Long Days in Paradise - The First Book of the Shards of Heaven

by Amos T. Fairchild

Chapter 15 – Darkness II

  In times of Dark is always best,

  Before you shoot to always test.

  I

  It was a dim and stormy morning, a morning quite common to the Time of Darkness, and Jorden paused to look to the sky above.

  His kilt flapped in the brisk winds, the light rain stinging his cheek. It was not a day for walking, he was sure, but he could not remain in the house forever. It had already been two days since Taf had left him, left perhaps to die, and now he was alone amongst the terrors of the lands.

  He had searched for those two days without trace of the aestri and now wondered if she had thrown herself into the river to hasten the end. The note was remembered, a message that had tried to be hopeful where there was no hope. It did not sound like the note of anyone who was suicidal, and the aestri seemed little concerned with pain.

  It hardly mattered, she would now be well beyond life, Jorden wishing he could have been with her in those last difficult moments.

  Now he was alone.

  He would need a weapon and hoped the few coins that remained would be enough, and he was determined to come to face the witch-god who had created the nightmare that had taken Finesilver from him. If it also meant his death, then so be it.

  Jorden tried to forget, concentrating on his footfall and the muddy road ahead as he walked on toward Lennon. It would not be easy to forget, not as he had last seen her... Concentrate, he swore within; count the paces. He lost count somewhere between two and three thousand and shrugged, starting again at two. Then at around fifteen thousand footfall he noticed that the weather cleared, the fields a touch greener, the rain a little less. At somewhere over thirty he came to the tee in the road.

  Lennon did not lie on the main road from Saljid to Forbes, but it was not far from the tee. There was a sign at the edge of the road that pointed north. It said Lennon 3 tf. There were also arrows that directed to Saljid and Hell and perhaps a dozen other towns. Jorden was interested in Lennon only, and took the broad roadway that led in that direction. The line of the shield was soon visible, then the area of the buffer, and Jorden walked on into the nearest thing to sunshine that was presently available. And there was Lennon.

  It was not as large a city as Saljid, not even near, yet it was similar in many ways. There was no port, as such, but the river was still deep and ferries would ply its course in the days of light. The ferry service actually went as far as Paris, although there were three cataracts between Lennon and the larger city upstream, the cargo transported by wagon past each. Jorden didn't know that and didn't care. The river, with its freshwater sharks, was not considered as a travel option. The journey was dangerous enough without having to fear the hideous jaws that lurked ravenously just below the surface of a river. Even the journey was not particularly on the mind of Jorden as he stumbled into Lennon that evening, just sleep. He was hungry as well, but could little afford food as well as a weapon, and without Taf...

  He shunned the thought and found his way into a back alley of the city, there were plenty of those. They were littered with aestri and burgo and other misfits of society. And pockhorn, Jorden assumed. He had never seen one before, though he had heard them mentioned, and he doubted that the tall freckled man sporting small bulbous horns could be called anything else. He was yet to see a morelian, but otherwise he felt he knew of the majority of the civilized races of the Domain.

  Jorden smiled to a few aestri who camped near him, climbed into the shelter of an open storm-water drain, and went to sleep.

  II

  He woke to the bright, but somewhat grubby faces of two young aestri, although young might well have been thirty or forty. He smiled and offered them a good morning, for it was almost that. It was morning, of course, and it could have been considered by some as good. Jorden just wasn't one of them.

  “You're new here, aren't you,” said the fairest of the aestri, her wide greenish eyes bearing down on him. Like most aestri her voice was quite sweet, and also like most aestri she stated the obvious and gave the impression that very little was happening in the mind behind those eyes. Jorden now knew that such impressions were deceptive, yet somewhat accurate at the same time.

  He rubbed his eyes and climbed from the drain. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “From Saljid.” He yawned and sat on the rear step of a nearby building. “We walked from Saljid and only arrived last night.”

  “We?” the other aestri echoed.

  Jorden remembered that it was no longer we. “I was travelling with a friend, an aestri, but she was killed by a polythorn, I think.”

  “That's terrible,” said the first aestri. “You shouldn't have been out amongst the Darkness.”

  “Must have been a very large polythorn,” said the other as she sat nearby.

  Jorden shook his head. “I didn't see it. I guess it was.” It was difficult to be forced to recall the incident, and the two aestri reminded him of Taf, the darker one especially. She even dressed much as Taf would, a short skirt and flimsy top. He found that his eyes had begun to water.

