, but he knew that he’d only be a hindrance. Swallowing the bitterness he felt at his own impotence, he slumped to the floor beside Faric.
‘You are a stranger to these lands,’ stated Faric.
Wist offered no reply, his eyes remaining on Aviti and Tyla at the far end of the dim cave.
‘I doubt you will understand,’ said the Lyrat. His even voice matched his plain but handsome features on his youthful face. ‘Tyla told you that the girl repelled the darkness on the upper plain. However, the force that she expelled was greater than anything we have ever witnessed.’
‘Her spirit will be tested to its limits. Today, she has lost all connections to her old life. She has discovered a power she has no way of controlling.
‘She has closed mind and spirit off from the world. Only she can find her way out.’
‘Then what does Tyla do?’ Wist asked.
‘He passes some of his –’ Faric struggled for the correct word, ‘strength? Life, would be more exact, from himself to Aviti.’
Wist sat motionless as he listened to Faric’s explanation. It all sounded too fantastic to be believed. But, after seeing those part reptilian atrocities earlier in the evening, he couldn’t contradict him.
‘Isn’t he exhausted?’ he managed to ask.
‘He will be weary,’ Faric replied, ‘but not at his limits. The sun has spent an age forging the desert people. We endure.’
‘Couldn’t he -’ Wist began, but he was unsure of what he was asking, or how to put his question in a way that was comprehensible to this desert man. ‘Couldn’t he aid her spirit? In some way, help her find a way out?’
‘Force his way into her mind?’ Faric’s voice grew sharper, betraying emotion for the first time. ‘Never. To intrude into the mind of another is a grievous crime.
‘He would not attempt such an act. Can you image how her mind would react if it was invaded? It would repel the attempt or retreat further.’
Faric shifted his position and lay flat as he prepared to rest. ‘Tyla will finish soon. Get some rest; you can do nothing for the girl.’ His voice had resumed its dispassionate tone. His eyes closed and his breathing swiftly became even and measured.
‘And what if she doesn’t wake soon?’ Wist asked. He refused to admit that she might never recover. ‘We can’t stay here forever and I won’t leave her.’
‘If we are careful, we will be in no immediate danger,’ Faric responded, evading his question. ‘Sleep now.’
Wist cursed and stood up. How could he possibly sleep while Aviti’s life hung in the balance? He had broken his promise to Cairn. When that awful blackness had come for him, he had not even tried to fight it. But how could you fight a vacuum? In what way could you combat a total absence of hope? He hadn’t felt so lost since he stumbled alone through the desert to Mashesh.
Tyla stopped his movements, coming to rest at Aviti’s side. Taking a deep breath, he placed a blanket over her body. Wist crossed the distance between them in a few quick steps.
‘Has it worked, Tyla? Will she recover?’ he asked as softly as he could manage.
‘I have provided some healing to her physical form,’ replied Tyla between deep breaths. ‘This will help her body reclaim the energy she has used. I can do no more.’
Wist knew it was pointless to ask any more of Tyla. The night’s exertions showed on Tyla’s dark face, so he reached for the Lyrat’s arm.
‘Thank you, Tyla’ he said.
The desert man glanced up and then went to rest.
Wist remained standing as he looked over at Aviti. She appeared to be asleep, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. How old was she? He’d never had the chance to talk to her while they had been on her father’s farm. She’d never wanted to speak to him.
He stared at her attractive face and he looked for a sign that she might awaken, but before long Wist resigned himself to a long wait and slumped down against the wall of the cave. His body, although strengthened from the weeks of work on N’tini’s farm, was exhausted from the night’s frantic travelling. The tension left his muscles as he relaxed. The adrenaline that had kept him going finally ran out, and Wist succumbed to sleep.
--*--
A scream pierced his slumber. Still resting against the wall where he had fallen asleep, Wist jerked upright. Aviti sat in front of him, terror etched across her face, tears glistening on her damp cheeks. Tyla sat close, watching, but not offering comfort.
‘Aviti,’ said Wist, still dazed from the abrupt awakening. ‘Are you alright?’
She turned to look at him, a gaunt look of horror in her dark eyes. ‘They killed him. They tore him to pieces.’
Wist stood and took the few steps over to her.
‘Easy, Aviti, you have had a shock,’ he muttered.
‘Do you not understand me?’ she screamed. ‘They have killed him! I watched it happen. I watched it all and could do nothing.’
‘Aviti, you aren’t making any sense. Please calm down,’ he implored. She had started to shake with anger and grief.
Tyla moved closer to the girl and put his hand on her shoulder.
‘Please, you must try to control yourself,’ he said, an unexpected gentleness in his voice. ‘This place may be safe for now, but we should not attract the attention of prying eyes.’
The Redemption of Wist Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3: The complete collection Page 6