Wings of Light Special Edition
Page 11
Derry’n turns his head to look at the dog. It sits a few yards away from him, staring. “Did you say something, Uelist?”
“Only that you need to move on. Whoever has treated you this way can be made to see their errors. You can show them you are not weak. You can show them all.”
“Yes,” Derry’n says slowly, shutting off the tears, clenching his fists. “I can show them all.”
“Good boy.”
The Needles reach over a hundred feet into the air. Ten huge spires of white rock spread in a circular formation about ten minutes offshore surrounded by hundreds of jagged rocks, which makes navigating them an impossibility. The ocean crashes all around them in a ferocious battle of spray and froth. Past the Needles is the ocean itself, stretching further than the eye can see, touching the horizon, unbroken by anything. A marvel of the Creator herself.
Derry’n stares at it in absolute wonder. Buddy stands to his left and Uelist to his right. It has taken them over a day to reach the Needles, and it is a day in the wrong direction, yet after hearing how close they were to them he knew it was where he wanted to go. Something about them that drew him into their embrace.
The Hakamen Needles, positioned at the western most point of Hillsbough have hundreds of legends surrounding them. Created from the ruins of an Elf kingdom over five thousand suns before, they stand for the evils of the past: a constant reminder of war and death. Now they serve as a protection from the waters to the north and the Beast of Moyas Lagoon. The sun reflects from the towers of stone, giving them a heavenly glow.
“Beautiful, no?” Uelist mutters. “So sad. It was a grand city by all accounts.” He shakes his head and turns away, strolling over to the camp they have set up.
“Always thinking of the past,” Buddy says, sad grey eyes moving across the ocean. “I hate the ocean. It’s too big and empty. Where can you hide and where can you hunt?” Derry’n has become used to the dog's outbursts of speech that he alone can hear. Buddy does not seem to understand any human speech, nor that he can be understood. All his rants are just that. He seems to be able to pick up on the emotions of his human companions and thinks his thoughts based on them. He looks up at Derry’n and barks once before looping away into the woods.
Derry’n smiles to himself as he returns his gaze to the water. He frowns suddenly as he sees a figure out amongst the rocks, clinging on, slipping slowly to a watery death below. He goes to shout, but his mind seems to become cloudy and he takes a step forwards towards the edge of the cliff. A voice floats across his mind calling him closer. He is aware of a tale about a drowned woman who calls victims to their deaths on the rocks. Darwin’t, Danlynn and the girls used to play games about it when they were kids, but he has never believed it to be true. He tries to turn his head away, but the hypnotic scene before him drags him closer to the edge. He reaches the drop and takes another step over the edge.
The pack leader moves away from the long drop down into the churning water. He feels fear from the vastness of the ocean and the tall spikes rising from it make him nervous. He feels the old ones who are not at rest below the waves and the pain from the old fighting amongst the rocks. “Always thinking of the past,” he says to himself as he searches the waves with his old grey eyes. “I hate the ocean. It’s too big and empty. Where can you hide and where can you hunt?” He looks up into the face of the fallen one and calls his feelings to him before running into the trees to be away from the whispers of the dead.
He finds one of the pack leader’s traps and snatches the rabbit from it. He takes it over to a hollow log where he lays down and begins his meal. He calls himself Gruur which to him means “powerful and dangerous.” His life is an easy one compared to the other types of creatures he has encountered over many moons. He has seen suffering, pain and hunger kill, and here he is, taking it easy with a rabbit and not caring. He knows what it is to suffer and he knows that he does not want it to happen to pack leader or now to the fallen one, but everything else is detached.
After all he is only a dog.
However, he knows more than most other dumb animals. He can hear things on the wind; see lights move where there is only darkness; taste taints on the air; feel the woodlands move; smell the wrong in other two legs and even some creatures.
