A Girl From Nowhere

by James Maxwell

  Selena pressed forward to reach the front of the mass of skalen. Her recovery meant she had been one of the last to depart and she was worried about Rei-kika. She saw Group Leader Vail up ahead, conferring with her son Rees. It was early morning and Dex hung just above the peaks of the nearby mountains, which they were already leaving behind. The terrain was undulating but the ground was hard and clear of debris. She caught sight of the mantorean through the crowd of marching skalen.

  “I see you are feeling better,” Rei-kika said when Selena joined her.

  Selena spoke softly so no one could hear them. “I’m sorry if I got you into trouble.”

  “I had some difficult questions to answer.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told the truth,” Rei-kika said, glancing at the skalen walking around them. “You saw a group of bax approaching and were trying to gauge their intentions. That is why I left early. I explained that I cannot cast so far without your help. They decided to take me closer.”

  Selena felt her mind caressed. An image was passed to her, a frozen vision of a dozen bax seen from above. Selena’s eyes widened. She hadn’t known mystics could do this.

  “You said there were twelve?” Watch Leader Rees asked as he came over, directing his query at Rei-kika.

  Taking her cue, Selena spoke. “Definitely twelve. The leader carries a big axe at his side and wears a strip of cloth tied around his upper arm.”

  “How far?”

  The image Selena had been passed hadn’t given her an idea of how far away they were. Selena panicked for a moment until Rei-kika spoke. “They have covered more ground since Selena saw them. If we continue as we are, we will meet them within the hour.”

  “Good. I will tell my mother,” Rees said.

  Rei-kika waited until Rees was gone before addressing Selena in her low, clicking voice. “You need further instruction. Vail will make me channel through you again if you cannot show that you can control your ability.”

  “Is it true that you can read someone’s mind? What about controlling their thoughts?”

  Rei-kika made a croaking sound that Selena realized was laughter. “Let us concern ourselves with farcasting.” Her voice became serious once more. “One day your power will kill you if you are not more careful. You cannot stop yourself from using it. It will give you pain until you develop skill.”

  “Will you teach me more?”

  “Teaching quickly is dangerous.”

  “I don’t care. I’m ready.”

  Rei-kika gave Selena an impenetrable stare. “We shall see if you still think so when the day is done.”

  15

  “How do you know where we’re going?” Taimin asked Lars. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Just a little farther,” Lars said.

  “What’s gotten into you?”

  “Nothing. Come on.”

  “If we don’t find some more water soon we’ll die.”

  Taimin glared at the big man. His bald head looked like a wyvern’s egg as he strode purposefully ahead, almost too fast for Taimin to keep up. Griff trudged along at the rear, panting constantly. The wherry was as tired and thirsty as the two men.

  All of a sudden Lars stopped in his tracks. His expression became puzzled and his head tilted to the side. They had been traveling underneath a rocky overhang, using its shade to give them some relief from the two suns. The foothills below the mountains were filled with deep gorges, bounded by tall walls.

  Without warning Lars walked over to a huge pricklethorn bush, much bigger than he was, and grabbed hold of some of the spiky twigs in his meaty hands.

  “What are you doing?” Taimin asked incredulously as he rushed forward. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

  Lars pulled and the pricklethorn bush easily came away from a cavity. He soon held the entire plant mass in the air, away from the cliff, before planting it down on the ground. Taimin realized the bush was dead, with no roots embedded at all. He now saw a man-sized gap in the rock wall.

  “How did you know?” Taimin asked. His eyes narrowed. “You’ve been here before.”

  “Never in my life,” Lars said.

  “Then how did you know?”

  Lars hesitated. “I heard a voice,” he said reluctantly. As Taimin frowned, puzzled, Lars tapped the side of his head.

  “Someone’s guiding you?” Taimin demanded. “Who?”

  “He said he can help us. And the fact is, lad, we need help. You coming?” Lars indicated the opening.

  “But why you and not me . . . ?” The truth dawned on Taimin. “It can’t be . . .”

  “What?”

  “You’re a mystic?”

  Lars scowled at Taimin, and then his expression softened. He looked abashed. “Only a little.”

