by B A Vonsik
“Would ya stop dat!” Pax eventually spoke after many uncomfortable glances at Aren.
“Stop what?” Aren asked innocently, though with a hint of impudence.
“Lookin’ at us . . . watchin’ like ya plannin’ ta cut our necks.” Pax replied.
Aren sat quietly for a long moment considering how to respond to this pretentious Baraan youngling. I want to take this one’s mind apart to teach him he isn’t my equal, but I need this bunch to survive and get back to civilization. “I have no intentions as such. Cutting your neck would not increase my chances of surviving these wilds.”
“But ya would, if it did?” challenged Pax.
“Pax!” Suhd objected with a disappointed expression.
Her brother immediately looked only a little regretful and tried his best to put on a friendly face. It worked for Suhd, but Aren knew better watching Pax. Aren surmised the rogue didn’t like or trust him and still held hard feels about his friend, the half Tellen. He’s selfish and too wanting to be wounded by his own losses to trust . . . or even like. I don’t know why the half Tellen keeps trying to be his friend.
Aren set his skewer into the dirt propped up with several good-size rocks allowing his dragon meal to cook slowly and completely. Pax fell silent focusing on cooking his skewered meal of dragon over the fire Suhd kept well fed with thick sticks and small logs. Rogaan too kept quiet as he cooked well his skewered serpent meat. In between her tending the fire, Suhd minded her skewer or let her brother hold it when needed. Trundiir set both of his skewers leaning from a set of stacked rocks he placed near the flames, allowing him to pull out of a sack from his pack herbs and what looked to be freshly picked fruits, then pass them out to everyone. Aren didn’t expect any generosity from the white-bearded Tellen, but accepted herbs and fruit when offered. They waited for their meals to cook and cooked well at Trundiir’s insistence. He spoke in his grumble of a way of illnesses suffered by under cooked meat before he brought in an armful of broken branches that he proceeded to cut and sharpen into straight-cut stakes while his dragon and serpent cooked to a blackened condition.
They ate in silence, nearly emptying the water bags each was given for their journey. Aren watched and learned as much he could from what they weren’t speaking of. Pax and Suhd appeared to be enjoying their moment and freedom from being chased speaking to each other in their hushed whispers. The ground and cave shook several times as Trundiir kept at making stakes and contraptions of sorts from vines, stakes, and sticks. The Tellen seemed unconcerned at being in the cave during the often-felt tremors and seemed he was preparing for a long stay in this place. Rogaan was a different tale. He looked preoccupied with his inner thoughts and unsettled ones at that, if Aren was reading him well. When not looking inward, the half Tellen inventoried his equipment while eyeing the things each of them had taken from the Seb’Ner scouts. He’s thinking of something. What? What is he planning?
Rogaan added dragon meat to his empty skewers, then laid them across several of the heated rocks surrounding the fire. Trundiir added three more skewers to other heated rocks. He said it would dry out the meat, giving it a start to being made into marching-food in the day’s sun, tomorrow. Aren was familiar with the process and purpose and decided to follow their example with dragon meat on his skewer, making it a point not to touch the serpent flesh. That flesh is just not right to eat, he retold himself.
“How can we keep safe from da nasties of da night?” Suhd asked without a prelude.
“Most large tanniyn are quiet in darkness,” Trundiir offered with his rock-grating grumble. “So are featherwings and leatherwings. Fur-diggers and climbers and serpents and dragons like we eat own the night. Those are harmless and more fearful of us than we are in danger of them.”
“Will da fire keep dem away?” Suhd asked with a hopeful look on her face.
“Should help,” answered Trundiir with a confident tone. “Little furs may seek warmth near the fire. Serpents too, though I have not seen many that could harm any of us.”
“Serpents . . .” repeated Aren such no one could hear him. A shiver pulsed over him at the thought of one of them crawling around him. Then, a whisper teased at him. It was somewhere in his mind. He at first dismissed it as his imagination, but the whisper came again, and again, and again. It was there, but so faint his mind couldn’t hear the words it spoke.
