Within

by Aaron Bunce

  Chapter 50

  hall of the chosen

  Henri lost track of the landscape, just as he lost track of time. The eagle carried him over sprawling mountains, climbing to such heights that he thought he might reach out and pluck the stars from the sky. And then the great bird would descend, his feet dangling just above the tips of the tallest trees.

  He watched it all slide along beneath him, his mind wandering and troubling over many things. He was sure that he was leaving these lands forever, leaving his life far behind. He knew because the madness that tainted his mind in Dedpit Barrows was gone, sent to the bottom of the wretched ravine with the rest of him.

  The truth of it came to him slowly, a realization that sunk in like the chill of a cold rain. He wanted to deny it, but the truth felt indisputable. It was his body breaking upon the rocks of the Dedpit. Somehow the mysterious bird had freed his captive spirit.

  Gone were the burdens that weighed him down in life, the same ones that drove him to drink, to struggle, and to despair. He still thought of his children, but his recollections of them were different somehow, as if the overriding emotions tied to them had been delicately put back in balance.

  The wind rippled past in gentle gusts, and despite the snow that capped the mountains all around them and the frost on the trees, he didn’t feel cold.

  The eagle gave a great cry and Henri reached up and gripped the bird’s legs as the terrain fell beneath them, dropping into a massive ravine. The air roared in his ears as the buffeting up-currents pressed against him. A vast low hanging cloud sat just beneath them, held in place by some unknown force.

  The eagle dropped its head and dove into the concealing mists, tucking its wings into its body as it picked up speed. The growl of the wind surrounded him, growing so loud Henri had to close his eyes and clutch his hands over his ears.

  With another great cry, the eagle spread its wings wide, and they leveled out. They broke from the turbulent mist, a curving river valley appearing beneath them. The banks were steep and thickly covered in colossal evergreen trees.

  They’re like mountains…trees as tall as mountains, Henri through in awe.

  The river flowed peacefully, the water glittering in the pale moonlight, twinkling as if it were covered by a blanket of shimmering gemstones.

  The eagle dipped once again, dropping so low that Henri’s feet almost skimmed the surface of the water. He looked down into the glassine surface, only he did not see his reflection staring back at him. Where his mirror image should have been was only the expansive night sky, opened up into a tapestry of stars.

  The eagle carried him further down the curving river valley, passing many forks and tributaries. The eagle dipped its left wing as it followed a gentle curve, and as they straightened out, a solitary mountain looming before them.

  The mount was wide and tall, easily dwarfing the jagged, cresting hills around it. Its peak rose into the dotted curtain of night, where it became lost amongst the sea of constellations and vaporous cloud.

  The moon slid behind the behemoth of stone, throwing them into its shadow as they approached. The eagle surged forward, picking up speed as it charged the air with its mighty wings.

  The river valley didn’t branch away from the mountain but disappeared at its base. Henri lifted his hands as they approached in a feeble attempt to protect himself from a collision with the wall of unyielding stone.

  His instincts told him to push away, to curl up in a ball and protect himself, but the eagle’s hold on him was too strong. They plunged into a dark passage, its opening almost indistinguishable from the mountain around it. The river churned and frothed beneath him, its roar filling the confines of the waterway. The only light now reflected up from the water itself.

  He didn’t know how the eagle could see where it was flying, but it didn’t slow down. A dim light drew Henri’s gaze down to the water. Glowing shapes drifted just beneath its surface.

  There were hundreds of the glowing forms, perhaps thousands, spanning the darkness ahead of them. Henri tried to focus in, to see them more clearly, but the eagle was flying too fast.

  A light appeared in the tunnel ahead and before Henri knew it they burst out into the open air. The river dropped off drastically before them, the glowing forms slipping over the edge of the waterfall. Henri felt the world upend itself as the eagle dove. He felt like a dry leaf, clinging desperately to his branch as the wind sought to tear them apart.

