The Chronicles of Trellah, Book One: The Perpetual Rain

by T. S. Graham

  Sophina followed the others off to the right, where they began a lateral trek along a slope that was encrusted with crunchy, coral-like growths. The growths soon grew slick with moisture, and she looked up to find that the snow line now bulged out almost over their heads. Enormous fingers of ice hung beneath it, each dripping a shower of water onto the rocks below. Sophina almost jumped out of her skin when one of them snapped loose and shattered onto the nearby rocks with a potent crack!

  They climbed over a slippery rock face, and suddenly, Sophina stopped cold. Before her was a shadow-line as stark as the one that bordered the Forest of the Dead. From this point on, the sun would be blocked by the mountain’s hulking mass.

  “I can’t go this way,” she said, a touch of panic tickling her psyche. “There’s no wood to make torches.”

  “He can’t follow you here,” Mrs. Tanner assured her, referring to the old sailor. “Look into the valley. Do you see that strip of sunlight between us and the swamp forest? As long as a sliver of it remains, he can’t get to you.”

  “But what if there are already necrahs on that side of the mountain?” Sophina asked as she again faced the looming shadow-line.

  “Remember, only a watcher can sense where a person is,” Mrs. Tanner reminded her. “Normal necrahs never stray far from their resting place, even at night. We’ll be fine as long as we reach the treeline and build a fire before nightfall.”

  “There’s nothing normal about any necrah.”

  “No, I don’t suppose there is,” agreed Mrs. Tanner.

  Feeling just safe enough, Sophina stepped into the shadow. A chill permeated her body as she saw that the terrain ahead was even more imposing than what they had traversed so far, with alternating gullies and jagged outcroppings of rock stretching out for miles below the listing ice. Thankfully, a request from Jantu quieted her thoughts.

  “Tell me of your home,” he asked. “Kate does not speak of it.”

  “Thomasville?” Sophina wasn’t used to having someone show interest in her tiny speck of a town. “It’s okay I guess, if you like outdoorsy stuff.”

  “Out—doorsy?”

  Jantu’s creased brow reminded Sophina that she wasn’t speaking with a normal teenager. She decided to keep things simple.

  “Outdoorsy means activities that you do outside—not inside your home or some other building.”

  Judging from the look on his face, her definition didn’t help much.

  “I just meant that there aren’t a lot of things for kids my age to do.”

  “I do not understand,” said Jantu flatly. “You are a strong female—strong enough to weave cloth and gather all of the plantings to feed your family. How do you have nothing to do?”

  Sophina couldn’t stifle her giggle. Hearing those words come from the mouth of someone so young sounded strange indeed.

  “My words are a joke?” Jantu asked, looking more perplexed than ever. “I did not mean them to be.”

  “I know you didn’t,” said Sophina with a smile. “That’s why it was funny. Most women from my world would be angry to hear a man say what you did.”

  “But you are not angry.”

  “No, because I know you didn’t mean to upset me.”

  “These women you speak of . . . why would my words anger them, when they were meant to be kind?”

  “Because life is different where I come from,” she explained. “Women can do anything men do, and they don’t like being told that a job is just for them—like weaving cloth, or gathering the plantings.” She had an especially difficult time keeping a straight face while repeating the last part.

  Jantu’s brow furrowed more with each point Sophina made.

  “So, your women fight when Thomasville is attacked by your enemies?”

  Sophina now understood why Mrs. Tanner didn’t engage in such conversations. The cultural gap was too wide for full understanding to be attained; one question led to countless more. But as long as the tenor remained cordial, she thought that no harm could come of it.

  “Wars are also different in my world,” she explained patiently. “Where I live, we don’t worry about being attacked.”

  “No?” Jantu reacted with surprise. “Are your defenses so strong that your enemies do not dare challenge you?”

  “It’s not like that at all,” answered Sophina. “We just don’t attack each other. There are places in my world where it happens—just not where I live. We don’t even have walls around our cities.”

  “But . . . with no walls on which to build fires, how do you stop the necrahs when the sun moves to different lands?”