  “I used to know of an aestri from Saljid,” said the blonde, “one with a very odd name. Pangles or something.”

  “Pandora, stupid,” corrected the other with a frown. “She used to run with the ferry until she got too old. She had that cub with her for a cycle or two. Silversomething.” The aestri looked thoughtful.

  Jorden swallowed. He knew then that the nightmare was rigged against him . There was no doubt. “Finesilver,” he whispered.

  The brunette nodded in recognition. “That's it, Finesilver. Beautiful. She was a silver grey. I can remember that from when I was...” Again it seemed that mathematics was not a strong point, or perhaps it was a failure of memory. “Couldn't have been much more than fifteen. That was some thirty cycles back. It's funny how you remember things like that after so long, but it's not often you see a silver grey...”

  Also it seemed that all aestri, regardless of their city of origin, were habitual talkers. “She's dead,” Jorden said when the brunette had finished, the statement somehow bringing the realization that he would not see her again. “She looked a lot like you.” And Jorden cried.

  “What a tiny world,” began the younger blonde, her older friend silencing her with a frown.

  And the man hugged the near-Taf, the aestri unsure of how to react. She simply shrugged to her friend and allowed the odd stranger to cry upon her shoulder.

  III

  Jorden left the alley. His farewell to the two nameless aestri was brief, he had embarrassed himself quite enough.

  And he did not wish to continue recalling the memory of Taf. The Domain was not that small, the chances of him coming across another aestri that knew Taf in a distant city were too remote. They were put there deliberately to torture him, they had to be. And they wouldn't be the last. Jorden suspected that he would come upon many aestri who looked to him like Finesilver, and there would be many who knew of her, perhaps. There may be one who would try to befriend him, to seek his trust and friendship so she could later be taken by some other means.

  Paranoia was taking over, and he tried to calm himself. Perhaps it was chance, perhaps there would be many that would know of the very odd name of Pandora, and Taf was very close to her... It could be chance. But the chances of it being chance were not good.

  Jorden confused himself.

  It wasn't important. Jorden had a purpose, and that was to get to Nowhere fast. Somehow the meaning of getting nowhere fast was lost within the Domain, as was going to hell. He wanted to see this Hura and tell her what he thought of her stinking world, even if that did ruin any chances of his return home. On the way he planned to slaughter every polythorn that came his way, even if it did kill him, which it probably would. For that he required a weapon.

  Weapons weren't cheap. Jorden discovered that very early in the day. A good crossbow was over five day's wages, which on the local scale of things was actually very cheap, yet for Jorden it was quite a lo
t more than he possessed.

  Fortunately for the outsider, but not so fortunate for the smith in question, there was a particular forge in Lennon that had not run properly in weeks, and the smith was losing a fortune on the sale of arrows. Good steel barbs were in short supply, the hunters of the city losing many to the wild game they hunted on the borders of Darkness. They also lost quite a lot more defending themselves against polythorn and things called the necromant and the rest of the wild things lurking in the Darkness, licking their lips in anticipation of the passing of another hunter.

  Jorden thought he could fix the forge, and would do so in exchange for the best of the smith's crossbows and a good supply of arrows. The smith thought it sounded like a fair deal if the lad could actually do the job. Actually it was better than fair because it would cost him more than the price of ten crossbows to have it fixed professionally, and he would have to wait until the road to Saljid was open again. He took the deal. He had little to lose.

  Jorden also thought he had also done quite well, and it kept him busy and helped him to forget. It took only two days to fix the bellows and help repair a hammer machine, and the smith fed and housed him for the period, and threw a few extra silvers into the bargain. The smith knew that he must have been getting a little soft, yet the odd wanderer had done a great job and was quite likeable in a strange sort of way.

  “You're very kind,” Jorden said to him upon receiving the additional payment.

  The smith waved off the gratitude. He sat across the breakfast table from the traveller, little more that a boy who had dared face the Darkness, and without even a weapon. That had to take some guts. “I know,” he said, “but don't spread it around. They will expect a fall in the price of arrows, or something equally stupid.”

  Jorden smiled. The smith, a common man with the very ordinary name of Kevin, was a rough spoken man of his fifties. He was large and bearded and generally threatening, but it was only skin deep. He obviously had a softer side, he just tried to keep it well hidden. He lived alone in a tiny earth hut that was tacked to the rear of his place of work on the outskirts of town.

