A World of Secrets (The Firewall Trilogy)

by James Maxwell

  Vance came over. “Where is the old man?”

  Ruth frowned at Vance. “Don’t call him that to his face.”

  Taimin caught movement. Everyone fell silent.

  Lars was hurrying along the base of the gully, heading toward them. His expression was worried.

  “I’ve got bad news,” he said as he approached. “We’re being followed.”

  Taimin involuntarily glanced over his shoulder.

  “Who by?” Vance asked. “Bax?”

  Lars shook his head. “No. There’s just two of them.”

  If Lars was anxious, then so was Taimin. “How far away?” he asked.

  “Far enough that all I can tell you is they’re tall. In truth, I don’t know what they are.”

  “You’re sure they’re following?”

  “Aye.”

  “How can you know?” Vance asked.

  Lars gave Vance a flat look. “I know.”

  “If they’re tall, they might be trulls,” Ruth said.

  “Or a couple of humans keen to trade,” Vance said. “We’re probably worrying about nothing.”

  “Taimin?” Selena asked.

  Taimin thought for a moment. “I think I should drop back and take a look. If we’re being followed by a pair of trulls, we’ll know we’re in trouble. Mantoreans or humans we can trade with.”

  “Sorry, lad,” Lars said. “I hate to tell you what you already know, but you’re too slow.”

  There was silence for a time. Vance stroked his moustache and looked back the way they had come. The ancient riverbed continued for miles. “I’ll do it.”

  Lars snorted. “You?”

  Vance scowled. “I know how to stay hidden. And I’ve no doubt I’m faster than you. I can see who they are and run back.”

  “You’re a city dweller,” Lars grunted. “You’re useless out here.”

  Color came to Vance’s cheeks.

  “Vance,” Ruth said softly. “Maybe Lars—”

  Vance’s face became even redder. “I’m going,” he said. “I can handle myself. I’ll be fine.”

  “Fair enough,” Lars said. He smiled, but his eyes were dark. “I won’t try to change your mind. They’re still on the plain—when I saw them they were out in the open, barely trying to stay hidden. Remember, you only need to get a look at them.”

  Taimin was worried about Vance, but he also knew he couldn’t take away his friend’s pride. He glanced up at the golden sun. “It’s going to be dark soon.” He nodded farther up the gully. “We’ll keep moving and find a safe place to wait. You’re sure you can do this?”

  All eyes were on Vance. “Of course.” He nodded, but when he spoke, his voice shook slightly. “I’ll be back in no time at all.”

  As soon as he couldn’t see the others anymore, Vance regretted his decision. He hadn’t realized how comforting it was to have his companions nearby. He felt alone and exposed. Anything could happen. He was walking toward danger, rather than away. It was late in the day, and the shadows cast by the tall banks on either side of him would only grow deeper. He doubted he would get lost, but he also had no desire to return in darkness.

  He didn’t even know how likely that was. He hadn’t asked Lars for a better indication of how far away the two figures might be. Nor had he asked Taimin how far he planned to continue along the riverbed. There were so many unknowns. What was pursuing them, and why?

  “Just get the job done,” he muttered to himself.

  He lengthened his stride as he walked along the wide gully, back the way they had come. Soon he would reach its end. He set his jaw with determination. He could do this. Ruth would soon learn that he wasn’t afraid of the wasteland.

  In the distance, where the dried riverbed terminated, the banks became even steeper. He kept an eye out for threats and one hand on the hilt of the short sword he wore at his hip. He was looking for humans or trulls, and could see the gully was empty. Nonetheless his gaze darted around; the lengthening shadows might hide scorpions or snakes, firehounds or sand lizards. Even the sky wasn’t without danger. Wyverns might plunge down from above. He had even heard tales of raptors tearing a man to shreds.

  Deciding he had probably come far enough, he approached the steep wall. If Lars was right, and they were being pursued, he would find a good place to wait for whoever it was to come into view.

  He began to climb.

