by F M Andrews
That morning the light was hazy, giving the basin an almost mythical appearance. Dragons were waking, stretching their wings and greeting the sun, each in their own way, adding to the fairy-like image in Turrin’s mind. Sometimes he had to give himself a reality check, this was all so surreal. Syran, Yonla and himself were sunning themselves on the golden sands at the edge of the lake. It was still cool and fresh, yet there was enough heat to soothe their sore muscles and weary bones. Turrin had woken knowing that he had to convince Syran to leave today. They had just run out of time. Struggling to find a way of broaching the subject, he was totally blown away when Syran turned, nudged him on the shoulder with his nose, and quipped, “When do we leave, little one?”
Turrin blinked several times before throwing his arms around the big silver's neck. He could not reach far but still it felt good. “I wasn’t sure how to ask,” he mumbled
“I know,” Syran answered. “You were so jumpy and uncomfortable. It looked as if you were sitting on a stinger fruit. Syran chuckled. “It was obvious that something was bothering you, and it didn’t take much to understand what you would be fretting about. I have thought long and hard about what you have asked of me. No one and nowhere is safe from this Zail person. If I can help, I think it is my duty to do so.” He sighed, looking around at the pitifully few survivors left in the basin before continuing. “Basically I really don’t have a choice in this at all. I cannot ask Yonla to come with us as it will be too dangerous not to mention the fact that she is needed here, but when we defeat this bastard, I would like to try and return to her if your Errin can do that for me?”
Turrin’s eyes stung with tears and he found it hard to swallow around the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat. He was totally humbled by the noble, brave beast before him and he just hoped he could be half as courageous when the time came to do battle with the evil that is Zail.
Syran and Turrin had decided that it was best not to tell the others the real reason for their departure for security reasons. The fewer that knew the better. Instead they announced that they were off on a scouting mission to make sure that none of the beasts that had escaped were still a threat. Of course they had told Yonla and she understood the need for secrecy. Provisions were packed and by mid-morning they were airborne. Syran had wondered if it was possible to ‘leap’ to the pickup point but Turrin had found out early on that he was quite limited in the distance he could achieve. In reality he could only leap comfortably for a league, possibly two with great effort. He was limited by the power he and Syran could access from this world.
Saying farewell had been difficult. He would miss not only the dragons themselves, but their whole way of life. Turrin had felt as if he had belonged and he thought of each and every one as family now. He could still picture Yonla’s sad, brave face growing smaller and smaller as they flew towards the mountains, standing motionless on the brim of the basin, her green scales glowing in the early morning light. Syran had been unusually quiet for a long time as they travelled steadily away and Turrin had respected his silence. This was never going to be easy and he fervently hoped that one day in the future they would be able to return.
Any fear that Turrin once had of flying had now been replaced with familiarity and pure enjoyment. He felt safe in the knowledge that Syran would never let him fall. The mountains loomed in front of them, a towering mass of jagged peaks. No vegetation or snow adorned the stark rock faces. Syran knew where he was going and although the route was not obvious to Turrin, the big dragon swooped and swerved his way down seemingly dead end valleys that miraculously opened out into plateaus or ended in low passes that he skimmed over, so close it made Turrin’s stomach drop.
Gradually their spirits rose and they began to enjoy the journey. By midday, the rocks were starting to radiate heat and Syran took full advantage of the resulting thermals, rising higher and higher. The view was spectacular, the air fresh and exhilarating and both Syran and Turrin seized the moment of joy. Knowing it would be fleeting made it all the more precious. Eventually they were so high that Turrin could see the table lands of the other side stretching away in front of them and Syran began the long, slow glide down towards them.
