by Marc Secchia
Dragon lore suggested that there were further nuances related to draconic affinities for particular gemstones or metallic qualities which impacted this basic alignment. Behaviour, decisions, diet and gemstone influences might modify a Dragon’s colour over time. Again, the orange and red spectra appeared to point to wickedness and depravity and the green, blue, indigo and violet end of the rainbow to progressively superior and more honourable Clans in the Dragon hierarchy.
More worryingly, Jesafion could not say where Dragons came from, or where they lived, apart from mentioning the mysterious Beyond.
All very straightforward.
Being chased in circles while running from certain death did rather focus one’s mind on the essentials, Zaranna discovered. Could a Dreamer die in her dream? In Illume’s opinion, unequivocally yes. So they ducked and dived and doubled back and travelled during the night and laid up in caves for days on end, and utterly failed to shake off the pursuit. Marvellous. Jesafion did not have any teleportation or invisibility spells handy – none, anyhow, that would not bring Rhenduror and his Dragonwing of merry stooges down on them like a hundred tonnes of molten lava.
The other essential she learned was the difference between intelligent magic creatures, non-intelligent magical creatures, and non-magical creatures. The sugar-ponies were the non-intelligent magical variety, although inquiring whether they were creatures or not earned her an hour’s diatribe on the philosophical sesquipedalians and quiddities of the average Pegasus scholar, by the end of which Zaranna would gladly have cast herself into Rhenduror’s jaws to escape Jesafion’s endless, eye-rolling, hoof-stomping holding forth. Sugar-ponies were a form of magical dust arising from pollen which formed and reformed itself into equine simulacra – a Pegasus technical term, Jesafion mentioned haughtily, not for use in everyday conversation – regardless of being stomped upon, sneezed into a million pieces, ingested or even passed through one’s digestive system to fertilise the Vale. As for doing one’s fertilisation in public, on the trot – Zaranna could not get used to that. Her modest disappearances behind bushes had Jesafion in further stitches.
But it was his very pontificating that landed them in the hottest waters yet.
By their fifth day on the run, they were both hollow-eyed from exhaustion and stumbling along. Jesafion had been teaching her how to track by smell that evening; in the semidarkness, Zaranna stumbled upon what she took for Darkwolf Clan spoor. The Pegasus took it upon himself to correct her mistake at great volume. Next they knew, a chorus of wolf-howls broke out around them.
“Earthen Fires!” Jesafion exclaimed, driving the dark wolves back with a sweep of his horn-fire.
Zaranna stomped on the boldest wolf, sending it yelping back to Mommy. Close enough, anyhow. “Next time, keep your ruddy voice down.”
“I’ll deal with these craven –”
GRRRAAARRGGHH!
Flame exploded in the forest, turning a stand of tall yellow bottlebrush trees into torches.
No more argument. Flee! They skittered away, only to run into a line of Twisted sweeping through the forest toward them. Closing the net, Zaranna realised. Forcing them to turn toward the mountainside, where they would run out of space and options.
Jesafion reared, casting a spray of his fire in their faces.
“This way!” Zaranna whinnied.
“Can’t … see!” the Pegasus tried to ding a tuft-crowned tree with his skull.
“What?” She whirled, dodging a mass of flying ropes aimed at her head. “Quickly, with me!”
They charged up a short slope, Jesafion keeping his muzzle to her flank as she ran. Crashing through a thicket of tartar-berry bushes, they suddenly burst out into the open. With a cry, Zaranna spurred him across the narrow meadow. They dived like a pair of frightened deer into the woods on the far side. Sulphurous flame exploded behind them. A chorus of howls rose into the night. Leathery wings whooshed overhead as Dragons searched the forest.
“They’re all around us,” Jesafion gasped.
“What’s wrong with your eyes?”
The Pegasus howled as he plowed straight through a thorn bush. “No night vision as yet.”
“When were you going to tell me?” They could not run shoulder to shoulder. The trees were too closely spaced for that. “Bite my tail,” Zaranna ordered. He hesitated. “Do it, near the end. And whatever you do, hang on!”