The sounds made by pack leader are just that. He recognizes some and knows what they mean. “Food” means feeding. “Run” means to sprint. “Buddy” means to look at him or to listen to him or to go to him. “Sex” means pack leader wants him to go outside and rest if they are in a town and “cuddle” is when pack leader is cold and needs warmth. But now there is the fallen one. His words make little pictures behind his eyes. When the fallen one was talking in the wood, pictures of a small puppy being attacked by wolves fluttered across his vision. He knew he meant that he was the puppy and others were the wolves. He barked and his own thoughts became pictures and passed over to the fallen one. It has happened more than once. It is like they can hear each other.
A rush of wind blows across his hind and he curls to keep warm. It is then that he hears her. She has called out before but he has never listened. She is bad. She is already passed and should not still be. He closes his eyes to wait for her to return to the great ocean.
“Buddy,” pack leader screams. “Buddy h noeu hydt hdlp.” There is the sound of running and more screams. Gruur springs to his paws and charges towards the sounds. Pictures of a drowning puppy fill his eyes.
Derry’n shifts his eyes towards the small child clinging to the rocks. Waves crash over him, soaking and threatening to knock him into the ocean and the awaiting rocks. “Hold on,” he screams but his words are stolen by the wind and another wave. He loses his footing and tumbles. Knocking his head against the rock. He feels himself slide into the deep coldness of the ocean.
He closes his eyes as he sinks under the waters and into darkness.
Gruur sees the fallen one step off of the air and onto the rock. He cannot understand what he sees, but the pictures of the drowning puppy still float across his eyes. He calls and hears the pictures on his bark but they do not reach the fallen one. He dashes to the edge of the drop and stops. Pack leader crouches down, calling in his own way, but even that does not reach the fallen one.
There is only one thing to do. Gruur jumps into the freezing water.
One second the boy is running on the very air itself and then he is on the rock. Uelist is not sure if it is magic or the ghostly girl clinging to the rock. He has seen the ghost before. She calls for help and when it comes she makes the waves crash them into the ocean and she feasts on their souls. He has never seen it happen but it looks like he is about to see legend become reality.
Buddy pads over to him barking and yelping. Darting up and down the edge of the cliff in a frenzy. Without warning the dog leaps into the ocean. Vanishing beneath the surface.
“Buddy!” Uelist screams.
Derry’n opens his eyes to come face to face with a mass of flowing black hair. Within the net of strands two yellow eyes stare out. Long limbs reach towards him, clawing, dragging further down into the water. Then Buddy is there. The shape moves and the coils wrap around the dog. Taken by the current and the force of the rushing waves, Derry’n loses sight of the battle. He breaks surface and looks around him. He is far south of the Needles, at least ten minutes down the beach. He cannot explain how he has traveled so far in such a short space of time. He looks to the cliff and sees the tiny shape of Uelist standing upon its edge. Gazing out at the ocean. Then the man turns and walks away. A small shape scrambles up the bank and races up the steep hill to the side of the cliff.
A warm feeling enters his heart as he hears barking drift on the wind and a picture of two puppies playing with each other fills his mind.
He splashes to the bank and climbs out. With no hope of catching up with Uelist and Buddy before night falls he decides to head south. After all, he has people to meet.
12
TWO WEEKS of TRAVELING
&n
bsp; Darwin’t jumps from his horse and pats the beast on the head. Froth bubbles from its mouth and from under the saddle. They have been driving them too hard, and now they are close to death. Tarfleam does not care for the horses and has urged for their ride to continue, but Darwin’t, having grown up with them has respect which is too great to let these beautiful animals die for him.
“This will be a good place to stop, I think,” he says breezily and starts to unpack his blanket. “We can rest for a while. Maybe get some sleep.”
“Sleep!” Tarfleam shrieks a little too loudly. He nervously scans the bushes surrounding them. “Sleep,” he repeats quietly. “Did you not live through the same nightmare as I did? Tye is dead and there are monsters, and the Mother knows what else after us. We should be back on the horses and ride them till they die. Get some more and ride till we reach the harbor and the others.” He does not look Darwin’t in the eyes as he speaks, preferring to look at the dirt on his boots.
