by Dean Cadman
“It’s a veil between our lands and those of The Keeper. It fills the tunnels and swamps around the base of The Sacred Mountain and kills anyone that it touches. The closer you get to The Sacred Mountain, the more deadly the gas becomes. Our shamans occasionally collect the gas in jars to study, but no one has ever found a way of preventing it from killing whoever it touches.”
“If it’s so dangerous, how did Hagu manage to avoid being killed by it?”
“That’s the question everyone has been trying to answer ever since. There are many theories, stories and legends regarding it, but the truth is, no one really knows how he survived. Some believe it was divine intervention and The Keeper allowed him to pass to collect the Soul Stones. Others believe that he found a different route through The Sacred Mountain, one which didn’t contain any of the deadly gas. But if that’s true, it remains hidden to this day, despite generations of warriors searching for it.
“One legend even speaks of a strange creature called a Gardan. It was supposed to have helped Hagu cross The Boundary in and out of The Keeper’s lands, but like I said, no one really knows how he did it for sure.”
Before Lusam could say anything more, a large shadow suddenly passed over them. He knew even before looking up what it was, and it sent chills through his entire body when he saw the dragon in the sky above.
“I think we better keep moving before that dragon sees us,” Lusam said, watching the massive creature circle above them.
“That’s not a dragon,” Vultog said, chuckling to himself. “It’s a wyvern.”
“Oh… what’s the difference?” Lusam asked, looking up at the winged creature. It certainly looked like a dragon to him, and he had seen his fair share of them in his nightmares and dreams to know.
“Well, first of all, dragons are not real, they’re only a myth,” Vultog replied, matter-of-factly. Lusam took a breath to argue, then realised that he’d only ever seen them in his dreams, and no matter how real they had seemed to him, it was not evidence that he could present to Vultog of their existence. He knew, of course, that the Guardians had once bonded with real dragons, but that had been a very long time ago, and no one had seen a living dragon in his own world for almost two millennia. There was also nothing to suggest that dragons had ever existed in this realm, so he decided not to pursue the matter any further.
“Secondly,” Vultog continued, “dragons are supposed to have four legs, with wings that sprout from their backs, whereas wyverns have only two legs and their wings extend from their arms. Also, the mythical dragons are supposed to be much larger than a Wyvern. But you are right about one thing.”
“Oh, what’s that?” Lusam asked, feeling a little foolish now.
“That we should take cover in the forest before it sees us,” Vultog replied, looking up warily at the creature circling above. “Besides, if the faeries have decided to pursue us any further by going around the ridge, we don’t want to be here when they arrive.”
“That’s for sure,” Lusam eagerly agreed, turning and heading off towards the trees without another word.
Vultog shook his head to himself, wondering just how Lusam had survived for so long, when he obviously knew so little.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lusam followed Vultog’s lead through the dense forest and was genuinely impressed by the way he attempted to conceal their route. He couldn’t help thinking that even Alexia would have struggled to do a better job of it. Vultog kept to the well-trodden game trails wherever possible, and at any point where the paths diverged, he always laid a false trail for the faeries to follow.
About an hour into their trek they came across a gently meandering river. Its water was a dark peaty brown colour, and although Lusam was in need of a drink, he decided that he would much rather wait until they found a different—cleaner—source of water to quench his thirst. It was impossible to tell how deep the river was by simply looking at it, but Vultog assured him that, for the most part, it was only about knee-deep. Lusam soon discovered, however, that Vultog’s ‘knee-deep’ was just about waist deep for himself, and struggled to wade upstream against the deceptively strong current.
Vultog pushed on through the current effortlessly with his huge muscular legs, but Lusam began to struggle after only a few minutes. Twice the current swept him off his feet as he slipped on the moss-covered boulders of the riverbed.
They hadn’t spoken at all since re-entering the forest, and although Lusam understood the need to remain as silent as possible just in case they were still being pursued by the faeries, he desperately needed to rest.
“Vultog, wait,” Lusam called out in a loud whisper. Vultog stopped and waited whilst he caught up. He could see the orc scanning the trees on the riverbank for any signs of movement. It was obvious that he wasn’t as confident as he’d sounded earlier about the faeries not following them beyond The Serpent’s Mouth.
“I’m sorry, I can’t go on for much longer in this river,” Lusam said, breathing heavily.
“If we leave the river anywhere along these muddy banks, our passage will be plain for all to see. There’s a rocky outcrop about half a mile upstream. We should leave the river there,” Vultog replied, still scanning the surrounding trees. He didn’t wait for Lusam to reply, he simply turned and started wading upstream again. Lusam knew he would never make it that far. He would be lucky if he made it another few hundred feet without being swept back down the river again.
“Wait,” Lusam called out again. Vultog stopped once more, but he made no effort to hide the annoyance on his face.
“You must keep going if you want to live,” Vultog said, and he turned to start moving again.
“No, wait. I have another idea,” Lusam said, desperately trying to catch up to him. “I can levitate us both out of the water and beyond the riverbank, so we don’t leave any evidence of our passing.”
