Otherlander: Through the Storm

by T. Kevin Bryan

  Thomas looked down at the floor, and his eyes grew wide. He reached and picked up a torn parchment stained with muddy boot prints. It was a wanted poster. The crude drawing made his heart stop—a boy and a girl. It was them.

  Thomas slid the tattered poster across the table. Fion nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “Follow me.” She mouthed. “And don’t forget your stew.” She stood, took her bowl, and headed toward the door. Thomas followed.

  One ruffian from the post stepped into Fion’s path, cutting her off. “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled like a mangy dog.

  Fion cocked her head. “I think I hear my mother calling,” she said sweetly.

  He smirked, then laughed coarsely and looked back toward the rabble who guffawed.

  That was all she needed. Fion crashed the stew crock into the side of his head.

  He stumbled.

  Thomas smashed his crock into the other side of his head and he went down. They leapt over the man and bolted to the door.

  “After you!” Thomas yelled as Fion flew through the door and into the street.

  Twenty-Two

  Thomas and Fion dashed up the street. Thomas couldn’t help but think he had been here before.

  “Déjà vu!” He yelled breathlessly to Fion.

  “What?”

  “Never mind,” Thomas shouted, still running. “I forgot you weren’t even born the last time I was running away from bad guys with your dad in some Godforsaken town.”

  In the tavern, a giant of a man with a braided beard jumped over the downed ruffian who was out cold. He headed into the street after the boy and girl. They had a nice price on their heads. He aimed to get it before the other morons in the tavern.

  Another bounty hunter went out the back door into the alley behind the tavern. He carried an unslung bow in his right hand. He turned and bounded up the stairs that led to the flat roof. He moved to the edge of the roof and deftly bent his yew wood bow and strung it, then pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back. He peered down the street. From this height, he could clearly see the two kids scrambling toward the forest at the edge of town. If they made it into the trees, they would be long gone. He would make sure they wouldn’t make it to the trees. Easy money, he thought as he nocked the arrow and brought the bow up. He drew the string to his cheek and sighted down the length of the shaft past the razor-sharp arrowhead to the back of the girl with the red mane flying. Pity. She was a pretty little thing. She would fetch a prettier price. He exhaled slowly. “Mine.”

  Then something broke his concentration. It moved beside him. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and unbelievably saw a shadow in an instant transformed beside him. The black thing leapt with a snarl as the bounty hunter let his arrow fly.

  Fion heard the unmistakable WOOSH of the arrow and ducked. The arrow sank with a thud into a wooden barrel stacked beside them. She yanked Thomas behind the barrels and scanned back where she saw movement on the roof of the tavern. Thomas raised his head to peek. Fion shoved him back down.

  “Keep your head down!” Fion held her breath as she saw a black blur whip around the bowman.

  “What is it?”

  “You do not want to know.” Fion grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hunched run. “We have to keep moving.”

  On the roof of the tavern, the shadow hunter gazed down at lifeless eyes of the bounty hunter. A mere human would not rob him of his prey. “This kill is mine! And I do not share,” it snarled.

  Twenty-Three

  Fion sprinted through the woods silently. Thomas crashed along behind her. It seemed to Thomas that with every twig or branch she missed, he either stepped on with a snap or it whacked him in the face. She halted and Thomas plowed into her, almost knocking her over.

  “What are you doing?” Thomas demanded.

  Fion clamped her hand over his mouth and silenced him with her fierce glare. He had seen that glare before, but it had come from the eyes of her father. Apples not falling far from the tree and all that I guess, he thought.

  She carefully removed her hand for his mouth and he remained silent. She tilted her head, listening, then she gave a quiet chirping whistle like a forest bird. Fion grabbed Thomas’s hand and drug him along.

  They stepped quietly into the clearing where they had left Thorn. Thomas’s eyes darted about, but the dragon was nowhere to be seen. Then he heard behind them the unmistakable sound of a sword being pulled from its scabbard.

