“Starman?” a hushed voice whispered.
Starman turned in the shadows of the forest, his heartbeat quickening. Legone limped slowly out of the shadows, his long hair a tangled mess and his clothing covered in dust. His quiver still clung to his back but his bow hung down as if his arms were too tired to carry it. “I am glad to see you at least,” he went on. “Never thought I would hear myself say those words. Have you seen the others?”
Starman shook his head. “No. I was hoping I might find them here. Do you know where we are?”
Legone gingerly lowered himself to the ground. “This is the boundary forest, where the creatures of the wood live.” His voice faltered. “Or at least they used to.” He rested his head against the mossy trunk of a tree. “Starman, your head is bleeding.”
“I know.” Starman reached a grimy hand up to touch his wound again. “What happened back there?”
Legone shook his head, his blue eyes lost. “I wonder that myself. Something powerful must have brought us here. We are at least two weeks away.”
Starman looked at him, alarmed. “But…” he stuttered, putting two and two together. “That’s not possible!”
“I, for one, am too weary to argue. We must find the others.”
Starman’s hand tightened around his sword. “I don’t know where to start, should we wait here?”
Legone put a finger to his lips and sat up, cocking his head. “What is that?” he whispered.
Starman paused to listen but the cry was already fading away. Legone scrambled up, making a wry face as his ribs pierced his insides again. “Let’s find out.” He hobbled forward with Starman beside him.
They had barely entered the woods, only passing through the first few lines of trees to find shade from the heat and hide themselves from potential enemies. Now, as they walked through the thin line of sapling trees, they could see the mud colored grassland stretching before them, long and hot. In the distance someone was kneeling and Starman began to run, leaving Legone to lurch forward as best he could.
Marklus looked up as Starman jogged up, his face frightened and bloody. “Marklus!” His voice was shaking. “What happened?”
The lump in Marklus’ throat would not let him speak and he thought tears would crack his voice when he let it come at last. “We will live,” he whispered to Starman, nodding his head, as if by saying the words they would come true. “We will all live,” he stressed.
Starman, seeing Alaireia passed out on her side, ran to her, kneeling to lift her into his arms. He looked over her dark head at Crinte as he lay on his back. His chest was bare and there was dried blood where his tunic had been ripped away, but no wounds appeared on him.
Legone, stumbling up in misery, calmly assessed the situation. Marklus acknowledged him but had no words to share.
“Whatever has happened wrecked us,” Legone said at last. “We need to take shelter in the forest before anything else happens.”
Marklus stood on shaking feet, holding the object in his hand out to Legone. “Hold this a moment while I lift him.”
Legone reached out to take it but when he saw what it was recoiled his hand. “No,” he said. “I would not touch that!”
Marklus turned to Starman. “Take this, please.”
Starman gently laid Alaireia on the ground and walked over. Marklus handed him the Clyear. At the question in Starman’s eye he sighed. “I was too weak to heal him.”
He lifted Crinte, grimacing slightly under his weight. Legone reached out to help while Starman placed the Clyear in Alaireia’s arms. He took her blood-stained sword from the ground and cleaned it. Sliding it into her sheath he lifted her up, following slowly after Marklus and Legone.
The grassland was quiet as they moved forward, a slow journey of 500 paces. The forest stood strong and mysterious, fair, slim trunks growing up here and there in front of the older, darker trees. Their thick trunks reached up to the heavens with leaves as dark as ivy evergreen. Silence inhabited the wood as well. Either the woodland creatures were hiding or they had already left. When at last they slid under the shady boughs Legone could feel the energy of the forest as he once had. It was darker now, quiet, a faint pulse, a cry for help as it was being swallowed, cut off. Weary from the explosion, Legone could feel the hope dying away and he feared to even think whether or not they would still be alive.
