“So let’s cook them.” I said quickly.
Preston rolled his eyes. “How? We can’t build a fire here. The path is way too steep and it’s been going on for miles.”
“Let’s eat them raw then.” I said, scouring the ground for a nice large one. “I’ve heard that Beetles are full of energy and help build muscle mass. They’re great for emergencies.”
“Fine, you can eat the beetles. I’ll pass,” Preston said, rubbing his stomach. I glared at him.
“You’re just as hungry as me,” I replied pointedly. “I’m not going to have my best friend starve just because he was too stubborn to eat several measly bugs.
“Well... You do it then!” Preston whimpered while pointing to the ground. “Look! There’s a horde of them right there. Go for it!”
“Maybe I will!” I replied while quickly picking up one of them. It was skin coloured and soft shelled, about twice as large as my thumbnail. It squirmed as I held it pinched between my two fingers.
“What are you waiting for?” Preston asked with a challenging tone in his voice. “Eat it.”
“You promise me you’ll eat one if I do this?”
Preston put a hand over his heart, then pointed to the beetle in my hand. I approached to take a bite out of it but stopped once I saw the pincers. They were long and pointy, and quickly opening and closing. “It’s going to bite my tongue.” I whimpered quietly.
“Well you just called it food,” Preston protested. “Go on. It’ll keep you alive.”
I took a deep breath and flipped the beetle around so that its pincers were facing away from me. Without thinking, I threw the whole thing in my mouth. The sensation was so strange that I completely forgot to chew. I could feel the rough legs of the bug flailing around on my tongue and in a moment of panic, I bit down hard.
It popped like a grape but didn’t immediately stop moving. Although the initial taste was savory, the insides had the flavour of rotten fruit and vomit. I swallowed the remainder quickly and began to dry heave as the taste clung to the back of my throat. “Water...” I moaned. Preston passed me a nearly empty flask with only a couple of drops left. I downed it in one gulp and was left deeply unsatisfied.
“I guess it’s my turn then,” Preston said spitefully. He removed one of the fleshy beetles from the path and chomped it without warning. Knowing Preston, I thought for sure that he’d spit it out immediately. To my amazement, he kept it down with good composure and even reached down for another one. Not to be outdone I got myself a second beetle and repeated the process. After we ate nearly six fat beetles each, we walked off, feeling slightly more energetic and thoroughly disgusted.
The strange creature in my head pressed against my thoughts constantly, studying everything with a depressing lack of curiosity or inquisition. Occasionally, I could feel it riffling my memories with boredom, examining every fragile moment of my life with something close to disdain. I tried to communicate with it, but it appeared as unresponsive as before, disregarding my existence altogether. I eventually turned my attention back to Preston.
“When did you first find out you had... Well you know... Those abilities?” I asked him uncertainly.
“It was literally a day after we were thrown into the Clog, I was tripped by one of the other boys and got bruised on my hands and knees. Within seconds everything just fixed itself like that,” Preston said, clicking his fingers for emphasis. “There was an elder nearby who had seen this happen. Didn’t even talk to me. Just flew me out of the Clog and into a room with the Caterwaul.” My pulse quickened.
“You met the single most powerful man in existence? Just over a couple of bruises?” Caterwaul Lorenzo never bothered to stoop to the presence of Ickle-Bits. He appeared only when serious trouble was about. Preston shrugged half-heartedly. “Apparently, every new tier one pronounced member is supposed to get his approval before training can commence.”
“What did you have to do?” I asked, glancing up at him.
Preston stopped suddenly and grimaced. Fretting slightly, he slowly moved back the sleeve of his right arm, revealing a deep set scar around his wrist. “He made you cut yourself?” I recoiled.
Preston nodded bitterly. Alarmed, I instinctively reached out to feel the deep set estuary carved into his skin, but held myself back at the last second. “Why didn’t it heal all the way?” I asked while regaining my composure.
“The cut was deep. And I had used a lot of my energy healing those earlier wounds.”
I nodded quickly, suddenly anxious to change the subject. “And how is it outside The Clog?” I asked as I resumed the hike. Preston considered this.
“For a while it feels like you’re the center of the world. Everyone wants to know who you are and what you can do. If a couple of weeks go by and nothing extraordinary happens, you’re promptly forgotten about, and even made fun of.” Preston shrugged. “They throw you a sword, expecting you to fight. They throw you a book, expecting you to learn. You disappoint the Grimlars in any one of those regards, you find out fairly quickly it’s not so different from The Clog.”
“I imagine the food is better though,” I sighed wistfully. Preston almost laughed.
“Don’t talk about food right now. I feel sick just thinking about it.” An uncomfortable silence overtook us, as our weary breathing and rumbling stomachs became the only sounds present within the calm wooded enclosure around us. Eventually it was Preston who spoke.
“How did you get so sick in the first place? Was it really an enchantment?” he asked with wide eyed fascination.
