by BJ Hanlon
“What are you doing Edin?” Grent asked.
He walked toward the bodies, it was only a few feet away, but his strides somehow felt smaller. There was something on the air too. Something that felt almost like a rain was coming.
Edin bent down and picked up the woman’s arm and put it across her own body as if she’d been grabbing at her chest wound with both hands. The back of that hand was a lot less saturated with blood.
“Dephina,” Edin said and he heard her drop from the horse with the little rattle of the stirrups. “Check her chest. Is there a wound?”
He didn’t want to pull up a young girl’s shirt even if she was dead. It felt icky. He looked away when Dephina did. He looked toward the south and the still open fields and hills. Somewhere down there were the wild jungles.
“There’s no wound,” Dephina said.
Edin looked back and bent down, together, they flipped the girl to her front. In her back was the wound. Three deep, dark red claw marks. And beneath, in the dirt were there should’ve been blood, there was none.
Edin looked up at Dephina then they both looked toward Grent and Berka who both seemed confused.
“The feet too. No mud on the shoes.”
Dephina pulled her other knife and they began scanning the horizon, the hills, the inn that was just barely still in view, and a small cottage near the eastern slope of a large blueish, purple mountain.
“What is it?” Berka asked.
“They were put here,” Edin said. He saw no ruts in the ground from dragging and although the dirt road was only a bit damp, it wasn’t dry enough to not leave signs.
Edin saw no marks of dematian claws or indentations beneath the bodies. “It’s been what, two days since those rains?”
“Up north yes,” Grent said, he was scanning about too and so was Berka. “This looks
“They were put here recently. Maybe even yesterday. I did see clouds ahead during the afternoon.” Edin felt they were being watched. He felt like there was a tickling of a storm on the horizon though the clouds were few and the sun was poking out. “They’re watching us.”
“Who is?”
“The dematians,” Edin said. He didn’t know from where or how many, but he knew that.
Dephina looked skeptical. “Come on, this could just be bandits. They killed a family, robbed them, and then left them for good honest folk like us to come by and bury them. Then they try to rob those people.”
“But there was the ring yesterday,” Edin said. “And I’m guessing if we searched either the trunk or this lady’s body, we’d find some sort of valuables.”
“We should get going,” Grent said. “This was a bad idea.”
“The bodies still need to be buried,” Dephina said. “If these beasts are smart enough to set up a trap, they’re smart enough to stay away.” She spun her knives in her hand deftly and issued a throaty growl that gave Edin the chills.
“Then stop picking your nails,” Grent grumbled back.
“Have you ever fought dematians?” Edin asked. Grent and Dephina didn’t respond. “It isn’t like fighting men. They’re wild and different ones have different tactics.”
“He’s right, some are brawler-like, they come at you with their claws and teeth and try to rip you apart. Other’s uses weapons and fight like any warrior you’d fight against,” Berka added.
“And others form into ranks and fight as a unit. They’re not just stupid demons.”
“I see,” Dephina paused. “Then hurry up and bury them. We don’t have much time.”
It took another half an hour to bury the two. The men were covered in dirt when finished while Dephina looked like she’d recently bathed and had her clothes laundered.
They got back onto the road and didn’t pass any other human bodies. Though they did pass horses ripped from hind to shoulder, cows torn open like they’d been smashed on blunt rocks, and dogs. Many dogs, some thin, nearly emaciated, others thick and round. There were needle-like teeth marks in all the animals.
Edin thought about the dire wolf somewhere out there. Where was Bliz? Was he still alive on the other side of the mountains? Edin certainly hoped so. Dire wolves were said to be the smartest of dogs, and the most vicious.
“Are we going through their feeding ground?” Berka asked as they passed a donkey with half of its rump gnawed off.
Edin looked away from the donkey and back out over the plains and hills but saw nothing.
Grent turned around. “We ride quickly to the pass now. We’ll be able to fight a greater number if they’re confined to a narrow space.” He kicked the horse and whipped the reins. His horse began galloping and then they all were.
The horses were sweating and panting after about ten minutes of a full-on gallop. But the distance they’d traveled was nearly two miles and when they slowed, they were only a hundred or so yards away from two stone pillars guarding the side of the road.
Jont’s Pass, read one while on the other there was smaller writing that may have been added after the first. Be warned: To attempt this pass in fall or winter will be certain death. In spring and summer you may die. There was a name scratched out beneath the carving.
“Well it’s spring… ish,” Grent said.
“I’d say it is still winter,” Dephina said.
Edin looked up at the pass and the mountains. There were windblown mounds of snow piled up on the road and against the rising rocks and the slumbering trees that grew on the south side of the nearest mountain.
It was early afternoon, but it seemed that the moment they passed the pillars, the temperature of the air dropped ten degrees like night had fallen.
“Eyes up,” Grent said. “I don’t like the low ground.”
Edin felt the same. This was not a place to linger. He wondered if in the summer the place felt any different. He doubted it.
The road began straight for fifty feet before it swung left around the base of a mountain. They passed a copse of trees as the hooves rustled up littered brown leaves from the previous year.