“The horses need to rest, and so do we. I have not forgotten about what might be, and I say ‘might be’ after us, because it has been in my mind for the last few days. All I can see is poor Tye’s face when I close my eyes.” He takes a deep breath to stop the tears which have sprung into his eyes. “But I will not let the horses die or us for that matter. A tired horse can trip.” He turns away from Tarfleam and shakes his blanket out, dropping it onto the floor, letting it settle into an almost perfect square. He sits and flattens down the corners.
Tarfleam watches him for a while and then returns to his horse to fetch his own blanket. He sits on the ground and wraps the blanket around his shoulders. He mutters something that Darwin’t does not quite hear and settles back into his sullen and scared state.
Darwin’t studies the former bully of Gressgs. He is of average height, although he seems shorter because he walks with a slight stoop, hunching his shoulders. He is a very skinny and pale young man, far from being handsome with his harsh cheekbones, long pointed nose and small, thin mouth. He has a narrow sharp jaw which matches his narrow, sunken grey eyes. His face is framed by unkempt mousey brown hair, which hangs greasy and lank. They are anything but friends, and even in their frantic escape, even though he has feared for the man, he has wished Tarfleam was with one of the others. Once and only for a split second, a slip of thinking when Tarfleam was screaming, he had wished it was Tarfleam dead and not Tye. He could not forgive himself for thinking such a horrible thought and so he had decided to look after the man instead.
They had been friends as small children. They were all of a similar age and so had got on together. But Tarfleam was spoilt by his wealthy parents who found it hard to discipline him. Tancred, Tarfleam’s younger brother, is completely different. Where Tarfleam is selfish, untrustworthy, sly and hateful; his brother is caring, trustful, open-hearted and a pleasure to be with. Tancred's only down point, apart from being related to Tarfleam, is that he is a few suns too young to really be a friend.
Tarfleam shudders, and his low whimpering begins again. This is the third time since seeing Tye die that Tarfleam has vanished within himself, fear rendering him useless. Darwin’t sighs and gets up. He wraps his arms around the man who has caused him so much grief over the many suns and whispers reassuring things to him, all the time not really believing his own words.
Danlynn ties the reins of the grey horse to a tree and hops up onto a cart parked along the road and buries himself in the hay. The warmth floods through him, even if it is a little uncomfortable. There had been no sign of the carts owner so he should be fine to rest here until morning. He smiles grimly at the thought of having a pitchfork stabbed into him yet his own joke makes him nervous. Adjusting the way he lays so that his feet can be seen. He closes his eyes and falls asleep.
Derry’n staggers over a pebble. The fifth time in an hour. He decides to call it a day and finding a dry patch under a bush he curls up to keep the cold out and falls into a deep restless slumber.
Riochald carries the sleeping form of Canace into a small patch of trees and sits down beside her. It has been a hell of a day, and she is tired and irritable. She decides to keep watch but as the hours slip by she herself slips into sleep.
Ori watches O’us tell Molly a tale from the chair at the back of her bedchamber. She is starting to become herself again and in time she will regain the use of her legs. He wipes a tear from his face and continues his vigil.
“Kuhk’Itu’Iwo,” O’us says in the Angel tongue as he approaches. “She is asking for you.”
Ori nods and lifts his aging frame from the chair. He rubs his lower back with the heels of his hands and flexes his shoulders and wings. “I am getting too old for sitting in soft chairs.” He smiles dryly. “And please, my son. I know I am in my robes, but when it is just us you do not have to call me by my title. We speak the common tongue now and it makes me feel so ancient hearing the old words.” He smiles warmly to let his son know it was not a telling off. “Leave us.” O’us nods once and strolls from the room. The sound of his wings beating echoes through the windows and for a second he sweeps past. When Ori reaches the bed he sees that Molly is on the verge of sleep. He touches her cheek and she stirs, mumbling but the words make no sense. “Sleep child,” he whispers and in the next moment she is just that.