They ran further, linked by her tail which was being masticated between his teeth, but soon realised that the Darkwolf Clan, together with the support of two Red Dragons, had partially encircled them, leaving upslope as the only viable option. Each time they approached the line, a chorus of yips and howls alerted the Dragons, who seemed bent on setting the entire forest alight. Zaranna had no desire to become a roast rack of ribs. She pulled Jesafion along as rapidly as possible, trying to instinctively follow the lay of the land. Did she scent magic? Just a hint of jasmine on the gentle night-breeze, and the faint flutter of butterfly wings in her mind? She feared to unleash another round of Storm-Pegasi upon these creatures, because her previous bout of destruction appeared to have led directly to the pickle they were in now. Besides, this magical scent was different. Evocative, like a smell or impression that reminded her of a place long forgotten.
“Higher,” she urged the Prince. “Stick with me.”
“What are you planning to do, fly off the slope?” he groaned.
She definitely felt something now, a sensation like singing heard by invisible ears. “We need to break through – back to the North!”
Giving him no chance to protest, Zaranna changed direction. Wolves fanned out across their path, slinking low to the ground as they stalked the pair of equines. “Hit them hard, Jesafion!”
Fire spurted past her shoulder. A Twisted half-wolf spun away from her, howling in pain. Suddenly, a gully appeared almost beneath her hooves! “Jump!”
At speed, they jumped almost fifteen feet and landed in a flash of sparking hooves on a huge, steeply sloping granite boulder. Zaranna charged up and onto the top before she could think the better of her craziness, but Jesafion baulked slightly, making his hooves slip on the treacherous incline. Instinctively, she thought of what she had done to her mother. The Pegasus’ fall arrested and reversed; with a scramble and a clatter of hooves, he joined her at the top, panting and rolling his eyes wildly.
Snarling, “Follow!” Zaranna led the way into a very narrow gully that cut into the mountain at this point. Perhaps it had been a fault-line, she did not know, but it was barely wide enough for Jesafion to pass through, and at least a hundred feet deep. His flanks scraped both sides in places. Even had he wanted to, there could have been no turning around.
Behind, a chorus of confused howls and snarls assaulted the night.
“I think we lost them!” Jesafion congratulated her.
“Don’t count your chickens before they’re barbecued,” Zaranna gasped. “One fireball down this gap …”
She pushed as quickly as possible along the sandy floor, twisting and turning, scrambling up low steps where needed and once, a ledge that stood mid-chest to her. The sounds of pursuit fell further behind, but they both knew it was only a matter of moments before the wolves scented their trail.
“It ends here,” Zaranna realised.
“We’re trapped!”
“No, my Prince,” she puffed, wheezing from effort and surprise. “We’ve found – I don’t know what we’ve found.”
Right at the end of the passage was a tiny, perfectly circular dell no more than twelve feet across. Embedded in the rock directly opposite was a stone archway which appeared to contain nothing but the blackest stone she had ever seen. The archway was adorned with intertwined, stylised vines, each forming a long sentence written in a script unfamiliar to Zaranna. She sensed and smelled magic of great age, for that was the impression this place gave her, a musty smell, lichens encrusted on the rocks, the timelessness of the rocky walls rising high above their heads. She realised she stood on a
portico of finely-crafted tile, depicting a scene half-covered in leaves and sand, of Pegasi and Unicorns engaged in battle against a mighty enemy that appeared to be a many-headed Hydra or serpent, as best she could tell.
Jesafion made a slight whistling noise between his teeth. “Well, my nettlesome wisp, you appear to have discovered a hitherto unknown ancient causeway. We call these tui-holikya in the ancient tongue of equine scholars, or an Inter-Vale Safeway, if you prefer the modern term.”
“Which is?” she prompted.
“I wonder where this leads?” he mused.
A scrabbling noise echoed up the narrow entryway. Paws. Now a howl as the wolves gave tongue like hounds upon a hunt.