They collapsed at last by the roots of a great tree, sticking out far enough from the ground to hide them in its cove. “It would be foolish not to keep watch,” Marklus said as they lay Crinte on the ground. “But honestly we are all too tired. We should hide ourselves well and attempt to regain our strength. Later we should hunt for food and refill our supplies.” He flung his empty quiver from his back and suddenly wanted nothing more to do than lay his head on the emerald green moss.
Starman had already tucked Alaireia into a corner by a hollow in a tree and lay down beside her with his sheathed sword in hand. Legone reached the ground with a grunt, settling his back against the wide trunk and resting his head against it. He breathed shallowly for a moment then propped his quiver on the soft earth and rested his bow beside it. Closing his eyes he remembered when the forest was full of life and light and for a time he’d thought he would dwell there until the end of his days.
Marklus opened his eyes. Thin light streamed into the forest but he lay on the soft carpet of moss and listened for a beat. Crickets hummed softly in the night, cicadas called worriedly to each other. A twig snapped and a flutter of wings disturbed the leaves. He could hear the relaxed breathing of his companions, in and out, slowly and gently. They were alive. Marklus stretched, feeling his body regaining its strength. He stretched his fingers one by one, listening to them, but the healing power had not returned. He had heard of those who used all of their power preforming one act, and he wondered if saving Crinte was the end of his. He’d needed the Clyear to assist him, but at first he thought even it would not be enough. He could still see the lights from it dancing lovingly as they mended Crinte’s chest, and the panic that had sat heavy on his heart lifting when all the wounds were closed. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness he could see each of his companions and almost hear their broken spirits, calling out to him for help. He closed his hands into fists. He needed more rest.
DREAMS OF THE FUTURE
Alaireia opened her eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the dim light. It could be midday or evening with the way the giant tree rose above her, spreading its broad leaves of protection. She looked up at the thick dark trunk covered in gray green moss. Where the moss did not grow its bark was peeling back, displaying the pale insides of the tree. Above her its mighty branches continued until they were hidden by dark green leaves, individually growing twice as large as her head. Even in the forest of the Ezincks she had not seen anything like it. She turned her head. Back on the ground she could see the old roots of the tree rising above the ground like arms, surrounding her. Starman lay on his side near her. His rhythmic breathing told her he was sound asleep. She sat up, checking to ensure her sword and dagger were in place. Somewhere back there she had lost everything else except for one thing. She looked back down and beside her sat the Clyear, unprotected. She hesitated before picking it up. The crystal was lifeless. She placed it securely in her tunic and stood, noting her body felt whole again. No more did the panicked trembles threaten to shake her sanity. Nor did the burning sensations from overwhelming power sting her insides. Relieved, she noticed Marklus and Crinte slumbered nearby, almost hidden in the roots of the tree. Legone opened his eyes as her glance fell over him, propped against the heart of the tree. He gazed back with a question in his eyes. She turned to the forest, beckoning him to come with her.
Legone followed Alaireia to the other side of the tree where she stood, taking in their surroundings. “Is this where you lived?”
He nodded. “What happened back there?”
“What do you mean?”
Legone sighed. “You know what I mean.”
“We need to hunt before the others wake.” Alaireia brushed his words aside. “You look rough. Will you lend me your bow?”
Legone looked at her a long moment, reluctant to let go of his custom made weapon. “Don’t stray far and hurry back,” he said at last.
“Of course.” Alaireia nodded quickly. Even as she took the bow in her hands it felt wrong. It wasn’t made for her. She quickly looped his quiver over her back. “Keep watch. I’ll be back.”
In truth she wanted to be alone for a moment to compose her thoughts before answering the questions she knew the others would have for her. She may have whisked them out of a tight spot but it was all wrong. Had it not been for the Mermis’ invincibility potion, they might not have made it at all. Stealthily she made her way through the underbrush of the forest, listening, watching, and blending into the shadows. The apparent peacefulness of the forest made her feel jittery and she swallowed hard when a black bird cawed as it flew through the leaves above her head.