  The eagle unfurled its wings and soared out over a frothy lake, the glowing forms now drifting along below them. They were in a massive valley now, the stone rising like a colossal bowl all around them. The trees were tall and straight, their bristly alpine needles covered with a fresh coating of snow.

  The eagle scooped its wings, and with several thundering beats it descended towards the ground. The eagle’s talons released and he dropped, falling a short distance before landing softly in the ankle-high snow.

  The eagle flew deeper into the dell, each beat of its massive wings pluming the dusty snow. Henri looked around in silence, taking the strange, otherworldly scene. An enormous building sat back in the trees, and as he watched, the eagle circled over the snow-covered structure, its sharp cry echoing around the valley all around him. With another piercing call, the eagle swooped down to the ground and disappeared through a bright doorway.

  Henri didn’t move for several moments. He rubbed his hands over his shoulders, where the eagle’s talons had skewered his flesh and bones, yet there was not a single blemish to be found. Even his shirt was intact.

  Hesitantly, Henri took his first step towards the building, and then another, but his curiosity pulled him back towards the water. Several long strides brought him to the riverbank. He could make out the glowing shapes in the water, even with the bright moonlight overhead.

  One of the eerie shapes floated close to the shore, and he hopped back in alarm. The glowing form was a person. Another floated behind it, this one even closer to the shore. Henri saw that it was a woman. He cautiously moved closer, keeping pace as she floated silently onward.

  The woman’s form was completely ethereal, as if made up entirely of radiant smoke, a translucent specter floating on the steady currents of churning water. Henri followed her, captivated by her appearance. Her hair billowed out around her, as did the lacey ruffles and fine fabric of her ornate clothing.

  Henri was captivated by her youthful face and graceful figure. He followed her along the riverbank, wishing that she would speak to him and tell him where he was and what happened next. Henri ducked around a small flowering tree, and in his haste to get back to the waterside, he kicked a stone that toppled noisily into the water.

  The woman opened her eyes and mouthed something silently. A confused look creased her face, and her body twisted and torqued as if she fought against the water all around her.

  Henri danced on the spot, unclear if the woman needed his help, and if she did, what exactly he could do to aid her. The bank receded from the river, pulling Henri farther away from the water. He broke into a run, jumping to keep her in sight. He trudged around a bend and dropped to his knees, thrusting his hand out towards the woman as she drifted his way.

  He could see her reaching out to him, her mouth still moving silently beneath the water’s glassine surface. Henri plunged his hand into the water. His hand broke the surface and instantly changed. His hand seemed to dissolve, the solid lines of his fingers and wrist fading, until they were as pale and translucent as the woman before him.

  The woman passed by in silence, her outstretched hand just out of reach. Henri felt a subtle force tug on his outstretched hand. He jerked his hand back out of the water, the dark, swirling currents begrudgingly relinquishing its grip on him. Henri fell back in the snow, his hand held close to his chest. He watched the woman’s glowing form disappear.

  The river seemed to be a darker thing. Not simply a moving body of water, but something much more profound. He could feel it in his hand, seeping into
his body with the chill of the water, if that was really what it was.

  Henri felt the river calling out to him, pulling at him from deep inside. He pushed away from it, sliding backward in the snow, but the expanse of water continued to test his resolve. He felt weary, and it promised him endless rest.

  His head lolled back, the twinkling stars of the night sky spanning above him in a massive blanket. The heartbeats passed, and Henri swayed for a moment before lurching forward. He wasn’t sitting anymore. He was on his feet, the dark water sprawling at his feet.

  Henri lurched backward, frightened that he had come so close to the river without consciously moving towards it. He took another step, and another, willing his body to move until there was a sizable distance between him and the water’s edge.

  Henri put the river to his back and focused on the large building set back in the trees. Large puffy flakes of snow drifted through the clearing, yet there wasn’t a trace of cloud anywhere in the sky.

  A shooting star streaked from the horizon as Henri pushed into the trees. The snow rained all around him from the lowest branches, but he was too focused on the warm glow of the building ahead.