“Do we have any choice?” she asked.
The Pegasus added quickly, “These Safeways connect Vale to Vale, Zaranna. Usually they are guarded and patrolled by Pegasi, because what lives inside – believe me when I say, the ancient warning holds true. Look, it is written here on this vine.”
He pointed with his horn, and read:
You go where horses fear to tread,
Where nightmares live,
In everlasting dread.
“This is the realm of souls, Zaranna. The place where nightmares take real form and substance, and gallop among us.”
“Do you think this is how the Hooded Wizard’s minions are reaching Sentalia Vale?” she asked.
“They’ve never been able to use Safeways before,” replied the Pegasus. “Constructing one is a lost art. If this is possible, we’re in deeper trouble than I imagined. We must travel through. It behoves us to investigate and find out the truth; besides, I’d prefer to take my chances inside rather than being eaten for certain out here.”
For once, a dollop common sense from the Princely One.
With that, he stepped forward and plunged into the darkness with the ease of a fish slipping into water. Not rock, she realised. A kind of portal. It was Zaranna’s turn to hesitate, but the light brightening around her told her hooves what her brain did not have time to process. She leaped forward, evading a huge fireball as it thundered down behind her, its fire outlining an archway that had already begun to recede into the distance.
Jesafion had vanished. She was alone.
The darkness lumped together, and surged toward her.
Chapter 11: Hidden Ways
GRIevous tears poured unceasing from the springs of her eyes. Zaranna knew she would never be whole again.
“Alex will never come back to you,” said her father, patting her back. “Don’t worry, I’ve arranged for one of my agents to poison him. That’s what he deserves for breaking your heart, Sprite.”
“But I didn’t –”
“He broke up with you, darling.”
“Alex!”
The patting become harder. “He was seeing another girl. A pretty girl, with real legs.”
“No …” Her world crashed in around her. “He wouldn’t!”
“He’s just like his father. Do you really know what he’s doing all those nights he says he’s working? Have you asked?” The patting was closer to thumping now, smashing her against the bed with each blow. “You’re so trusting, Zaranna. It’s all in the genes.”
“No, he – father?”
“Do I look like your father?” Rhenduror laughed. “Oh, forgive me for being so cold and unfeeling toward you. All those business trips. All that spying – lies, all of it. Your father doesn’t love you or your mother.”
The paw crushed her lungs so that she could not speak. Her neck-vertebrae ground together, creaking under the strain. “Listen to me, Wizard-daughter. There are worse fates than losing your legs. I could rip your arms off, one by one.”
He took up her left wrist almost delicately between two huge digits. Zaranna screamed, but his grip felt as if her bones were clamped in a vice. Slowly, the pressure increased. Her shoulder joint popped loose, the ligaments stretching, the pain shrieking, the nerves tearing … then, there was only darkness. Darkness and pain. Darkness and pain and piercing starlight …
She lay on the table in the dungeon, secured so tightly, she might as well have been cemented in place. Helplessly, she watched the Hooded Wizard testing the teeth of his dull blade. Then, he spoke.
“Zaranna. Dear, sweet Zaranna.”
“Alex? What the …”
He threw back the dark hood, laughing maliciously. His eyes were as red as blood. “The legs need to go. Doctor’s orders.”
“Alex! No!”
“You’ve been hiding so much from me, Zaranna. I despise lies, especially those coming from a girl who claims faith. Where is your faith now?” The saw winked in the dungeon’s dull light. “Tell me where to find the Imjuniel, Wizard-daughter.”
“Zaranna. Zara!” Another voice intruded.
“I can’t … I don’t have it … help, o God, help me –”
“Zaranna!”
“The train’s coming. You have to get out of the way!”
Susan said, “I’ll never leave you, preshki.” The train smashed into her body …
“Zaranna, you have to fight the dreams. Fight with me.”
She tried to crawl off the tarmac, but the rising howl of a motorbike did not slow. Alex! He must see her, he must … the wheels thundered over her spine. There was agony and amusement. Alex’s voice saying, “Got that on the camera, Kai? Or shall I do another run?”
