by Terry Brooks
How long have I been unconscious?
She tried moving again, and this time realized that she was wrapped up in the safety line in a way that pinned her left arm to her side and tangled her legs. The pain seemed to be generated as much by this as by any injury, although on looking up to where the broken piece of the ship’s rail anchored her to the branches she had tumbled through, she wasn’t so sure.
But at least she was alive.
All was rain and howling wind, so she knew she was still in the thick of the storm and not much time could have elapsed. Maybe hardly any at all. Her head ached fiercely, and she supposed she had struck it hard enough falling through the tree branches to black out.
Then she looked down.
She was hanging over a line of jagged rocks forming part of the lip of a broad ravine. The ravine itself was little more than a black gash in the mix of rain and mist, and she couldn’t tell how deep it went. Huge trees ringed everything, some of them shredded of all foliage, all of them old and gnarled, their limbs twisted together in knots. The ravine zigzagged its way right through their center, in some places exposing huge roots that hung into the deep split like the arms of dead men in an open grave.
She looked away quickly. If her safety line had not caught in the trees, she would have fallen into the ravine.
And she would probably never have been found.
Her thick blond hair had come loose from its bandanna and was plastered against her face, obscuring her vision and causing her further discomfort. Using her free hand, she brushed it away, being careful to move slowly. She couldn’t tell how securely she was fastened to the trees, and she didn’t want to do anything that would cause her to shake loose. Bound up as she was by the safety line, she wouldn’t stand a chance of saving herself.
Peering upward for a long moments, she searched the grayness for some sign of the Walker Boh, but there was no hint of her. In a storm like this one, the airship had probably been blown away from where she had fallen overboard, and the Rovers had no idea how to get back to her. Especially not while the storm was still raging.
She was going to have to get out of this by herself.
The wind caught her in a sharp gust, and she found herself swinging in wide arcs over the chasm—out into the void and back over the rocks—a pendulum out of control. She gritted her teeth and tried to will herself to stop, to make her body be still.
Then the rope that suspended her gave way, and she dropped several feet before it caught again.
She closed her eyes against the wave of fear that coursed through her.
What can I do to save myself?
She looked down again, searching for something that might offer a way out of this. But there was nothing within reach she might grab on to and nowhere to attempt to swing herself and land safely.
Even if she managed somehow to free herself from the safety line.
Then she remembered her throwing knife. She had tucked it into her belt when the coin had broken and the throwing competition had ended. It should still be there.
She reached back, fumbling for the handle, grasping at hope.
But the knife was gone.
She felt all the air go out of her. No surprise, she told herself. She must have lost it in the fall. And she had no other blade. No other weapon at all.
She heard something beneath her, a kind of hissing sound. She glanced down and saw the lizard looking up. Or something like a lizard, only much more unpleasant. It was big, fully eight feet long. Its mouth opened as it lifted its head toward her, perhaps thinking she might fall into it like a piece of fruit. Except she didn’t think this creature ate fruit. Not with so many sharp teeth and such strong jaws for snapping bones and chewing flesh. No, this was a meat eater, and it was hoping to make a meal out of her.
Her eyes shifted.
A second lizard had appeared off to one side, even bigger than the first.
Mirai took a moment to catch her breath. She had imagined this expedition would be dangerous, and she had prepared herself for what she might encounter. But she had not prepared for this, and suddenly all she could think about was how foolish she had been to come. How foolish all of them had been. She should have refused to accompany Redden and Railing, and then perhaps they wouldn’t be here, either. Now all of them were caught up in a world of monsters and bleakness and rapidly vanishing possibilities.
Or that was how she saw it as she dangled helplessly over a chasm with a pair of hungry lizards waiting for her to drop.
But Mirai Leah was not the kind to give way to either despair or fear, so she gathered up the shreds of her courage and resolve and tried anew to find a way to save herself.
Then a shriek sounded off in the darkness to one side, piercing even the sounds of the wind and rain. The lizards turned at once, hesitated only a moment, then skittered off into the brush, leaving the clearing empty.
Mirai waited, searching the gloom. A stout figure wrapped in the black robes of the Druids stepped into view, moving toward her.
“Mirai?”
She exhaled sharply. “Seersha!”
“Are you all right?”
“As all right as I can be, trussed up like this. Can you help me?”
The Dwarf moved over to the edge of the chasm, glanced down, and stepped back again. “Close your eyes and keep them closed. Hold tight to yourself. Don’t move, no matter what you feel. Not until I tell you to. Ready?”
Mirai closed her eyes, hugged herself as best she could, and grunted affirmatively. Almost instantly she felt herself being lifted away, and then she was floating weightlessly. The wind and rain still buffeted her, but she was no longer swinging in midair. Mirai wanted desperately to see what was happening, but she had been told not to try and she wouldn’t have been told that if there wasn’t a good reason.
She felt herself moving, and then the rain-soaked earth was pressing up from beneath her, and she was lying on the ground.
Seersha was next to her at once, cutting away the remnants of the tangled safety line, tossing the pieces aside. “Must be a good story behind all this,” she said.
