Explorers_Beyond The Horizon

by C J Paget

  Meera reached her hand out as if to comfort McKenna, but dropped it down by her side. “After your mother left, Neil and I…we loved each other. He tried to break the oath of silence so he could bring you here, but each time he tried, he fell ill.” She placed her delicate hands on the shoulders of the two girls. “These are your sisters.”

  Tears streamed down McKenna’s face as she imagined Dad raising his new daughters, while she spent her evenings and weekends alone, cooking for herself, learning how to sew because there was no money to buy new clothes. How many years had she spent wishing on stars that she could have had a sister to share that time with, to tell her secrets to, to crawl into bed with when thunder crashed outside?

  Kendu’s words haunted her mind: You must have a wonderful life. Truth was, she had no life at all. She worked alone in an office and went home to an empty apartment, avoiding anyone who’d tried to get too close.

  As she stared at the butterfly woman, she realized the Shyll could never leave her. Their entire world existed within the greenhouse, as fragile and worn down as she was. They needed her. She’d never been needed before, and a new sense of purpose bloomed inside her. The sisters she’d always wanted stood before her, their lives in her hands.

  He tried to break the oath of silence. Had his efforts killed him in the end? All of the old hurt leaked out of McKenna’s heart in a steady stream down her face. The two girls each took one of her hands in theirs, tears wetting their rosy cheeks, and something warm touched her shoulder. McKenna craned her neck to look at Kendu who stood beside her, his hand on her.

  “We’re your family now, McKenna,” Kendu said. “Let us heal you, as you’ll heal us.”

  The emptiness inside her absorbed the surroundings, the vibrations from the blue vines that coiled around the entire group like an embrace, the hope rolling off Meera and her daughters in waves, the kind moth-man who gave her a sort of comfort and warmth she’d never had. Other villagers gathered around them, their expressions welcoming and without judgment. A sense of belonging settled around her. Maybe she could have a home again, a family, someone to need her as much as she needed them.

  McKenna slipped her hand into Kendu’s and managed a smile. “So…when are you going to teach me how to fly?”

  A MOURNFUL RUSTLING

  By Court Ellyn

  First Mage’s Log

  The Verdant Plane

  Day 8

  The forest is beginning to unsettle me. We have been here such a short time, and already things are falling apart. Our reconnaissance team ran back to camp a day ahead of schedule, screaming like babes fleeing nightmares. Strange to see accomplished Earth masters like Yebani and Mostaf running through the trees, tearing their hair out and gibbering nonsense like madmen. After a few hours the team settled down, but only Second Mage Yebani found the courage to report what had happened.

  “We neared the clearing again,” he admitted. “The one with the tall hill.”

  “The one that the elphine natives warned us to avoid?” I said, fists tight as stones on my hips. “I instructed you to go the other direction.”

  “But, First Mage, it drew us. There are energies in that clearing, strong beyond belief. You haven’t felt them. The hairs on my arms rise with the dwergma, it’s so strong. There must be something inside the hill we can take back to Tai-Ura with us.”

  “Perhaps,” I said, distrustful of dwergma that could turn rational men into raving lunatics. “But my first responsibility is to get my team home safely.” My superiors among the Jade Circle have promised to revoke my privileges as a Diviner of the Realms if I lose another team. I’m not happy about the Circle’s decision to send me into active duty so soon. I’m still in mourning; I will always be in mourning, but the Circle seems to think my personal sorrows are secondary to their objectives.

  The Jade Lord Venu had told me, “We have reviewed the memories of the surviving team members, as well as your own, and though we have judged you careless in not stationing sentries, you are also one of our best Diviners. Your discoveries of rich dwergma stores have been invaluable to us. Therefore, we are giving you one more chance…”

  Do I want another chance? The memories are so strong in this place that I can almost hear their screams.