“Alex …”
Light flared in her mind. Sweet light, that beckoned her as Illume’s light had obviated horror’s grip upon her psyche, bringing stillness and peace.
“Illume the Stars?”
“No, it’s Jesafion. Who are you talking about, Zaranna?”
All was darkness. Where was the light? “Uh … Jesafion? Sounding just as obnoxious as always. Is this really you? I’m not dreaming?”
“Pleased to hear you’re your usual obstreperous self, little filly,” he snorted. “You do know that Illume is a legendary elder of the Bluewing Clan, don’t you? Did I tell you that?”
“I dreamed about stars,” she whispered. Ugh, had she ever dreamed! “I’m fine now, Jesafion.”
“With you, that seems to be highly relative.”
Ouch. Twist the knife deeper, o Master of Indelicacy! Zaranna sucked in a deep breath. He could not know her mother’s fragile state, nor could he know the febrile fears in her mind. What might this Dreaming do to her? Was she getting proper sleep back on Earth? Was she scattering her marbles all over the proverbial floor, making her best speed toward a room in a psychiatric ward somewhere?
He said, “This place is similar to a dream. When we travel through an Inter-Vale Safeway, it is as though we travel into the realm of our dreams and fears, where the subconscious rules, and weaker minds must be protected by stronger. I assumed that with your magical skills, you would have no trouble with the nightmares. I was wrong and I apologise for my lack of foresight.”
She shook herself, trying to break the dark, clinging coils of those dreams. Ugh!
“Here is light,” the Pegasus added.
A point of light blossomed on his horn, pushing back the darkness, but not far. Zaranna found herself standing on what appeared to be a narrow ribbon of dark grey road, no more than ten feet wide; the sides fell away into depthless blackness, darker than any night. Their hoofbeats echoed as if in a cave, but she could make out neither ceiling nor walls, only the crowding, oppressive darkness that crawled about their small patch of radiance as though alive, as if waiting for the opportunity to leap upon them and snuff out the light of Jesafion’s horn as much as the light of their souls. As the Pegasus held his horn high, it only highlighted the disparity in their sizes. Zaranna thought she might be fifteen hands tall, but Jesafion was a massive twenty-two, if not more – taller than any horse she had ever seen or read about.
“We must walk,” he said unnecessarily.
They walked interminably. Now and again, the darkness seemed to coalesce and press in more intently, or a wintry chill would pass over, m
aking the equines press together fearfully. At these times, even the Paragon of Confidence, Jesafion, trembled palpably against her withers or neck. “Ancient powers,” he muttered repeatedly, casting menacing glances at the darkness. “Foul magic from the deepest Earthen Fires.” Did he mean demons, Zara wondered? Numerous times, she saw slimy tentacles and rope-like appendages sliding or slithering off the path ahead of them as the light approached, or heard the nearby beating of wings disturbing the air.
Safeways? What in the name of all holiness was safe about this place? Her courage seemed to slide away like rain falling on soft beach sand, her imagination playing tricks.
An interminable time later, at least four hours by her reckoning, the darkness before them refused to move. A creature of dark fires stood firm upon the road; although the path’s nature had not changed, she had the impression that this place was more a bridge over some unknowable abyss than what had been before. Apparently, Jesafion had missed the part in the script where they galloped away screaming in terror and hid under a rock for the rest of eternity, because this creature was a three-hundred foot troll which had broken out in black flame and now stood legs akimbo on his bridge, ready to eat unwary travellers. Clearly, the flame-beast was in a less than receptive mood.
Having no choice, she stuck to Jesafion’s side as though bonded by superglue.
The Pegasus approached as though he felt no fear; the creature’s fires seethed louder and higher the closer they moved, until it seemed to Zaranna they faced a living tower of fire, an unburning bonfire of the darkest flame. Its eyes were depthless slits of utter darkness, black holes that sucked in everything and gave back naught save the knowledge of measureless, ancient evil.