Darwin’t all but drops the sleeping Tarfleam onto the dry, compacted earth as he stands and walks back to his blanket. This is not the life he should be having. He should be with Canace at the shrine. He thinks about her then. Her slight form and small breasts. Her long naturally wavy blond hair falling about her round face; childish green eyes so happy and laughing, rosebud mouth blossoming into a wide grin. Her soft pale skin becoming red with embarrassment and then wrinkling her petite nose and letting out a soft giggle.
He closes his eyes and lets himself fall backwards. Sleep takes him before he touches the ground.
A storm howls around them as they stand at the top of a high tower. Flames lick at their feet, and lightning flares in the sky. Darwin’t turns to face the others. They have all changed so much. Riochald looks calm and determined, her hair flowing behind her, let out of her usual tight bun. Danlynn stares back at him, but there is no question in his eyes, just the knowledge of what must be done.
Derry’n, dressed in the same multicolored baggy breaches from other dreams steps forwards and mutters words which cannot be heard. Danlynn looks across to him and nods; drawing an arrow he turns and walks away. Derry’n smiles oddly and follows. Riochald looks over to where Tarfleam crouches, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Without a word she sweeps past and grabs him, pulling him through the door and out of sight.
That only leaves him and Canace on the tower. The sky lights up and the crash of thunder breaks across them but neither react, so accustomed to the sounds of explosions and war. He tries to tell her that he loves her but she shakes her head and with a sad smile turns away from him.
“Wait!” he calls but she does not hear.
“She cannot interact here. This is your mind.”
Darwin’t spins around to see a small girl. She smiles as he recognizes her. “I should not be here myself. I should be resting. The last look into your mind left me very ill.” She takes a step closer. “I still do not understand this myself. Ori helps, but I am only a child.”
“Who are you?”
“Molly,”
“Molly who?”
“Just Molly.”
“Where are your wings?” Darwin’t realizes that her wings of light are absent.
“They are only in my dreams. I wish I had them. I hate being different.” She looks to her left suddenly and then back at Darwin’t. Her face now a mask of panic. “Stop it. Stop it now. Let me go. You must wake up.” With that the tower shudders. “Wake up!” she screams. “Please, before they find you again!” A howling scream erupts from behind them and, as they turn a huge beast leaps forwards. Flames shoot up into the sky and lightning crashes down into the earth. As he feels the claws cut into
his flesh and the flames burn him he hears the girl’s panicked scream. “Wake up.”
Darwin’t snaps awake and sits bolt upright. He searches his body for wounds but does not find anything. It was only a dream. No, it was more than that. He glances over to Tarfleam who is staring wide eyed into the darkness. It is time to be moving. They know where they are.
Derry’n screams as the blade passes into his heart and he lurches forwards. A branch scratches his cheek and in his panic he falls from his dry place and into the drizzle. He glances about himself, his senses returning. It was a dream. However he does not return to the dry, instead he runs into the dark, running from the swords.
Canace screams and Riochald runs to her. She has only just awoken from her own nightmare to find her friend crying out. She hushes the girl before pulling her to her feet. “Come on,” she says in a rush. “We have to be going.”
Fire burns across Danlynn and he feels himself falling, his death fast approaching. He hits the ground and curses. Staggering to his feet on the road. He watches the hay wagon move away from him and he smiles. Just a dream. His smile fades and he looks over his shoulder into the night. He is being watched. “Hey,” he yells and runs towards his mount. “Hey, Mr. You want some company?” He clambers onto the horse and chases after the wagon.
Darwin’t runs a hand through his messy brown hair. It has been just over two weeks since they fled their homes the night of the storm. He will probably never forget that night. He closes his eyes and sees the crumpled body of Tye Slocot. He snaps his eyes open and takes a deep breath to dispel the tears that flood into his eyes.