“Where to now?” Syran asked as they soared over the foothills and out onto the plains below. Turrin realised that he was not exactly sure. When he had first arrived on this world he had felt the pull of the shard drawing him towards the mountains, towards the rising sun, so he assumed that if he went away from the mountains and towards the setting sun he would find his pink plateau again but looking out at the vast landscape before him now, he was suddenly beset with doubt. All he could think to do was to head in the general direction and hope. He had a picture in his head of the approximate size the mountains appeared the day he’d dropped out of limbo, and he hoped that should help to give him an idea of distance. He just preyed that they would find the designated place before time ran out. He consoled himself that he still had one more day left. Surely that would be enough. Turrin shared his thoughts with Syran and a course was set.
By late afternoon they were both getting hungry and thirsty and decided it was time for a break. The silver chose a wide chasm and dropped below the rim, skimming above the treetops until they found a suitable landing spot by the river. Turrin dismounted to let Syran go and hunt and he sat on a rock munching on some fruit, trying not to think of the fact that some little white winged animal was being devoured. The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. The mountains shrunk, very slowly, and he knew that they were still a long way away from where they needed to be. A small niggle of worry started to prickle in Turrin’s chest. They were going to be cutting it very fine.
As the sun neared the horizon and dusk began to fall Turrin’s thoughts turned to the night. Where could they sleep? If they slept on a plateau, how would the small winged creatures react to a dragon in their midst? The alternative was the chasms and he was not sure that even Syran could best the monster that lived down there. The only answer he could come up with was that they should be first on the tops and hope that a dragon asleep would be less terrifying that a flying one. They picked a plateau and settled down. Syran curled up, his tail over his nose and Turrin nestled close and waited. As the last rays of the sun blinked out, the air resounded with the flurry of wings and the squawking and mewing of a thousand voices. Turrin had forgotten the vibrancy and chaos that the nightly exodus contained. Would they realize there was a dragon waiting for them, or would they just accept Syran as they had always accepted Turrin? In the end it turned out that he needn't have been concerned at all, it was just ‘business as usual’ for the little creatures and in no time the plateau was full of warm, sleeping bodies.
The next morning, they waited until all their sleeping companions had left before taking flight once more. Syran’s opinions of the little ones had begun to change. He now saw them as kind of cute and thought that they were not quite so tasty as they had once been. Turrin was pleased. He had not slept well, tossing and turning, fretting over the fact that there was still no sign of their objective. He had spent most of the night staring up at the glorious, star-filled sky, watching them slowly revolve above him. Hopefully this would be the last night he would see them. He realized that he was going to miss them. They had been his companions for twenty-one days now, faithfully appearing every night, and they were almost as familiar to him now as the stars back in Feld.
Once more in the air, Turrin scanned the endless plane below him; however there was still no sign of what he was searching for. Syran banked and Turrin adjusted his balance. Doubts were beginning to raise their ugly heads. Were they heading in the right direction? Had his talent failed and the pink faded from the soil on the plateau? Was his memory playing tricks on him? Clasping the parchment in front of him, he watched in trepidation as the last remaining stroke began to slowly get smaller and smaller. The tension was starting to take its toll and Turrin felt himself winding tighter and tighter, a quiet desperation churning in
his guts. This was not working! They had to try something else, but what?
Syran heaved a great sigh, his sides expanding between Turrin’s thighs. He was also feeling the pressure. “We should climb higher,” he thought. “We will be able to see further.”
Turrin agreed.
“The air will be cold and thin up there and we won’t be able to stay there for long,” Syran warned.
“What choice do we have?” Turrin replied, shrugging. The single stroke on the parchment was now half gone.
As Syran began to climb in a lazy spiral, more and more of the landscape came into view. Turrin started to shiver as they continued upwards. The land below them became a flat circle, covered with a blue dome. The plateaus looked like saucers, the chasms like spider webs slung between them and still there was no sign of the pink plateau.
“Wait! I think I see something,” Turrin sat bolt upright, directing Syran where to look. “There! Do you see it?” Far off to one side behind them, back closer to the mountains, was a small top that was a slightly different colour from the rest. It certainly was not a vibrant pink but it was definitely worth a closer look.
