The Turner Chronicles Box Set Edition

by Mark Eller

  Aaron looked back to the town he had loved and then betrayed because of love. He then looked ahead to the pass, several miles distant, and saw the flat top of a rock outcropping.

  Flicker

  * * *

  The trail stretched half a mile before him. Far down the dirt track, just before it followed a rise, was a bent tree hanging ominously over the trail. He chose that tree for his marker.

  Flicker

  * * *

  With every transfer he sometimes traveled a mile. Occasionally he traveled two or more miles, but those instances were unusual. On average his distance was less than four hundred yards. On many occasions he did not bother to transfer because even with the small boost of strength the steel in the shotgun and the knife gave him, transferring took energy. Sometimes it was easier to just walk a hundred yards or less when that was as far as he could see.

  By the end of the day, he was exhausted. He had made it through the pass but had not gone much further. The mountains were still with him, an unending rising and lowering of ground that thwarted with its limited sightlines. He had crawled when he wanted to run. After transferring more than two hundred times he had covered no more than sixty real miles.

  Exhausted, Aaron stopped when the sun settled in the west. He took a careful look at the area, memorized the flow of the land, the red splashed rocks and the smell of the earth, and then he transported one last time.

  * * *

  "I expected you more than an hour ago." Kit sat at the dining room table. Plates, dirty from a meal already eaten, sat before her. Another set, clean and neat, sat across from her. Platters of food rested between the two plates.

  "The food's cold." Kit spooned potatoes and carrots onto the empty plate, looked closely at him, and then added a generous portion of ribs. "You look beat."

  "I'm dirty."

  "You are a mess. Sometime today you had a nosebleed, and I can see that you bled through your pores again. Sit down and eat. Drink a lot of water. You can clean up afterwards."

  Aaron obeyed. His legs shook so badly they barely supported his weight as he stumbled to the table. That last translation had sapped most of his remaining energy. Sitting carefully, he released a relieved groan. "How far?"

  "Beech is at least five hundred miles away," Kit said. "He must have transported today because he moved a little east and a long way north pretty suddenly. Since I was following you, I know where you stopped in relation to him. Aaron, you lost ground today."

  "Damn!" The table shook under his fist.

  Chair flying out behind her, Kit sprang erect. "May I remind you, MISTER TURNER, that there are children in this house! If you must be profane you will be so only inside your own head. You will not pollute this Manor with foul language."

  "The children are asleep!" Aaron snapped.

  "I am here. These are my ears, and I am your wife. Do you have so little respect for me that you are willing to profane MY air?"

  Aaron felt exhausted. "Sorry," he muttered.

  "WHAT!"

  "I SAID I'M SORRY, DA--uh darn it. Sorry." He pulled his temper in. "Kit, you deserve more than this. I'm a sorry excuse for a husband. I treat you badly, and I--I," his voice drifted away. "I got Sarah killed."

  "I did not hear that last."

  "I said I got Sarah killed and Ernest and God only knows how many others." He looked at her. Despair and self-contempt filled him. "Kit, I've put you through it. I never meant to do that but I did. I--"

  "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

  Shocked, Aaron snapped his mouth closed.

  "You put me through nothing," Kit said in a coldly reasonable tone. "You put Sarah and Ernest and all those other people through nothing. They were done to by evil people, the same as you were. Are you to blame because there is evil in the world? Are you the Lord? Can you control everything around you? That is pure arrogance, Aaron. Your arrogance disgusts me. Why don't you just shut the fuck up and get off this pity track. You have a job to do. Do it. Kill that man--that--that bastard. Don't do it because he killed your family. Don't do it for revenge. Do it because it is something that needs doing. This man is an unbalanced killer. He needs to be stopped, and you think you can stop him. Well then, stop him. Kill him, and leave yourself alone. Fly off and kill him."

  Face flushed bright red, Kit bent, lifted her chair, and sat.

  "I've never said either of those words before," she confessed in a much quieter voice. "I never said them in my entire life. Sorry, Aaron."

  Aaron ate in silence.

  "Speak to me. Are you angry?"

