Otherlander: Through the Storm

by T. Kevin Bryan

  Thomas gazed at Fion solemnly. “The snow-beasts executed them.”

  Thirty-Eight

  Thomas and Fion trudged through the snow on their way back to the cave where they were being detained. Thomas peered back over his shoulder at the two snow-beast guards escorting them. The smaller one’s fur was a brilliant white and his face was not the normal gray of most of the snow-beasts; it was a light pink. He was clearly an albino. The other was larger and appeared older. Across his face ran a scar that had injured his right eye and left it milky. Fion and Thomas had taken to calling them Pinky and Scar. Scar noticed Thomas staring and he let out a commanding growl and shoved the boy along with his huge paw.

  Thomas turned to Fion with a smirk as he picked up the pace. “I guess Scar is a little sensitive.”

  “You wouldn’t like it if someone stared at you.”

  “Why, Fion, I think someone’s becoming attached to these Snickerdoodles.”

  “Snect-beathac,” Fion corrected with a roll of her eyes.

  At that moment Thomas felt the weight of Scar’s furry paw upon his shoulder restraining him. Thomas shot a glance at Fion and saw that Pinky was also gently holding Fion back. Thomas opened his mouth to protest, but Fion silenced him, putting her hand on his lips. “Something is wrong.”

  The giant snow-beasts stood motionless except for of their noses which twitched as they sniffed the air, the fur between their shoulder blades stood up like angry dogs.

  And then there it was again. The same sensation Thomas had before. They were being watched.

  They stood on a trail carved through the snow. Great heaps of ice piled on each side of them, like they were standing in a small valley.

  Thomas scanned the blinding whiteness of the snow and ice, then settled on Fion. Her eyes widened with concern. He dared not breathe.

  Scar motioned for Thomas and Fion to stay with Pinky and he crept forward on the trail many paces, searching. He stopped and knelt in the snow. Pinky sniffed the air again. Then he relaxed and placing his hands on both Thomas and Fion led them forward to where Scar continued sniffing and studying the snow. Finally, Scar stood and growled something to Pinky, to which Pinky nodded solemnly. Thomas looked in the snow at Scar’s feet and there clearly pressed into the snow was the imprint of what looked like a large dog’s paw print.

  “He’s here,” Fion whispered, staring at the evidence in the snow.

  “But how could he have followed us all this way?”

  “I told you he would never give up. Shadow Hunters can shift into different animals like a dog or a wolf or large black crow. He’s been tracking us this entire journey.”

  Thomas knew she was right. All the times he had had that gnawing feeling they were being watched or followed, it was in the back of his mind, but he dared not think about it. Looks like he couldn’t ignore it now. Undeniable proof stared at him from the ice at his feet, reminding him once again that things could always get worse.

  Thirty-Nine

  The fire in the center of the great cavern cast a strange glow upon the faces of the eleven assembled snow-beast elders. One sat in the center, flanked on either side by five others. The center snow-beast’s fur was gray and his face was leathered and wrinkled from time. His eyes which glinted in the firelight were a dim shade of blue, not the brilliant sky blue of the younger beasts. On his head rested a crown of sorts. It was a simple hoop woven of sapling branches. On the walls of the cave, shadows moved as if in some primordial dance. The congregation of snow-beasts had assembled. Some sat, some stood, but all were silent. Even the cubs that usually scampered about wrestling and growling were still. Thomas and Fion sat on the cold stone floor, waiting patiently. Finally, the gray elder spoke and his rumble made Thomas’s insides quiver like a leaf in a strong wind.

  “Come.”

  Thomas glanced at Fion and then both of them searched the outer shadows where they saw Grome watching on. He nodded his affirmation and motioned with his paw for them to obey. They stood and shuffled apprehensively forward to the waiting line of elders. Thomas felt this must be what it was like to face the Supreme Court, if the Supreme Court consisted of eleven giant furry white fanged beasts that could tear you limb from limb. He would have laughed at that, except the gravity of this situation terrified him. They slowed, then stopped, unsure of the respectful distance for a situation like this.

  “Come more.” The great Elder rumbled again, but softly.

