by LeRoy Clary
Ann glanced up at the sun. It was well past mid-day. “Why don’t we spend our time making a camp and gathering firewood?”
Gareth looked at Ramos. “Do you remember crossing here?”
“It was cold. We didn’t have coats.”
“How many nights did you sleep up here?”
“Two, I think.”
Ann said, “They probably moved slowly.” She pointed ahead where the trail they called a road rose to cross another mountain. “There is snow. If we go part of the way there, we can make camp if we’re lucky to get across the parts covered in snow tomorrow. If we stay here, we may camp in the snow.”
“Give me a moment.” Gareth found Blackie circling the side of a mountain to their left. He’d found three deer grazing in a meadow, but Gareth had told him he couldn’t eat anything so he watched while drooling. Gareth gave the equivalent of a mental pat on the neck for doing what he asked, then gave permission to attack.
The joy from the mind of the dragon pasted a smile on Gareth’s face. He waited and observed as the dragon flew wide of the clearing and lost altitude as it gained speed. It’s wings almost touched the treetops as it cleared the forest and lunged the last few feet. Two of the deer were still eating when the talons wrapped around them.
As Blackie ate, Gareth gave it instructions to return to the valley by following the road. When it arrived at the place where the body of Cinder lay, it was to notify Gareth. The revulsion slowed Blackie’s eating. It did not want to return there. Gareth insisted, and the dragon reluctantly obeyed.
“I’m ready to find that campsite,” Gareth declared.
They went down a short slope and up another. The trees were now evergreen, what few there were of them. There was little underbrush, and green moss grew on most trunks and exposed rocks. The ground felt damp and softer.
When they started to climb again, the sun had dropped noticeably. Beside the road was a drop-off on the left, and a wall of sheer rock on the right, no more than a dozen paces away. They had heard the sound of falling water before they came to a waterfall splashing over the rock of the cliff to their right.
It flowed over the lip of the wall and fell/flowed down in a narrow waterfall that Gareth’s outstretched arms could reach both sides. The rock was clean, green moss growing on much the sides of it. That was good. Drinking water without green growth is a sure way to die because if green plants cannot live in it, the water is not good. It probably has absorbed poison from the rocks or ground. Gareth touched the water with a finger. It was as cold as ice and had probably been ice or snow this morning. A wide pool spread at the bottom. A meadow was on flat ground, and trees grew beyond.
Ann nodded. She said, “Unroll your blanket and do whatever it is you have to do. The boys and I will make camp and gather firewood. Do you want me to wake you to eat or just leave food beside you?”
“Leave it. This may take a while.”
“You’re not going after Belcher, are you?”
“Not directly. But I expect he may get upset with me again.”
“Do not do anything dangerous. Have you heard back from that Brother you spoke with?”
“Not yet, but perhaps tomorrow.”
“Boys spread your bedrolls and grab a snack,” Ann called, “You’re going to need some energy to gather enough firewood to suit me for tonight.”
That drew smiles all around, and as Gareth reached out to locate Blackie, he was still smiling. Blackie was flying near the place where he needed to leave the road and fly up the valley to his father’s home. Gareth had him make the turn and begin to look for the valley where his father lived. Blackie had a full belly and enjoyed Gareth flying with him. The enjoyment of the day kept his wings beating faster than normal.
Gareth spotted the valley as Blackie flew over the crest of a mountain. The change in colors of the vegetation was as obvious as a lighthouse on a dark night. The sun was low in the west but wouldn’t set for a while. The long shadows would help Gareth convince Blackie to do what he must.
As the dragon flew nearer Gareth saw smoke rising from the chimney of the old house. It was worth trying to draw Belcher out into the open, so he shifted directions and flew right at the house. When he was close there had been no movement of anyone rushing outside to see the dragon, so Gareth ordered Blackie to shriek.
It passed low over the house and still nobody rushed outside. Turning, Gareth ordered Blackie back and this time, he spat three times. The balls of black struck the side of the house and splattered, spreading and dripping down the walls. The acid started eating away at the first touch.