They were all awake by the time she returned to camp with a few quails. “There’s not much else,” she said as walked back into the cove. Laying her game on the ground, she lifted Legone’s quiver from her shoulders and handed it to him with his bow. “All the animals have left or died out. Even the plants are fading.” She passed around round balls of tough fruit. “Eat these before they spoil. You’ll have to poke a hole in the side and suck out the sweetness inside.”
Crinte sat cross-legged, his light blond hair unruly from sleep, but his face shone with an inner light, as if nothing had happened to him after all. “Any signs of the transformed creatures out there?” he asked as he sawed open the fruit with his knife.
“None, unless they are invisible.” Alaireia shrugged and sat down beside Starman, completing the circle.
Marklus kept peeking at his fingers as he ate slowly. “What happened?” he asked curiously, peering from Crinte to Alaireia.
Starman eagerly looked up from where he was digging a shallow hole in the ground in order to cook the meat Alaireia had brought.
Legone, sitting on the other side of Alaireia, paused as he rubbed two sticks together. “Was it a portal?”
Crinte shook his head. “That was no portal. Portals are instant and don’t zap your strength. Whatever that was should have killed us. It transported us through time in a matter of minutes. I saw it…the sun rising and setting, the world shifting below.”
Alaireia lifted her chin before meeting Crinte’s gaze. “It was my fault. I wanted the Clyear to take us away from the Gaslinks. There were too many of them, you saw.” Her voice was quiet, apologetic. “I did not know it would throw us quite so far.”
A flame ignited from Legone’s sticks and he blew gently on it, coaxing the fire into life before dropping them into the shallow pit Starman had finished. “It would have taken us at least a fortnight to walk here.”
Marklus lifted his head, his eyes dark and sad. “It seems my healing power has gone dormant.”
Crinte reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry.”
Marklus shook his head. “Maybe I used it all up, either way I needed the Clyear to help me.”
“Oh, Marklus,” Alaireia said guiltily. “If only that Gim had not been there.”
“Speak no more of it.” Crinte shivered, recalling the searing heat of those flames. “We move forward from here. Think about it this way. We lost time when I walked through the remnants of a portal and gained time when we were teleported here. Time is on our side again. Marklus, what say the Zikes?”
Marklus closed his eyes, weary again. “I cannot hear them.” Everything had been a blur when Crinte made the announcement about the bridge, unfortunately Marklus could not remember if he had passed instructions to the Zikes before Gaslinks ambushed them. He attempted to establish the connection between himself and the Zikes, but, like his healing powers, there was nothing but frayed, dead ends.
“Look,” Crinte went on, “let’s eat and rest here. Tomorrow we can push on into the forest. I am hesitant to stay in one place for too long, but we can afford to take it slower. I need you at your best when we enter the Slutan Tunnels.”
“What if…” Starman speculated as he tucked the skinned birds into the pit and covered them with leaves. “What if we actually make it to the Great Water Hole, and we win. What then?”
Legone’s face registered surprise at Starman’s question, as if he had never considered the possibility. “Life.” He turned the word over slowly in his mouth. “Life after the Great Water Hole? I would not know what that would look like. My life has been lonely for the most part, and my happiest years have been snatched away. I do not know what I would do.”
“Rebuild.” Alaireia spoke without hesitation. “I did not stay to see life return to the Forests of Srinka and my people flourish again. Much that I have seen of the Western World are countries divided focused on their internal struggles. I would see harmony passed from country to country just as the people groups freely travel between them.”
Marklus relaxed, propped up against a tree root. His face became gentle again. “Zikeland needs me. It has been freed at last from the Zikes. I must restore life to it, that it may flourish as the land it once was before the Zikes inspired fear. The people of Zikeland must return and then, when I have a chance, I will ask the wind what happened to my brother.”
“I saw her,” Crinte remarked, glancing over at Marklus. “The wind, she is alive.”
Legone smiled privately to himself.