A large escarpment formed in front of them, it was covered with scraggly trees with hard vines and roots poking from the earth. It looked like a spider had the tree on its back. They couldn’t see beyond it and as they passed the ridge, Edin glanced up, ready to summon an ethereal shield at the first sign of a dematian.
The little bits of earth made the road soggy and sharp gray stone was protruding like teeth from brown gums. Sprouts of fresh green caressed cracks and open-air gaps that gave the impression the teeth were filled with yesterday’s salad.
They curved around it as the road ran right up against the tall cliff to the right. To the left, there was a trickling stream ten feet below that followed the road. They continued for hours, following the road up and down and around the first mountain that went on forever.
The first valley was deep with precarious looking boulders above and the same steep mountain side next to them. The trees began to die out or turn to thinner and smaller trees.
There were brown sticks that were wedged in the rocks like hairs on a balding man’s head. The thought made him run his hand through his now shaggy hair and check it.
Only one strand came out.
Higher, the snow was still piled up, but with the valleys and the road, it seemed for the most part to be clear.
The road turned slightly south as they came around the southernmost point of a partially formed mountain.
It had taken almost three hours to get around first one and Edin stared back toward the trailhead as the horse plowed forward. A while ago, he turned around to see the last of the pillars disappear behind the mountain like a sideways blinking eye closing for good.
As they came around the bend, he saw why it’d be usually closed during the winter.
A great avalanche covered the road. The snow looked damp and melting but it rose from the muddy dirt road at least fifteen feet high.
In the snow, he saw bits of trees and rocks and other wreckage from th
e mountains. Above, he saw the path of destruction, a long-flattened track of crushed trees and stones from a peak that had to be a couple thousand feet tall.
Grent dismounted and walked up to it. He stuck a hand in the snow and packed it with ease. He threw a solid snowball at the mountain that had allowed their path to be blocked.
The mountain didn’t seem to care.
“Is it recent?” Dephina asked.
It took Edin a moment to figure out what she implied. “You think the dematians caused this?” he asked after he did.
Edin glanced up the mountain. It was slick and there were spots where it still looked wet despite the sun directly hitting it.
“I don’t think it was deliberately caused,” Berka said. He was waist deep in the snow and was holding something up. He pulled a bit more and then there was a black clawed hand sticking up in the air like it was waving to him.
“Is it dead?” Edin asked stepping forward. Grent and Dephina were inching closer as well.
“Yes,” Berka said.
“I still cannot believe they exist,” Dephina said. “A part of me really does not want to be here.”
Edin looked at her. “You could have gone to Delrot with your son?” He looked at Grent. “Both of you. I told you not to come.”
“We could not let you run off to die alone.” Grent shook his head.
“And just because I don’t want to be here, doesn’t mean I will not stay. This is for our son. This is to save the world for him and if you say this is what you must do, I believe you,” Dephina added. “We both do.”
He slowly said, “Thanks.”
“Um, that’s great,” Berka said still holding the dematian hand. “What do we do? The horses can’t climb over so going forward isn’t an option. I’m guessing this is closed half of the year.”
“Pull that demon out and burn it,” Edin said. He raised a hand and stepped forward. He didn’t know how many feet or yards down the road the avalanche went for, but from the trail of destruction coming down the mountain, he guessed about a hundred feet. Not too far but it was still deep. “Take the horses and back up behind that rock.” He pointed to a boulder ten yards back.
Edin didn’t wait, he turned back to the snow drift and felt the water within. It was melting but slowly. The little flakes that were nearest the edge were barely holding onto their shape while deeper beneath it was solid and icy. Edin reached out with his senses.
Behind, he heard the sound of the horses retreating. Edin felt the top of the snow pile about to melt. He felt the form in his mind and imagined it in his hand. He let its base water element begin to move and shake. The flakes, all began to twist and spin as they warmed. He felt the water, it was a ball of warm water now, and he let it grow and spin faster and faster as it delved deeper into the snow.
He blocked everything out and only saw it with his mind’s eye. There was a path being cut as the water rolled like a fat giant was doing a cartwheel through it.
Sweat began to pour down his brow and his arm was beginning to grow heavier, his body getting fatigued. He didn’t know how far to push it or if he busted through. Edin held it and then he felt something pushing on his mind, on his body. He didn’t know what it was, but it felt as if he was at the edge looking over the precipice of a deep gorge. Like he was standing on the Great Cliff with his toes just over the edge between life and a painful drop. The edge of exhaustion.
Edin let go. He opened his eyes and saw the wheel of water lose its form and hit the road before him. It splashed and began to run everywhere.
Some of it dug into the walls of the avalanche melting it and causing parts to fall over into the new gap. More flowed down the sluice-like channel toward Edin. A wave, about a foot high came toward him threatening to soak his boots to the shin. Edin formed a culrian bubble around him. The water hit it and fell to the sides and then made its way to the little stream that was to the left.
After a minute, there was barely a half an inch of flowing water. Part of the avalanche had caved in, but it wasn’t deep. A foot at the most.
