by Rob Scott
Shrieking, she tried to tighten her thighs around the buttress, but she had slipped too far round. Reaching wildly, the fingers of her left hand found a strong handhold, but her right slipped across the smooth surface, finding nothing to slow her inexorable slide into the darkness.
Pull yourself up. You have to pull yourself up, because no one is coming to save you. Haul yourself back onto the beam. There are no other options.
Heaving with all her might, Hannah reached for the edge of the buttress, stretching as far up and out as she could without jeopardising the death-like grip she maintained with her left hand. If she could only catch that edge, she knew she could pull herself up far enough to swing a leg onto the lower slant of the beam; it wasn’t that far… but it was so cold and so dark. She was out here by herself, and somehow Hannah Sorenson knew she wasn’t strong enough to do it.
I can’t do it, oh God, I’m going to fall. Geronimo. Geronimo. Cesar Geronimo, played centre field for the ’75 Cincinnati Reds. I’m going to fall ‘Up here!’ The voice was gruff, impatient and angry.
Ohthankyouthankyouthankyou… The prison, yes, the prison will be fine. Please help me -
‘Take my hand.’
‘I can’t see you,’ she shouted, ‘I’m going to fall! I can’t reach you.’
‘I can’t come out there.’
‘Churn?’ Hannah tried to pull herself up, but her arms were failing. ‘Is that you, Churn? Did you just-?’
‘Hannah, reach up here for me.’
‘I can’t see you, I can’t move – this is all I can- come and get me, Churn, please; I can’t hang on here much longer.’
There was an agonising pause, until she heard, ‘All right. I’m coming.’
A few seconds later, she felt Churn reach down for her. His hand, dripping something, clamped like a vice around her forearm. He lifted her back onto the buttress with ease.
She hugged him and cried, ‘Thank you, oh, thank you, Churn. I know this must be terrible for-’ Her hands came to rest against three arrows protruding from his back. ‘You’re shot. Oh God, Churn, they shot you!’
‘Yes. I’m fine though,’ he lied. Hannah could see he was so stricken with vertigo he wouldn’t be able to move. She didn’t know if he even felt the arrows, because his fear of high places had completely overwhelmed him.
‘All right, we’ll do this together. Slide with me down-’
A muted thud cut her off; Churn winced and barked, a guttural cry that sent blood spewing from his mouth onto Hannah’s tunic. He had taken another arrow in the back, this one at point-blank range from an archer at the window. The Malakasians were firing down on them through the broken panes in the atrium.
‘Slide!’ she screamed, but Churn, even with four arrows in him, was quicker. He grabbed the small dagger she wore at her waist, turned halfway and threw it back through the window. Hannah watched as the knife buried itself to the hilt in the bowman’s chest.
It’s light and well-balanced, almost a throwing knife.
It bought them a handful of seconds to get down the buttress and leap to safety.
‘Here we go, Churn,’ she said calmly, ‘slide down, grip the stones and jump. Don’t think about it. Just do it. You and me, come on.’
‘Hannah, I can’t do it.’
‘I’m not leaving you up here alone, so let’s go.’
A dagger flew past her head in a poor imitation of Churn’s killing throw; another followed quickly behind the first. She didn’t know if the soldiers were trying to hit them or just to knock them off, but it was clear none of them wanted to step out onto the buttress. They shouted insults and threw more knives; they even made crude jokes while they waited for another archer to push through the crowded ranks.
Hannah took Churn’s hands in hers. ‘We have to try.’ A short sword glanced off her shoulder, slicing a gouge out of her flesh, but she barely noticed it. Behind them, Hoyt and Alen were shouting. Above, the soldiers were crying out and throwing anything they could find. To her right, Hannah heard more glass shatter; that would be the second archer. Their time had run out.
The world diminished in size. The cold dissipated. The wind died and the shouts faded. She and Churn stared into one another’s eyes and time slowed. Hannah whispered, ‘Please Churn. Please come with me.’
His eyes danced, as if in the glow of ten thousand campfires, and blood dripped from his chin. Hannah could see that at least one of the arrows had pierced his lung: he needed help right away. She wondered what Hoyt would be able to do for his best friend while they tried to make their escape. He would have to decide whether he was a healer or a thief. The irony of it made Hannah smile. ‘Come with me, Churn. Let’s go.’