  The skinner entered the passage before Taimin could challenge him further. Shaking his head, Taimin waved Griff through. He then followed and replaced the pricklethorn bush behind him, pulling it in tightly so that it covered the hidden entrance. There was no need to duck his head, and soon the passage came to an end. He stepped out to find himself in a narrow gorge. He looked up; high above he saw a thin strip of sky. While Griff sniffed at the air, Taimin scanned the area cautiously.

  “The gorge keeps going,” Lars said when Taimin had caught up to him. “He said he lives alone. This way.”

  “So why did you need Selena?” Taimin asked.

  Lars snorted. “Lad, you still don’t realize, do you? That girl is infinitely more powerful than me. Her casting shines like Dex—I can see it, and it’s beautiful to behold—while my talent is more like a shard of glass. With my eyes closed, I can sense that you’re nearby . . . sometimes. That’s about it.”

  “Yet everywhere Selena has gone people have feared her,” Taimin said. “If she’s so powerful, why didn’t she do something?”

  “Because she’s wild . . . untrained and undisciplined. And because people have always tried to keep her potential from her. If you had a caged wyvern, and could convince the wyvern it’s a lizard, you’d do it, wouldn’t you?”

  “What is it she’s capable of?”

  “By the rains, it’s not like I know myself. But I’ll tell you this: she’s valuable to those skalen. And one more thing . . . if she ever gets instruction, I won’t go within a thousand leagues of her without protecting my mind.”

  Lars glanced at Taimin and noticed his furrowed brow.

  “Mystics have their abilities confused by aurelium,” the skinner explained. “Sometimes people with wealth wear a circle of aurelium shards around their neck. Remember that skalen—the group leader, Vail? They say it protects a mind from intrusion.”

  The walls of the gorge soon parted to reveal a far wider area, with high cliffs on all sides. Taimin saw signs of habitation. The rows in the groves of lifegiver cactuses were too regular to be natural, and as he and Lars trudged between fields of razorgrass, he saw a workbench and some rough planks of blackwood. A cluster of basalt trees grew near a fire pit.

  “Whoever lives here knows what he’s doing,” Taimin said. He conjured up an image of a tough, solitary settler; a male version of Abi.

  “Still, one raid and it’s all gone,” Lars said.

  “Which might never come.”

  “Or might come tomorrow,” Lars said.

  A squat house similar to the one Taimin grew up in dominated the center of the small valley, fenced on all sides at a height of twelve feet. Caves at the base of the cliffs gave the impression they were carved by an intelligent hand rather than nature.

  Taimin’s gaze moved from one area to the next. A mystic had spoken to Lars, in the same way that the trapped mantorean had sought help from Selena. Lars was right: they needed help. But what if it was a trap? He sought comfort by reminding himself that he and Lars had nothing to take.

  Spying movement, Taimin tensed. He saw a figure walking toward them, a smile on his face and his arms wide in welcome.

  “Lars . . .” Taimin said uncertainly. />
  The mystic who had guided Lars was a skalen.

  Far older than Vail, he had a bald head, stooped back, and walked with slow steps. Most skalen were toothsome, but his broad smile showed missing teeth. Nonetheless, he bore scars on his hands and a hunting knife at his waist; to have lived so long, he was clearly a survivor. In comparison to the skalen traveling with Vail, his leather trousers and vest were surprisingly close to what a human might wear.

  Lars gave Taimin a stunned expression. “It was just a voice . . . I had no idea.”

  “Please, you have nothing to fear,” the old skalen said. “My name is Syrus. Welcome to my homestead.”

  “Why didn’t you say you were a skalen?” Lars asked.

  “Would you have come?” Syrus asked. “You are two travelers in need, and you might have stayed away.”

  Taimin’s shoulders began to relax, but he was still wary. Not so long ago, he had been held captive by skalen, and here he was, seeking help from another.

  Syrus glanced from face to face. His almond eyes had depth and conveyed the wisdom of many years. “There was a time when I feared helping others, afraid I would be murdered in the night for what I have.” He chuckled. “But what I have is not much, and I miss conversation. Perhaps a sword would be a better way to go than to die alone in my sleep. Time will tell.”