  They took two more steps and now, even though the elders were all seated, Thomas and Fion were eye level. Thomas tried to look brave but knew he was failing miserably. He was grateful when he felt Fion’s hand brush against his own and then grasped it. He returned her grip and squeezed, gathering strength from the warmth of her hand.

  “Tomar, Frone,” the gray elder addressed them in his growling voice.

  Thomas and Fion both bowed their heads in respect.

  “Smooth ones, no come here. Smooth ones bring hurt. You, smooth ones. You, no come here!”

  Simple, straight forward logic, thought Thomas.

  The ten other beasts all nodded and growled their assent.

  “You go back!” The gray one continued.

  Silence then filled the hall. The elder had spoken.

  “But sir!” interrupted Fion.

  At this, there was an audible gasp and growls from the gathered snow-beasts. Pinkie and Scar stepped forward and laid their heavy paws on both Thomas and Fion.

  “Please, Sir!” Fion started again. The congregation moaned this time, and pups whined, hiding their faces in their mother’s fur.

  Thomas tried to nudge Fion. “Fion, stop!” He whispered violently. He felt the heavy paw now grip his arm like an iron vice.

  Scar leaned into Fion and growled, “You, no sound.”

  The gray elder barked a sharp command, and the hall was again silent and still as a quiet lake. He turned back to Thomas and Fion and nodding his gray head said, “Speak.”

  Fion released Thomas’s hand and stepped forward. She curtsied, took a big breath, and began.

  “Our people for many years lived in peace and harmony in our valleys, we tilled the soil, we married, and bore children and our families and people lived quiet lives. Then darkness came into our land. It came in the form of a person. He came through the door. His name was Darcon and yes, he is a smooth one like us. He invited more darkness and soon our lives were turned upside down. No more peace. War. Why?”

  Her speech amazed Thomas. So mature. So, grown up. He snuck a glance at the hall. It was silent as the beasts listened to his friend.

  Fion continued. “Because Darcon desired to rule over us and take away the thing that all good people desire — freedom! Freedom to be happy and the freedom to pursue that happiness.”

  “We fought. We resisted. But Darcon made an alliance with the dark ones from the Shadow World. His dark army of shadows were too much for us. But then something amazing happened. The one known as the Otherlander came through the door and he helped to overthrow the dark one.”

  Thomas was tracking with Fion until that last bit. He squirmed. He knew the story; he had lived it, but he had done little, just what anyone else would do. He wasn’t a mighty warrior and certainly no savior.

  “We banished Darcon for a time, but he is back. He has rebuilt his army of shadow warriors and is even now preparing to launch an attack against my people. Please sir,” Fion continued and then turned and locked eyes with Thomas. “This boy is that Otherlander. I am taking him to our people and he will stop the darkness again.”

  Fion gave a little bow and stepped back to Thomas. Thomas took her hand again and gave her a smile. Her eyes glinted as if she was ready to cry. It was an excellent speech; he thought, except for the part about him banishing the darkness.

  They peered up at the elders, who sat like stones regarding the human boy and girl.

  Thomas and Fion dared not breathe.

  Finally, the gray elder growled again. “We hear you.” He motioned to
the snow-beast elders on his left and right. “We now think.”

  What? Something broke in Thomas like a dam holding back all the emotion and frustration of the journey: the running, the hiding, the exhaustion.

  “No!” he shouted, and it echoed off the walls of the cavern.

  The elders looked dumbfounded. Scar and Pinkie stepped forward to flank Thomas. A deep growl rumbled inside Scar as he snarled, showing his fangs while restraining Thomas. Thomas tried to shake free, but it was useless.

  Thomas continued his barrage, “You can’t continue hiding in your mountain. War has returned to these lands and it will sweep across every crag and crevice. It will seep into every cave. You can’t stick your head in the snow and just ignore it!”

  The Elder stood and let out a growl that shook the foundations of the mountain. Thomas and Fion cringed in fear. Their legs turned to jelly, and they both stumbled back against Scar and Pinkie. Thomas snuck a glance around the cavern. Every snow-beast from the largest adult to the smallest cub bowed their heads in submission.