  Doubtless, the Jade Lord had decided I needed a few steady hands along, in case I cracked. Mostaf is a true veteran of the Circle’s explorations of the Outer Realms. Though he coddles me, much like a worried father, he doesn’t tell me how to do my job. My credentials must be extensive enough to have earned his respect. Yebani was one of the survivors of my last expedition; he saw what happened and understands why I dread coming back. Osharu is our scout and my brother-in-marriage. At first I refused to travel with family—I have lost too many already—but Osharu insisted he come along to watch my back. The rest of the team are students of the Jade Tower, undermages whose skill won them a place on the team roster. So many in my care. And I have lost all trust in my ability to protect them.

  Eventually Yebani stopped shaking. He clutched a mug of hot taza in calmer hands. We had to determine if the dwergma he detected was usable or better avoided. I asked, “Your reaction to the clearing was far different last time.”

  “It began the same,” he said, “the same confusion, the sense that I was dreaming, going to someplace familiar, but someplace I feared. I couldn’t tell if I was awake or dreaming. And then… No, I don’t want to think about it.”

  Strange that he should speak of dreams. Since setting up camp deep inside the forest, my sleep has been plagued with dreams so vivid that I swear I am living them—or reliving, as the dreams are more like memories. Memories of Saariv and our little Akisa.

  “Want to or not, tell me, Yebani.”

  His dark skin had a sickly gray hue to it. “We walked around the hill for a bit, then, before I knew it, we were climbing. I know what you’re going to say, Ennala! We were foolish and reckless and you’d be right to send us home. But we were drawn, I tell you.”

  I let him beat himself up to save me the trouble, and then I asked, “The confusion worsened as you climbed?”

  “No, my mind cleared, and I felt compelled to keep climbing. Ah, First Mage, suddenly I was back among the orchards where I grew up and…”

  “But why the terror?”

  “Well, my life hasn’t been all orchards and sunlight, Ennala. There are bad things, too. Things that have happened, things I’ve done. Something in that clearing knew them all and… I don’t know, wanted to take them from me? I guess I was running and screaming because I didn’t want to give them up, but I didn’t want to be reminded of those things either. And, well, I kept trying to wake up and couldn’t. Terrifying. The same must’ve happened to Mostaf.”

  What kind of magic drew out a person’s memories only to deliver them like a gift in a box? Oh, to be faced with… No, I couldn’t allow it. “We have to move camp. We’ll try farther east. Maps indicate a wide plain there. We might be able to document native herds or veins of dwergma.”

  Yebani sagged as if I had ordered him to a gallows. “But there’s something—”

  “Clearly,” I bit. “And it’s something we’re going to stay away from. The Circle wants forms of dwergma that augment our skills, not more dead mages. Get some rest, Yebani. We’ll pack up tomorrow morning.”

  We have turned in early, but I’m afraid to sleep. Afraid of the dreams. As far as I know, none of the other mages have heard my sobs in the early hours, though I think they see that I’m not sleeping well. A long while I have lain in my bedroll, gazing up through the humming dome of my tent, watching, recording. It’s peaceful tonight, despite the strange calls of some undocumented nightbird. The trees here are large enough to swallow villages. The canopy shuts out the starlight. Easy to see why the forest’s discoverers called it Vatanne’s Cathedral. Here, the ground is moist, not with water, but with pure earth energy. Drifting mists of pollen twist, wraith-like, through the trees. Coming from a world where magical energies are
fading, we feel like we breathe air for the first time when emerge through the portals. But as beautiful as the Cathedral is, there are pitfalls and toxins we have not yet discovered, predators we have not yet named, and mysteries we cannot explain.

  * * * * *

  Day 9

  I was unable to hide my sobbing from the team last night. Malia shook me awake, asking, “First Mage, are you hurt?” My face was wet; the tears had run into my hair. Malia sat back on her heels waiting for me to speak.

  When I realized where I was, I confessed the dreams. This time I had been running, reaching out a hand to save them, but the wolves suddenly disappeared, stealing Saariv and Akisa into the shadows. My daughter’s screams echoed among the trees, but I couldn’t find her. Just as suddenly, I stood in the killing ground. The wolves were gone. They hadn’t left much. I knelt in the leaves wet with blood and wept.

  Malia voiced her sympathies, but she hadn’t much to say. “You’re brave to come back so soon. I don’t think I could.”

