by F M Andrews
Turrin scrambled down the boulder and knelt on the river bank. Cautiously he dipped his little finger into the liquid. There was no burning sensation. It felt and smelt like water. There was nothing for it – he would have to taste it to find out if it was drinkable. Using only the tip of his tongue he licked his little finger. It tasted like water too. Scooping up more in his cupped hands he took a small sip, sat back and waited. So far so good. He took a larger sip – still nothing. He had not realised how thirsty he was until he took that sip and without hesitation he got down on all fours and began to suck water directly from the river, feeling the cool liquid revitalise his body was bliss. Amazing how you can take something so life-giving for granted. Errin would have made sure that the worlds she sent her shards to would be human friendly worlds, but Turrin had learned long ago never to assume.
His thirst sated, he sat back on his heels and examined his surroundings. The cliffs were of a brown-grey rock that was almost without feature. There were no cracks or fissures for plant life to find a hold. It was as if a sharp knife had made a precise incision, cutting a path for the river to flow. A few large, flat boulders, like the one he was sitting on, had cleaved from the walls and now lay strewn through the river giving it a winding course, but these must have fallen a long time ago as they were covered in foliage. There was a dense shadow beneath the trees that was hard to penetrate, although flashes of white flittered in and out of the greenery. Turrin smiled – his furry little friends, he presumed.
It was pleasant down here. It was such a shame that traveling down here would be so much slower than traversing the tops. He sighed and bent forward to fill his water bottle. He still had plenty of food in his backpack but the shared images of ripe fruit made him curious. Next time he was down in the rifts he would come earlier in the day and have a good look for food. There was no time now, the light was already changing and evening was drawing in. His food gathering would have to wait for another day. Indeed, there was already a steady movement of white bodies making their way towards the top of the trees in preparation for the nightly exodus. The trees looked as if they were suddenly full of blossom. He gazed up at the sight, laughing at the antics these little ones performed, all vying for the best launch site before, suddenly, as one, they sprang skyward. There had been no signal that he could discern, yet for a moment the sky was blotted out with the mass of beating wings as his nightly companions ascended into the evening light.
He stood there, hands on hips taking in the now peaceful scene. The only noise and movement came from the gurgling river. The trees were silent and still. Turrin shivered. It felt very lonely down here all of a sudden. Time he was topside also. This was not a place to hang around after dark. He bent to gather up his belongings, already picturing the spot on the top of the cliff he had memorised, but as he reached for his pack an ear-splitting screech made him cower. He had never heard anything so spine chillingly awful in all his life. It hurt his ears and rattled his teeth. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball, close his eyes and cover his ears. He glanced around nervously; the roar had sounded as if the creature was close, but he could not see anything clearly in the gloom. Snatching his pack he closed his eyes, imagined his destination and “leapt”. Nothing happened! Something was wrong, he did not feel the familiar disorientation and when he opened his eyes he was still on the riverbank, staring at two glowing, yellow, orbs that were moving stealthily towards him in the darkness.
What had happened? Another screech ripped through the air, this time so close that he felt the ground vibrate. He spun around frantically searching for a close by place to transport to but it was now truly dark, too dark to see. Of course! The truth suddenly struck him. The plateau would also be dark. He had been picturing his destination in daylight when instead he needed imagine it in darkness. Time was running out. The glowing eyes were impossibly large now and Turrin thought that he could hear the night stalker’s ragged breathing, and its rank smell was making him gag. This was not a time to panic. Calming himself, he glance at the star studded sky and did his best to imagine what the tops would look like this night. Gathering what energy he could, he “leapt” again. A great wave of relief washed over him as he felt the slight feeling of disorientation. He opened his eyes and explosively let out the breath he had subconsciously been holding. His legs felt wobbly as he made his way over to the warm huddle of little bodies slumbering peacefully. This had been a close call. Turrin knew he could not afford to be careless like this again. He shuddered at the thought of what might have been. The images he had seen in the small ones’ minds were terrifyingly accurate.
The next few days followed without incident. He was almost in a routine now. Days transporting from one cliff top to another, interspersed with long, hot, dry walks across the barren plateaus, always being pulled slowly onwards by the shard. Nights were spent curled up companionably with a mob of small, warm bodies. Each night a different group but each group always welcomed him without a fuss, even if they were not great conversationalists. He had tried communicating with them on several occasions but apart from images of food, which had been useful, perching spots, night prowlers, different weather and, embarrassingly, sex, they did not have much to tell him. It was amazing how much you could miss the simple act of being able to talk to someone.
As the days came and went, the shard and its bearer still felt a long way off. So far it had been five Feld days according to the parchment Errin had given him. Days seemed to run slightly faster here, but if it had taken him five days to get this far then it would stand to reason that it would take five days to return to the pickup point. That was ten strokes of the parchment already used, which left him only twelve Feld days to find the shard and its caretaker and convince them to return to Feld with him. This was not his only concern, however. The shard was leading him towards the mountain range which loomed large on the horizon. They were covered in snow and looked to be a formidable barrier, yet the thing that really worried him was the large, flying predators that, even from this distance, could be seen soaring in the mountain’s thermals. He had seen them on several occasions now and when he showed these images to his nightly companions, pure panic had blinded any coherent response. These things flew in daylight, were enormous and deadly. Somehow he had to survive climbing a mountain whist avoiding becoming one of these monster’s dinner.