  Aaron shook his head. He was not sure what he felt, but he felt something that he had no words for. It was--it was almost like hope. "I'm not angry."

  When he finished his silent meal and set his fork down, it clinked softly against his plate. "Thank you, Kitty."

  She looked thoroughly confused. "What did I say?"

  "You told me to fly off and kill him."

  "And?"

  "And that is exactly what I am going to do."

  * * *

  In the morning he felt too exhausted to continue the chase. The distance he had traveled the day before did not bother him, but the number of times he had transferred did. Each use of Talent required the same amount of energy no matter how far he traveled.

  By late afternoon he felt well enough to give Kit's unintentional suggestion a try. After transferring out to the country he spent an hour practicing. By the time exhaustion set in, his mood had lightened. Overwhelming grimness loosened its grip and allowed him a breath of hope.

  He looked off into the distance, past the mountains that had defined the limits of his life for the past two years. Nodding once, he raised a hand with a pointed finger, and smiled a smile that spoke of no joy at all.

  Chapter 32

  "Are you going to do the same thing to him that you did to Eric?" Following Aaron's advice, Kit had dressed heavily. She was ready for cold and wind, though she had argued against his idea. She called it insane and idiotic. Aaron had listened to her calmly, and then he asked for a better idea.

  She did not have any.

  Aaron finished tying his boot and straightened. "No. He's a Talent Master. He might be surprised when I put him above the clouds, but it would not take him long to transfer to safety. No, I just have to batter him until he folds. Ready?"

  Kit nodded.

  Flicker

  * * *

  Aaron watched Kit peer around in wonder. As best he knew, she had never been to lowlands on this side of the pass before, had hardly been anywhere, so Aaron knew she had never seen trees as tall as these. The trees surrounding them rose far above their heads, stretching upwards two hundred feet and more. Giant branches formed an almost impenetrable canopy overhead.

  Birds called challenges to this intrusion. The air smelled of damp earth and sharp wood. Leaves stirred, rustling in the overhead breeze, and yet not a breath of air moved where Aaron stood.

  "This is so--so beautiful," Kit said. She spun slowly in a half circle, a delicate dancer in paradise. Watching, Aaron reflected that three months earlier he would have spent an eternity happily watching her at a moment like this. Now he only felt impatience.

  Aaron looked past her and saw the view that captured her. In his heart he knew what she felt, but none of it affected him. It was nature. Surrounding them were birds and trees and grass and flowers. All this was a celebration of life, but he had very little life left inside him.

  "Which way do we go?"

  Kit sighed sadly. "Aaron, sometimes you have to live with the moment. Life does go on." She pointed north by northwest. "About five hundred plus miles that way. It's probably closer to six hundred."

  Pressing his lips together, Aaron looked skyward. One small opening existed through the leaves, giving him one tiny window to the sky. Hopefully, it was enough.

  He pulled Kit along the path until they stood directly beneath the opening. From here the patch of sky looked like it was less than five feet across. Clouds f
loated overhead. Grim satisfaction briefly coursed through him.

  "Hang onto me."

  Flicker

  Kit gasped when she found herself among the clouds, falling through the sky. Treetops rushed at them, hungry wooden arms reaching for their bodies, reaching to rip them from the air. Aaron looked far ahead, saw an edge of floating mist. He closed his eyes.

  Flicker

  Miles away. Aaron breathed in mist from the cloud's edge while white fingers trailed past them. After clearing the clouds they fell free beneath. Mouth open in a soundless cry, Kit clung to him tightly enough to almost crack his ribs. When Aaron caught a glimpse of her face he saw that her eyes were wild. After sucking in a breath of frigid air that burned his throat, Aaron caught sight of a cloud at the far edge of his vision. Focusing on a line of white clouds touched along the edges by a haze of gray, he closed his eyes when their falling bodies were still sixty feet away from the trees.

  Flicker

  And then they began their fall once again.

  Flicker

  And again.

  They traveled more than a hundred miles in the next few minutes. Aaron fixed his eyes ahead and upward, looking for a new spot to transfer to. His mind kept a reserve site handy as a backup. If an attempt to transfer failed, he would immediately send them back to the Manor.