Turrin shuddered to think that they had already flown past it and if they had not climbed so high they might have just continued on until their time had run out. Syran began a steep glide down and Turrin’s heart leapt with excitement. The closer they came, the more pink the island became. Glancing quickly at Errin’s parchment he noticed that all that was left of today's stroke was a dot. “We have to hurry or we aren't going to make it,” he screamed into Syran’s mind. The dragon tipped forward and dived, his wings almost folded into his body. Turrin could hardly keep his eyes open as the wind rushed past, creating and then ripping away his tears. He gripped Syran’s scales with all his might, fighting vertigo and buffeting turbulence. After what felt like an eternity the air became noticeably warmer and Syran’s dive flattened out. Gulping for air Turrin loosened his grip and peered forward just in time to see an ominous, dark, winged shape emerge from the canyon directly in front of them.
Trumpeting a loud challenge it sped towards them. It was one of the foul beasts who had escaped Syran’s wrath and he was out for revenge. Syran swerved sharply and Turrin managed to hold on only through pure desperation. He needed all his concentration to hold on, a jump would be impossible.
Turrin lay flat and clung on as the black veered into their path, its long neck snaking out and it’s sharp teeth ripping the edge of Syran’s wing. Syran let out a scream of pain, turned and raked his talons across the exposed belly of their attacker, then, more by good luck than skill, he managed to whack his tail into the other's eye causing it to bellow loudly as it dropped away to one side. It was all the opening they needed and Syran made a last, desperate dive for the plateau, skimming across the chasm, touching down just as the last dot on the parchment vanished and they tumbled into the nothingness of limbo. Turrin’s last vision of this world was of the huge black dragon hurtling towards them, claws extended, wings flaring.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Myssan paced.
He could not sit still. He had always needed to move when he had a problem to solve, and this was the most difficult problem he had ever encountered. He was out of his depth. Everything was new and unknown. Finding Eva had been relatively easy; however, returning to Feld with her might just be impossible. He stopped pacing for a moment, once more staring down at her beautiful face as she slept.
He couldn’t believe the effect she had on him. He had only known her one day and already he could not imagine life without her. She sang to his heart like no one had ever done before. All his life he had heard the romantic tales from the bards about love at first sight or about someone being smitten by love, but until he had met this remarkable woman he had thought that they were just wistful inventions of the hopeful.
He hardly knew her. She lived in a completely baffling world full of machines that could do incredible things, things he had never even thought of before. She was intelligent, a truly talented dancer with a beauty all her own, yet it was her vulnerability that simply turned him to mush. She was dying and it broke his heart to see how bravely she faced this inevitably with such strength and grace. He had to physically walk away and renew his pacing in order to stop his hand reaching out to caress her pale cheek.
He had sat in stunned silence in the library after she had told him about her illness. He had been lost, directionless, unable to think of a way forward. It had been Eva who had shaken him out of his angst.
“Do you have a place to stay?” she’d asked. Myssan had shaken his head, thinking of the night before spent under a bush. “You can come and stay with me until we sort something out,” she’d offered. Myssan had looked up in surprise. “Look, I know I hardly know you and you might turn out to be the best con-artist ever but, hey, I can take chances now; I mean, what have I got to lose?” She had smiled a sad smile and sniffed. Myssan had been stunned but had gratefully accepted. He did not want to lose sight of her again.
What happened next was still making him reel. Taking his hand, she had lead him out of the library, down the street and back to the stairway that lead underground. Myssan had tried to explain that the gates would not let him pass, which had only made her giggle, a sound he found he liked a lot. She had pressed a token into his hand and showed him how to use it, and the gates had miraculously let him through.