There was still no reaction from inside. Gareth had Blackie circle once again this time headed directly for the fireplace below the chimney where the smoke emerged. Blackie spat once. The black ball of tar struck and some must have reached the fire. A ball of fire erupted, orange flames rising and spreading. They reached the earlier dragon spit, and the fire flared even more.
The whole house was soon a raging inferno. Blackie flew over again and circled, searching for Belcher or anyone emerging from inside. Anyone who ran from the fire faced Blackie and an angry Gareth controlling the dragon, but nobody came.
The light was failing, and there was still the original task Gareth had come to accomplish. He had Blackie fly across the lake in the direction of the pasture where Cinder lay. Blackie resisted. Gareth used all his persuasion, including images of local carrion eaters feasting on Cinder’s body.
Then he projected the thoughts that said Blackie could cure all that. In a few passes, he could spit enough acid to coat the body of the black dragon, acid that would render it impossible for animals to eat. Blackie could reduce the body to basic elements and return the creature to nature. It would be what Cinder wanted.
Gareth found the cracks in Blackie’s reservations that finally convinced the dragon to fly over and spit. In the growing darkness, as Gareth planned, Cinder was just a darker shadow in the meadow of growing shadows. If Blackie got a good look at the rotting corpse, Gareth didn’t believe he could have convinced him to do what was necessary.
In all, Blackie made four passes at Cinder, repeatedly spitting each time. Then Gareth had him fly back to the burning house. It was now almost all blackened ashes with only a little flame licking stones here and there. One section of the house still stood and without instructions, Blackie spat one more time and it leaped into flame.
There were still no people in sight, not that Gareth wanted to kill others, but his rage inside was such that he wanted Belcher dead and would feel satisfied if he had burned in the roaring fire that had been his father’s home.
“Fly to the mountains and spend the night. Tomorrow fly to me.”
Gareth left the mind of the dragon and returned to the blanket in the clearing. He went to the waterfall and tried to clear the bad taste from his mouth. He knew it was his mind telling him of the bad taste, but burning his father’s house and spitting acid on a dead dragon had drained him. Physically and emotionally Gareth was spent.
Ann and the boys watched him. All were under their blankets, still wearing their coats trimmed in fur. Ice had already formed on the edges of the waterfall and by morning, it would be an ice sculpture.
They waited for an explanation. He didn’t feel like talking. He said, “I’m done with my chore. I’m going to sleep.”
“Eat first,” Ann commanded, her voice telling him he had no choice in the matter.
At his blanket, he scooped the mixture of nuts and dried fruit into his palm and placed piece after piece into his mouth while reliving what he’d just gone through. It didn’t satisfy him. The smoke had meant someone had built a fire and Belcher knew of his destination. If it was not Belcher at the house, it was one of his people, but from the way he treated Ramos Gareth didn’t think any of them would be allowed to live in the fine home. Certainly none would live in a home finer than Belcher.
But he had seen nobody run from the house as it burned. Gareth didn’t believe anyone could
have run and not been seen from above. There were too few places to hide. Remaining inside was to die.
The only option that made sense was that while there was a fire, the builder of the fire had left the home before the dragon arrived. Perhaps he had gone to the orchard to pick fruit, or to the lake to catch a fish. Maybe he simply took a walk in the beautiful valley.
It mattered little. He had not been home. Gareth considered himself a peaceful man, a man who resolved problems without bloodshed, but he had tried to kill Belcher today. The realization had not sunk in until he reviewed his actions. What would Sara think if she saw what he’d attempted in the valley? Even in his mind he had become a vengeful killer for the first time in his life.
He could try to excuse his actions by the mistreatment Belcher gave others, or that Belcher killed his father and Cinder. But none of that was enough to turn him into a killer. Or did it? That was the question he tried to resolve.