  I had hoped for healing, but the sights and smells and energy of the forest act like blades ripping open the wound again and again. I told the Circle it was too soon, but they asked, “Is there ever a right time to return to the place where one lost a husband and daughter?” A callous thing to say, though it was, perhaps, true. All I can do is finish the mission, go home, and retire. I do not look forward to the loneliness.

  * * * * *

  Later—

  The Cathedral has not been kind to us today. We have found a quiet place of refuge, and so I take the opportunity to record the danger we encountered.

  At dawn, we dispelled our dome tents, packed up, and started east. We walked for only an hour when Osharu held up a hand, bringing us to a halt.

  “Trouble, brother?” I whispered.

  He pointed to his ear, then to the forest ahead. I listened. Snarls, yips, growls. Fear welled up from my belly, turned my limbs to liquid. I prayed to Vatanne that the wolves hadn’t caught our scent. Unless we turned back, the ravine on our left would force us closer to the beasts.

  “Thirty yards, maybe,” Osharu said, “and I think the ravine ends. We’ll proceed quietly, then cut back north for a bit.” His step was as soft as leaf-fall. We tried to emulate him while keeping the team in a tight line. The arguing of the wolves grew louder as we proceeded, but the ferns and vines concealed them from view. Eventually, we could hear the sounds of tearing flesh and breaking bone. Cold sweat slicked my face, and all I could see was Akisa’s little body, torn and broken.

  At last, the ravine grew shallow and narrow enough to leap across. Osharu went first. Yebani looked sick and wary as he crossed. He remembered the silence with which the wolves had stolen our loved ones and the carnage they left behind. Putting on a brave face, I ushered the undermages ahead of me. Malia saw through my mask, however, and cast me a wan smile.

  A growl from my nightmares rose from the ferns behind us. Malia gasped and, fawn-like, went wide-eyed and still, staring at the muzzle emerging from the foliage. Across the ravine, Osharu and the others cried for us to run.

  The wolves of the Verdant Plane are not like the wolves that roam the rainforests of southern Tai-Ura. ‘Wolf’ is merely the name given them because there are similarities. They hunt in packs, yes, but these wolves are as large as prize bulls. Horns grow in spikes the length of their spines and bristle like collars behind tufted ears. Their eyes are like a cat’s, large and golden.

  A pair of those eyes stared at us from the ferns, dilated with a hunter’s hunger. Though his brethren were gorging themselves on their catch, this one had to wait his turn. Or catch his own.

  I half-shoved, half-tossed Malia across the ravine. The wolf lunged. With a gesture, I sent up a net of vines and twigs from the forest floor. Spells require little effort here; still, the shield was hasty and brittle. It wouldn’t take the wolf long to break through. I took a running leap and cleared the ravine by a yard. We ran.

  “Stay together!” I shouted. Glancing back, I saw the wolf spring over the ravine. That long, loping stride brought him quickly up on our heels. Our flight was hopeless. For an instant, I considered throwing myself in his path, so the others had a chance. So the memories would stop. So I could find Saariv and Akisa in the blessed Valleys.

  The wolf veered after Mostaf, oldest and slowest.

  “No! Me!” I cried. With a sweep of my arm, a fist of bedrock shuddered up in the wolf’s path. He bound off it and came for me.

  “Pitfall!” Yebani shouted. He and Osharu stopped on each side of me and with a raking motion of their hands, tore a deep hole into the earth. The wolf didn’t have time to break his stride or change direction. He leapt. His front paws cleared the gap, but his hind end fell short. He scrambled to pull himself out, but at last tumbled to the bottom. Circling the tight cell, he snarled and whined.

  We looked for the rest of the pack, but the trees were quiet. The commotion we caused must not have been interesting enough to pull them from their kill. And so we hurried on in silence. Osharu led us another mile or so north before he felt it safe enough to let us stop and rest.

  Now, we sit with our backs to a rocky bluff, feeling safe and sipping from water skins. Mostaf regales the undermages with the tale of the explorers who discovered the wolves a century or so ago. “It could’ve been trolls,” he says. “They would paralyze us with a glance and we’d be done for.” Odd way to encourage the youngsters, but it seems to work.