They all made places to sleep where they ate or nearby. Aren settled in lying length-wise with the fire that Suhd placed two more logs on. By his observation and count, they had three more logs for the fire and that they would not likely last the night, so he hoped the rocks would stay warm enough for him until morning. Despite his reluctance to do so, he eventually used his pack with the ax-and-flame Agni Stone within to rest his head on when he couldn’t get comfortable. Sleep eluded him for a while as the ground shook several more times, though less intensely than during the day. I hope the cave doesn’t fall on us. It’s been here longer than I’ve been breathing . . . So, stop concerning yourself with it. With the dangers of the shakings put out of this mind, he hoped to doze off into an Evendiir trance, at least, but as the fire burned down, he realized he was too tired do so, and that sleep would eventually take him. So, he gave in, hoping to get enough rest in the night that would allow him to wake before the others so to be ready for anything the half Tellen might try to do.
Chapter 24
Woes and Revelations
Aren found himself suddenly awake standing somewhere deep in the cave, standing before a large wheel of stone and steel guarded by four thick, shaped, rock pillars. Colored metal wove around and through each of the pillars . . . metallic white-silver, green-pale, red, and black. To Aren, it looked that the door could spin in its place inside the rock wall, but no means were obvious allowing it to be opened. Engraved on the door were rings of symbols that changed as he stared. Three rings in all. At first, Aren found what he looked at confusing. Then, symbols previously tormenting him started appearing and disappearing on the rings. A puzzle. A lock. Seals. But to what?
His growing curiosity about the device was too much for him to resist. He approached the pillars but stopped when he felt his skin prickle. He looked down at himself to make sure biters were not crawling all over him as he felt they were. He thought to the manifestations he observed on the Khaaron, searching for one that could shield him from the crawlers, even if only imagined. A vaporous shield immediately formed in front of him. Still he felt his skin crawling. The pillars and symbolled rings blurred, then became sharp to his eyes, then blurred again as Aren adjusted the vapors trying to block the sensation. Nothing. Frustrated, he dismissed the shield. Looking at the pillars, he realized they formed a barrier wall filling the cavern’s girth. His eyes barely making out blue and white sparkling following the invisible wall passing through the pillars when looking at darker areas of the cave. Shielding myself doesn’t work. Then, remove them. Aren shot sizzling blue bolts of light at the pillars. They flashed blue and sparked lightning across their metal weaves as the cave loudly vibrated. Aren’s skin crawled painfully, forcing him to back away until the sensations became tolerable.
Deeply frustrated, Aren stared at the pillars seeking a way past them to the large wheel of ringed symbols. He noticed slight impressions on each of the pillars. The impressions . . . looked like handprints at near the height of his chest. Shadows suddenly appeared in front of him giving him a start and a skip of his beating heart. Then, he watched as they took the form of people . . . a male Baraan, Tellen, Evendiir, and Mornor-Skurst. The shadows glided across the cave floor taking positions at the pillars; the Baraan at the green-pale metal-wrapped stone pillar, the Tellen at the white-silver, the Evendiir at the black, and the Mornor-Skurst at the red. Glowing rods of gold, talisman came to Aren’s thoughts, appeared in each of the shadows’ left hands just as they placed their right hands into the impressions. Aren’s skin started crawling all over, unpleasantly, then painfully. At the peak of his pain, he felt his skin strippi
ng from his sinew as he threw up his arms shielding his eyes from a blinding flash of power from the four pillars.
Aren found himself lying on his back, panting. Opening his eyes, he only saw painful flashing explosions of white and black. What’s happened? Where am I? Panic rising in Aren tightened his chest and throat recalling memories of his youngling years spent in fear of so much. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his beating heart. After a time, he felt his heart slow, then become calm. Spinning symbols flashed in his mind. No. They stopped. Opening his eyes again, he was relieved to find the explosions of white and black gone. Looking about, he found himself lying in the cave where he fell asleep, next to a now-smoldering fire. His hands were still raised, blocking the first rays of the morning sun sneaking through rocks and trees and shining on him where he lay his head. What in Kur did my mind see? Aren didn’t move from where he lay in sweat-soaked clothes wondering what he experienced in his dreams. More strange pillars flashing with lightning brightly came to his mind, followed by more spinning symbols and pain. He tried to pay them no heed. Was it real? He then denied them telling his mind it was only a dream. More symbols spinning violently flashed in mind. Rogaan! Aren looked up with a start to find the half Tellen and his things gone. Pax and Suhd still lay sound asleep in the shadows across from the smoldering fire. Trundiir was also gone, but much of his things remained where he had left them last night.