Gareth found the food missing from his hand and his mind no more at ease than earlier. He opened his eyes and found the two boys sitting on the same blanket playing a game with a twig they tossed in the air and tried to anticipate the fall. Gareth didn’t know the rules, but he did know that they were acting like boys for the first time instead of beings who were manipulated by adults.
He might have smiled at their antics but at the far edge of his consciousness, he found a wisp of Belcher lurking. Watching. Learning.
“I almost had you today,” Gareth said.
Wicked laughter answered, followed by Belcher’s response. *But you failed.*
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Gareth sensed both the glee and evil humor in Belcher’s response. The snide evilness in knowing he was better and more powerful than everyone else. And he may be, Gareth admitted to himself. But getting into a mental argument only allowed Belcher to know him better and perhaps find a chink in his armor. That was all Belcher needed to win, and Gareth determined to keep his distance.
There were a hundred things Gareth wanted to tell Belcher; no, a hundred things he wanted to shout at Belcher until Belcher understood what he was doing violated everything a sane person believed. Gareth knew it would do no good, and perhaps cause harm. Besides, the snide attitude was like the bully on the playground taunting, “You can’t catch me.”
So Gareth cut off the minimal communication and closed down the umbrella restricting Tad and Ramos from answering Belcher if he directed any thoughts to them. They could hear his broadcasts as all sensitives could, but Belcher would receive no responses, and he couldn’t attack them.
It had been a long and tiring day climbing the slopes of the mountains. Gareth suspected his legs would protest moving in the morning. He said good-night to all and closed his eyes.
Gareth sank down into a deep, self-critical sleep that gave him little rest. Although he’d never seen Belcher, his mind created a plump boy with pouting lips and pig eyes. The resulting image was an indication of how much he disliked Belcher. For most of the night, he tossed and turned, and more than once choked back a shout or scream.
When he awoke in the dawning light, he lay there, still and unrested. Deep in the valleys of his mind, he heard laughter without humor. It was Belcher at his worst.
Throwing his blanket aside, Gareth leaped to his feet expecting to find enemies charging. Instead, he found Ann and Tad sleeping fitfully. On the other side of the dead fire lay Ramos, eyes closed, skin blue. Dead.
The boy wore no coat. His blankets, both of them, had been tossed aside, and Ramos lay on the bare, icy ground. Belcher had somehow penetrated Gareth’s defenses, probably because he knew the boy so well. He must have convinced Ramos in his sleep that he was too warm, perhaps just the smallest crack in the mental shroud Gareth placed over them, but that is all he needed.
Belcher had told Ramos to remove his coat and place the blankets to one side. Then he had probably told Ramos over and over that he was warm. Belcher was familiar with the boy’s mind and could easily slip inside and convince him of being too warm if he found only the smallest crack in the mental locks Gareth put in place.
Gareth stumbled to the boy’s side and knelt. He touched the skin and found it cold and frozen hard. The boy had been dead for hours. Gareth spun to make sure Tad and Ann were alive. In the process, he found his prediction about the waterfall freezing had been right. In other circumstances, he would have spent the time admiring it.
Scooping Ramos into his arms, Gareth stumbled into the nearest trees. Placing the boy gently behind some rocks to conceal his frozen body, he cried. I let you down, and I’m sorry.
The cold also seeped into Gareth, as did a cold like none he’d ever experienced. He was filled with a cold fury that had him gritting his teeth so hard they might shatter. He made your life miserable and then he took it from you. I’ll repay him.
Gareth spun and strode back into the camp. He couldn’t allow Tad to see Ramos, and he didn’t know what he was going to say when Tad woke. Leaving Ramos on the mountain couldn’t be helped, and he had nothing to use for digging into the frozen ground.
There was a pile of firewood and Gareth stirred the coals and found enough to ignite the twigs he spilled from his fingertips. As he was placing larger sticks on the fire, Ann woke. She flashed a smile of greeting, read his face and knew something was wrong. She spun to look at the boys. Seeing the empty bedding belonging to Ramos she leaped to his side.