  “There are no necrahs in my world, so we don’t need fires to protect us.” She thought the concept of invisible ghosts would be too much for Jantu to absorb, so she left it at that.

  Jantu pondered what he had heard as they skirted a glistening boulder. “Your Thomasville is a place I would like to live,” he said with a faraway look, “if our laws did not forbid it.”

  “I’d love to show it to you. . . . Too bad it’ll never happen.”

  “Yes, too bad.”

  A flurry of grunts drew their attention up to the snow line where a pack of stout, woolly animals leapt about on the ice. Coiled white hair covered their bodies, except for three hooked talons on each foot that gripped the terrain. Even their eyes were covered, making Sophina wonder how they avoided collisions, or plummeting over the edge.

  She turned to ask Jantu if he knew anything about these curious creatures when a hand pressed over her mouth, and she was dragged backwards into a gully. She struggled for an instant, but froze when Mrs. Tanner whispered into her ear: “Be still—if you want our friends to live.”

  11 THE WRATH OF THE UMBYANS

  Mrs. Tanner released Sophina and pointed to a row of purple plants that lined the rim of the gully. Sophina peered through a gap in the flora. It didn’t take long for her to see what the others already had.

  At the base of a steep slope, a small army of vrahkoles were gathered around a crystal-blue pool. They were surrounded by a dozen grahdors, all pawing nervously at the giant slabs of rock that jutted over the spring.

  “They have set a trap for us,” Talfore whispered. “There are too many to defeat—even for you.”

  Sophina knew what the vrahkoles’ presence here meant: Any hope of finding Eliot today was dashed. They had no choice but to retreat back into the valley for the night.

  “Are you sure it’s a trap?” Mrs. Tanner asked. “They don’t look ready for battle.”

  Sophina studied the gathering of reptilian warriors. A handful of them stood guard, but most just sat upon woolen blankets that were spread out on the rocks. Many were even lying down. And was that blood trickling down the neck of the one who was slumped on a grahdor’s back? The vrahkoles that stood wore Protector’s cloaks, but the rest wore garments that were made from the fleece of the creatures she and Jantu had just observed on the ice. Perhaps Mrs. Tanner had a point.

  “—Graw!—”

  Sophina’s heart somersaulted in her chest as Tahra bared his teeth to the sky. She spun on her heels, expecting to see a vrahkole mounted on a grahdor, swooping down on them from above. But instead her vision was filled with something even more horrific: a prehistoric monster with wings of skin and bone. Its red, deep-set eyes glared at her through two holes in its facial exoskeleton. Its throat and underbelly were studded with white scales that were stained with the blood of its prior victims.

  A blast of cold air slapped Sophina’s face as the beast beat its wings and reared up before her, coiling its barbed tail into the air like a cobra preparing to strike.

  In a flash, the point of Talfore’s ivory weapon split a gap in the creature’s belly scales—just as the point of its lethal tail sliced through the rock over Sophina’s head.

  A heinous snarl filled the gully as an arc of green blood gushed from the super-predator’s stomach and spattered onto the rocks at Sophina’s feet, filling her nose with the biting reek of sulfur
. The brute lashed its devilish tail again, missing her face by inches as it lurched back from the furrow and nosedived down the face of Mount Vahkar, belting its horrible cry as it went.

  Sophina would have stood there to watch this freak of nature fly away if not for Mrs. Tanner reining her in for a second time. In the chaos of the attack she had forgotten about the vrahkoles. She looked through the plants to find three of them loping on all fours up the slope, their cloaks flapping violently behind them.

  She pressed her back against the concave wall of the gully as the vrahkoles landed upon its rim, sending a sprinkle of pebbles onto her head. She glanced at Tahra, terrified that he would yelp and reveal their precarious hiding spot. But he remained still on Jantu’s shoulder, his intelligent eyes fixed on his master’s outstretched finger.