For two more days he trudged towards the mountains, wearily watching the sky the whole time. He often saw the winged creatures, sometimes singularly sometimes in groups but always far enough away that they did not worry him too much. He did notice that they would only be there around the middle of the day. He had not seen any in the morning or in the evening. This observation offered him a small sliver of hope as he contemplated the trip over the distant peaks. There had only been one time when one of these huge beasts had flown close and he had been lucky enough to be able to transport to the bottom of a nearby ravine and hide before it had flown over, its shadow darkening the whole valley floor. It had a really interesting effect on the animals around him. One moment the trees were dotted with white and the next there was not a speck to be seen. It was as if the trees had taken a deep breath and inhaled them all. The little animals remained hidden well after the flying predator had vanished but slowly, one by one, they reappeared and life returned to normal. Turrin had taken advantage of being down by the river and filled his water bottle and picked some fruit. He had done some experiments and to his surprise all the fruit was not only safe to eat but it was also delicious.
The next morning he awoke to low cloud and drizzle. It was cold. Small water droplets covered the fur the animals around him and the earth had taken on a slightly darker hue. He sat up, receiving annoyed grumbles and squeaks from his sleeping companions. This was the first day that the skies had not been clear. As the day progressed the visibility grew worse; in fact, he could now not even see to the middle of the next plateau let alone the mountains and the sun. Without these landmarks he was going to have t
o rely solely on the shard’s pull. Closing his eyes he reached towards it. With a start he leapt to his feet, not daring to breathe as he focused. For the first time since he had arrived on this world he felt that the presence of the shard was powerful, real and close and it was coming closer by the moment.
He could feel it racing directly towards him, fast, much faster than he could walk. Maybe the shard bearer was riding a horse, or something like a horse, he amended himself? He had not seen anything ridable in his travels; however, anything was possible. He peered into the thick fog, willing his eyes to pierce the gloom, but he could not see anything. His heart beat faster as the shard came closer. This was it! This was what he had come for. Standing on his tip toes and jiggling in excitement he waited, questions flying through his mind. How had the shard bearer found him? What if it was a coincidence and they were just coming this way anyway? How was he going to attract their attention? This was nerve wracking in the extreme but the last thing he expected was for the shard to suddenly take a sharp turn and begin to disappear again back in the direction it came from. He felt it go in disbelief, tears of disappointment blurring his vision.
The clouds had lifted late in the evening, leaving a legacy of a fiery sunset, and the next day he had woken to stifling heat. The very air was oppressive and he found it hard to be enthusiastic about another day of trudging across the barren table tops through air that felt like it was blasting out of an oven. It was hard going and he felt exhausted by midday and he decided to have his lunch break down by the river, in the cool. Braving the tops again in the afternoon, he once again felt the presence of the shard close by. Not as close as it had been the day before but definitely closer than usual. Scanning the land and sky there was still nothing to see except a group of winged creature’s frolicking in the wind. That evening Turrin stood, braced against the wind with the setting sun behind him, casting a long shadow and staring at the mountains. With a bit of luck he should reach their foot hills tomorrow. Time to make his way to the sleeping hollow to prepare for the night. He had learned that if he was there first he got the prime spot in the middle and as the little ones were yet to arrive he had time to claim this prize, but as he turned his eye was caught by a dark smudge in the distance.
Although it was far away it looked ominous, stretching across the horizon, growing rapidly even as he watched. Turrin knew instantly what it was. Through his nightly mind touches he had witnessed torrential downpours, impressive electrical storms that made the ground shake and the heavens alight with fire but he had also seen huge dust storms that engulfed everything in its path. There was no doubt in his mind that this dark smudge was one of those. The only escape was down. From what he had understood, these storms travelled at such a speed that they literally jump the rifts and even though a small amount of dust filters down, it is survivable, staying on the tops was definitely not.
Turrin sprinted towards the nearest cliff face, desperate to find a place to ‘leap’ to before the light faded. He was caught between possible death from the night prowler and certain death on the tops. There was no choice. There was also no time for fear, he had to act now. Gratefully he saw a possible landing spot and taking one more glance at the now towering dust cloud he ‘jumped.’ The ravine was darker than the tops and glancing up he could see that the dust storm now completely obliterate any view of the sky above. A loud chattering brought his attention back down to the valley floor to a nearby tree, which appeared for all the world as if it was covered in snow. All the upper branches were full of little white bodies all perching on the highest branches possible. Many branches looked in danger of breaking under the weight. Turrin took his cue from the locals and sprinted to the nearest tree that looked big enough to hold his weight, scrambling up as far as he could. He hoped it was high enough to be out of reach from the terror that stalked the night.