  Something strange: I’m finding it hard to concentrate and finish recording. Perhaps the encounter with the wolf shook me more than I’m willing to admit.

  No, there is energy here. At first it was barely detectable, but it grows and wanes. As if it is searching. My skin tingles with it. Among the undermages, Malia squirms and rubs her arms as if she’s trying to scrub off an eldritch touch. She will make a good Diviner.

  And Yebani. He hovers on the edge of our gathering, restless, staring into the distance. He feels it too. I will speak with him.

  * * * * *

  Day 11

  My memory of what happened is still fuzzy. I must try to recall, to set in order, so I can understand. Where did I leave off? Yes, Yebani. He looked aloof, concerned. So I approached him and whispered, “You hear more wolves?”

  “Wolves? No. We’re close.”

  “Close to what?”

  “The hill.” He indicated a rise in the forest floor back to the west.

  Soon after we arrived in the Cathedral, we encountered a band of native elphine hunters who told us we were in the vicinity of a powerful old relic, left by a people long gone from the Plane of Earth. The Hill of Stones, they called it. “Stay away,” they said. “This dwergma is a thief. It will steal you from yourself.” No one in our team understood these words, and we didn’t press for a clearer interpretation. We merely said we would heed the warning and steer clear.

  Had it been so easy, I wouldn’t have fallen prey.

  I tugged Yebani back to the gathering. He followed blindly, as if he were listening to a song sung in the distance. Indeed, I found myself poised with a waterskin halfway to my mouth, waiting for a voice to speak in my ear. It beckoned instead through the dwergma, caressing my skin. I remember thinking, Now that we are close to the hill, why not take a look? Nothing could be more deadly than the wolves, after all. Putting away the waterskin, I said, “We’re going to check it out.”

  Yebani argued. “No, First Mage. You were right. The dwergma in that hill is not the kind we seek. We should move on, quickly.”

  “How can we report if we don’t investigate?”

  Mostaf wrapped his wizened hand about my elbow and tried to lead me away. “You don’t want to see what that dwergma will show you.”

  “Please, First Mage,” Malia cried. “Let’s go on.”

  A handful of the other undermages echoed her plea.

  “Move out, then!” I snapped, striking off to the east. They didn’t understand my anger anymore than I did.

  They stuf
fed the water rations back into their packs and started after me. Osharu ran ahead to take up the lead, and for a while I pushed them hard. But gradually my step slowed. One mage, then another, passed me until I brought up the rear. Listening for that beckoning call, I fell farther and farther behind.

  I cannot explain why I gave in, except to say that the seduction was so strong I could not ignore it. It drew me like a child tugs a mother’s finger, dragging her along, eager to reveal a surprise. However, I can record with certainty that whatever the dwergma was seeking, it found in me, and it did not stop tugging until I followed.

  Finding the hill was easy. The trees cleared and a shaft of sunlight illumined a slope strewn with ordinary gray stones, moss, the occasional wildflower. The summit flattened out, though I couldn’t see what lurked there.

  The moment I stepped into the clearing, I wished I’d had the strength to heed Yebani and the others. Saariv stood in the sunlight. Akisa perched on his shoulders. Though they smiled at me, blood darkened their clothes. Their throats had been torn out. I fell to my knees and hid my face, but one cannot hide one’s eyes from what happens in dreams. “Wake up,” I told myself. The sunlight glistened on blood-wet leaves. Akisa’s tiny body lay in a twisted heap. Saariv lay nearby, staring across the clearing, seeing nothing. Where were the wolves? Had they gotten their fill and moved on? “Come back for me,” I sobbed.

  Such sadness, breathed a voice, so soft it might’ve been a sigh in the treetops.

  A child’s laughter rang under the trees. The leaves beneath me were dry. The bodies were gone. “No, they were never there,” I said. “Wake up.”

  The laughter darted around the hill like a bird’s song. Ah, the sound I missed most of all. Akisa’s laughter. A glimpse of black curls, a white skirt behind a boulder, urged me to my feet. The laughter came from higher up the hill. I followed, winding through the stones, over ages of moss and leaf-fall.