In a panic, Aren rose and collected his belongings, including his skewers from the warm stones with mostly dried dragon, and set off to the mouth of the cave where he stood, allowing his eyes to adjust to the growing brightness of the new day sun. Scanning the hillside leading up to the landing in front of the cave, Aren saw nothing of Rogaan . . . or Trundiir. My plans are in ruin, he chastised himself for sleeping so long. Panic welled up within him before he forced himself into calming down and deciding what he had to do next. Vibrant-colored symbols spinning violently filled his mind until he shook his head hard enough to hurt. That half Tellen is off to see his father free. I must brave the wilds of these hills to get to Anza to get close to that cursed half Tellen. Resolved to act so boldly despite being ill prepared for it, Aren spied off into the direction he thought Anza to be. I’m not certain, he admitted to himself. I could get lost . . . and eaten. He stood arguing with himself . . . when he saw it. The lone dark flying thing in a part of the sky. The featherwing from last night . . . and from the river when he was on the ship . . . and even before that, he thought. He now more than suspected it, the featherwing, playing a part in this “adventure,” though he was uncertain how. It soared at a distance, what Aren guessed as to the southeast, at a height just below where the leatherwings usually flew and above where any featherwing dared to climb. “Follow that one. If I’m thinking straight . . . and I always do, I’ll find that half Tellen somewhere below it. And that leads me to Anza and to be rid of these torments.”
Aren rushed off after the featherwing. He was not fond of the wilds despite being taught by his father how to live in and survive it. Many unpleasant things an Evendiir needs to do to survive, Aren reminded himself as he trotted down a somewhat used path leading him in the general direction of his soaring sign. He calculated Rogaan only had a short start ahead of him, and as he recalled, this half Tellen didn’t seem to run fast. That should allow me to catch him . . . and make these symbols sleep. Aren trotted the path hoping not to run into tanniyn, or worse, and wishing the bushes he continuously brushed against had shorter thorns.
The hills relentless with thorn-rich bushes and trees pricked and cut at Aren’s clothes and skin, drawing blood and discomfort in so many spots. Aren even found himself ducking low-hanging branches also thick with thorns as he made his way along the path. The number of times and intensity of the symbols appearing to him seemed to lessen. I must be closing on the half Tellen. He calculated he covered more than a march of these hills when he lost sight of the featherwing when the path took him into heavy tree cover. Stopping to catch his breath and hoping to reorient himself, Aren realized he was in a low hollow with a trickling stream and thick vegetation. Oh no! I need to remove myself from here. Panic surged in Aren at his recall of Father’s teachings that low hollows, especially ones with water, are preferred hunting areas of leapers and other predators. Squawks, snorts, and distant bellows filled his ears, causing him more angst. Aren jerked his head left and right trying to see everything about him all at once. Immediately, the wilds became confusing and disorientating as his ears filled with the pounding of his heart. For a time, he couldn’t think well enough to pick a direction to go as spinning symbols came to and went from his mind. Stray thoughts told him to calm himself. Breathe . . . breathe, Aren told himself. With an effort, he took a breath and closed his eyes. He repeated this calming ritual just as his father taught him. Aren opened his eyes after some time. The low hollow remained around him. To his relief, the squawks, snorts, and distant bellows didn’t set upon him anything intending to eat him. Now calmer, he looked for his footprints leading back to the cave. Having found them, he picked a direction opposite them that went uphill in a direction he thought to be on a line he was traveling.
In a short time, Aren topped a ridge allowing him to survey the surrounding hills. He spotted the featherwing aloft, maybe a march away over the next ridge in the direction of the rising sun off to his left, as it had been when he left the cave. More spinning symbols flashed painfully in his mind. Aren did his best to ignore them. They then disappeared. In the small valley below, the trees gave way to a lake. The area was alive with animals and beasts of many types, though the leatherwings he saw kept high and distant from the featherwing as the other featherwings, many vibrantly colored, kept low and close to the trees. Several small herds of tanniyn, colorful shieldbacks, and longwalkers surrounded the water. Where are the teeth? Aren asked himself as he scanned the valley and surrounding hills. To his relief and concern, he spied only one pack of predators . . . a pack of blue-colored leapers trotting up the next ridge in the direction of the lone featherwing. Dung! Aren fought with himself at what to do. The leapers were likely after Rogaan, a lone “animal,” unprotected by a herd. What to do? Aren asked himself. Go back or try to help Rogaan?
