The Quest for the Lost Shards of Power

by F M Andrews

  He scanned the tree line designating the boundary between magic and non-magic looking for any sign of life. He could wait. Maybe whoever was using their talent would become sloppy, careless. Watching the Telft advancing towards the trees he grinned in anticipation of the conflict to come.

  #

  “Watch out!”

  Myssan heard the warning, shouted loudly in his mind as his hand was abruptly grabbed and he was pulled sharply backwards just moments before a huge beast with glowing eyes swept past, literally in front of his nose. Disorientated as he was after the frantic departure from Feld and the never ending nothingness of the limbo his senses could not make any sense of his new surroundings. It was dark and it was cold; however, that was all that seemed logical. He was sitting on hard, freezing ground that looked like smooth, dark grey stone. Tall buildings, some at least four stories high, ran in a line behind him and a similar row faced him on the other side of a pathway that was full these roaring beasts with the glowing eyes. Panting, he rested his hands on his knees and tried to calm himself. The air tasted of metal and sulphur. The person who had snatched him out of the path of danger had slapped him on the shoulder, said something Myssan could not understand, waved good bye and then walked into a doorway a couple of buildings down the row. Where was he? He stood, stumbled backwards until he could lean against the stone of the building directly behind him and he began to take stock of his surroundings.

  Although it was dark, probably night, lights shone from tall posts placed at regular intervals in front of the buildings. These gave off a remarkable amount of light, probably powered by magic, he thought. Instinctively he searched for the source but was surprised to find that he could not detect any magic whatsoever. Panicking, he reached for the raw forces of this world and was rewarded with the faintest whisper. It was there but it was well and truly hidden and almost impossible to tap into. Scanning his surroundings once more, he noticed that the buildings had large glass windows. Only the very rich on Feld could afford such a luxury.

  The windows on the ground floor were lit from within and he could clearly see that they were shops, full of unimaginable wares all artfully displayed. People were walking along the shop fronts, looking in and occasionally entering, yet they all appeared totally unafraid of the fast moving creatures racing past only a hand's breadth away. Some wandered in twos, a man and a woman holding hands. Some strode purposely while others were walking automatically, their whole attention taken with a small lighted object that they were holding in their hands. Still others were holding this same object to one ear and talking loudly even though there seemed to be no one listening.

  It appeared as if the fast moving beasts never left their designated path and Myssan began to relax a little, but as he was gathering enough courage to move away from the safety of the wall a big red monster, twice the size of any he had seen yet, came to a stop directly in front of him emitting a loud hiss, it’s mouth opened and people spewed out. Myssan froze, not daring to move lest it notice him. People who had been standing in a small group nearby began to file into the beast. Swallowing his fear, Myssan forced himself to examine this danger more closely. It appeared to be hollow. It was lit from within and he could see people sitting inside. They all seemed fine, totally unconcerned. Taking a cautious step forward he reached out and touched its skin. It was metal. Ha! Stupid fool, he chided himself, it wasn’t alive at all, it was just a kind of carriage.

  Suddenly the doors shut and, with a puff of foul smelling smoke, the huge carriage took off, gathering momentum as it went. Maybe the other things travelling down the road were carriages as well? It was amazing what a change of perspective could do. Now he noticed each of the small vehicles had one or two people sitting inside them but he still could not work out what made them move. There were no horses and no magic. Maybe it was a type of machine?

  This was indeed a strange world and he could see that there was lots to learn. His first priority, though, was to record exactly where he was so that he would be able to find his way back when the time came to leave and return to Feld. He opened his pack and took out his drawing book and pencil. He looked around for a distinctive landmark and decided that the best thing would be just to capture exactly what he could see. There seemed to be a lot of signs everywhere, using symbols he could not decipher. Painstakingly he recorded the scene before him, copying every symbol as carefully as he could with his cold fingers. This done, he replaced the book, took out his drink bottle and a travel biscuit and watched the people go by. No one took any notice of him at all. They were all shapes and sizes. Some had pink skin, almost white, others had golden skin like his own and some had dark brown skin. There was no particular pattern to their hair, facial or otherwise. He noticed though that there was a distinct lack of children and old folks, but on the whole, he was just relieved at how easy it would be to blend in here.

  Closing his eyes for a moment, he rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger and tried to concentrate on his mission, searching for any sign of the shard. It was elusive but the smallest magnetic attraction seemed to be coming from one particular direction. Opening his eyes again he began to cautiously follow its pull. He had no idea how far away it would be or how big this city was but as some wise philosopher once said, “You can never end a journey if it is never begun.”

  He had only managed a few strides before he was confronted with another mystery. Walking past the open door of a shop that had sculptures of women dressed in imaginative clothing, he was blasted by a very loud, rhythmical sound. It had a compelling beat as if it were meant to be music but he could not recognise and instruments nor could he see any musicians. Shrugging he continued on. Each open door he passed was the same, although the music varied greatly. Some were melodic, some had vocals with words he could not understand and some were very repetitive. In one window there was a rectangular box that resolved into a moving picture of small people doing something he had never seen before. They were racing down a snowy mountain on what looked like nothing more than a board strapped to their feet. The picture quickly changed to a man riding a huge ocean wave balancing on a slightly larger board. Next it showed a woman, hair flying, falling from the sky … smiling. Myssan was about to turn away, not wanting to see her hit the ground and die when a huge shroud suddenly appeared above her and she began to float slowly down to earth.