  “Don’t move,” a voice growled.

  Fion slowly turned and noticing her, Thomas followed suit.

  The giant man from the tavern stepped from behind an immense tree and stood before them. A black beard spilled down his face, ending in a thick braid. His scarred steel breastplate covered a massive chest. His hand more like a bear’s paw grasped his wicked sword.

  Fion considered the bounty hunter. Then she seemed to shrink. “Please sir, can you help us?” She pleaded in a little pathetic voice.

  Thomas stood his ground, unsure of what Fion was up too.

  “I said don’t move!” The giant reached under his cloak and produced a tattered wanted poster from the tavern.

  “We are lost and alone,” Fion continued. “Forest thieves waylaid our parents and we are so hungry.”

  The man ignored her, squinting from the wanted poster to the girl with the red mane and the boy. Something slowly wriggled silently out of the bushes behind the bounty hunter. Thomas’s heart stopped as he thought at first it was a giant snake. It continued to slither out and up over the bounty hunter’s head. That snake looked familiar. Wait. A dragon’s tail. Thorn!

  Thomas shot a glance at Fion, and she gave a wink.

  Satisfied that they were the right quarry, the giant dropped the poster. It fluttered to the ground. “Dead or alive.” The bounty hunter chuckled and raised his sword. “You fetch a good price.”

  Thorn’s sinewy tail pulled up and back like a giant fly swatter. Thomas cringed. The bounty hunter froze as he noticed Thomas staring at something above his head.

  He snuck a glance. He couldn’t help it.

  The dragon’s tail reached its apex and WHAM! It smacked down on the giant’s head.

  The giant rocked on his heels. His eyes rolled back in his head.

  “Timber!” Thomas shouted as the bounty hunter crashed to the ground like a mighty tree in the woods.

  Thorn poked his head through the undergrowth, sniffed at the man, then gave a roar.

  “Hush!” Fion commanded. “Yes, you did good. But let us not attract more bounty hunters.” She grabbed Thomas again. “We must make haste!”

  Having relieved the giant bounty hunter of his provisions, Thomas and Fion loaded Thorn’s saddlebags and were on their way. They couldn’t risk going back into town, and they didn’t know how far or wide the agents of Darcon had dispersed the wanted posters. So now they had to stay away from any populated areas. Their path was narrowing. They were being pushed by an invisible hand into the Forbidden lands in the shadow of the Great Mountain.

  Twenty-Four

  His head ached. The bounty hunter sat up weakly. The last time his head hurt like this was after the feast of Shandilane. What a feast that had been. He had a gnawing suspicion that he was forgetting something. Oh, well.

  He struggled to his feet, surveying his surroundings. He was in a clearing in the forest. The last thing he remembered was being in the tavern with his mates, and they were discussing how they were going to spend their share of the bounty. Wait, the bounty. Yes, that was it. He had been hunting the lad and lass with the price on their head when someone had walloped him on the head.

  He rubbed his head and winced as he touched the knot growing there. “No fair, that,” He mumbled sorrily. Then he felt it. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he spun. His sword was out of reach, laying in the dirt. The dark thing strode out of the shadows and before he could react, it leapt. He fell back with its claws clutching his throat. It straddled his chest, and he
found it hard to breathe. He knew what this thing was. He had heard the stories. Ha! He had even told them to his young ones to keep them in line. Stories to be told around the fires at night. Now, seeing it in person, it made every other man or beast that had ever been called a hunter fall away. No, this was a hunter. It was Hunter incarnate.

  “The Otherlander and the girl,” it hissed. “Where?”

  “I don’t know.” The giant stammered.

  The red eyes burned into his skull. It would have been impossible to lie to this thing even if he had wanted to.

  “That’s the truth,” the giant pleaded. “I swear by the Creator of sky and dirt!”

  “I know.”

  It raised its claw, and that was the last thing he ever saw.