“Go back to the cave and keep safe or . . .” Aren struggled with his sense of self-preservation, strong as it was. But then, there was Rogaan, who, so far, had shown Aren kindness and respect. I should help him, Aren decided. No . . . I’ll have my Light taken from me, Aren undecided. Painfully, spinning symbols filled his mind. Aren breathed deeply trying to calm his mind. Success, partly, as the symbols dimmed but stayed in his mind this time. He became angry with himself for his indecisiveness. A faint whisper wove around the symbols in his mind. It called to Aren filling him with a desire to head south. He felt lost in the chaos in his mind. “Make a decision . . . Aren.”
He took a step down the ridge, then quickly started chopping his feet as he descended the hill in a hurry, reluctantly filled with the intent to help Rogaan, if possible. Aren wished his motivations were purely unselfish, but he admitted to himself that they were not . . . entirely. Running as fast as he could keeping a pace allowing him to run long, Aren raced across the northern edge of the lake keeping his distance from and an eye out for tanniyn. There were big beasts in the valley and dangerous despite not being the type of teeth to be afraid of. Up the opposite hill Aren ran, slowing as he did. Fatigue was becoming his enemy, though the symbols had disappeared to his relief.
Topping the ridge, Aren saw the featherwing, from its high place, dive into the valley below. Aren looked for Rogaan through the trees of the valley. At first, no sight of the half Tellen until a cloud of dirt and dust kicked up at the base of the opposite ridge in between two stands of trees. Aren saw Rogaan rise from the cloud of dirt and dust, letting loose arrows rapidly at the unseen up the hill. A dull hum . . . vibrations touched Aren as the featherwing swooped down just in front of Rogaan then around him left to right in a half circle . . . A sparkling wall of fire
stood in its trail. Aren stared in awe and confusion. How? The featherwing climbed back into the sky coming level with Aren before rolling over into another dive.
Below, Rogaan let loose more arrows, striking blue-hued leapers, all two to three strides long, standing angry and confused at the sparkling wall of flames. One of the leapers fell to the ground from an arrow to its head. Four remained by Aren’s count. Squawking grunts came from one of the leapers, spurring the others into motion circling around the wall of Agni Power. Aren felt another hum soak into his body as the featherwing swooped at another of the leapers striking it on its head. A blinding flash of lightning exploded at the moment the featherwing struck the predator. The tanniyn went wildly rolling about the hillside shrieking in pain. The featherwing climbed again. Rogaan let loose two more arrows at an unseen tanniyn to his left. Another humming sensation told Aren the featherwing was about to strike. This time, it missed its intended target as the leaper ducked the talons of the featherwing. Three remaining by Aren’s count. No! Two more sneaking up at Rogaan’s back. Aren saw Rogaan was unaware of them, and the featherwing was still climbing . . . most likely also unaware. The leapers closed on Rogaan in a fast trot. They’re going to be on him in moments!
Aren summoned his memories of the Agni Powers manifested on the Khaaron and fashioned in his mind the “song.” He felt his body humming as he formed the shape of lightning bolts in his right hand. Strange how the crackling lightning about his fingers did not hurt as an almost euphoric feeling spread throughout his body. Concentrating on the trotting leapers, Aren formed in his mind the “song,” adjusting it, before sending the bolts of blue and white streaking at the tanniyns. They fizzled out only strides from him. Embarrassed at himself and happy nobody saw his failing, Aren called forth the “song,” again, then unleashed the lightning. Failing now meant the leapers would be on Rogaan. Two bolts struck the deadly animals on the left and one the tanniyn on the right. Another bolt struck the ground in front of the leapers, all releasing blinding white flashes upon striking with the one hitting the ground, kicking up a puff of dirt. The left-most leaper stumbled and fell to the ground as the right-most leaper stopped in a defensive crouch looking around for its attacker.