He held out his fist. ‘One more time.’
‘Please Churn.’
‘One more time.’
Hannah shook her fist three times and extended two fingers.
Churn’s fist bounced three times and remained closed. He smiled, the blood staining his teeth almost black. ‘Rock breaks scissors. I win. Take care of Hoyt.’ He let go of her and tumbled from the buttress without a sound.
Hannah screamed as the world rushed back to envelop her in darkness, cold and wind. She was scarcely aware of her leap to the courtyard, and completely unaware of the Malakasian bowman who fired and barely missed as she jumped to safety.
And then there was nothing but confusion, turning right and left, running up and down staircases as Hoyt guided her along, his hand clasped firmly over the slash in her neck. Now Alen cast a spell that threw six guards back into the wall, knocking them senseless; there Hoyt used Hannah’s blood on his hands and clothes to convince a squad that the partisans were cornered in an empty chamber one flight up. On they went, running, walking, tiptoeing past open doorways and well-lighted windows, until they reached an exit that spilled out into the monsters’ encampment.
Hannah, too shocked still to cry at Churn’s death, whimpered that she didn’t want to go out there.
On the last set of stairs, they met two soldiers. Hoyt took charge. ‘Corporal Hannah has been injured fighting the prison fugitives,’ he said, pointing back the way they’d come. ‘One of them’s rutting huge, a monster! I’ve been ordered to get her to Colonel Strellek’s healer, but the main gate’s blocked.’
The soldiers nodded agreement. ‘You’ll need to stay here,’ Hoyt said, thinking fast, ‘there’ll be more wounded coming through: direct them to Colonel Strellek’s encampment out along the river. That’s the quickest way.’
The soldiers thanked him, held the gate open and wished Hannah well as she passed. Neither of them asked Alen about Milla and once outside, none of them were inclined to linger long enough to wonder why.
Blindly following Hoyt toward the Welstar River, Hannah, confused, bleeding and frightened, tried to remember the gruff timbre of Churn’s unused voice. It seemed important that she remember; Hoyt would want to know.
THE STAFF’S SECRET
‘Look out, Steven!’ Gilmour cried as he rushed forward take the brunt of the wraith attack on himself.
‘Steven!’ Mark shouted, and ran down into the meadow, followed closely by Garec, Kellin and Brand.
Steven raised a hand to the wraiths sweeping down on him – and Gabriel, Lahp and the young mother halted in midair, their ghostly arms reaching down for him. Steven looked up at them and said, ‘I’m sorry. This must be terrible for you. Wait here and I’ll do what I can when this is finished.’ He gestured towards the boulder at the river’s edge and the wraiths, still trying to break free, floated towards it. They hung there, immobile.
For the first time Steven detected a ripple of fear in Nerak and without pausing he lashed out at the dark prince, determined to exploit every weakness he could find. ‘You see? Even your slaves can’t obey you if I direct them otherwise.’ He allowed the magic to flow from both hands and it pounded into Bellan’s chest. The girl was hurled backwards through the air and crashed with a grim thud into the boulder. Blood discoloured the stone where her head crac
ked open.
Apparently unfazed by her fractured skull, Prince Malagon’s daughter rose up from where she had fallen and blasted a brutal spell at Steven and Gilmour. The blow sent both men sprawling; Gilmour rolled backwards over what had been one of the bone-collectors. Bellan stood looking down at the hickory staff, then picked it up, brushed the snow from it and held it close to her face.
Steven rolled to his feet and gestured for everyone to stay where they were, willing them to understand: I have this under control, he thought. Let them understand!
Alone, he crossed to Bellan.
‘It was not wise of you to give this up, Steven Taylor,’ Nerak said, still considering the staff.
‘Nerak’s weakness lies elsewhere,’ he replied. ‘That’s what Lessek told Gilmour, and he was right. Do you know where it lies? It lies right there in your hands, and you’re just too blazingly stupid to see it. We all were – all of us except Mark, thank Christ – but now it’s clear, and you… cannot… win.’
‘I already have, Steven Taylor. With this staff, you were the only one who could have stood against me. And with this staff and Lessek’s key, my quest is nearly complete.’