It was cold down here and a mist from the river slowly curled around the base of the trees, obscuring the ground. Turrin started to shiver and his teeth began to chatter. He was not convinced that this was entirely due to the cold, as his stomach was churning and his nerves were strung so tight that every muscle in his body was clenched. It was going to be a long night. Time ticked on and the small white bodies in the branches above him settled down, some even sleeping, but he noticed that tonight they had posted lookouts. His bottom began to feel numb where it was wedged in the fork of two branches and he was trying hard to stave off a cramp in his calf. As a distraction he began to search for the shard. He knew the feel well and it only took him a moment to locate it. To his surprise it was close, the closest it had ever been. He could not pinpoint the direction exactly as it seemed to be sort of zig zagging around, but if he survived this night there was hope for tomorrow.
A familiar screech ripped through the peace of the night, breaking his concentration. It was a sound that turned his bowels to ice and his knees to rubber. It was terrifying. He could hardly breath, taking short gasps in between straining to hear any sound that would tell him how close the monster was. The second scream was closer. So much closer. The tree erupted, white bodies flinging themselves skyward. If only he could do the same. He watched them go with envy but their flight had not been in time. A dark shape exploded through the mist, long claws extended from a massive paw and plucked several fleeing bodies from the air. Terrified squealing was silenced with a terrible crunching sound. Turrin stopped breathing. If this thing could jump that high he had no hope. He shrank back into his perch trying to be invisible. Maybe it would move onto another tree now thinking all the prey in this one had fled? The crunching sound stopped. The silence was hideous. His blood froze and his mouth was dry. Silently he pleaded for this nightmare to be over.
There was no warning! The claw came from nowhere, slicing through his chest and down through his thigh. The pain was instant, hot and excruciating. He fled. Somehow he “leapt”, collapsing on the rock by the river, hoping that it was far enough away from the night prowler that it would not be able to smell his blood. A frustrated howl echoed off the cliff walls. Turrin drew his sword and slipped quietly into the freezing river, remembering that the dogs back home could not follow scent over water, but he knew instantly that death would claim him here also. The cold and his blood loss were both too great. Tears of anger, sadness and pain ran down his cold face. The snuffling sound was coming closer. The creature had found him, but he was damned if he was going to die without a fight. Struggling to his feet his sword braced in front of him, he screamed his defiance.
Two glowing orbs regarded him for a moment, blinking slowly. “Come on, then. Finish it. What are you waiting for, you arse-licking shit head!” It felt good for a moment but this stand had cost him dearly. Feeling as if someone had pulled a plug and drained all his energy he sank to his knees, head bowed. His shoulders hunched against the inevitable attack. In those last moments he became acutely aware of the world around him, the smell of dust in the air and the gurgle of the river flowing around his shivering body. None of this would change once he was gone but without him Errin’s hopes and the hopes of countless worlds would also become dust. Strangely a vision of a sad face surrounded by a halo of blond, unruly curls flashed through his mind almost making him smile. This could not be the end. He sent up a silent plea for help, not so much for himself but for all living things in the universe.
A sudden snap sounded loudly overhead and he toppled backwards in surprise. He looked up confused, as a dark shape materialised above him. It was black against the moonlit storm overhead. He just had time to vaguely make out a pair of gigantic wings before two clawed feet extended and plucked him, dripping from the river and a huge downward thrust of wings carried him at sickening speed into the night. It was one of those terrible flying monsters. Turrin had lost too much blood and his consciousness was fading but he had time for one final rueful, resigned thought.
“Ohhhh crap!”
Chapter Nineteen
Zail sniffed.
He was well and truly sick
of this sodding world. He had systematically narrowed his search down until he had finally come to the conclusion that the talent he had felt earlier had come from either of two worlds. He had scoured the first and found nothing and was now trying to search the second. The trouble was that half this world was a “no go zone” for talent and the other half was ravaged by unpredictable magic storms. Twice now he had had to escape just before a violent storm wiped him out, but here he was again on the trail of a tiny prickle of talent that was so very familiar, a signature he knew so well. The only thing that made him doubt his gut feeling was that the talent was so weak and faint. He hated to admit it but in some respects she was stronger than he was, so this whole thing made no sense at all. Logic stated that there was not a chance in hell that she would be behind the boundary, living in a place where she could not use her magic and he could not work out how she would survive out here in the wilds without using her talent to escape. Damn this petulant niggle that would not let him dismiss his paranoia.
A group of Telft popped into existence about a lance throw away and he smiled as they shook themselves and prepared for battle. It had been an inspired plan on his part to create a one-way gate for his carefully cultivated, revengeful creatures to invade this world. In a wildly optimistic move he had brought the gate closer to the place he thought her power had emanated from, just in case she returned, but if they could defeat the guardians then the last bastion of the known universe would fall under his power. He was in no hurry. The distress and anger this conflict was causing was quite tasty.