  Having finished, the hunter turned toward the forest and ran. Its steps coming faster and faster until it leapt, changing form into dark shadow, then reforming midair into a giant ebony crow and winged its way into the sky after its prey, always pursuing, always hunting. This time it would not fail.

  Twenty-Five

  “My nose is going to fall off!” Thomas shouted over the wind.

  “What?” Fion asked over her shoulder.

  “My nose is frozen solid. I’m afraid if I touch it, it will crack and fall off,” Thomas said through chattering teeth.

  Thomas had never experienced cold like this. Sure, he had been to the snow in the mountains for Christmas once or twice. But they had stayed in a nice wooden cabin. When they tired of playing in the snow, they would come inside to warm themselves in front of the fireplace. Thomas’s mom would make them enormous cups of hot cocoa sprinkled with those little marshmallows on top.

  “Mmm, hot cocoa.” If only. He dared not think about it. The thought of that warm elixir just made him feel colder. He pushed the memory from his mind and tried to pull the fur collar of his leather riding jacket up higher.

  The frozen landscape sat harsh and white below them as they glided over the tundra. As they flew north into the forbidden lands, it was like they were moving through the seasons. When they left the forest at the edge of the village, it was as if it was the end of summer. Green leaves covered the trees and swaying grasses carpeted the fields. Soon they left the sunny skies and clouds hid the sun. The leaves on the branches turned orange, then red, then brown. As they pushed on into the shadow of the mountain, the trees finally shed all their leaves until they stood completely bare, pathetic and naked in the frozen landscape.

  The boy, the girl and the dragon pressed on, winging through the seasons. Through deep fall on into winter and now it seemed they were on another planet, barren and gray. Thick ice covered all which would have shimmered in the sunlight if there had been a sun. Not one ray could pierce the dark ceiling.

  Thomas scanned the horizon. His eyes registered only the bitterness of the deep winter of the forbidden lands. As far as his eyes could see there was only barrenness. When they had started their journey, they had flown over herds of deer and Thomas had caught some glimpses of other ground animals and small birds, but it had been hours now since he had seen any sign of life.

  He shivered. He snuggled a little closer to Fion and was grateful for her warmth as he shared the saddle with her. Earlier in their ride he attempted to give her some room, but his fear of death by hypothermia overcame his embarrassment over personal space and he scooted a little closer.

  Thorn rumbled and Thomas felt the mighty beast shiver. The dragon turned his triangle head toward Fion and growled again, followed by what Thomas was sure was a whine. He flapped his wings abruptly and pelted them with tiny shards of ice that stung Thomas’s face.

  “I understand!” Fion called to the dragon, shaking ice out of her hair. Then over her shoulder to Thomas: “We have to find shelter.”

  “I thought you wanted to fly straight through the forbidden lands.”

  “I did, but even the mighty Thorn has his limits. And besides, those clouds ahead don’t look good.”

  Thomas followed her gaze and saw a thick, dark bank ahead.

  “I’m afraid they are laden with snow,” Fion said.

  She gave a gentle pat on the dragon’s hide. “Take us down, Thorn!”

  Thorn trumpeted his approval and began his decent toward the frozen earth.

  Twenty-Six

  Mordis Saldan limped into the presence of his Lord. His hip still pained him where it had been wrenched from its socket when the man of learning from Otherland bested him 14 years ago. Another shock ran through his leg, and he cursed Professor Daniel Colson. Mordis bowed in submission to the Lord Darcon. He sneaked a glance at his master and grimaced. Cruel scars reached up Darcon's neck to the side of his face twisting his mouth into a permanent wicked grin. How could this man survive being launched through the portal into the unknown? And then return? He had to have been helped by dark forces.

  Darcon stood. "What do you have to report?"

  "The bounty is still intact, but none have yet to capture the fugitives."

  “These are mere children, barely out of diapers, and no one can find them?” Darcon spat. "Double the bounty. No, triple the bounty. Land, livestock, slave girls, to the man who brings me the Otherlander."