“During the night.”
“He ran off?”
“Belcher convinced him it was too hot. He removed his coat and blankets. Froze.”
Ann settled on the cold ground, her jaw set and her eyes smoldering. After a short while, she spoke in a soft voice. “We will not tell Tad. We’ll just say he ran off. Where is he?”
“I placed him behind those trees over there, behind some rocks.”
“You must promise me one thing.”
Gareth expected her to demand he return the boy to the lowlands or another impossible task. He waited for her to tell him.
“When we find Belcher you will kill him. But if he is alive and we are together I want satisfaction. I will do the deed. Do not get in my way.”
“Because you think I may be too weak? If that is the case, you are wrong.”
“No, that is not the reason. It is the only thing that will allow my mind to rest, to give me the satisfaction to go on. Promise me.”
“I tried to kill Belcher last night. I thought I had him cornered in my father’s house. Blackie burned it to the ground while we watched to make sure he didn’t escape.”
She turned to face him wearing an expression that scared him. She snapped, “Well, you didn’t and look what he did. Promise me.”
Gareth could do nothing else. “I promise.”
“We need to leave this place. Not because of Ramos because we want to be across the highest part of the mountains by tonight.”
Gareth woke Tad, wondering what he was going to tell him about Ramos. Tad climbed from his bed and ate a handful of nuts while rolling his blankets and getting ready to walk. When he sensed Ann and Gareth watching him, he turned away.
Gareth said, “There’s something we have to talk about.”
“Is it about Ramos dying?”
Ann turned away from Tad so he couldn’t see her face, but Gareth could. The tears were falling, but she didn’t comment or wipe them. Her eyes turned to Gareth and waited.
Gareth said, “How did you know?”
“I can’t hear him anymore.”
“You heard him yesterday?”
“Yes, and before that.”
Gareth wasn’t sure of what Tad meant. Gareth could listen to people, feel their emotions and reactions, but not hear them unless they were communicating. What Tad seemed to be describing might be subtly different—and important.
But they had a mountain pass to cross, in one day if possible. Gareth nodded to Ann, and she took the lead. As they left the clearing Gareth’s eyes were drawn to the extra pair of fur leggings, th
e extra blankets, and the place where Ramos had died in his sleep thinking he was warm and snug so he kicked off the blankets and wriggled out of his coat.
A fierce desire welled inside him. A pledge to himself to make things right. He had not especially liked Ramos, but he hadn’t had time to know him well, and their short time together had been while the boy was drugged. However, he was a young boy, and if Gareth had left him where he found him, the boy would still be alive.
Possibly alive, Gareth amended his train of thought. The mistreatment of Ramos and the callous treatment by Belcher indicated Ramos probably had a finite lifespan that was nearing its end. The boy would not have lasted another winter probably, but who can be sure?
As he lost himself in recriminations and deep thoughts, the path grew even steeper, climbing up the side of a white mountain. Before their muscles were stretched out for the morning, they found snow on the shaded sides of the road and some on the road itself. They came to a place where the snow covered the entire road and paused to wrap their legs in the fur leggings, tying the leather thongs securely to keep them in place. They would keep their pants dry to the knee, the feet and ankles warm in the snow and their travel slightly easier.
The steep incline and thin air prevented casual talking. Each of them huffed and puffed, fighting for each breath and each new step. They moved slowly, not by choice but by necessity. The snow covering the ground grew deeper, obscuring the trail in many places. A layer of ice lay below the fresh snow, making each step a test of their balance.
The trail wound around the base of a smaller white mountain and then continued to climb. They paused three times to eat small amounts. None wanted a full meal, but all needed the energy. They wore the fur hats with flaps pulled down over their ears and when the wind started blowing they covered their heads and faces with blankets wrapped around, keeping their fingers inside where it was warmer, but still it was cold and dangerous to halt.
Ann motioned for his attention. Gareth moved closer. “Look at the sun.”