  “You go now,” the gray elder ordered, punctuating his command by pointing a gray claw at the opening of the hall. Then he turned to the other elders.

  Scar and Pinkie shoved Thomas and Fion to the door and out into the frosty air.

  Forty

  A light snow had fallen, covering the path they had taken earlier. Only Scar escorted Thomas and Fion as they trudged through the accumulating snow, making quiet scrunching sounds with their boots. Thomas noticed that the steps of the snow-beast, despite his size, didn’t make a sound. He looked back to make sure he was still there. Scar snarled at Thomas. Yup, he was still there, and as friendly as ever.

  “After this I am going to write a book: How to win friends and influence snow-beasts,” Thomas chuckled to Fion.

  “This is not the time to be funny,” Fion snapped.

  “Come on, Fion.”

  “No! You come on! This is serious,” Fion said, her voice rising.

  Thomas opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. She was right. He deserved the reprimand. “I’m sorry… again,” he sighed.

  Fion plodded along beside him, and he heard her sniffle.

  Thomas stole a glance and saw a single tear roll down her cheek. Now, he really felt like a jerk. This girl had come across the universe to rescue him. She was tough. She could handle herself, but she still had feelings. He was stupid. She’s not just one of his mates back home.

  He reached to take her hand and froze. There, in the fresh snow, were the unmistakable paw prints of the shadow hunter.

  “Really, Thomas, you think you would understand the gravity of our…”

  It was Thomas’s turn to clamp his hand over Fion’s mouth. He felt that strange sensation of being watched and knew now not to ignore it. Scar froze, sniffing the air. A low growl emanated from deep within him. They stood at an area of the trail where it narrowed. To the right, a wall of icy rock ascended up hundreds of feet. To the left the edge dropped over a cliff not quite vertical, but it would still be a pretty treacherous fall.

  Thomas removed his hand from Fion’s mouth. Her eyes were wide and alert. “This is the perfect place for an ambush,” she whispered.

  Thomas nodded. And then he saw it. A dark blur, almost like smoke, high and to his right and moving fast. He cringed involuntarily and dropped, pulling Fion with him. The smoke transformed midair as it plunged. Thomas’s nightmare became reality. The assassin landed on Scar’s back. The snow-beast growled and snapped, trying to get a purchase on the whirling, slashing assassin, but to no avail. Finally, he turned and flung the black shadow assassin off his back. It hit the wall but seemed only to bounce, then turn with uncanny speed and agility to attack again. Scar swung his mighty paw but missed. He was no match for the speed of the black demon. Thomas was on his feet now. “Run!” He shouted at Fion.

  They both bolted, but Fion looked back and screamed, “Scar!”

  Scar was down, his white fur now stained bright red by blood from multiple cuts. What came next Thomas had seen before. Seared into his memory. The shadow assassin had the snow-beast by the throat and raised his claw for the death strike. Scar seemed powerless to move, a strangled whimper emitted from his throat. At that, something snapped in Thomas. Filled with a blind rage, he rushed the dark assassin and leapt as its claw came down for the kill. Thomas slammed into the assassin and they tumbled off the cliff.

  Later, Thomas could only recount bits of what happened. Thomas, and the assassin tumbled end over end down the mountain. If he released his grip the assassin would kill him. So, like one who has the proverbial tiger by the tail, he refused to let go and held on for dear life as it slashed and struggled.

  He smacked a few icy boulders on the way down, before finally slamming to the granite floor. Thomas landed hard on top of the assassin and heard a sharp crack that echoed off the walls. He rolled painfully to his knees to see the shadow assassin laying still with its neck twisted at a sick angle. It was dead.

  Forty-One

  Outside the healer’s den, Thomas and Fion waited with Pinkie and what Thomas only could assume was Scar’s family: A female and three cubs of various sizes. A solemn stillness had settled over the snow-beasts’ encampment. It wasn’t unlike the feeling Thomas had when his grandmother was ill and his family had gathered to wait at the hospital.

  Thomas was sick with anger and frustration. “This was my fault.”

  Fion turned her deep green eyes on him. “No.”

  “If we hadn’t come here, Scar would not have been hurt. That shadow thing was after me, not the snow beast. This isn’t their war.”