‘Look closely at it, Nerak.’ Steven wanted this conversation done. ‘Have you ever seen it before? I’m betting you have.’
Bellan’s eyes flared as she raised the staff. ‘You have been insulting and tiresome, but now you have crossed into stupidity, Steven Taylor, and I cannot bear stupidity, especially from one whom I have come to respect.’
‘Go ahead.’ Steven felt his hands begin to tremble; sweat trickled down his temples. ‘Kill me with it.’
‘Gladly,’ Nerak said, ‘although in some ways it is a shame. You and I could have been so powerful together.’
Bowstrings thrummed as Garec and Mark fired, but Nerak raised one of Bellan’s hands and the shafts fell harmlessly to the ground. Gilmour unleashed a spell to knock Bellan off her feet, stunning Nerak long enough for one of them to retrieve the staff, but Nerak turned it away with a wave; the spell sailed up and over the river and crashed through a riverside willow.
‘Come on,’ Steven said, ‘do it now.’
Nerak reared back and swiped viciously at him.
Garec had to tackle Mark to keep him from diving into the fray. Brand, Kellin and Gilmour all screamed as the dark prince swung the staff at Steven’s head. Her eyes aflame, Bellan’s entire body heaved with anticipation of feeling the staff’s magic rip through the irritating foreigner’s body. She screamed as she swung; the staff blurred in the air, a reaper’s enchanted scythe.
Effortlessly, Steven reached up and caught the hickory staff in one hand. Pressing forward, he twisted it out of Bellan’s grip and shoved it into her face. ‘Look again, Nerak. Look closely at it. I think you’ve seen it before.’
Now Nerak shook as he reached out Bellan’s hands to take hold of Steven’s throat, to choke the life from him. ‘I’ll kill you the old-fashioned way!’ he roared, but Steven easily batted Bellan’s hands away.
‘You’re not paying attention,’ Steven said, backing the girl towards the river. ‘I want you to look closely at the staff, and I want you to tell me if you have ever seen it before.’ He slapped Bellan hard across the face.
To her great surprise, it hurt; a red welt rose up on her cheek, and a dribble of blood ran from one nostril. It was the first human injury Nerak had sustained in nearly a thousand Twinmoons and it shocked him silent.
‘I think you have seen this before.’ Steven pressed the end of the staff up into Bellan’s face. ‘Haven’t you?’
The girl’s self-assurance began to crumble and she looked over Steven’s shoulder to where Gilmour approached warily. ‘Fantus?’
‘Yes, Nerak?’ Gilmour was still confused.
‘It’s Kantu’s staff,’ Nerak said, almost wonderingly. ‘His walking staff. I hid some things inside it one night, a long time ago.’
‘He hid knowledge about himself,’ Steven said to Gilmour, ‘things Nerak knew about himself.’ He turned back to Bellan. ‘That’s what you hid inside this staff, and that’s why you couldn’t sense it when I used it – and that’s why you couldn’t remember it. It’s also the reason you can’t stop it from reminding you now of just who you really are.’
Steven looked back at Mark, who grinned encouragingly and gestured, Go on!
‘When you opened the Fold that night,’ Steven said, ‘the evil creature that claimed you didn’t get the all-powerful sorcerer he believed to you be, but a lying fool, one who had convinced himself he was something he wasn’t. You hid the truth from yourself inside this staff, and you did it using a deception spell from the second Windscroll. Gilmour told us about it after his conversation with Kantu at Sandcliff,’ he added as an aside to Mark, connecting the dots for his friends.
He laughed. ‘Nerak, you fooled yourself into believing you could master the Larion spell table, but the spell table was too much for you.
‘The evil minion took you hostage; too bad that it believed what you had in your head at the time, because it never knew that you had worked a spell to deceive yourself. I’m almost impressed, Nerak: you couldn’t completely erase your memory – your knowledge – of your own weaknesses, so you hid it inside this staff. Pretty clever idea, really.’
Now Bellan nodded. ‘We were on Larion Isle. Kantu left his walking staff in the common room. I was there alone, experimenting with the deception spell. When I finally managed to get it to work-’
‘You hadn’t realised you would need a vessel to contain the knowledge,’ Gilmour finished for him.