  All this was totally beyond his comprehension. How could these pictures be so life-like? How could they move and what amazing wonders were they depicting? All he could do was shrug and move on. This was a fascinating world, even if it had no magic, but he did not have time to examine it in detail just now.

  All his life he had been interested in how things worked. He had spent many hours examining insects, plants, the stars and countless other subjects and he felt that he had a better understanding of these things than most, but here, before him, was a whole new world full of mysteries all absolutely unfathomable to him. What a shame he would be here for such a short time; every step he took presented new wonders but also new problems.

  The first of these came when the shard’s pull required him to cross a road. He could see no possible way to dodge the constant flow of metal carriages. There was nothing for it but to follow the road along and hope that it changed direction but fortunately his problem was solved, quite quickly as it turned out, when all the carriages suddenly came to a stop and people on foot spewed onto the road. He shrugged again and followed, not quite sure what had just happened, but grateful it had.

  To his relief the shard’s pull quickly became stronger and stronger, and he hoped that it was not too far away now. It was a strange sensation. He could imagine that it was similar to holding a loadstone except that it was centred in his mind. He constantly felt the compulsion to turn towards it, its attraction drawing him on. He crossed several more roads, eventually working out that when the lights high above the road went red, the carriages stopped and when the flashing symbol that looked like a person walking came
on you could safely cross. There was always enough light to see by even though the sky was black and apparently devoid of both moon and stars.

  His journey took him past illuminated shop windows, inviting eating and drinking houses, but occasionally there was a dark doorway or window. He caught a glimpse of himself in one the windows and had to smile. He did not look at all out of place here. His long wavy, dark hair, dark eyes and golden skin were similar to many people he had crossed paths with since being here and his clothes were as eclectic as any he had seen. He did not linger long to examine his image as the force of the shard was almost undeniable now, and he hurriedly continued on.

  Rounding a corner he came to a complete standstill and stood staring in disbelief. Across the road was the object of his search. In the centre of a large illuminated window of a brightly lit eating house, perched on a high stool sat a dark haired girl. All his senses screamed that she was the one, the one who held the shard. She sat alone eating what looked like a filled bun, occasionally nibbling something that resembled yellow sticks. She had a large brightly coloured cup with a straw in it that she took sips from every now and then. Her whole concentration was taken up by a book that she had propped up in front of her, eating automatically, reaching for her food without taking her eyes from the pages.

  She was tall, he could see that, but there was not much to her. She had tight trousers on that accentuated her slim legs, large thick soled ankle boots that were only half laced up and a baggy, shapeless, knitted jersey that came up to her chin. Her dark, shiny, hair was hooked behind her ears. Endearingly it would come free on one side every time she leaned forward to reach for her drink and she would absently scoop it back into place, but it was her eyes that took Myssan’s breath away. They were so dark. Long lashes that swept up to expressive brows, surrounded brown eyes that drank the light. She had a narrow face with a prominent chin giving her an almost pixie like appearance. She was not classically beautiful but she was absolutely fascinating. There was something really interesting going on behind those amazing eyes.

  For a heart stopping moment she looked up, and Myssan felt as if she were staring straight at him. He caught his breath and felt his knees tremble. She had power, he could feel it, a power that had totally unmanned him. He quickly realised that she was not staring at him, in fact she appeared deep in thought, looking inwards not outwards, but still she had an aurora that was undeniable.

  He could not see the shard anywhere but he knew she must have it on her somewhere. Errin had said that she had laid a compulsion on the shards to make the bearers feel as if they had to have them with them at all times. Myssan stood and stared. He had been lucky. He had found her on his first day. All that remained was to talk her into coming back with him, to leave everything and everybody she knew and loved and travel to a strange world for a cause she was still not even aware existed. The real killer was that he would not even be able to speak with her until he could touch her. He laughed. “All in a day’s work for a prince!” he thought ruefully to himself.

  He located the door to the establishment and followed the steady stream of people entering. Inside it was quite baffling. No one greeted him to show him to a table; instead, he was swept along up to a counter at one end. Large pictures of what he presumed was food were plastered above it. They must have amazing artists in this world, he thought to himself, all the pictures looked so life like. People queued up and then, as each reached the front of the line, they would make their request to the person behind the counter, wait, and then take their tray full of wrapped food to a vacant table.