  “I don't suppose you could give me a few pointers on how to use that crossbow,” Jorden asked hopefully. “I've used a rifle once...” He paused. They weren't likely to have guns in the Domain.

  Kevin chuckled a moment. “Just point and pull the trigger. I'll show you how to load it.” Strange how a man could know so much about a forge and yet not a crossbow. “You must be from up north,” he went on. “They're big users of the longbow.”

  Jorden shook his head. “South. Thagul, actually.” Kevin had heard of it, and nodded accordingly. “I came by ship to Saljid,” he added.

  Kevin thought that was a touch obvious, yet let it pass. “I know a few in Saljid,” he began, and Jorden tensed. If the blacksmith said Pandora or Finesilver, then Jorden vowed he would throw himself in the river and end it all. “I have a brother there as well, name of Pitar. Don't suppose you know him.”

  “I wasn't there long enough to meet many people,” Jorden admitted. He then realized that the man was not likely to know many of the aestri of Saljid, or even Lennon, especially being a professional man and not one of the lowly.

  “Lucky for you,” Kevin considered, “he's a bit of a bastard.”

  The smith eventually went to the alley behind his house to demonstrate the use of the weapon, Jorden watching with interest. It was simple enough to operate, of course, though requiring considerable effort to load, and getting used to the aim may take time. Still, Jorden doubted he would have any difficulty unless the beast was at the point of pouncing on him and he panicked. Which was likely how it would happen, of course.

  Then Jorden bade him farewell, and began to walk the alley away from the house of the smith. “Are you sure you're not from up north,” Kevin shouted after him, the outsider shaking his head. “They wear skirts like that up north.”

  Jorden shrugged, brushed down his kilt, and moved on, the smith returning to his place of work. “What an odd lad,” he later said to himself, and began stoking the forge.

  IV

  There were supplies to purchase with the new-found wealth. Jorden would need food in case his hunting skills were less than perfect, which they would be, and a little extra kadastone for the wet fuel of Darkness. It took quite a lot of effort to get water burning, and not much less to ignite the soaked wood of the darkened forests.

  The next city of Forbes was quite some distance, near three hundred thousand footfall by the road, and Jorden had no intention of heading cross country. And he would be alone. If he had to face another polythorn he wouldn't stand a chance, not if he couldn't see it. Don't walk after dark, that was the secret.

  If he walked only in the dim daylight and kept the bow loaded and camped in the wet slippery trees, then at least he would stand a chance. It was only a slim chance, of course. He could still be within the shield of Saljid waiting for the coming of light if he had any sense, and waiting for Midnight to slit his throat. Midnight! He wondered if she would care that Taf was dead.

  Then Jorden stood at the line of the city shield, wondering if he really wished to go out amongst the rain and wind and creatures. He was not even sure how long he had been in Lennon, perhaps three nights, two of which had been quite comfortably spent on Kevin's kitchen floor.

  He braved the Darkness. It was somehow deeper than it had been before, the wind almost a voice amongst the fields, the rain quite heavy. It was warm rain, however, as was most of the rain of darkness. It was like having a tepid shower to save hot water. The rains of night were sometimes colder, and Jorden had bought a light, but water resistant coat for such times. As if knowing that he had, the rains stopped. That was about halfway though the first day's march toward Forbes, Jorden having stopped for a quick bite of some honey flavoured sticks of very hard pastry. There was still no visible sun, and the clouds were heavy, and the skies rumbled, and lightning often flashed upon hills that rose in the south, but it didn't rain. It didn't rain for days.

  There were other problems now. The difficulty of the rain was replaced by the changing of the land, the road turning gradually into the south and into heavy woodlands and higher ground. Walking the flat lands aside the river flood-plain had been difficult enough, now there were hills, and Jorden felt there was always something watching him from the thickening forest around him.

  Of course there was always something watching, often quite a lot of things. It was not common to see a man walking the roads alone, and less common to see one do so in the darker times, and many creatures found this interesting. Fortunately very few of them found it more than just interesting and thought that it looked quite appetizing.

  But one did. It was his second day out from Lennon, Jorden tired after a bad night in a very hairy tree that he had found almost impossible to climb, and he surprised himself. The crossbow was loaded – the crossbow was always loaded – and the outsider heard the creature a long while before he saw it. Then it was on the road.