  The vrahkoles growled to each other in their animalistic tongue and then fell silent. Seconds later, one of them bellowed a wretched cry before all three retreated down the slope. Sophina stood up and watched as the entire vrahkole army clambered onto the backs of their grahdors and, one by one, prodded them to take flight. Soon the entire lot streaked downward into the valley, following the same route as the barb-tailed monster.

  “They’re behaving like something scared them,” Mrs. Tanner observed. “But why are they flying north when their caves are to the west?”

  “Vrahkoles do not scare easily,” said Talfore. “When they do, it is for good reason. We should leave this place.”

  “Grannu, Tahra. Grannu,” praised Jantu as his companion ruffled the dust from his coat. Sophina had suspected from the start that Tahra was highly intelligent, but only now did she realize just how advanced he was. Jantu had given Tahra a command with his finger—a command to be silent—and he had followed it flawlessly. Without a doubt, her affinity for this odd little creature had just blossomed into full-blown affection.

  Tahra saw Sophina looking his way and hopped onto her shoulder as they made their way down to the deserted pool. The vrahkoles had abandoned a motley assortment of possessions, including stonecutting tools, woolen blankets, and several skinned animal carcasses that hung from contraptions that resembled giant sawhorses.

  “The vrahkoles weren’t waiting for us,” said Mrs. Tanner. “This group has been living here for a long ti—”

  Mrs. Tanner’s voice was cut short. Sophina turned to find her teacher listing to the side, her eyes bulging.

  “Mrs. Tanner—what’s wrong?”

  Mrs. Tanner reached to her neck, where a boldly painted dart was sunk into her skin. “Pull up . . . your h-h-hood,” she forced out, almost too weak for Sophina to hear.

  Fffffwap . . .

  Sophina felt the sting of a dart’s impact below her left ear. She reached to pull it out, but her arm already felt like a dead weight on her shoulder. She turned to Talfore and Jantu only to find them slumped onto the rocks. She tried to call out to them, but no words formed as a dreadful numbness spread over her face and tongue.

  The world turned sideways as Sophina’s head hit the rigid ground without sound or pain. By chance she faced Mrs. Tanner, who stared back at her with unblinking eyes.

  She’s dead, Sophina told herself. She’s dead, Talfore and Jantu are dead, and you’re dying, too. She felt detached from this voice in her head, as if someone else was thinking for her.

  There was no sense of panic, for the dart’s poison had deadened her mind as well as her body. The thought of dying this way was actually a relief. Better to check out this way—oblivious and without pain—than to have perished any one of the brutal ways she had somehow managed to avoid since arriving in this cruel place.

  Sophina smiled on the inside as the landscape blurred into a swirl of browns and grays, proud of herself for having kept a level head until the very end.

  Something moved before her eyes: a distorted figure, crouching down in slow motion. A set of pasty lips materialized out of the haze. The lips grimaced as they moved closer, revealing two rows of triangular teeth that dripped milky saliva.

  The teeth closed around Sophina’s face, and her world went black.

  * * *

  Sophina wasn’t sure if it was a dream, or if this was just what happened when you died. She floated upward as the world flashed from light to dark. It was as if her eyes were opening and closing under their own power, revealing glimpses of an all-encompassing red glow.

  Maybe this is the light, she mulled as she floated along. She had read that upon surviving a near-death experience, countless people claimed they’d seen a bright light, one that was overwhelming in brilliance yet not painful to look at. Those same people had described a floating sensation that had transported them to—and eventually through—that light. On the other side they were met by loved ones who had passed on before them.

  Sophina had always scoffed at such stories. Science has shown that strange things happen when the brain is deprived of oxygen. Seeing lights? Having images of deceased family and friends flash before your eyes? Feelings of euphoria? She knew all these things could be explained through the lens of basic physiology, without having to delve into the spiritual realm.

  Or could they?

  Maybe you were wrong, she told herself. What if their experiences were real?

  If it was true, then what would happen when she crossed over? Would her dad be there, waiting for her with open arms? Perhaps Eliot would be there, too. If he wasn’t, he would be soon, given that there wouldn’t be anyone left to save him.