“Crinte, what will you do?” Marklus asked. “You’re always on some great adventure, I can’t imagine it would end.”
Crinte shook his head. “It seems I am bound to return to the Kingdom of Spherical to set things right, once and for all. From there? Well, I have some questions of my own of the mysteries of this world. There is much to learn.”
Alaireia turned to Starman. “What about you?”
Starman gazed off into the forest. “I dreamed,” he spoke at last, “when we were in the house of Srackt the Wise. My family was alive and well. If that is the case, I must find them.”
Alaireia reached out and took his hand. “I would like to help you,” she told him.
He squeezed her hand. “I would like that.”
Crinte sat up straighter. “You dreamed, at the house of Srackt.” He turned the words over in his head. “Dreams there are true dreams, not dreams at all but visions of reality. We all must have seen something that night. Something that is true or something that will happen. Do each of you remember?”
“A tower,” Marklus recalled. “Not the Srineye Tower you were trapped in, Crinte, a different one, but I can’t quite explain it. All I know is that it was shrouded in mist and the eyes were watching.”
“Were you alone?” Crinte questioned.
Marklus shook his head. “That was not clear.”
“I saw our path,” Crinte told them, tracing it with his fingers. “Dark pools and a winding passage into the mountains with the forest behind us. I can see it now, quite clearly. From here I know where to go.”
Crinte and Marklus turned expectant eyes on Alaireia.
“Do you believe everything you see is true?” Alaireia asked, an edge of disbelief creeping into her voice. “Because I stood in a foul place and I did something I would never do.”
“Never?” Crinte looked at her calmly, his eyes beginning to change colors. “Not even given the right circumstances?” He continued to speak, not intending for her to answer. “Visions are not given lightly, because seeing the future is hard enough. Most times it is not like we intend until we arrive. If Starman were told, a year ago, that he would join our company, he would have thought the teller a fool. Who you are today can be entirely different from the person you were in the past or the person you will be in the future. One comfort I have found from seeing is to take it as it comes, neither attempting to hinder nor hasten events.”
Legone’s face had grown cold and distant as Crinte spoke. He loo
ked back at him as if they were strangers. “I also saw the impossible,” he claimed. “I do not believe it.”
A MISTAKE
“What did you see?” Starman asked Alaireia later, after they had eaten, sharpened their weapons, and began to drift off to sleep again.
Alaireia sat facing him, her knees tucked up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. “Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it.” She sighed and looked at his hurt face. “It’s not like that, it’s just…” She trailed off, shaking her head.
“It’s okay,” Starman offered. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
“Starman,” Alaireia said. “I’m glad you came. I know it seemed I only wanted you to come because of your skills with the sword, but now, I enjoy your company as well.”
“I know,” Starman admitted. “When you came after me in Trazame that’s when I knew. I’ve never met anyone like you. At first you frightened me but now you intrigue me.”
Alaireia smiled at him, a genuine smile that lit up her tired eyes. “I’m supposed to frighten everyone,” she teased. “If I’m not, I must be losing my touch.”
“Hardly.” Starman grinned shyly. “I think you just don’t want anyone finding out who you truly are.”
The lighthearted teasing drifted from Alaireia’s face. “Starman, you’re right. It’s easier after losing everything to keep everyone at a frightful distance. It’s harder to love when you know that person will be snatched away and it will hurt all the more.”
“Yes,” Starman agreed, his eyes beginning to cloud over in sorrow. “But it will only hurt as long as you’re alive. If time is short, why not love, and love hard?”
Alaireia looked into his serious face for a moment, his light hair sticking up straight and his brown eyes, deep with feeling. “Starman,” she whispered, as if hesitant to break a spell. “Come, sit beside me and tell me tales of Trazame.”
He scooted over until their shoulders touched, tilting his head charmingly towards her. “Only if you tell me of the mysteries of the Forests of the Ezinck.”
The Five Warriors (The Four Worlds Series Book 1) Page 24