‘You changed your own perception of yourself,’ Steven went on. ‘You lied to yourself- hey, we all do it! But you did it with the help of the Windscrolls, and you made it permanent, in your mind, and, over time, in the minds of those around you. When the evil minion took you, it believed what you believed, because in your mind it was true.’
He motioned across the meadow. ‘My friend Mark there lost the woman he loved, you miserable, stinking bastard. She was one of Garec’s best friends. Her name was Brynne. You probably don’t remember her.’ Steven moved and Bellan retreated again. ‘I had a friend in Colorado, Myrna Kessler; she planned to go to college this year. You killed her.’ Now Bellan was standing ankle-deep in river mud. Steven’s voice was soft, almost conversational. ‘Mika, Jerond, Versen, Sallax, Rodler – remember them? No? You killed them all. It might have been the Nerak who believed himself to be the most powerful man in Eldarn, or the Nerak standing here now, the one suddenly aware of his own weaknesses, but let me assure you, I don’t care. I swore to be compassionate, and I was compassionate: I gave you the hickory staff. I gave you the power to save yourself – and you tried to turn it against me. You, the real you, tried to kill me with it.’
The others had to strain to hear Steven whisper, ‘Nerak, that was a mistake.’
Bellan trembled. She had gone a cadaverous shade of grey. ‘No,’ she begged, her lip quivering, ‘please don’t.’
‘I have to,’ Steven said simply. ‘Goodbye, Nerak.’
He raised one hand above his head and drew a pattern in the air. With the other he grabbed a handful of Bellan’s tunic.
‘Fantus!’ Nerak cried, ‘don’t let him do this – we were friends, Fantus.’
Steven picked Bellan up and heaved her through the tear in the blurry, melted-paraffin backdrop. He stood for a moment in the doorway to the Fold as Nerak’s screams echoed back, then faded away.
Now Steven turned to the three rifts Nerak had opened in the Fold that morning and as he gestured at each, it closed and the forested glen around them came slowly back into focus.
The Fold was closed.
Smiling, Steven turned to his friends, who were staring at him in wonder, speechless. Gilmour held the hickory staff reverently in one hand.
‘What?’ Steven asked. ‘Mark figured it out. I just did the dirty work.’
He walked to Gilmour and gave the old sorcerer a great bear-hug. ‘Thank you
,’ he said.
‘Thank me? For what?’ Gilmour replied. ‘Without you, I would now be dead, not once, but ten or twelve times over.’
‘And without you, Gilmour, I would be lost.’ Steven hugged him again, then walked over to Mark.
Wait,’ Gilmour said, ‘here.’ He held out the staff.
‘Oh, that’s just a stick now,’ Steven said dismissively. ‘You can keep it if you like, or toss it in the river.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘None of us do,’ Garec added.
‘I’ll explain it all,’ Steven said, ‘but the short answer is that Mark was right. Nerak never knew what was in the staff because as soon as he put it there, he forgot it.’
‘He lied to himself and used magic to make it real?’ Brand asked.
‘Basically,’ Steven replied. ‘I began to work it out when Mark and Garec told me I had done magic without using the staff. I was able to do things that should have been child’s play for Nerak, but they weren’t. He was a master sorcerer who’d studied the Larion system for hundreds of Twinmoons; I was a guy with a stick I found in the woods – but we were sparring with one another as equals. So I figured either he wasn’t so powerful after all, or maybe I was a lot more powerful than I appeared. I guess in the end it was a little of both.’
‘How did that all become obvious in the past aven?’ Garec asked.
Steven chuckled nervously. ‘It didn’t. Dropping that staff was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I was so scared; I thought I was going to piss my pants – but I had to give it to him. I had to give Nerak the chance to save himself.
‘Compassion,’ Mark said.
‘Right,’ Steven agreed. ‘That’s when the staff is at its most powerful, so I had to take the risk.’
‘And when he tried to use it against you-’ Garec started.
‘Nothing,’ Steven said.
‘Like that night it shattered.’
‘Exactly.’
Garec was confused. ‘I still don’t know how you took down that pine without breaking the staff,’ he said.
