Revenge: The Gray-Matter Chrolicles: Book 1 (The Matter Chronicles 4)

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Revenge: The Gray-Matter Chrolicles: Book 1 (The Matter Chronicles 4) Page 15

by P. G. Thomas


  Chapter 12

  It was thirty minutes later when their mounts raced across the field, and unfolding their wings, they took to the air. Following the craggy range, they looked for the home of the sky elves, which they found four hours later. John was uncertain of how they would react when the winged horses landed, especially finding non-elves riding them, and hoped that Pike was still around. As he feared, elves armed with bows, swords, and spears advanced towards them. Alarms, screams, and squawking eagles added to the unexpected arrival.

  Lauren called out to everybody to dismount and drop their weapons, but the actions did little to calm the short elves that rode the massive birds.

  Stepping forward, Amber took off her helmet, wiggled her deer ears, and spoke in elf. “We mean you no harm. We quest for Sister.”

  The sight of a dwarf with elf ears made the sky elves step back.

  “We look for one named Pike. Is he still the clan chief?” As the confusion began to diminish, quiet started to embrace the excited situation. Amber tried again, “We mean you no harm. We search for one named Pike.”

  They were just as Lauren remembered, shorter than normal elves, thin and gaunt, but with vibrant blue eyes and the familiar deer ears. One elf approached from the back, “My father’s name you speak, but I do not know you. I am Crayle, clan chief now. Why do you invade my house?”

  Amber looked back to Lauren who just nodded to continue, “Sister’s Voice returns. He wishes to find her, but she is silent.”

  “Where is Sister’s Voice?” asked the angered elf.

  Logan stepped forward.

  “Show me Sister’s marks.”

  This isn’t going to be fun. Logan rolled back his sleeves, exposing his bare forearms.

  “LIES, TRICKERY!” Crayle shouted at them, “Leave now!”

  “WAIT!” An old sky elf, bald and bent over with age walked to the front, “Sister’s Voice, let me see him.”

  Walking forward, Logan smiled, “Pike, you gave me that name, but she called me her Bastard. I’ve returned but cannot find her.”

  He walked around Logan, “Same, but different you are, and the same age? Why do both age and Sister ignore you?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Pike stepped back, “As you sound different, I cannot be sure.”

  Logan understood the confusion. The age difference, the missing tattoos, and most of all, his voice lacked Sister’s presence. “That day, when we first met, we netted one of your birds. I talked to it, and it heard me. Is it still with you?”

  Pike nodded, turned to Crayle, “Bring the silverback here.”

  Calling to the back, several elves soon led forward an eagle fifteen feet tall, thirty feet long from beak to tail feathers.

  Steve’s jaw slowly opened as he stared at the massive bird. I can see why they call them mountain eagles.

  Logan looked up to the massive head, having a beak that could crush his skull, and saw his reflection in the huge eye, “Hello, old friend, Do you remember me? We met a long time ago. You were scared, and so was I. Back then, Sister was my friend, and I’m looking for her again.” Taking a chance, Logan raised his hand up to the large bird. It bent down, examined him, cocked its head from side to side, and then kneeled down. Walking up to it, scratching it under its beak, Logan turned to Pike and Crayle, “He still remembers me, and I need your help to find Sister.”

  Pike walked over to the large bird, “Sister’s Voice, you are and are not.”

  With his other hand, Logan reached up to the bird and stroked its beak, “If I wasn’t, could I do this?”

  “We need to talk,” Pike advised Crayle.

  Heading back over to the group, Logan sighed, “It’s nice to meet somebody that remembers us, but I don’t know if they’re sold.”

  John nodded, “If they aren’t, then we leave because there’s nothing else we can do.”

  Sky elves still circled the group with their weapons pointed at them, but their arrival on the strange beasts had also created a sensation. Numerous sky elves had seen dwarves and midlanders before, but none had ever seen horses with wings. In less than fifteen minutes, the entire clan was in the vast cavern, maneuvering to get a better look at the abnormal visitors.