  Then, Sophina felt something that derailed any hope of a reunion: chills. They formed in patches on her cheeks and forehead, and the feeling was spreading fast.

  Another pulse of light stimulated her eyes. This time, she saw more than just the indiscernible red glow; she also saw blotches of white and brown.

  With the next flash, the colors took on the shapes of rippled ice formations and towering cliffs of stone. As Sophina glided beneath these natural wonders, she realized that the cold on her face was actually a bitter wind. There was also a tingling in her feet and hands. And was that her finger that just twitched?

  Her thoughts grew more lucid as her body continued to float. She wasn’t dead, but she was a captive. The dart’s toxin had induced total paralysis of her body and mind. Even if her friends had survived, they were no doubt in the same predicament.

  And now she was aware of something else: Hands were gripping her from below—hands with long, bony fingers wrapped around her legs and arms and pressed beneath her neck and spine. If her suspicions were correct, these were the hands of the Umbyans, inhabitants of the Ice City and sworn enemies of Trellah.

  Stay calm, she told herself. If they wanted you dead, they’d have killed you already. They must need you for something, and that can only be to your advantage.

  Darkness enveloped Sophina as a fibrous sack was pulled over her head. Deep voices emanated from below as she was carried upwards at a sharp angle for several minutes. There was a harsh tug as her arms were pulled over her head and her wrists were bound with coarse rope. She could move if she wanted to, but wasn’t yet strong enough to attempt an escape.

  Don’t tip them off, she reasoned. If they see that you’re awake they’ll stick you with another dart—and then you’ll be done for sure.

  Thousands of voices burbled in from every direction as she was turned upright. It wouldn’t be long now before she’d have the strength to break her restraints, but would it come too late?

  A raucous cheer exploded from the unseen crowd as Sophina was hoisted up by her arms with a heavy tug.

  “Grahna!” boomed a nearby voice.

  The sack was yanked from Sophina’s head—and her vision was filled with the same mouthful of razor-sharp teeth that had bitten down on her as she’d slipped into oblivion.

  “Grahna Umbya!” bellowed the mouth, sending a blast of rancid breath over her face.

  “Umbya!” responded the still-invisible crowd.

  Sophina focused on the face that surrounded the mouth. Jet-black
eyes stared at her from below a single, grossly protruding brow, and two golden horns jutted from a domed, powder-white forehead. Framing these surreal features was a mane of salt-and-pepper hair that arced around the creature’s malformed head like a stiff-bristled broom.

  “Um-by-ya! Um-by-ya!” growled the pasty-faced monster, thrusting a bony finger toward Sophina. The throng joined the chant as she realized she was at the center of an enormous coliseum of ice and stone, its towering bleachers filled to capacity with wild-haired Umbyans. As expected, she had seen their likeness before: in the etchings of the Elders’ chamber.

  But the Umbyans in the stands bore little resemblance to the razor-toothed freak that now pumped his fist in the air to incite their fervor. In fact, they were quite human in appearance. Apart from their albino skin and hair, they looked no different from the people she had seen back in Trellah.

  “Can you move yet?” called a weak voice through the vociferous chants.

  Sophina turned to find that Mrs. Tanner was dangling beside her, hands bound to a corroded metal hook with a frayed rope. And that’s when she noticed what lay beneath their feet. They were suspended over a round, rock-walled pit. Like Mrs. Tanner, the only thing stopping Sophina from falling fifty feet or more to the hollow’s sandy floor was the rope that fastened her hands to a hook. Both hooks hung from a wooden arm that was attached to the arena wall with thick metal brackets.

  “I can feel my legs,” Mrs. Tanner continued, “but nothing else.”

  “I think I can break the rope,” replied Sophina over the din.

  “Wait,” suggested Mrs. Tanner. “Do you see the guards up there? They’ll put a dart in your neck before you can pull the hood over your head. You have to wait for the right moment.”

  A dozen guards stared at them from a network of stone catwalks, each with a tubular gun in hand. Their faces were hideously misshapen, all in different ways; each one was unique and horrifying, but they all had the same black eyes.