  Everything was red, yellow and white and gleamingly clean, yet it was not very inviting. He noticed that diners did not seem to stay long. Myssan detached himself from the flow of people and tried to get his bearings now that he was inside. He could see her table up against the window yet he was not sure how to get there. A large crowd of people were blocking his way, passing around one of those small lighted rectangle, laughing loudly. There was nothing for it. He had to go through them. He edged closer and, to his relief, the crowd parted to let him through. However, as the fates would have it, one of the group turned suddenly, colliding with Myssan, crunching a cup of milky liquid between them. It was a spectacular mess. The person sounded apologetic and tried, unsuccessfully, to wipe them both down but by the time Myssan managed to escape and make his way towards her table again he was too late. She had gone.

  Looking frantically around, he caught a glimpse of her on the path outside, walking past the window. “Shit, shit, shit!” he chided himself as he raced for the door but he had taken too long and there was no sign of her anywhere. This was not happening. “Think,” he told himself, but his mind was blank. It was then that he felt the tug of the shard moving away from him. He began to run. This was annoyingly frustrating. He had been so close. Rounding the corner, he was just in time to see the top of her head as she descended a set of steps that led down into the pavement.

  Did this city have dwellings underground as well, he wondered as he pounded up the road. Reaching the steps he raced down after her, pushing against the steady stream of people ascending. Turning sideways he shouldered his way downwards. People politely made room for him but he had lost her again. When he reached the bottom of the steps he was presented with three wide tunnels. He closed his eyes and let the shard call to him. Left! She had gone down the left-hand tunnel. He turned and ran. The tunnel was wide and well lit, with white tiles lining the walls and roof. A man playing what looked like a type of lute was standing at a bend and his haunting music made a strange accompaniment to Myssan’s frantic chase.

  The shard pulled him towards an area that funnelled everyone into a series of narrow gateways. The gates appeared to open automatically for anyone who passed but when he tried to move past them the remained firmly in place, causing him to stumble. Nothing he could do would make the gate budge and in desperation he tried to leap over it. There was a loud shout and a burly man sped towards him, grabbed his arm and, none too gently, lifted him back over the gate to where he had started. The man was red faced and shouting. Myssan struggled in his grip. He could not let her get away. The man was strong but Myssan had been trained to fight since childhood. He had gathered himself for a counterattack when a strange sensation suddenly dissolved all his resistance. The shard was disappearing alarmingly quickly. It was as if she had grown wings and flown away and he knew that he would never be able to catch her now. He had lost her!

  Slumping to the ground he dropped his head into his hands in defeat. He was so tired. The man was still standing over him, yelling and pointing back down the tunnel, back to the entrance. There was no point causing a scene. Defeated, he slowly picked himself up, grabbed his pack and wandered back the way he had come. What he needed was a good night's rest. Tomorrow was another day and he would deal with this problem then.

  Standing at the top of the steps once more, he shivered. The night was cold, and although it was not freezing he would still need to find somewhere to sleep. He wandered along the pathway beside the road and, randomly turning a corner, he saw trees in the distance. They drew him onwards. A building on the next corner stood out as different. It had a sign hanging above an open door, and warm lit windows streamed light onto the pathway. As he passed the open door the tantalizing aroma of food and hops assailed his senses and made his mouth water. Travel biscuits were all very well for a short time but, oh, how he missed a hearty meal washed down with a delicious brew. It was all so tauntingly close but also so impossibly unattainable. The last thing he wanted to do was call attention to himself, and he was pretty sure walking into that cosy establishment, grabbing someone's hand and then talking into their mind might just do exactly that. As he stood there dreaming a group of young men dressed in dark leather jackets and tight trousers staggered out of the door, talking loudly and gesturing crudely to someone back inside. They all had shaved heads, bits of metal in their ears, eyebrows and some in their lips and they were adorned with blue pi
ctures on every bit of exposed skin.

  Myssan could sense trouble. These three men were so completely different from any person he had come across in this world so far. For one, they noticed him, for another the smiles that spread across their faces when they realized he was on his own were not friendly. In fact, he was sure that he would see those smiles in his nightmares for many years to come. All semblance of drunkenness left the three as they moved forward menacingly toward him, talking at him as they came closer and closer.

  Myssan stood firm, Dissan’s words, “Show no fear,” ringing in his ears. The leader leaned forward, his foul breath proceeding him, and repeated his words, punctuating each with a painful poke to Myssan’s forehead. The contact caused images to explode in Myssan’s mind. Images of mindless brutality. He could sense the intoxicating feeling of power these cruel, groundless assaults gave. The exhilarating adrenalin rush as the victim cowered before him, and the satisfaction he gained from their piteous pleading and the sounds of their bones breaking and their skin ripping was addictive. There was no other reason for these attacks other than pure, selfish gratification.

  The leader reached into his pocket and pulled out an oblong object; then, with a smug grin, he flicked a switch and a long blade suddenly appeared. Myssan stumbled backwards, as much to get away from the sickening revelations as the weapon. He knew there would be no reasoning with these men, no diplomatic way to avoid the inevitable confrontation. They wanted a fight and there was nothing for it but to oblige. Myssan sighed and relaxed into the ready position, many, many years of weapon training making this an automatic response. Feet wide, one forward one back, knees slightly bent, eyes focused on the opponent's face. Instinctively he reached for his dagger, held it ready and waited for the first indication of movement.