  “Thomas, have you so soon forgotten your own words to the elders?” — ‘War has returned to these lands and it will sweep across every crag and crevice. It will seep into every cave.’ Thomas, you were right. The shadow assassin is only the leading edge of a greater avalanche. I don’t understand all that is happening here but I know this, the Creator has a purpose in it. My grandfather would often say, ‘It is not ours to know every way on the map but to trust the mapmaker.’”

  As Fion invoked the words of Loren his old friend who passed in the last war, Thomas’s spirit quietened.

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Of course, I’m right.” Fion smiled and then gave him a little punch on the shoulder.

  “Ow,” Thomas grimaced. “Take it easy on the guy who just wrestled a shadow assassin down a mile high cliff.”

  “Sorry,” Fion grinned sheepishly.

  Pinkie interrupted, then softly laid his massive paw on Thomas’s shoulder. “Tomar, you come,” Pinkie rumbled.

  Pinkie led Thomas and Fion into the den of the healer. The cave was dark except for a small cooking fire at the center on which something bubbled away in a pot that emitted a delectable aroma.

  Pinkie brought them to the side of the den where Scar, now bandaged, lay on a comfortable bedding made of a patchwork of furs. The snow-beast that must have been the healer turned and gave the young humans what Thomas now recognized as a smile. Thomas bowed and Fion curtsied. Then the healer backed away and out of the den.

  Pinkie gave a little purr, which was so incongruent for his size. Scar opened his eyes, focused on Thomas and beckoned him closer with his paw. Thomas shuffled forward.

  Scar growled something that only Pinkie understood. Pinkie pushed Thomas forward more and made him bend at the waist so Scar could reach him. Thomas held his breath, not sure what was coming next. Scar reached out and placed his huge paw on Thomas’s head and muttered something in the snow-beast deep language. Then he withdrew his paw and inclined his head toward Thomas. Thomas nervously glanced from Pinkie to Fion.

  Fion nudged Thomas. “I think he wants you to do the same.”

  Pinkie nodded and Thomas complied, reaching forward and placing his hand on Scar’s furry head careful not to touch the bandage that was there. Scar closed his eyes and then opened them and uttered the same word in his guttural language. Th
en closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  Thomas gently withdrew his hand, and after a moment of silence voiced his question to Pinkie. “What did he say?”

  Pinkie pointed to Thomas’s chest. “Brotar.”

  “Brotar?” Thomas repeated.

  Then Fion understood. “Brother.”

  Pinkie, nodded solemnly at Fion, then gazing with his deep blue eyes at Thomas, purred, “Brotar.”

  Forty-Two

  Thomas and Fion stood before the great dragon, Thorn. Thorn still had a muzzle and was tethered with the giant leather net. Thomas thought it was pretty secure, but he knew it would never hold Thorn if he unleashed his fury. No, what kept him quiet was the strange smoke that the snow-beast healer applied to keep him sleeping. Snow-beasts armed with wooden clubs surrounded them, all shifting nervously on their big furry feet.

  Thomas admired the sleeping dragon. “He looks so peaceful, it’s really a shame to wake him.”

  Fion smiled. “Yes, but he must feed. He’s been out for day and a night.”

  “Look, he’s smiling. If that’s how a dragon smiles,” Thomas said. “What do dragons dream about?”

  “Great battles, grand feasts, and great female dragons.” Fion grinned.

  Fion stepped to Thorn’s head and stroked him gently. She nodded. The healer stepped forward with a torch that was putting off a blue smoke. She waved it under the dragon’s nostrils. The dragon inhaled the blue smoke and almost immediately Thomas saw his nose twitch and he stirred.

  Then one eye opened and focused on the nearest armed snow-beast. Thorn shook his magnificent head and impossibly stood straining against his fetters. One by one they all snapped with resounding cracks like a bullwhip. Then He flexed and the muzzle securing his jaw ripped and with a whip of his head he flung it away. Thomas could see that his giant friend was still disoriented and focused on the band of snow-beasts who stood before the great dragon. In comparison, they looked like harmless stuffed furry toys.