Mirai finally opened her eyes. “Not if you’re me.” She stretched her arms and legs as the rope fell away. “How did you find me?”
The bluff face wrinkled with her smile. “The pieces of the coin. It works both ways. When they started to glow brightly enough, I knew you were close. I heard something scrape and tear and came looking. The coins brought me here.”
“We got caught in the storm, and the Walker Boh struck a cluster of stone spikes. I was tied to the railing, but it tore away and took me with it.”
“Not a good time to be looking for anyone,” Seersha observed as she helped the Highland girl to her feet. “For either of us. We have to get out of here. This whole place is crawling with things that want to kill us.”
Although Mirai could stand, she could barely walk, her legs numb from being trussed up. Seersha had to support her, an arm wrapped around her waist as she helped her move away.
“Is the ship still flying? Or did it go down, too?”
“Still flying, so far as I know.” Mirai hobbled along as swiftly as she could, casting anxious glances over her shoulder in the direction the lizards had taken. “What’s happened?”
“Good question. I only know a little of it. Let’s save that for when we’re safe. Was it the coin that brought you?”
“It was.”
“Not very quickly, though.”
“The Rovers and I decided not to risk it at night. Too dangerous to try to maneuver a big airship. So we waited until this morning to set out.”
Seersha snorted. “Which didn’t turn out to be of much help, did it?”
“No. The storm just made things worse. I’m sorry.”
The Dwarf tightened her arm about Mirai’s waist in a brief hug. “Don’t be. I’m just glad you came at all.”
The hissing sound was back, suddenly right behind them. Without releasing her grip on Mirai, Seersha
wheeled about, stretched out her free arm, fingers extended, and sent an explosion of blue fire into the creature that was reaching for them with open jaws. The lizard flew backward into the dark and disappeared.
“And that’s not even the worst of what’s here,” the Druid said, exhaling sharply.
They moved ahead as swiftly as they could, and slowly Mirai regained the feeling in her legs and her strength began to return. Twice more the lizards came at them, and each time Seersha used quick bursts of her Druid Fire to fling them away.
“Trouble is,” she said, panting for breath as they slogged through the mud and rain, “the more I use the magic, the more of them I attract.”
“How many are there?”
Seersha gave her a look that said it all.
Mirai was moving on her own now, stumbling a bit but able to support herself. Together they pushed on, making their way through a tangle of woods and heavy grasses and then clusters of boulders and empty flats. The lizards had been replaced by something that resembled Gnomes with lots of teeth. These new creatures were smaller, but attacked in packs. There seemed to be more of them gathering with every step.
“We have to climb that cliff just ahead,” Seersha said suddenly, pointing. “The others are up there.”
Somehow they made it to the base of the cliff and found the trail. Together they started up, clawing their way from handhold to foothold, the pursuers snapping at their heels and trying to pull them down again. The rain made their grip on the rock uncertain, and the gloom hid their attackers until they were almost on top of them. Mirai kicked out behind her as she climbed, trying to keep the creatures at bay, but they seemed able to scale even the sheerest of surfaces and came at her from both sides, grasping her arms in an effort to dislodge her.
Then brilliant light flooded the darkness from above, illuminating the climbers and their attackers. A surge of white fire swept across the face of the cliff, peeling the creatures off like bits of lichen and sending them tumbling away. Seersha and Mirai scrambled the rest of the way up and tumbled over the edge to safety.
Mirai lay on her back, gasping for breath. Dark figures clustered around, and one leaned close, a familiar smile on a familiar face.
“Took you long enough,” Railing Ohmsford said.
They sat huddled together at the back of the precipice, the little company that had been defending this ground for the better part of two days and Mirai Leah. The overhang gave them some shelter from the storm, and the wind kept their attackers from trying to mount a sustained assault. One had been attempted at the storm’s onset, Railing informed Mirai, but it had been hampered by the damp and the wind and been thrown back easily. Since then, the Spider Gnome look-alikes had been mostly quiet.
“But they’ll come again once the storm stops and things begin to dry out. Especially when night comes.” Railing was huddled close to her, his broken leg stretched out, and his cloak bundled about both of them. “Unless the ship finds us,” he added.
“It will,” she said quickly, wanting to reassure him that there was hope, even though she was not at all sure there was. With both sets of coins on the ground, the mist obscuring their position, and the Walker Boh already damaged from one attempt at landing, there wasn’t much reason to think an attempt would even be made without something to guide the Rovers besides guesswork.
Seersha had already told her what had happened to the company since they had come into the Fangs. She had heard about the division of the company, the loss of contact between the two commands, and the ongoing attacks by the creatures she had just barely escaped. She understood how desperate their situation was and how much more desperate things might be for those who had disappeared into the defile.
“What have you decided to do about the Ard Rhys’s party once the airship finds us?” she asked Seersha, who was huddled within her black cloak, nose and mouth tucked down inside its heavy folds.
The Dwarf’s eyes shifted to find her. “Wait here with Skint until they come back. Or until they contact us. We’ll have to ask you to come back for us once you’ve gotten Railing and the others safely out.”