  “Skalen are supposed to live in mines and caves,” Taimin said cautiously.

  “So we are.” Syrus smiled. He glanced over his shoulder. “I did not build my home. My adoptive parents did, and they were human. They found me when I was a youngling and raised me. My story is an unusual one, but not unique.”

  “Where are they now?” Lars asked.

  “They were believers, so I like to think that they have gone to Earth.”

  Other than the occasional bedtime story, Taimin had never heard his parents talk much about the afterlife. Abi certainly wasn’t the type to push the idea of Earth, and it was strange to now hear a skalen talk about it.

  “As I said to Lars, I am all alone,” Syrus said. “I can help you,” he gave a wry smile, “if you can trust a skalen.”

  Taimin realized that he and Lars would be foolish to spurn Syrus’s offer. “We will honor your trust,” he said.

  The old skalen gave Taimin a close inspection. “You’re a young one, aren’t you?”

  “I’m Taimin.”

  “Yes, yes, I know. Lars here told me.”

  Taimin glanced at Lars, still struck by the ability the skinner had kept hidden.

  “And this here is Griff,” Syrus said.

  Griff gave a curious whine. The wherry looked questioningly at Taimin, and when Taimin nodded, he came forward to nudge the skalen’s waist, hoping for a scratch. But Syrus backed away. “Wherries make me sneeze.” He gave Taimin an apologetic smile. “Apologies, but he will have to stay outside the fence.”

  “That’s fine,” Taimin said. “We don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” Syrus said, amused, “but trouble clearly found you.” He cast his eyes over them. “No weapons. No water.”

  “We escaped from a group of skalen,” Lars said. He cleared his throat. “Let’s just say they didn’t treat us well.”

  “Ah,” Syrus said. Mirth creased the corners of his mouth. “I think you can be forgiven for your reaction when you saw me then.”

  Taimin hesitated, but he knew he had to ask. “Our friend is still with them. Have you seen them? Can you farcast to find them?”

  “Sorry, but I can’t cast farther than these hills. If Lars here didn’t have some talent of his own, I doubt I would have found you at all. I just keep an eye out for prey to hunt, or anything that might hunt me. Now, both of you, come with me.”

  Taimin and Lars approached the homestead by the old skalen’s side. When Griff reached the ditch and the fence behind it, Taimin made sure the wherry knew to stay where he was.

  “You are safe for a time,” Syrus said. “Once you have rested, then I’ll help you get to Zorn.” When Taimin threw him a puzzled look, Syrus met Taimin’s gaze. “That is where Lars said you’re traveling to. Zorn is the white city’s name, and it is unlike any place you have seen before.”

  Syrus was generous with his hospitality, and soon Taimin and Lars had taken care of their first priority: survival. Water washed away their fatigue. Nettle soup, lizard eggs, and stewed raptor revitalized their spirits.

  Taimin was anxious to keep moving, but he knew that they had to take advantage of the opportunity to gather their strength and also supplies for the journey ahead. The better he and Lars prepared themselves, the swifter they would be able to travel.

  He pulled thorns out of Griff’s paws and dug mites from under his drooping ears. He then searched for Lars and found him with Syrus. He was surprised to see Lars and the old skalen seated on armchairs on the homestead’s porch, deep in conversation, and so proposed he go hunting with Griff. He was determined to repay Syrus’s kindness and wanted to fill the skalen’s larder as well as gather some meat for his own journey.

  “Wait a moment,” Syrus said. His reptilian eyes became unfocused and then he nodded. “Can’t see any big hazards. That doesn’t mean it’s safe, mind, but there’s nothing I can sense. Follow me.”

  The old skalen led Taimin into the wooden shack, which inevitably stirred memories as Taimin saw the water collector and nursery. Syrus continued into a small storage room at the back of the house. Shelves lined the walls and hooks hung everywhere, with an array of tools ready to grab at short notice. Syrus reached up to a hook and brought something down. As Syrus turned, Taimin saw a worn composite bow in his hands.