  When one small elf child pushed through the line, Amber went up to her. “Would you like to pet it?” The child looked back to the guard, but he was also in awe of the sights before him, nodded in agreement. Seeing this, Lauren went over to one of the winged horses, placed her foot behind its front knee, which caused it to lower. The child, filled with hesitation and joy, approached the horse holding Amber’s hand, reached out, stroked the soft fur, and then caressed the wings. John slowly pulled off his backpack, opened the food chest, reached inside, and pulled out an apple. He handed it to Amber, telling her how to feed it. She had the elf child hold her hand out flat, who did as directed. The horse gently reached down, wrapped its lips around the apple, and took a bite from it. Half fell back into the little hand with an ample amount of horse saliva, and then she squealed with delight, running back to her family with a joyful smile.

  John turned to the others, whispered, “Don’t anybody turn the horses into amulets. Just remain calm and do nothing.”

  A few other children worked their way past the guards and looked up to Amber. One by one, she would reach out to each, bring them forward, and let them pet the gentle horse. Squealing with excitement, they would run back to the other side where their friends gathered around them.

  An hour later, Pike and Crayle returned and saw one of the young ones petting the horse. Looking at the guards, Pike ordered them to stand down. Then the retired clan chief walked up to Logan, “The last time we met, Sister was with you. With her voice, you spoke, and we listened. Later, the Bastard she does both mention and miss. Never before has such a request been made, and even now, I am uncertain if I shall grant it. Yet it is not my call, it is your choice. We shall take you to where we first found Sister. We will blindfold you, and our Seer shall escort you to prepare you for your visit. If Sister embraces you, your call the eagles shall answer. If Sister rejects you, then you will die there. The choice first you will make and Sister makes second. If Sister’s Voice you truly are, you shall return. If not, your deception will purchase a cold and lonely death. What say you?”

  “Can I talk with my friends first?”

  “No. My risk is great, as I break many traditions. Prove yourself or leave, as her first would not have any fears.” Pike pointed in two directions: to his friends, and to the large saddled eagle with a shriveled elf lady standing beside it.

  Logan did a double take, as her eye sockets were sunken, having the eyelids sewn shut with crude ancient stitches. Bastard—Yeah, that’s me. He cast a look towards Lauren, Ryan, and John, but their blank stares did little to convince him which way he should go, and then he thought of Samantha, Hope, and Brooke. Sister, I need your help. Waving goodbye to his friends, Logan headed towards the small blind woman with the giant eagle.

  Once there, another sky elf helped the Seer onto the saddled eagle. The same then placed a cloth bag over Logan’s head, tied it off, and with a second rope secured his hands. After helping Logan onto the massive bird, the second elf secured him to the saddle. The large bird stood, flexed its wings, and felt the breeze.

  The eight were mystified, watching the giant bird slowly approach the cave edge. Raising its head to the wind, it looked to the right, then to the left, and that was when John saw the cataracts in the eyes of the giant bird, which was also blind. The eagle fell off the ledge, extended its broad wings, and caught an updraft. In quiet, they watched it soar higher until it was gone.

  Pike walked over to the group, “Here you will stay this night and the next day. If by the last sunset tomorrow, your young friend does not revisit then you shall leave here and never return. If you do, words shall not greet you, but our anger will instead. From this place, you shall fly, but mounts we will not provide.” Pike walked over to one of the guards, g
rabbed a spear, and walking to the center of the cavern, he dragged the base across the floor of the cave, marking a line in the sandy soil. He handed the spear back to the guard, “None shall cross,” and then left.

  “John, I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” stated Eric.

  He nodded, and then saw her heading their way, “Is it named Lauren?”

  “Good luck,” Eric said, turning to leave.

  John was looking at her, “I didn’t—”

  “What the hell just happened?”