“But you have no idea where they are, do you?”
Seersha shook her head. “Skint looked, but he couldn’t find a trace of them. Couldn’t find the crevice they went into. Couldn’t find the waterfall that isn’t a waterfall.”
“Redden will find a way back,” Railing said, his voice muted by a burst of wind. “He has the wishsong to help him. He’ll use it to find a way if things get too ugly.”
No one said anything to that. Mirai knew what they were thinking. What if there wasn’t a way back from wherever Redden and the others had gone? What if the company was trapped? It seemed clear enough that magic had lured them in, but maybe even magic wasn’t enough to get them out.
“Here, eat some of this,” she offered, pulling out packets of white paper in which bits of something hard had been carefully wrapped.
Seersha opened hers and ate it. “Honey candy. Where did you get honey candy, Mirai Leah?”
“I made it.” She grinned at the Druid, who was passing pieces down the line to the others in the company. “I carry it with me for occasions just like this one.”
“What a liar!” Railing exclaimed.
Seersha laughed. “Guess you were thinking farther ahead than the rest of us.”
“I think farther ahead than some.” She glanced over at Railing, who crunched his piece of candy noisily.
They waited out the storm, which lasted most of the rest of the day, and then Skint disappeared up into the rocks, searching for a better defensive position. The precipice on which they were settled was adequate, but it was too broad for six—now seven—defenders to continue to hold against the hordes of attackers they had been fighting off. Sooner or later, they would be overwhelmed. Mirai hadn’t said anything to Seersha of their chances of being found, but she guessed the Druid had already surmised the problem and decided to act on what she perceived to be the unfavorable odds.
With the approach of sunset, Mirai helped Railing to his feet and walked him to the cliff edge, where they stood looking out over the rumpled blanket of trees and rocks amid the jagged stone towers of the Fangs. Everything was sodden and wrapped in trailers of mist and looked to be better suited for the dead than the living.
“How bad is your leg?” she asked. “Does it hurt much?”
Railing shook his head, staring off distractedly. “I should have gone with him. We should have stayed together.”
She nodded. “We should have stayed home. All three of us.”
“He left while I was unconscious. I wouldn’t have let him go otherwise. I don’t know why he did it.”
“He did what he thought he had to do.” She put her arm around him. “He did what he thought was the right thing. He’s like that. You’re both like that.”
Railing looked unconvinced. “If anything happens to him—”
“Nothing will happen,” she interrupted quickly. “Redden is tough and smart. He’ll find a way. And if he doesn’t, we’ll find a way for him. You and me. We won’t abandon him.”
He looked over at her. His face was suddenly stricken. “I’m sorry we ever asked you to come with us. I wish you weren’t here, Mirai.”
She gave him a look. “Maybe we should stop talking about this. It’s all said and done, anyway. I’m here. You and Redden are here. We can’t do anything about it. Regretting it now doesn’t do much to make things better.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “We just have to help each other get through this.”
He nodded. “Just get home again, right? Just get back.”
She left her arm draped around his shoulder and looked out over the wilderness, trying not to think about what that meant. “Just get back,” she repeated quietly.
Skint returned just before sunset, weary and discouraged. There wasn’t anywhere else they could make a stand that was any better than where they were. They would have to stay put for another n
ight. Seersha nodded grimly and gathered the others together, explaining how they would position themselves when night fell. She asked Railing to take one side of the precipice while she took the other, dividing their use of magic equally. Mirai and Farshaun would stand with Railing. Skint and the last of the Trolls would stand with her. They would put their backs to the wall of the overhang, their defensive line reduced to less than a dozen yards. There was no longer any point in trying to defend the precipice. Their attackers could not be kept off the heights—the past two nights had shown them that much.
She did not mention the Speakman. There was no need to. Everyone already knew how useless he would be. He had lapsed into a state approaching catatonia, barely able to converse with Farshaun and seemingly unaware of any of the others. It had been a mistake to bring him, Mirai knew. He wasn’t up to this. He crouched in the lea of the overhang, hunkered down with his face averted, muttering and hugging himself.
“He’s never going to be the same after this,” Railing muttered to her at one point.
She stood close to Railing as the darkness deepened and the twilight hush began to fill with night sounds. Seersha had provided her with a pair of short swords, weapons with which she was familiar and skilled. Oddly, although Railing was the better equipped of them to defend against what was coming, she couldn’t escape the feeling that he was the one who needed protecting. The loss of his brother had unnerved him; she could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. Their separation, so unfamiliar to both, was wearing on him. Railing was strong, but the thought of anything happening to Redden was breaking him down.
There was little time to consider it further. Their attackers swarmed over the precipice shortly after the darkness had drained away the last of the light. Seersha had ringed the defenders inside a thin line of liquid she had conjured with magic and now lit with Druid Fire, giving them a protective barrier. When the Gnome creatures tried to come through it, they caught fire instantly, turning into balls of flame that skittered this way and that, howling in anguish as they died. But the fire lasted only as long as the magic, and when it finally went out their attackers were on them.