Vultog nervously looked up at the sky above. His previous brief experience of flight still evidently fresh in his mind, not to mention being physically marked on his face and arms.
Lusam smiled to himself and wondered if he had actually found someone even more nervous about levitating than Neala. The sudden thought of Neala sent his mind reeling, and he had to consciously push the thoughts of her aside. There would be time for that later, he told himself. But for right now, he had to make sure that he survived today first.
“Don’t worry,” Lusam said, grinning at Vultog, “I won’t drop you this time.”
Vultog grunted and gave him a look which suggested that he’d better not. It was all the permission Lusam needed, and he immediately reached for his magic and levitated them both out of the water. Surprisingly, he found that he had recovered a little more of his power reserves than he’d expected. Optimism suddenly blossomed within him, as he realised that he might not be stranded in the dangerous realm for weeks, or even months, after all.
As soon as they had fully emerged from the river, Lusam erected a weak magical shield around them both. It wasn’t intended for protection, but instead only to contain any water which might have dripped onto the riverbank and given away their exit point. Lusam quickly moved them both beyond the steep muddy riverbank and well into the forest beyond. He figured the further away from the river that their tracks started again, the less chance the faeries would have of finding their trail at all.
He could feel the orange-red eyes of Vultog boring into him as they flew through the air, but he never made a movement or sound. If he was scared of flying, he certainly didn’t show it. And as a brief, but troubling image of a huge muscular orc shaking with fear and clinging onto him like Neala flashed through his mind, he was very glad that he wasn’t.
“How do you do that?” Vultog asked, as his feet touched the ground.
“What… levitate?”
“Any of it,” Vultog replied, as he set off walking into the forest again.
“I’ve told you already. I use magic,” Lusam said, hurrying to catch up.
Vultog grunt
ed. “Yes, I remember. But what is it? And what can you do with it?”
Lusam sighed to himself, knowing that he was about to embark on a very long and difficult conversation if he was to explain how magic worked, especially to someone who had never even heard of the concept before. But he tried his best, and less than an hour later he believed that Vultog had gained a basic understanding of it, even if he hadn’t been able to fully answer all of the questions entirely to his satisfaction.
Lusam had obviously given Vultog a lot to think about because he didn’t speak again for a long time after their discussion. At first, Lusam thought that he might be sulking after being told it wasn’t possible for him to learn any magic, but eventually, the real reasons became clear once he spoke again.
“When we reach my village, I would recommend that you keep your… magic, a secret,” Vultog said, without slowing his pace or looking back.
“You’re probably right,” Lusam agreed. “Often people fear what they don’t understand.”
“Yes, my friend, but that’s not the only reason. I have already witnessed some of the incredible things that you can do with my own eyes. Healing wounds and poisons, flying through the air like a wingless wyvern, and creating invisible armour around yourself and others. But from what you’ve told me, that’s only a small part of what you can do with your magic. And the only one who is supposed to be able to wield such power is The Keeper himself. I fear that many of my tribesmen would see your abilities as blasphemous, and would seek to do you harm as a result.”
When Lusam had first met Vultog the thought of a single orc attacking him in his weakened state had been frightening enough. But now the thought of an entire village of orcs attacking him was truly terrifying. He knew that he needed time to recover some of his magical strength before attempting to find the Guardian book in this dangerous realm. Recent events had made that perfectly clear to him. He also couldn’t believe just how little thought he had given the matter. He supposed that he had expected the orcs to welcome him with open arms since he had helped Vultog return their precious Soul Stone. His intention had been to simply spend a night there and recover some of his strength, before moving on. But now he wasn’t sure if walking headlong into a village full of potentially hostile and deadly orcs was the smartest thing to do.
“Vultog, just how safe am I likely to be in your village?” Lusam asked.
Vultog stopped and turned to face him. He locked eyes with him and raised a fist to his chest. “I give you my word of honour that no one shall harm you there, my friend. But I can only make this pledge if you do as I ask and not speak of your magic to anyone whilst in my village.”
Lusam nodded slowly. He knew how important honour was to Vultog, so he didn’t for one moment doubt the sincerity of his words. But he also clearly remembered Vultog saying that he would lose his own honour in the eyes of his tribe for failing the Right of Ascension quest. And although the last thing Lusam wanted to do was remind him of that loss, he had to know if it would affect the tribe’s decision to honour Vultog’s earlier promises.
Vultog must have guessed what was on his mind, because a moment later he stepped towards him and spoke again. “My word is my honour. And my honour is also that of my tribe. No one would dare break my word to you, my friend. Because if they did, they would bring down dishonour upon our entire tribe. You should also know that until I undergo The Ceremony of Truth, my honour amongst my people will remain intact. But even after The Ceremony of Truth is over, they are all still honour-bound to keep my word to you.”
Lusam had known Vultog for less than a day, but as he looked into his strange eyes, he realised that he already trusted him without reservation. Which was strange, given the fact that only a few hours ago he was terrified of him and wouldn’t have even considered getting so close to him.
Lusam nodded once. “Your word is good enough for me,” he said, offering Vultog his hand. Vultog gave him a strange look, but eventually took it in his own giant calloused hand. It was an awkward handshake; more of a ‘pull an arm from its socket’ shake. But the gesture was well received by both parties and they were soon underway again.