  The slope forced him to reach up and grab hold of the bigger rocks while he pushed with his legs and worked his body higher. He gritted his teeth and shifted his left foot from a cleft in the bank, moving it to a boulder he had just used as a handhold. Reaching out to a withered root, he immediately removed his hand and winced. He hadn’t seen the thorns.

  Halfway up, loose dirt gave way and he slipped. His feet scrabbled before the sound of tumbling gravel made him freeze in place, held up only by his hands, which were both wrapped around a misshapen boulder half his size. He waited for the clatter to die away, ears pricked. Realizing he couldn’t hang on forever, he kicked out with his feet and finally found a place to wedge them.

  Fortunately, the top half of the slope was home to an immense tree, living precariously on the steep incline. Brittle branches with a multitude of smaller siblings spread a network of fingerlike twigs overhead. Vance worked around its roots to reach the top of the incline.

  He panted and peered over the lip of the gully. All he could see was a trio of boulders, each the size of a house. He scanned, staring across the plain. Nothing moved. He took his time and checked everywhere. Still nothing.

  He knew he needed to find somewhere to hide. The big boulders were obvious candidates. One of the hulking rocks was close to the dried-up riverbed, which he needed to follow if he wanted to return to the others. He gathered himself, then left the gully completely to dash to the nearest. For a moment he was exposed while he ran. But the boulder wasn’t far. He threw himself to the ground, flattened his back against the hard surface of red rock, and tried to calm his heaving chest.

  He had his back to the boulder, but if he peeked around the side, he would be able to watch the plain. Summoning his courage, he leaned out and looked.

  There. He saw them right away.

  His first glance was quick, but Lars had described two figures and there they were. They were dark red in color, which was odd, but it might have been a trick of the failing light. Walking with long strides, they were following the exact path Vance had taken earlier. They were certainly tall. Vance even thought he had seen horns. He knew his eyes were deceiving him. Nothing with horns walked on two legs.

  What were they? Trulls? He glanced at his sword. A shiver of dread crept up his spine. He needed to identify the two figures and return to the others, so he had to wait. But no matter what, he didn’t want to get caught up in a fight.

  As he listened to the sound of his own quick breathing, his pulse began to race faster and faster. He knew that time was passing. The two figures would be drawing near. But he couldn’t move. Instead, his tension grew. How fast were they traveling? He hadn’t really gained an impression. He inwardly cursed. Why did he volunteer? He needed to look again. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He gritted his teeth and told his body to move.

  He peered out from behind the boulder again, and as soon as he did, fear struck him like a punch in the stomach.

  He yanked his head back. Blood drained from his face. His vision swam; he felt light-headed.

  He only saw one of the creatures, but it was enough. It was close—on the other side of the boulder. Far too close for comfort.

  The tall creature wasn’t walking anymore. It was standing patiently, legs apart, as if waiting for something. It wasn’t a trull, or a human, and certainly not a bax, skalen, or mantorean. It was something altogether different.

  Something truly terrifying.

  The monster was at least eight feet tall, with red skin, where it wasn’t covered by a gray robe fastened at the waist. Completely hairless, the creature had a pair of short, pointe
d horns, pale yellow in color, on either side of its crown. Sweeping brow ridges descended to deep, angular eyes, with dark, glaring irises. The creature’s face was flat and narrowed to a sharp, triangular chin, but its mouth was its most chilling feature. It was all teeth, row after row of them, and looked like it could bite a man’s arm from his shoulder.

  Vance put his hands to his temples. What did he just see? Was his mind playing tricks on him? He had seen bigger creatures at the arena in Zorn: wyverns, olegs, and hellstingers. But this was a thinking creature, and it was a giant compared to the other races. It had to be a thinking creature, because it wore clothing and boots and carried a pack on its back.

  Why had it stopped? Where was the second one?

  Before he could think about it too hard, he stuck his head out again. The creature was still standing in the same place, but was now rummaging in its pack to remove a metal box, the size of its hand, with a smooth, black, glossy surface. Its hand was huge. The fingers were like the grasping talons of a raptor.