  “Logan will find Sister, he has to.”

  “Your body language isn’t selling the message. If Logan doesn’t return, you better grow wings quick because, damn it, I’ll throw you off this cliff myself.”

  Ryan cast a glance towards him, indicating he would try to talk to her.

  John walked over to the cliff edge, looked down, and hoped that Ryan’s arguments would be more persuasive than his own, whispering a silent prayer to Sister, Mother, and even Father.

  *******

  Sensing the bird walking forward, Logan felt it fall off the cliff edge, and as the freefall intensified, he fought to keep the contents of his stomach down. Leaning forward into his blind guide, gripping the saddle tightly with his legs, he started to apologize for every small thing in his life he had ever done wrong, beginning with what he had done to his sister; it was a long apology. It was a strange sensation feeling the cold air blow past, but lacking any visual cues, he had no idea on time, speed, or direction, and feeling the cold, he remembered the old days when Sister would protect him from the elements. Being unsure of how long they had been flying, his legs became numb from gripping the eagle with them. Then he started to shiver and then shake. When his head dropped forward, reflexes quickly jerked it upright, but with everything black, cold, his concentration was losing focus. Feeling his head bob forward, he woke up and then woke up again. Shaking badly, he began to slip, tried to grasp the eagle with his legs, but being so cold, they failed to respond.

  Then he hit the ground. Giving his head a shake, he tried to gain his bearings and felt the restraints being removed. When the hood was pulled off, it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dark, but he started to rub his arms and legs to circulate the blood. Then suddenly a fire erupted in the cave, and in front of it, the blind Seer, who with rolled up sleeves exposed the tattoos he quested for.

  He watched her open a large pouch pulling out a pot, which she then placed on a grill. “So what do we do now?” Opening her mouth, he saw that she was without a tongue. Should have gone the other way. Watching her stir it, testing the temperature with her finger, he approached. After fifteen minutes, she picked it up with her bare hands, placing it in front of herself. Reaching into her pouch, she produced a ladle and bowls, filling them with the contents of the pot. Holding one out to Logan, he quickly grabbed it, being afraid it might drop if he was too slow. Watching her, she raised the bowl to her lips and began to slurp it in, so he did the same. The chill began to leave his body, but finishing the last, he started to feel groggy, and giving his head a shake, he flexed his jaw, blinked his eyes, but then everything went black.

  *******

  Light streaming into the cave entrance slowly crept over Logan. Being unable to push it away with his hands, he opened his eyes and stood. Feeling a chill in the air, walking towards the cave edge, he stared at the panoramic view of the snow-capped mountains, which stretched from one horizon to the next. Looking down, he stepped back because there was no way out, not unless you could fly. Above him, the first sun had crested the midday arc, which was slowly starting its descent to the horizon followed by its two siblings.

  Turning around, he examined the cave: the front being forty feet high, sixty feet wide and long. The walls and ceiling were black stone with streaks of silver in them. To his left was a thick glass wall with the surface being like a sea frozen in time. Even though the surface rolled up and down, the edges were all worn smooth. Depending on how he looked through it, the images inside would shift, alter, or even disappear. Finding a reasonably flat section, pressing his face against it, inside he saw the white stone benches that he so desperately sought. Racing down to the end closest to the cave mouth, he found three holes worn into the rock that were too small for him to crawl through, but elves, being smaller, may have fit. At the other end, he found five similar, but even though they might allow him passage, it would be tight. Walking along the glass wall, he looked for something that might be a secret door, examining the floor and ceiling as well, but if there was another access, it was not obvious. As he started to push against it, he heard something—a quiet ‘help me.’ He turned around, “Who’s there?”

  “Please, help me.”

  Logan went to the other side of the cave, finding a dozen passageways leading deeper into darkness. The walls, ceilings, and floor were like Swiss Cheese, covered with thousands of holes of different sizes, and in between them, marbled in the rock, where streaks of silver. He repeated his call, “Who’s there?”