  It wasn't a polythorn, or at least Jorden didn't think it was a polythorn. It wasn't thorny at all, and did not seem to have any of the ivory tusks that Jorden could remember. It did have a lot of teeth however, and several legs, and several more legs that had teeth. Its mouth gaped as it lifted itself to full height, which was only a little over half that of Jorden's. Not a particularly threatening beast as far as size was concerned, yet with a mouth large enough to swallow a man's head whole that was lined with razors and an assortment of icepicks, it was hardly a creature that had need of size.

  The crossbow bolt struck the lurid red and green creature in the centre of what should have been its face, only it didn't have a face. That surprised Jorden. He had missed two trees that morning during practice. The creature was not altogether happy about this, yet neither was it mortally wounded. Had it realized that it could easily have shredded the man before he could possibly have time to reload, then it would have done just that. But the
creature was not overly intelligent, its mind programmed to seek out and eat and run if outmatched.

  The creature inaccurately predicted that it was outmatched, a polythorn by the feel of it, and ran. It was also somewhat more blind than the average bat. Jorden was quite pleased, although he was sorry to lose the arrow. With confidence boosted, he snatched another from the quiver and reloaded, then set off on his way, the road continuing to climb.

  The next arrow was used against something that looked like a small hairy gazelle that Jorden found in a clearing on the crest of a ridge. The day was fading, the time ripe for making camp, and the evening meal was already on hand. He remained in the cover of the forest and sighted his prey, the gazelle standing some forty paces into the clearing. He shot. It was not a good shot, and although it struck the gazelle there was little chance that it inflicted a fatal injury. Although that was not totally correct. The injury could well have been fatal, but it would have taken the gazelle quite some time, and distance, to die of an arrow to its gut.

  It didn't matter, for it seemed that Jorden was not the only predator. As he dashed to the clearing and attempted to reload before the gazelle was out of sight, he saw the cat that was also in pursuit. A cat it might have been, but it was certainly no tabby. It was like nothing he had seen, and yet so much like all of the great cats of earth. The size of a good she-lion at least, yet with something of a mane, long dark hair that sprouted from its head and neck and flapped in the air that rushed past the beast. And it was fast, damn fast, faster than an uninjured gazelle and certainly faster than the one that Jorden had wounded.

  Jorden still hadn't reloaded when the cat pounced and tore the throat of the gazelle wide open, a flash of glossy grey that killed in seconds. The hairy gazelle tumbled, the cat overrunning the slower beast then returning to stand over its kill. The gazelle quivered, but was well on the way to death, and the stunning silver-grey cat stood proud over it, its dark eye falling upon the not-all-that-distant man. And it seemed to almost smile.

  The outsider reloaded. He knew that this bolt had to count. If the cat saw him as a threat to its meal then he was in deep trouble. He couldn't outrun it, and doubted he could climb a tree quickly enough. It could probably climb quite well in any case. He could leave perhaps, back away and hope that the feline was happy with its meal, but he was too hungry for that. It all happened too quickly anyway, and he fired the crossbow a few seconds after the kill was complete.

  The cat, however, was far to quick for such an attack, although it was surprised by the swiftness of the shot. It had gloated for far too long. The arrow cut through the air where it had stood, but the cat was no longer there. In three bounds it vanished from the clearing. But it would not go far. Jorden knew it wouldn't. He knew that he had to hit with the first shot or there would be trouble, and now there was trouble. Now there was meat lying out in the clearing, and neither was eating, and one was probably a heck of a lot hungrier, and quite a bit angrier than the other. What worried Jorden more was that he could have sworn that the cat grunted something quite uncomplimentary toward him before it disappeared.

  But would a cat, even one of nightmare, be likely to call him a stinking rat...

  V

  It was a stalemate, and for the sake of living into the next day, Jorden decided to leave the gazelle to the cat and head for the nearest tree. He would be forced to eat more of his diminishing supplies and would be unable to even make fire to warm a piece of the dried beef that he carried. He climbed the tom-tom, cursing his ill luck, thinking of all the things that he should of done.

  The red day faded.

  Meanwhile the cat had ideas of its own. It could hardly allow the man to try and stick an arrow through it without some form of retribution. It also had the advantage in that it could see quite well in the dim twilight, although even the man could also see reasonably well in such light, and it could smell the man from a lifetime away. That is to say that his trail was imprinted upon the ground like huge fluorescent arrows, a trail that climbed a tree, and the tree positively glowed in the dark as far as the cat's nose was concerned.