  Vance brought his head back in. He had to leave. This was something he couldn’t handle alone.

  Then he went completely still. He stopped breathing.

  He turned and there was a face next to his.

  Fiery eyes as red as the crimson sun glared at him. He saw a leathery visage that looked as hard as cut stone. Angular brows came together above the eyes, descending to a pair of flared nostrils and a mouth that was a cavern of jagged yellow spikes. Hoarse breath wheezed from the monster’s chest.

  Vance fumbled at his sword, but the moment was lost. A huge hand gripped him by the throat. The creature hoisted him into the air, lifting him high above the ground. Vance’s eyes were wide open. He took in the rest of the creature holding him.

  This monster was even taller than its companion, with broad shoulders and legs like tree trunks. A black symbol was blazoned on the creature’s brown clothing, a wicked knife hung from its belt, and its right hand held a long spear with a slightly-curved blade at the end. The monster’s other hand held Vance at eye level, with his feet dangling above the ground.

  But more than anything, the horns . . . the horns filled Vance with horror. They were nothing like those of its smaller companion. This monster’s horns were sharp and curling. They were an evil shade of red, as red as fresh arterial blood.

  As the monster inspected him, Vance choked. He tried in desperation to suck in a lungful of air, but the grip around his throat was too tight. His head was turned side to side. The monster looked him up and down, taking in his height and frame.

  Vance’s chest screamed at him, telling him to breathe. He saw starbursts, but then even the pinpricks of light faded as his vision began to close in. His body convulsed. He heard a loud roar in his ears.

  The monster made a sound of disgust. It turned, so that Vance’s back was to the gully, and with a strong movement the monster threw him.

  Vance’s limbs flailed. He sailed over the edge of the deep gully, where the drop was undoubtedly long enough to kill him.

  He felt hundreds of prickly spikes in his back, an instant before he heard the sound of a great number of twigs breaking. He hit branches a moment later, then his arm struck a thick tree trunk. His leg caught onto a root, twisting his body so that he rolled over and over as he tumbled. He grabbed hold of more roots as he fell, but each came out of his hands. Instead, his back smacked onto dirt, he rolled again, then he slithered down a steep slope of rocks and gravel until he came to a halt at the bottom of the dried-up watercourse.

  It took him a few moments to realize he was alive.

  He lay in the position he had landed in, waiting for extreme pain to fire from somewhere on his body. Slowly, bit by bit, he moved to a sitting position. He was shaken as he checked himself over. He was bruised, but nothing was broken.

  Vance pushed himself to his feet. With staggering steps, he started to walk. He headed toward where he had left Taimin, Selena, Ruth, and Lars.

  As soon as he could, he broke into a run.

  Ingren waited with her medical array in hand. It was a versatile device with multiple functions, and the only item of advanced technology she had brought with her from the outside world. Ungar had tried to dissuade her—a quest was supposed to be a return to a primal mode of existence—but she patiently explained that every advisor on every quest must have brought one. How else would the trophies be preserved for the journey back to Agravida? Ungar had relented when he realized he wouldn’t be praised for returning home with five stinking, rotting heads.

  Ingren kept her ears pricked for any sound of fighting. She heard a grunt, and a crash like an animal charging through a thicket, but then nothing—no clash of weapon on weapon, no roar of triumph when Ungar ultimately took his trophy.

  Her head swiftly turned when she saw her bondmate approach, but her heart sank when she saw his angry stride. Ungar’s red eyes blazed, reflecting the last of the day’s light.

  Ingren gave him an inquiring look as he marched toward her. “Well?” she asked.

  “He was not the one I am after,” Ungar grunted. “He separated himself from the group to spy on us. These humans are wily. They likely scouted and saw us coming. We will be more careful in future.”

  “And?”

  Ungar firmly planted the base of his spear on the ground. He tossed his head. “I took him easily. He was a poor fighter. I could see that at a glance. Far from a worthy opponent.”

  “Be careful, bondmate. Anger may affect your judgement.”

  “I am not angry. Merely disappointed.” His nostrils flared. “I was ready for a good fight.”