  “Here, take this,” Syrus said. Surprised, Taimin took the bow while Syrus fetched something else; soon a bundle of obsidian-tipped arrows followed the bow. “They’re yours.”

  “I . . . Thank you,” Taimin said. “I’ll return them when I . . .”

  The skalen’s eyes narrowed. “I said they’re yours.”

  “Thank you,” Taimin said again to Syrus’s departing back as the old skalen returned to the porch.

  “You need it more than I,” Syrus grumbled and sat down again beside Lars. “Now go catch supper. Come home before dark. And Taimin?”

  “What?”

  “If you forget to put the pricklethorn bush back in its place, I’ll cut your heart out and feed it to your wherry for dinner.”

  Taimin smiled as he left the porch to walk through the fence and over the planks that crossed the spiked ditch. He saw Griff waiting for him and put his hand on the wherry’s back. Soon he was leaving the homestead behind.

  Taimin returned as Dex plunged toward the horizon, leaving the landscape tinged red in the light of the crimson sun. The area around Syrus’s homestead teemed with game. Raptors, lizards, and even a scrub rat lay piled across the wherry’s saddle.

  As he rode Griff’s broad back and traveled the narrow canyon, Taimin was again struck by the sense of returning home. At the same time, he wondered about the lives of the people who lived in Zorn. He didn’t want to go to the white city alone, not without Selena. When she had been given a chance to wall off her power, she hadn’t taken it. The Protector might still be able to help her. Taimin held on to the deep hope that his injury might be healed.

  Taimin found Lars outside the homestead’s fence, hauling dried cactus to a growing fire while sweat poured from his bald head in rivulets. Taimin marveled that Lars could have such a thick beard in the heat. He couldn’t imagine the big man without it. With Taimin still riding, the swiftness of his arrival took Lars by surprise.

  “By the rains, lad. You’ve only got two speeds, don’t you? Slow and fast.”

  Taimin slipped off the wherry’s back. “Here,” he said as he untied the strung-up rat from Griff’s rump. “I’ve got dinner.”

  “Scrub rat? Not for me, thanks.”

  “That’s for Griff.” The fat rat fell to the ground with a thump. The wherry whimpered in anticipation. “Just a moment,” Ta
imin murmured, patting his side. “This is for us,” he said to Lars.

  Taimin unstrapped the raptors and carried them to Lars two at a time, laying them down on a flat rock nearby. Then he fetched the dead lizards, while Lars looked on hungrily.

  “I’ll take care of these,” Lars said.

  Spying movement, Taimin saw Syrus standing high on the cliff above. The old skalen gave a beckoning wave. Taimin shielded his eyes and waved back.

  “What does he want?” he asked.

  “Knowing him, you’re in for a deep talk.” Lars gave a jerk of his chin. “There’s a path leading up there behind the house.”

  Taimin headed for the back of the shack, leaving Lars skinning the lizards while Griff bit into the scrub rat with stomach-churning crunching sounds. He soon found the path and climbed up, surprised at the old skalen’s agility when he saw how precarious the trail was. He was panting by the time he made it to the top of the cliff; the day’s hunting had taken its toll, but if Syrus could make it up, then so could he.

  Syrus stood close to the cliff’s edge and was gazing out over the landscape. As Taimin approached the old skalen, he realized that from his new vantage point he could see past the other cliffs and over the surrounding area. Most of the terrain was made up of varying shades of red and brown, but green spots marked out cactuses, and even a few gnarled trees fought for survival.

  Taimin came to a halt beside the skalen, but as time passed Syrus remained quiet. Taimin opened his mouth and then closed it, before deciding to break the silence.

  “You must know this land well,” he said.

  Syrus didn’t stop looking at the expanse. “I suppose I do.”

  “When I was small, we lived near some cliffs and I used to stare out at the land below,” Taimin said. “I wondered if what I could see was the entire world, or whether the world was a thousand times bigger. I wondered if I’d ever know.”

  “Good questions,” Syrus said. He turned to face Taimin, but rather than smile, his flat, lizard-like face was unusually sober. “Worth asking.”