  It smiled again and leapt into the tom-tom.

  Jorden didn't see the approach of the cat, it was careful to come from the far side, but he did feel the thump of something very large joining him in the tree. The worst scenario came quickly to mind, Jorden gripping the already armed crossbow, thankful that it was still just light enough for him so see. It was fading quickly, however.

  The cat was slow to approach. It was not a cat in the sense of those of Jorden's world, and was certainly more intelligent than the outsider's last toothy foe. It also had ways of distracting the man. Surprise was on its side. It peeked from behind the cover of the central trunk of the tom-tom to view its very nervous and well armed foe.

  Then it growled unexpectedly, but it more than just growled. “You had better make sure that your next arrow finds its mark,” it said confidently. “It will be your last chance.” The cat knew that it was taking an unnecessary risk in facing the man in such a way, yet what was life without risk.

  Jorden was certainly caught by surprise. Although he couldn't see the cat, he was sure that nothing else could growl and gurgle in quite such a fashion, and he was sure it was in the tree with him. He had also not expected to carry out conversation with the local wildlife.

  And worse was to come, if that were possible. Amongst the surprise of the cat's warning and an attempt to back along the branch, Jorden managed to drop the crossbow. It fell heavily and discharged its bolt, the outsider cursing. Well that was it, he thought, stuck in a tree with a feline conversationalist. He wondered if he could talk his way out.

  The cat saw the weapon drop and felt somewhat more at ease, daring to come out of cover and climb out onto the very branch where the man was stranded. It kept its distance, however. The man was still armed with a short sharp knife, and he waved it about quite a lot. “Do you think you would really stand a chance against me,” it growled again. It was a harsh, laboured voice, the cat seeming to have difficulty in its speech.

  Jorden was approaching terror. He would have been well passed terror if it were a lion or tiger on the branch, yet there was something just slightly comforting about a cat that spoke. It gave the impression of a certain reasoning power that the beast might have. It could well be intelligent. “Wh... What do you want with me,” Jorden stuttered. It had food already, yet perhaps it was greedy.

  The cat sniffed and looked toward the clearing. It couldn't see it, of course, but knew the direction. “There is a launcer in the clearing,” it growled, then looked to Jorden “It is your kill too, although your shot was wild.” It sniffed again. “Surely you wish to share it.”

  Jorden couldn't believe any of this was happening. He was stuck in a tree discussing the evening meal with a feline that easily outweighed him, and one that was perhaps three times as strong and five as deadly. “I'm not really all that hungry,” he said sheepishly, hardly believing that he could think of anything to say in the circumstances. “I couldn't drag it all the way here and thought you might like to have it.”

  “Oh,” it said. “Is that why you tried to stick me with that toy of yours?”

  That was a hard one, Jorden thought to himself. “I...” he began, yet doubted the feline would understand. “Just scared, I suppose.” His voice certainly gave that impression at present.

  The cat smiled. It wasn't that pretty an expression, there were far too many long sharp teeth cluttering its mouth for that, but its laugh was more soothing and not as guttural as the voice had been. It didn't strike Jorden as that threatening a beast, a wild angry thing would hardly wish to share its kill, and it was quite a beautiful animal in a strange sort of way.

  That was mainly due to the fact that its coat all but glowed in the dark. It was a silken grey that reminded Jorden of satin sheets that were straight from the packet, and its dark glossy horse-like mane flowed upon its shoulders, and the large brown eyes sho
ne in the red light, the elongated pupils only partially open. But it had claws and teeth, and that made it something to be reckoned with.

  “Afraid of me,” it said, its voice softened and more natural. It was no longer just an it. It was a she. “You don't have to be afraid of me, silly,” she said in melodic feminine tones. “So put away the knife before you cut yourself and I'll go to fetch our meal.”

  A chill came to the very core of Jorden Miles. He was no longer afraid of just the cat, there was far too much else to fear. He knew that voice all too well, he had listened to it too many times before not to recognize it. “What the hell are you?” he asked.

  “You know, silly,” she said, and he did.

  It wasn't a cat.

  It was silver grey.

  Finesilver.

  It was aestri.

  Taf jumped from the branch and went off to collect the launcer before she starved.

  She was still very very hungry.