  It sounded like a small elf girl, her voice fragile, filled with fear, “Javantay.”

  He called out to her, “Are you all right?”

  “My foot is caught.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “We play up here and live below. I know that we should not, but we all do. We play hide-n-find, but I fell asleep, and the others have left. I am afraid, please, help me.”

  The voice seemed odd, but so did his with the sounds echoing through the tunnels, going in one, coming out another beside him, “Where are you?”

  “I do not know. My light, can you not see it?”

  Walking into the first three tunnels, Logan could see no lights. Through the walls honeycombed with holes, he could see into other chambers or tunnels, but all were absent of any illumination. “Don’t worry, Javantay, I’ll find you.” He tried the next two but made no forward progress, calling out to her the entire time. On the third attempt he caught a glimpse of light, but the tunnel was a dead end. Entering the next, he tried to keep track of where he thought he was, compared to where he had been. The ceiling high overhead had cracks, permitting precious light in, and in a few spots, rocks actually glowed. Trying to use those as compass points, he worked his way deeper into the caves. A few times the tunnels led into rooms that had more choices, but when he thought the voice should be to his left, it now seemed like it was coming from his right. He called out, asking her to throw stones, but she said there were none. Just when he felt he was getting closer, her voice sounded farther away. Looking overhead at the cracks with light, he could tell the suns had all crested the mountains, as the angle of the light suggested that evening would soon arrive. Becoming worried, he heard her call out, saying her foot was free, and then the cave went silent. Logan turned to find his way out, but the entrance he looked for seemed to be gone. He felt around the peculiar shaped dark room, finding a number of possible exits; exits that he didn’t think were there moments ago. Bending down, he scooped up a handful of rocks from the cavern floor, tossing them along the possible routes. Finding one where the rocks sounded like they traveled farther, he dumped the remaining ones into his pocket so that he could feel both sides of the corridor. Arriving into another room with multiple exits, he repeated the actions with the rocks, selecting a new direction. At times, he thought he saw a light, but it would just be the strange silver metal reflecting an illumination from another source. No longer sure what direction he traveled, frustrated, he called out, but his voice merely echoed back from dozens of different tunnels and small holes in the walls.

  Stumbling into a room, the silver veins in the rock all glowed brightly, and in the middle, he saw the two large white stone benches. On one sat the blind Seer, who drank from a silver flask, and with her fingers, signaled for him to come forward and kneel. As he did, rolling his sleeves back, she nodded, and then he placed his bare forearms on the white rocks. His eyes went wide, and his jaw clenched, as the searing pain greeted his to
uch. With waves of white agony and light slamming into his brain, his body convulsed, as he tried to keep his arms in contact. When he woke, his sweaty face was plastered with white sand, and he quickly raised himself up to his knees, giving his head a shake. Examining his forearms, the tattoos were back; a red feather on his right arm, the blue on his left. Stroking them, he watched the segments break apart and join back together. As he looked up, the blind woman was smiling, holding out the flask. Pushing himself up from the cavern floor, wiping the sand from his face, he sat down on one of the benches and took a long drink. Scanning the rest of the chamber, he noticed the glass wall that had both obscured his vision and blocked his path was now gone.

  From the far end of the cavern, he heard the wind blowing through the maze of tunnels and holes, which called the rock home, making a haunting unnatural sound. “Welcome home, Bastard.”

  Logan turned to the Seer, “Was that Sister?”

  She nodded, taking the silver flask back, and poured the contents out on the other stone bench where it pooled, turning dark. As Logan watched, the liquid began to change. It became opaque, altering like smoke swirled inside of it. Then an image began to slowly form, growing in size, and he saw three females all the same height, wearing long black dresses, but the vision looked strange, unnatural. They had an odd appearance because their feet extended straight below them with their heads at an odd angle, and as the liquid vision cleared, he saw the ropes around their necks.

 

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