  He envisioned a warm fire, food, and a soft chair. But most of all, Henri hoped that he would find answers. He needed to know what this place was, and more importantly, why the eagle brought him.

  Henri broke through the trees, the massive building emerging before him, like a timber mountain filled with fairy lights. In all his thaws of travel, he had never seen a structure so unearthly. It looked like a part of the valley, melding with the stone and timber as if it had been there since the beginning.

  Its roof flowed into towering buttresses, and the end of each truss was carved into the likeness of a leaping animal. A dozen stone chimneys broke from the roofline, each one trailing a column of puffy, white smoke into the valley’s still air.

  Henri stood still for a few long moments, the snow reaching up well past his calf. He couldn’t look away from the strange hall, but he didn’t immediately walk towards it either.

  By the time he took his next step, snow had settled over him, the large flakes covering him in a coat of powdery white. He hesitantly forced his feet forward, moving towards the bright doorway.

  Music broke the silence as Henri drew near. It wasn’t the raucous, boot stomping tunes of the Shale Common House, but soft, flowing, and intricate. He smelled food as well, its savory aroma instantly making his mouth water.

  Henri moved out of the shadow and into the ring of radiant light. He shielded his eyes. Blessed warmth kissed his cheeks, driving him blindly forward. The music grew louder, the smell of food now entoxicatingly strong.

  Henri pulled his hands from his face and squinted against the light as his boots landed on solid ground. He heard dishes rattle together and what sounded like the scrape of a wooden stool against the floor.

  A form, shadow, or person was moving towards him. He could hear their footsteps clear enough, but the bright light stung his eyes. He forced his eyes open wider, accepting the burn and the tears, but all he could see was a wash of bright, and a dark blur.

  “Who is that?” Henri stammered as the figured moved directly before him. Henri made to take a step back, but before he could move, the person grabbed him. Strong arms wrapped around him, and in a moment of panic Henri fought back.

  “Father, is it really you? Can it really be you?” The person pulled him into a crushing hug.

  Henri felt his stomach tumble, and his fight died away. “Hunter!” he cried.

  Epilogue

  His dreams were troubled and slow. His mind moved as if it were snared in thick mud. The world rocked back and forth in a slow rhythmic cadence. He felt cradled by the darkness, wooed by the pleasant swaying of his cradle.

  His nose filled with the pungent odors of river silt, its perfume an overpowering stench that settled into his every thought and feeling. He could feel the water beneath him and all around. He could hear it and smell it too, but felt disconnected from it somehow.

  Other sounds filtered to him slowly. The wind whistled, humming and buzzing in his ears. And the water churned and bubbled, sloshing and lapping against something hard and surprisingly hollow.

  Occasionally he heard wood creak and groan, punctuated by a subtle note, a solitary sound that seemed to tie it all together. Somewhere in the fog he could hear voices, but they were muffled and indistinct. Each new noise poked through as if another layer of his befuddling haze peeled away.

  It came back to him in pieces. Unlike his dreams, they felt tactile, real. He didn’t realize his eyes were open for a long while. Then he blinked, and sand grated under his lids. He rolled his head over and swallowed, his mouth feeling horribly dry.

  The air felt cold, and with a great amount of pain he shrugged the heavy fur blanket up to his neck. He continued to blink, and slowly his vision cleared. The light was poor, what little remained cascaded down to him through a canopy overhead.

  Someone shouted nearby while other voices echoed back in response. He tried to turn his head to track the sound, but his neck was stiff and would only move so far.

  He managed to roll over onto his side, but heavy bandages wrapped around sticks prevented his arm from bending. Small figures moved outside the doorway, lifting oars up into the air and stowing them in holders. He was on a boat.

  He looked up just as a colossal archway of solid stone slid by overhead. More men were shouting. They ran by, struggling with ropes, pulling and tying, cutting and storing them. The strange small figures hovered just outside the limit of his vision, fidgeting, dancing and hopping around.