  More than five miles passed with each transfer. He thought he could do much better but he did not want to take the chance. In order to transfer, he needed some detail, and he was not sure if he could gather enough details from a further distance, not with the time limits their falling placed upon him, not if he cared to have enough time for a second attempt if the first one failed.

  "More to our left!" Kit called out. The wind snatched her voice from his ears. "We're going too far north."

  Aaron transferred two more times before he let his gaze drift in the direction her pointing hand indicated. This type of travel took a great deal of concentration.

  "Better?"

  "Much." Her voice sounded less panicked. "This is doing horrible things to my stomach."

  Above their heads, wispy threads of cloud were pulled apart and recombined by the wind. He transferred straight up.

  Kit let loose a gasp.

  Below them lay ranges of white mountains with peaks and valleys half a mile and more deep. Occasional gaps showed small spots of green. Cold wind bit cruelly at Aaron's skin. Up this high the air was almost too thin to breathe. Kit struggled momentarily and then stopped.

  Aaron looked at the awning of hazy mist overhead. The upper layer of clouds were thin and ill defined. He hoped they were enough of a landmark to provide him with bearings. When they were this high up, he had a longer period before he had to transfer. On the other hand, if he ultimately failed, he and Kit were sure to hit much harder.

  "Where are we?" Kit shouted. She seemed calmer. Maybe she was getting used to this. Gods, he hoped so. Maybe he should have got her drunk first. It worked for the airlines.

  "Above the first layer of clouds. This gives me more time to get a fix on our next transfer point."

  "I never knew clouds looked like this from up high. They look strange, and it's so cold that I think my lungs are going to freeze." Kit raised a glove covered hand and pointed. "More in that direction."

  No, Aaron thought, she would never have seen a sight like this. Kit was a woman of the flat land. She dealt with cattle and farms on the rolling hills and flat plains. Because of this, she had never been high in the mountains on a low clouded day.

  They fell into a valley formed by the lower clouds. A wall of white passed beside and above them, while a long stretch of clear air was before them.

  Flicker

  This time they traveled over fifteen miles. The air was once again cold and thin. Shivering in his arms, Kit's pointing hand adjusted its aim. He was still too far north.

  Flicker

  Three transfers later, she lowered her arm.

  "Better."

  During the next two hours she corrected him every fifth or sixth time he jumped them across the sky. When she only corrected him every third jump Aaron knew they were close so he traveled less distance with each transfer. He zigzagged across the sky while Kit attempted to triangulate on Beech. Several transfers later she jerked on his arm.

  "We can't be more than twenty miles from Beech. Can we take a rest? I'm freezing."

  "I have to find someplace to bring us to land," Aaron called back. "Don't panic when we keep falling."

  More than half a minute passed before they exited out of the bottom of the clouds.

  Beneath them, the land had changed while they flew. They had left the tree lined slopes of the mountains behind long ago. Now, they fell towards open hills. Lakes and rivers stretched out in front of Aaron, and he could see the occasional stand of ten or a hundred trees. Far behind them, the mountains were a thin blue and black line. Feeling slightly apprehensive, Aaron cast his eyes on the ground they fell towards. They were lower than he felt comfortable with and he had not yet decided where their last transfer would be. Then the dead body of a grazer caught his eyes. The animal was huge. Antlers flattened the grass around the body. He waited until they were less than thirty feet from the ground before deciding, feeling distracted because Kit began screeching in his ear. At the last second, he changed his mind.

  Flicker

  "Stop it! Stop it!" Kit's shrilly yelled. Green and brown spread before them.

  Flicker

  And then they dropped the last six inches. Aaron's knees protested when he landed. His arms released Kit, and she fell from him. Falling into water, he sank deep beneath the surface and rose, sputtering, with dark algae clinging to his face. Brown and green algae, smelling of rot, sucked into his nose when he tried to breathe.

  "If you think you can get your jollies by--" Kit began when her head broke the surface of the water.