  Ingren returned her medical array to her pack. She glanced up when she heard Ungar bark a laugh.

  “You will certainly not be needing that. Come. It will soon be dark. We must increase our speed. My true quarry will not be far away.”

  6

  “This is not good,” Lars said in a grim voice.

  Selena glanced at the older man, then returned her attention to the cliff in front of her. As they had followed the gully, the walls had become taller until they found themselves in the bottom of a gorge, bounded by sheer rock faces. Then the worst happened: the gorge terminated in a steep cliff.

  They were boxed in.

  Selena turned from the cliff to look over her shoulder at Taimin. He stood farther back, gazing down the gorge and watching intently. Soon the golden sun would fall below the horizon, and with the crimson sun already passed from the sky, it would become much more difficult to see. Taimin pulled his sword hilt a little way and dropped it back into his scabbard again, checking that it was ready to draw at short notice.

  Making a decision, Selena turned to Lars, who stood with his legs apart and his thumbs hooked into his belt. “I need your rope.”

  “Rope?” He raised an eyebrow and jerked his chin at the cliff. “You want to climb it?”

  “Why not?”

  Lars shook his head. “We’d be better off turning back.”

  “And if there’s danger coming? If we need to get away, we can climb up and bring the rope with us. It’s what, thirty feet high?”

  Taimin called back. “It’s a good idea.”

  Lars grumbled and rummaged in his pack to pull out a coiled rope and hand it over. “Good luck getting it up there,” he said.

  Rather than reply, Selena strode over to Ruth. “Ruth,” she said, holding the rope up meaningfully, “want to give me a hand?”

  As realization dawned in Ruth’s eyes, she smiled. “Of course.”

  Selena walked closer to the cliff and gazed up. While Ruth unfastened the grapple she wore at her waist, Selena pointed out some promising bulges at the top. “That big knob, near the middle. Think you can get it?”

  “I can try,” Ruth said.

  Ruth tied the rope to her grapple. Giving herself some extra length, Ruth then began to swing the grapple over her head. The stones flew on their leather bindings as she circled it through the air. Lars came over, but said nothing. T
aimin continued to watch for Vance.

  Ruth let go.

  The grapple shot into the air and sailed over the top of the cliff. The rope began to tighten as Ruth pulled on the end. Selena held her breath. The last rays of daylight glimmered on the rock in front of her as the darkness in the gorge deepened.

  The rope went taut. Ruth braced herself with legs apart and pulled. She nodded at Selena. Lars snatched the rope and hauled on it until he was red in the face. He gave Selena a disgruntled look and handed the rope back to her.

  “Fair enough,” he said. “But can we climb it?”

  Selena took the rope in both her hands and put her boot against the cliff. She grunted and then pulled with her arms, shifting her feet from one hold to another. Soon her body was off the ground, and before long she was climbing up to the summit.

  She sat on the edge of the precipice and gazed down at Lars and Ruth. “It’s flat up here. The climb is easier than it looks,” she said. “Send up the packs.”

  Ruth and Lars tied the first of their packs for Selena to pull up. Behind them, Taimin was staring up at her in admiration.

  Taimin’s shoulders were tight with tension as he gazed down the gorge. Where was Vance? It was almost dark. Who, or what, was following them, and why?

  He looked back at Selena. She was still at the top of the cliff, pulling up the last of their packs. Lars and Ruth helped from the ground.

  Not so long ago, Selena could have farcasted to search for Vance. Would her power return? Taimin was conflicted. He understood that she hated what she was capable of, but he couldn’t help thinking that if she would only accept that she was different—special—she would be happier.

  Taimin couldn’t stay still. Vance should be back by now. He stared into the darkness, searching for movement and the familiar sight of his friend. His foot ached, but it was useful pain. It kept him alert.

  He stopped pacing. His breath caught as a sound split the night. He heard a panicked voice. Vance was bellowing.

  Taimin’s heart began to beat with heavy thuds. Vance knew better than to make so much noise, at night, out in the wasteland.