More though, they could see through to the other side. He turned back to Grent and Dephina.
“So how many can you use now?” Grent asked handing the reins of Edin’s horse back to him.
“Five,” Edin said.
“One more and you’re him,” Berka said. “You’re the legend.”
“What legend?” Dephina asked.
“The Legend of the Ecta Mastrino.”
9
Jont’s Pass
The channel felt cold through the hall of snow, however, they got through it easily. Edin wasn’t as exhausted as he’d been. There had to be a point when if he stopped using the talent, he could still fight, if only with the sword and staff.
The trail rose with a soft rocky slope heading a bit more west but still with a southernly trajectory. They were a bit higher on the low side of one of the mountains. To the left grew a steep drop to a deep ravine. Down there he could see more trees and rocks and dead bushes. The road was thin though wide enough for a cart. A single cart.
Edin wondered what would happen if two carts came together in the same section of road. It had to have happened before. Edin glanced down again to see if maybe the remnants of one of those meetings was visible. There wasn’t anything that stuck out.
There were birds above swooping through the mountains. They were probably returning from wintering in Arsleta or the Yijan Atoll, the warm southern islands where it never grew cold and a breeze from the sea kept you from overheating in the depths of summer. At least that was the gist of a poem he’d read.
Edin was never entranced with poetry and then he wondered why he’d read it in the first place. Maybe it was something his mother had him read or maybe it was Kes’ idea. His first love… or at least his first crush. Edin closed his eyes as a squawking gull sounded above him.
He looked up and stared at the birds and his thoughts turned back to Arianne and when he watched that V from the courtyard. He couldn’t help how quickly his thoughts flipped. Like an egg frying on a metal stove. Where was she? What was she doing? Was she really alive?
Edin’s gaze turned back to the mountains all around. These were the same as the ones he’d looked out onto from the Timeless Keep. The formerly Timeless Keep as it was now most likely a complete ruin. His heart panged and he saw the birds flying directly overhead. He thought about them letting loose their white droppings on his head.
Edin shook his head, where they were was dangerous and he had to pay attention. Dematians could be around. Could be watching him. He needed to silence that voice in his head that said, abandon this quest; find her.
The voice was more likely in his heart. He scanned the mountain above them and in front and even below.
All around, there were snow drifts melting, though they were kind enough to still offer passage through the pass. The drifts weren’t huge and when no one spoke, he could hear the stream gurgling, droplets the size of an acorn splashing, and the clapping of the horses. It was a melody that numbed the brain.
The air grew colder but still fresh as they rose, the horses snorted here and there but seemed fine. Then a large flat area seemingly appeared out of nowhere. It was as if it were sliced out of the mountain.
“About here is good for lunch,” Grent said and pulled toward it. It was a long and flat space, about the size of the Yaultan village square, and the stone was smooth. “The horses will need more frequent breaks in the thinner air.”
At the back of the space, there was a twelve-foot-high snow pile in its own shape of a mountain.
As he remembered the town square, he knew it was in the place where they’d throw rotten vegetables at the clown during the harvest festival. Off to the right of it, a broken-down cart with two wheels missing was in the same place you could get a butter corn.
Even the other leftover remnants from travelers, spread across the ground like discarded clothes in a sloppy boy’s chambers, reminded him of the grou
nds the day after the festival. Days of joy with nothing to worry about. Nothing but whether to go to university or run off to the military.
Hindsight would put him in the university. Edin had enough of the traveling and fighting.
Grent spoke as they dismounted. “I want you all to know that while it may be spring a bit earlier this far south, it stays cold in the mountains.”
“A bit late for that.”
“You should’ve probably kept the cloak,” Berka said but Edin was only half listening. He stared off to the south beyond the road and mountains. He was looking at nothing.
He felt a touch on his arm. Edin blinked and looked at Berka. “Where are you?” he asked. “You’re not…” Berka trailed off pleading with his eyes.
“He’s not what?” Grent asked.
Edin looked back at them and then at Berka. “I’m not?” Then he saw the question again. The same from last night. It was the same as that voice in his heart.
Edin thought about it again and his heart panged. ‘She is being held.’ Suuli said and despite his advice to follow the path, he still wanted to leave and go searching.
There were a few moments when he saw the others really staring at him, as if they were trying to read his mind, to feel what he felt. Hopefully, they never would.
Edin smiled at them. He once had family and he had a home too at one point, and the love he’d dreamt of rescuing since he was a lad. All of it was gone.
“He is asking if I’m going to run off and search for Arianne,” Edin sighed. He laid back on the ground and looked up at the wide-open sky. A beautiful blue sky, much different than those first few nights in Carrow. Edin closed his eyes and took a breath. “I haven’t decided yet.”
For a while, despite his not answering them, not giving them the decision they wanted, they continuously tried convincing him to follow their path forward. His path forward.
That wasn’t hard to do as there was only one real path, or road as it were. It was the one headed west through the Crady mountains. Somewhere in here was the keep he first met Arianne and west of there, the Susot Vale and the tribe of elves.