  Aaron raised a hand. "I had to be close enough to make out all the details, unless you wanted me to land with my feet buried a foot deep into the ground. Truthfully, I'm not sure exactly how that would have worked out. I don't know if the earth would have made room for me, or if it would have been displaced, or if there would have been an explosion when too small a space tried to hold too many atoms. Since I really don't care to discover the answer through experimentation, I decided that a water landing seemed preferable."

  Kit looked confused. "Sometimes I don't have the slightest idea what you are talking about. By the Lady, it's cold. I hope you don't mind, but I don't think I can take much more of this today." Burying her chin into the water, she bulled her way to shore. Shrugging, Aaron followed suit. The water was walking deep for her, but he had to swim when the floating algae rose over his nose. Kit was that much taller.

  By the time she reached the shoreline, her mood had equalized. She waited for him to arrive, held out a hand, and pulled him free of the lake. Apparently, there was no gentle slope at the shoreline. The water was two feet deep at the edge.

  "Just a suggestion, Aaron. Maybe you should look for a cleaner lake the next time you decide to land. This one suffers from terminal growth." Slime and other things clung to Kit's hair and clothes. Something green and slippery and alive clung to her cheek. "We are both in need of clean clothes and a bath."

  Aaron shivered. Exhaustion had caught up with him again. He was cold and wet and filthy. Unfortunately, he was also weak and that was bad because Beech was near. Kit could easily find the man but that did not mean they would surprise him. Beech was a Talent Master. Possibly, he knew exactly where Aaron was. Might be heading their way, and that meant that Aaron could be fighting Beech within minutes. The way he felt right now, it would be one very short fight.

  No. This was not the time to put matters right. Tomorrow would be better, or the next day.

  "Yeah," he agreed while looking around to get his bearings. "Clean clothes."

  With a twist of Talent he took them to the Manor. Once she assured herself that they had arrived in one piece, Ki
t immediately chased him outside to clean himself up while she used the Manor's washroom. By the time he finished getting the slime off himself, peeling off green slugs and other things he did not care to think about, and then changed into fresh clothes, Kit had sandwiches set out.

  Aaron felt flat out dead tired. Eating slowly, he let the food and the warmth suffuse his flesh. It had been a difficult day, but worth the effort because they had found near success. Unless Beech moved a substantial distance in the next couple days, he was Aaron's.

  After finishing her sandwich, Kit pushed away from the table. "Just leave the dishes where they are. We both need our rest tonight."

  And then she walked off to her separate room.

  Aaron left the table and went to his own room. Spare and utilitarian, it was perfect for the small amount of time he spent living on the Manor grounds. He opened the door, walked in, and settled down on the bed. Once there, he took time to carefully check his weapons. Still clean and ready, they would serve.

  He felt totally dead-beat-wanting-to-melt- into-the-floor exhausted. Although he had transferred less often than he had a few days before, his energy had not had time to fully recover between transfers. No, he had no choice but to rest another day or two before taking on Beech. The man was mean and tough, hard to face at the best of times. It would not pay to go after him while Aaron was tired.

  Aaron wearily stripped off his clothes and dropped them in a corner. They were dirty and stained, but that dirt would help as camouflage if he had to scramble around on the ground. He would wear them again in the morning.

  He lay down. His arms and legs ached, probably from holding them awkwardly while he fell.

  Sleep came hard, but then sleep always came hard since the burning. Mind churning, Aaron counted sheep in his head, gave up on them, and switched over to counting the ways he would kill Beech. His mind continued racing, bringing forth visions of Beech crucified on a long stake, of Beech slowly roasting over a fire, of Beech begging for mercy while he knelt at Aaron's feet. Finally, just as the sun started to rise and his brain settled into a steady pattern, sleep found him. But just before he drifted off, Sarah came to him. Wild eyed, hair streaming behind her, she clenched Ernest in one arm. Eyes set with determination, her Winchester Model 12 dangled from the other. Sarah's was the face of a warrior who had survived dozens of battles. It was the face of a mother who would do what it took to save her child. It was the face of vengeance and grim purpose, and it was a face speaking of loss. Sarah's face swirled before him, and then he watched her die, watched her burn in the flames.