He had then followed her through several branching tunnels and down some steep steps before they came to a wide platform that ended in a sheer drop off. Uninviting dark tunnels lead off in opposite directions. There were several people milling about on the platform, deep underground, many concentrating on the small, lighted objects that everyone seemed to have. There had been no obvious reason for anyone to be in this place. It was a dead end. Myssan had been confused, yet before he could ask Eva about it, a whoosh of air, smelling of damp earth exploded from the tunnel on his left and two bright eyes could be seen growing larger by the moment. The creature let out a loud screech as it approached and Myssan, unable to help himself, had taken a step backwards in fright. “Watch it, mate!” a voice had exclaimed from behind. He rationalised that he could understand the words as he was still holding Eva’s hand. To his amazement, instead of being afraid of the oncoming apparition, the people had surged forward to meet it, carrying Myssan along with them.
Sensing his discomfort Eva had reassured him. “It is okay. This is just the Underground.” As if this explained everything. He’d had to assume that all these people would not willingly jump to their deaths so, steeling himself, he had waited for his fate to be revealed.
The two eyes had turned into lamps ahead of a line of carriages that had swept past at unimaginable speed, creating a surprisingly gentle wind and hardly any noise. Quicker than he would have thought possible the carriages had slowed and come to a complete halt, the doors in front of him opening by themselves and the crowd flowing forward through them. Eva had sat and pulled him down onto the seat next to her. In no time the platform was emptied and with a sigh, the doors had closed again and the machine resumed its journey into the darkness once more.
They changed trains, as Eva had informed him these carriages were called, before they had finally climbed the stairs back to the world above. Gazing round he had realised that he could see none of the tall buildings he had begun to use as landmarks and he knew he was lost. Just how far had they travelled? From now on, he was going to have to rely on Eva for directions and, more importantly, to be able to find his way back to the pickup point.
After a short walk, they had arrived at Eva’s home. “Here we are,” she had said, stopping in front of a building identical to all the others in the street and idly he had wondered how she was able to tell which one was hers. Inside it was warm and cosy with well-worn furnishings in rich, warm colours and textures.
“Make yourself at home. I will be back in a moment,” Eva said, before slipping into the next room. Myssan had examined his surroundi
ngs. Life-like images in small stand up frames adorned the mantel above the fireplace. They held an assortment of faces, all smiling, and he wondered who these people were to Eva. Next Myssan had cautiously pondered the small box on the wall next to the door. He had noticed that when they had walked into the house Eva had touched it and lights had sprung on. Unable to resist the temptation, he pushed the lever up. Darkness cloaked the room. Desperately he had fumbled for the lever again and snapped it back down. Lights flared once more. It was amazing and it had totally delighted him as he repeatedly made the room change from day to night. It wasn't until Eva said something from the doorway, arms folded and a quizzical expression on her face, that he realized that he was being a nuisance. Sheepishly, he had explained that there were no such wonders in his world and she had grinned at his boyish enthusiasm.
“I suppose you don't even have flush loos either, do you?” she’d quipped before bursting out in laughter at Myssan’s look of horror. “I hope that you do have some sort of toilet in your world or else I won’t be coming,” she had teased a blushing Myssan.
“We … that is, in Feld we don’t talk about such things … usually,” he’d finished lamely.
“Oh, I see,” Eva thought, a broad smile making her eyes twinkle. “Well, here it is often a favourite topic of conversation. I’ll show you where to find my toilet so you know where to go when you need to.” And with that she had dragged him by the hand to the door at the end of the hall. “Ta da,” she’d exclaimed, opening the door with a flourish. “The toilet.” She had demonstrated how to use it, admonishing him to make sure he put the seat back down when he was finished, and left him to it. It was indeed a wonderful piece of engineering and Myssan made a vow to introduce it back home in Feld if he could.
They had eaten a simple meal of something Eva called ‘Leftover takeout,’ which had been quite bland, tasteless and completely without texture but it had served the purpose and it was marginally better than his travel biscuits. However, he found the ‘Cup of tea’ to be quite to his liking; it was warming and thirst quenching all at once. By the end of the meal Myssan could see the exhaustion on Eva’s face, her illness demonstrating the tight hold it had over her frail body and, apologising, she had curled up on the couch under a warm blanket and fallen asleep immediately, leaving Myssan to think and pace.