My thoughts grinded to a halt. Did I honestly want to tell him about what I thought I drank? What if I was wrong? What if the Grimlars used him to find out how I survived? Lying quickly, I made up a brief story about being poisoned by one of the Grimlars creations. Preston nodded, and much to my relief stopped questioning.
We mounted the first major hill and my eyes unfocused as a vast batch of canyons materialized in front of us. With startling comprehension, I realized that the only way we could advance was if we scaled the side of the cliff on our left. A small ledge winded it’s way around the edge of the raveens, protruding out no more than a foot at maximum.
“We have to double back,” Preston urged.
I shook my head. “We have no time. There’s a direct route in front of us. Even if we did have the time, we certainly wouldn’t have the energy.”
“I don’t like heights,” Preston whimpered as he took another step back.
I shuddered at the fear in his voice, and cursed myself for the agony I would be causing him. Preston had said the same thing the time I made him climb the tree outside the orphanage. He ended up breaking his arm and that was on me. Could I honestly risk even more than that? Ignoring this empathy, I reluctantly kept the logic of my plan stronger than my emotions. “Preston, this is our only hope,” I insisted urgently.
Preston said nothing, and seemed engrossed in the height we were standing at. “Preston, I will be by your side the entire time. That I can swear,” I said, extending a hand. Preston limply shook it, and gave a huge shuddering intake of breath. He looked near insane. I took the first step, experimentally prodding the little land present with the heel of my boot. Preston and I had tied our rucksacks to our fronts, so we could press all of our weight against the wall of the cliff. Slowly inching my way out. I jerked my head for Preston, who shook his head in definite disagreement. I jerked my head a little more, before pointing to the sinking sun. Preston looked from me to the return path, before finally conceding, and joining me on the edge. Speaking in a calm reassuring voice, I began to monologue a relaxing mantra, giving him assurance where I had none. Aside from an occasional whimper, Preston was very compliant and followed every step I took in unison.
“I'm hungry Jacob,” Preston whimpered while fervently clutching his side. “So hungry.”
“Preston you can’t think about that,” I demanded. “It is crucial you focus on my words, and nothing else do you understand?” Pr
eston gave no response. “Preston do you understand!?” I shouted. Preston let out with a single sob, but bobbed his head nonetheless. Seeing the expression on his face was just as much torture for me as it was for him. I wanted to break down and weep for his sake, but was held back by empty determination.
Only a single slip between life and death on the rock, and we were hungry, half dead, and
scared. The sudden realization winded me, causing me to loose my balance for a split second. I fell into an enhanced state of concentration, where every little itch, every little thought, was amplified ten times over. I blinked twice, trying to wet my incredibly dry eyes. “Stay focused on my voice Preston,” I directed, desperate to keep any fear out of my voice. I looked over and saw Preston was stopped, awkwardly fumbling with his feet. Glancing around it seemed that we were about halfway there. “Preston, grab the wall with your right hand, and then move your right foot past your left.”
“I... I can’t!” he insisted desperately.
“You can!”
“I’ll be leaning too far forwards, I’ll fall!” His hands jutted violently as they fumbled around the jagged rock face behind him. As if all time had condensed to one moment; I saw the flaw in his step. I saw the way his body lurched forward, and I saw the horror slathered on his face. The heat from my head flooded out of me and into my arms as a startling primal instinct welled up into me. Yellow spots danced in my vision as my the vivid energy pulsed out of my fingertips. The rock surrounding my feet crumbled outward in a way that extended the ledge, forming a perfect semicircle around me. Somehow, someway, I had made one foot of land turn into five. Preston fell to his knees, gasping. I rushed to his side, and as I did so, the rock shifted around me with perfect coordination. I stared uncomprehendingly at this new rock I made.
Another moment passed and I realized that I wasn’t creating new rock, but somehow stretching the existing surface. Preston met my gaze before slowly standing up to meet me. Through a period of five seconds he went from terror to disbelief, to anger, to joy, and then back to disbelief. I collapsed beside him and began trembling to the bone. I could feel a paralysing cold washing over me like a river, but in my chest there was a new kind of warmth. For the first time in my life, I was proud of myself. A startling second passed where I could almost imagine myself becoming a Grimlar and living in the palace above everyone else. As quickly as that terrible thought came though, it vanished.
“Preston,” I spoke in a weak whisper. “I've done it.”
Preston nodded in agreement and forced my weak unresponsive limbs onto his shoulder where he hoisted me up. Wherever we chose to move, the contortion of the rock face would follow, extending and then sliding back to its original shape. Through the corner of my vision, A pair of deep yellow eyes floated by like a smudge on perfectly transparent glass. These were eyes of the creature, I realized suddenly.
“Thank you.” I wheezed in my most sincere voice. Neither Preston nor the being made any direct acknowledgement of this praise, but both seemed to brighten a little. As the land surrounding us opened up, I slowly willed the surge of energy coursing through me to die down. Dimly observing my surroundings, I noted a small stream of water which I greedily drank from at until I could hold no more. Although my belly was still hungry, it felt good to at least have something filling it.