  A great rush of water swept all around the craft, and he felt the boat sway. The small blurry figures jumped over a rail and out of sight. He could see them lowering the long oars and heard them slap against the water.

  The boat slid out onto open water. The shallow confines of the rocky banks slipped away, replaced by fading skyline. The last rays of sunlight failed, and darkness settled in, revealing an ocean of stars. He tried to get comfortable again, but his body ached with every movement.

  The darkness made him sleepy. He didn’t know how long his eyes were closed, but a creak in the floor nearby snapped him awake again. A light hung right before him. It floated closer and then promptly floated away as a man spoke.

  “Stars in the sky, he’s awake! Boy, can you hear me?” the man asked, his face cracking in an excited smile.

  He could see the man’s mouth move, and he could hear his words, but they seemed jumbled somehow, disconnected from their meaning. The man leaned in close and waived the bright lamp before his face again. The light stung his eyes, and he shut them until the darkness returned. He felt strong hands grab ahold of him, heard his words again and this time they sounded very close.

  He eased his eyes open again and looked into the old man’s face. His eyes were clear blue, but the skin around them was heavily wrinkled. His nose was crooked, and his blonde beard was heavily streaked with gray. The old man’s mouth continued to move as he talked, and slowly his words made sense.

  “Boy! I said did you hear me, boy?” the old man asked.

  He squinted against the pain, but managed to nod his head.

  “Thank the eldest! We thought you lost,” the old man said, turning to look at the younger man standing behind him. “My name is Tovy. You’re on my boat, the Kingfisher, been with us for a time now. You seemed awake at times, even would take food, but the light was gone from your eyes. Can you tell me how you came to be in the river?”

  He considered the old man’s question, letting the words bounce around in his head repeatedly, but he couldn’t make the connection. He could remember water and darkness, but nothing else. The only thing that came flooding back to him was more pain.

  “Can you at least tell me your name?” Tovy asked.

  He didn’t have to think this time, for some reason his name bubbled up easily enough. “Luca.” The word formed slowly.

  “Re
st easy, Luca. Do you see those lights? Those, there in the distance?” Tovy asked, stepping out of the way.

  He could indeed see lights in the darkness, like twinkling stars.

  “That’s Pinehall. There will be help for you there…I’m sure of it,” Tovy said, but the pain in Luca’s head had his ears ringing again, so he closed his eyes and hoped for the blissful reprieve of dreamless sleep.

  The Overthrown Series continues in:

  Before the Crow

  Coming 2016

  Author’s Note

  I would be remiss if I didn’t stop to consider the many individuals who helped make this book possible. I can’t thank these people enough for the time and energy they spent reading, re-reading, critiquing, designing, creating, and proofreading. Their dedication, motivation, and wonderful feedback not only helped keep me going along the way, but also helped make Within the story I always wanted it to be. With that said, I would like to thank my wife, Rebecca, for keeping the creative fires under my butt lit, and firing back when the first ending just wasn’t good enough. My good friend, Shane Skala, for diligently reading every revision, and providing some fantastic feedback and fresh ideas. Tamara Jones, for taking me under her wing and teaching me the ways of efficient prose, a.k.a literary nip and tuck. Thanks need to go out to Suzanne Helmigh, for her dark and fantastic original cover art. Michele Maakestad, for the amazing graphic design work on the second edition cover. It didn’t just make the artwork pop, but it brought it all together. Alex Vialette, for taking my haphazard vision of Denoril and crafting it into a fantastic looking map. I would also like to thank Dylan Moonfire, Anthony Whittenbaugh, Symon Sanborn, Colton “Blade” Peyton, Seth “Spider” Douglas, Paul Walker, Jed Peterson, Luke Devine, Kari Rhoades, Jolene Buchheit, Yvonne Bunce, Eric LeClere, Todd Gustafson and Amy Miller, for reading and firing back with thoughts. Without your help, this book would still just be a manuscript and a dream.