  "Yes, my Lord," Mordis muttered as he backed away. He calls them children, but they strike fear to the very core of his soul. Why? Best to keep his questions to himself.

  Twenty-Seven

  A cold wind cut through the tavern, making little tornadoes of the pipe smoke that hung in the air. The tavern master glared over his mug, slammed it down, then wiped his mouth on his soiled sleeve. A dark cloaked stranger stood at the open door surveying the room.

  “Close the door, you vagabond! Can’t you see there’s a blizzard com’n?”

  The hooded stranger closed the door with a thud. He approached the counter warily and rested his forearms on the roughhewn wood. He didn’t push back his hood and never lifted his head.

  “How can I help you, stranger?”

  “Food and drink.” The man responded barely above a whisper.

  The master drew a mug of ale and plopped it in front of the man sloshing the bar and then slouched back to the kitchen. “Another crock of stew!” He yelled through the door.

  The stranger took the mug and drained it down like a man dying of thirst. Placing it on the counter he surveyed the room, then something caught his eye. He moved to the wooden post at the end of the counter where the posters and announcements fluttered. There, that was what he was looking for, a wanted poster. He yanked it from the post folding it and pushed it inside his cloak then stepped toward the door. He cracked it and then stopped. Reaching under his cloak, he drew out a coin, threw it onto the counter and vanished into the night.

  Twenty-Eight

  “We have to get out of this storm, and fast!” Thomas shouted over the blowing snow. They hunkered behind a stony outcropping that jutted out from the ever-deepening snow.

  “You’re right, Otherlander!”

  “I wish you would quit calling me that!”

  Fion ignored him and, finding a foothold, hoisted herself up and peered across the rock face through the blizzard. It had come so fast. She was kicking herself for not getting to shelter faster. Her entire mission was for naught if they froze to death hiding behind a rock. No, that can’t happen. She whispered a prayer to the creator. It was almost impossible to see through the storm. Tiny ice crystals had formed on her eyelashes, making it even harder. She scanned the sides of the frozen rock cliffs. A cave? An overhang? Anything to get them out of the driving wind and snow. Then she saw it. A dark patch in the granite's wall. It was worth a try. She stepped down and sunk into the snow up to her knees.

  “There!” she shouted over the blizzard.

  They pushed forward. Thorn led the way like a giant snow plow, leaving piles of snow to his left and right. Thomas and Fion followed in his wake, leaning into the icy onslaught. Thomas couldn’t feel his face any more. “Where are we going?”

  “It was right here.�
�� Fion searched the frozen rock face. It was all an icy blur in the whiteout.

  Thorn whined.

  “I am sorry, Otherlander. I mean, Thomas.” Fion corrected.

  Her softness struck Thomas. “It’s not your fault, really.”

  “But it is.”

  Her shoulders slumped in despair and she leaned back against the rock face and with a WHOMPF and a puff of snow she disappeared.

  One moment she was there, then she was gone. Thomas bolted forward and saw a hole in the wall of snow where Fion just stood.

  Thorn rumbled.

  “Thorn, help!” Thomas shouted over the blizzard.

  The dragon surged forward and thrust his head into the hole and shook and the ice and snow collapsed, revealing the mouth of a cave, gaping open and dark against the white icy cliff.

  “Fion!” Thomas’s voice echoed back from the darkness. After staring in the whiteout for so long, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness of the cave. His heart dropped as he stared into the vastness of a giant granite room.

  “Fion?” he shouted again.

  She popped into view like a jack-in-the-box, grinning ear to ear. “I knew it was here.”

  Thomas couldn’t help himself. He grabbed her and gave her an enormous hug.

  Thorn whined.

  Fion pushed Thomas back roughly. “Enough of that. Get in here out of the cold!”

  Twenty-Nine

  “Looks like it’s cheese with a protective green coating or cheese with some unknown flecks. And there’s some hard bread,” Thomas said, rummaging through Thorn’s saddlebag.