“What are you looking for?” Vultog suddenly asked, a few minutes later.
“Looking for?”
“Yes, you said that you came to my world looking for something. What is it that you’re looking for?”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Lusam replied, his mind beginning to race. How much should he tell Vultog about the Guardian book? How much could he tell him about it? And could he trust him with that information? He dismissed the latter question almost as soon as it came into his mind. And after a brief moment of thought, he realised that his other concerns were equally redundant in this realm too.
Neither Vultog nor probably anyone else in the hidden realm possessed any magical ability at all, let alone enough to allow them to read a Guardian book. And even if there was someone within the hidden realm capable of reading it, he decided that it would make little difference to anything either here, or in his own world. Here because magic was in such short supply and that would naturally limit anyone who did manage to read the Guardian book. And in his own world because a single Guardian book could never create a mage powerful enough to cross the boundary between the two realms. And then there was the most obvious reason why he should tell Vultog about it—he simply didn’t have anyone else to turn to for help. If Vultog didn’t know the actual location of the Guardian book, at least he should be able to give him some information about the island he was on, and that in turn might narrow down his search somewhat.
They continued steadily on towards Vultog’s village whilst Lusam attempted to explain what he had come to this world looking for. After some careful thought, Lusam decided to withhold many of the finer details, such as the Guardian book’s history and its potential power. Instead, Lusam simply told him that it contained information vital for the survival of his own people, which in truth, it did. But it turned out that not only had Vultog never heard of the Guardian book before, he didn’t even know what a book was. Apparently, his people didn’t use a written language, and instead passed on their knowledge verbally through their stories and even in the form of tribal tattoos. It certainly wasn’t what Lusam had wanted to hear, but Vultog tried to reassure him by suggesting that if anyone would know anything about his Guardian Book, it would be the village elders, as they were the keepers of all knowledge for his tribe. Lusam didn’t hold out much hope of that, but he guessed any hope was better than none.
Lusam continued to gather as much information as he could about the island as they moved through the forest, much to the obvious annoyance of Vultog. On several occasions, he indicated that Lusam should remain silent, but whether there had been a genuine threat or he was just tired of answering his questions, Lusam didn’t know.
It seemed the further they travelled, the hotter and denser the forest became. Lusam had given up on recognising any or the trees or plants a long time ago, and most of the animals and insects they had seen went way beyond anything that he could ever have previously imagined. But one thing remained a constant—the complete lack of magic in everything around him. He was so deep in thought as to the reasons why, that he barely noticed Vultog stop and almost walked straight into him.
Vultog reached up and plucked what appeared to be a melon-like fruit from a nearby tree. He turned and handed it to Lusam, before selecting one for himself. Lusam’s stomach had been complaining about the lack of food for the past several hours, and he was also in desperate need of a drink. The forest air was so wet and humid that it didn’t seem to matter how much sweat his body produced, it still never cooled him down. His clothes were soaked through, and they clung uncomfortably to his skin, chaffing him whenever he moved. He looked longingly at the strange fruit Vultog had just given him, and could almost taste the sweetness of its juice. He sniffed at the purple skin and was amazed to discover that it even smelled like a melon.
In the absence of a knife
, Lusam decided to simply bite into the fruit instead. But before his lips could even touch the purple skin, a voice called out and a huge green hand slapped away the fruit from his mouth. His head rocked and his ears rang with the force of the impact.
“Don’t bite into it, it’s poisonous,” Vultog said between curses, as he plucked another fruit from the tree.
“Of course it is,” Lusam said under his breath, “why wouldn’t the fruit want to kill me? … everything else here does.”
Vultog either didn’t hear him, or chose to ignore his comments. “Like this,” he said, cutting the bottom off the fruit and squeezing it so the liquid from the centre flowed into his mouth. He cut the bottom off the second fruit and handed it to Lusam.
“How poisonous?” Lusam asked, looking warily at the purple fruit in his hand.
“Extremely. But as long as you don’t eat the flesh you’ll be fine,” Vultog replied, as he prepared yet another one for himself. Lusam watched as he squeezed the fruit from the top down and a clear liquid ran freely into his mouth. Lusam’s mouth was completely parched, and even the threat of poisoning did little to discourage his desire to take a drink from it. Holding it aloft, he tilted his head back and squeezed hard, but barely a drop trickled out.
Vultog roared with laughter at Lusam’s feeble efforts and came over to help. He took the melon-sized fruit in one hand and crushed it effortlessly, releasing the sweet tasting juice into his mouth. Lusam wasn’t sure what he had expected, but he certainly hadn’t expected it to taste as good as it did. It was like nectar from the Gods, and he wanted more—much more.
“Good—yes?” Vultog asked, throwing the empty husk to one side.
“Very,” Lusam replied, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and eyeing up another one. Vultog beamed a smile at him. It was still slightly unnerving to see, but at least he could tell it was a smile now, and not a snarl.
Lusam helped himself to two more of the delicious fruit and was on his way for a third when Vultog interrupted him mid-stride.