“I could have just died,” Preston stated morbidly. He stroked his arms slowly, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Embarrassed, I said nothing and instead turned bright red. Preston stared at me agape as if he expected me to say something. “Jacob, given slightly different circumstances I wouldn’t be here now.”
“Well, that didn’t happen though... did it?” I concluded, slowly looking up. Preston’s soft gaze clouded with a cold haze. He considered me with somber eyes.
“You put all your faith in this,” he said, gesturing to the canyons behind us. “You risked this, without considering anything else.” Preston’s head sunk low, and he began to whisper in a barely audible tone. “I understand where you’re coming from Jacob, but you can’t rely on luck like that.”
“You think I didn’t know how you felt?” I shouted, quickly bringing myself upright. Preston shrank back a few paces. “You think I wasn’t worried for your sake Preston? If I had fallen, it’s entirely possible I couldn’t have mustered the strength to save myself.” I left my mouth unhinged to continue, but suddenly realized that my volume had doubled. I quickly closed it and sighed quietly. “What is my life compared to yours Preston?” I asked before withdrawing a damp pebble from the river brook. “For you, there is so much I can do. So much to protect and so much to cherish. It’s no wonder that I found the energy to move a mountain for you Preston. But me?” I chuckled bitterly and threw the stone into the canyon. “How can I save something that’s already gone?”
Preston’s complexion eased. “You’re acting like all life isn’t equal. That’s what the Grimlars want you to think.” Preston placed his hands behind his back and slowly swayed on the spot. “No matter what you think, you need to always consider the other choice
“But we didn’t have a choice!” I insisted stubbornly.
“You didn’t have a choice,” Preston corrected. “I did.” The way in which Preston calmly countered all my points with a little less than a blink was an eerie reminder that this was someone, who unlike myself, had received nearly five years of education in a classroom. I resented him for it.
“Jacob, You need to remember that it was my choice to follow you. You could say that I followed you because survival is more likely with two people. You could say I risked my life for you because I want to survive. But the real reason I did all of that is because we’re a team.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” I responded weakly.
“Then don’t risk me,” Preston insisted.
I sighed with something close to defeat, and slowly began gathering all my belongings. We wordlessly saddled our bags, before trotting out. Despite the proximity of the river, the plant life around us appeared to be near dead. Remains of the snowstorm appeared present in the higher altitude, where large splotches of the ice remained even despite the sunlight.
“You do know that If we survive we’ll be living together, just like old times?” I asked suddenly.
Preston beamed, although didn’t say anything. Immediately after I had said this though, I had to consider what the Grimlars would think if I came out: Would they assume I had cheated? Would they have any evidence to show I got outside help? Would they connect this to Professor Wenchenberg somehow? Would they be able to prosecute me when even I didn’t know what was happening?
Everything I had seen so far made me think that that I had become one of the Quenched. I survived against all odds and that truth made me both slightly nauseous and giddy from excitement. How did the soul wind up in my possession? That wasn’t logical. The professor should have sold something as valuable as this, assuming of course it was his to sell. The professor could have drunk it himself, yet he didn’t. Did he not trust himself to survive? If that were the case, why on earth would he give it to me?
The deep eyes of the dragon gazed at me from just above my line of sight as I thought about all of this.
“You need a name,” I remarked, looking to him for confirmation.
“Why?” The eyes growled.
I flinched, not expecting to hear a response. “Well... We’re a part of each other now... It seems only natural.” Immediately after I had said this, a thick roar of denial came from the creature, screaming obscenities at me. Instinctively, my hands flew up to my ears, however that didn’t stop the noise in the slightest. After the rage of the creature settled only slightly, he began to address me personally.
“Listen well. Jacob Ofpacis; mortal,” he spat, putting extra emphasis on the last word. “There is little you could do to ever assure me that we are one. Furthermore, there is no reason that a little runt like you should ever name an immortal figure like me.” The deep yellow eyes grew i
n size for every word until they obscured a large portion of my vision.
“I thought you said you were dead,” I commented, recovering quickly from the sudden emotional storm. The glare of the eyes deepened. “I am immortal,” he repeated dryly.
“You need a name either way. Would you like to choose one yourself?”
But the creature wasn’t paying attention anymore. He strayed off into the distance and continued to ignore me. As Preston and I walked together in weary silence, I distracted myself from the intense pains of hunger, by considering names for the creature in my head.
“Vlast was the name of the general who lead the war against the god Dormmtok,” I remarked while looking up.
The eyes deliberately withheld a response, however despite this I could tell that they were listening with great intent.
“Rabotat was the Pilgrim explorer who discovered the kingdom of Zaphris.”
The eyes, although nonspeaking, conveyed dislike for the two names. It seemed obvious I would have to try harder.
Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) Page 6
