When All the Leaves Have Fallen

by Mark McCabe

  “We’re safe,” he answered her softly. Lifting her arm, he placed his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We must be moving on soon. The sun’s almost set. There’s time enough for a quick bite to eat, and some water, and then we better get going. We can be in Kurandir before the sun rises if we get a wriggle on tonight.”

  “Oh. I got such a fright just then.” Jinny turned to face Thom as she spoke. Her wide eyes glistened in the soft light of the dusk. “I was having a bad dream, a very bad dream.”

  “It’s okay,” said Thom soothingly. He could see she was on the verge of tears. Reaching out, he drew her into his arms and held her slender body against his chest.

  “I dreamt we were back at that farm we saw last night,” she sobbed, releasing her hold on her emotions as she clung to him tightly. “We turned over the body of that man we found there and . . . and it . . . it was my pa. His eyes were open . . . but he was dead Thom. He was dead.”

  With that, Jinny burst into tears, releasing all the emotion she had been struggling to contain. Her body jerked violently against his as she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. Thom held her tightly to him, stroking the back of her head and speaking to her softly, trying to soothe her with calm words.

  “It’s all right Jinny. It was only a dream. Your da would want you to be strong now. You know that. We’re going to be all right. Wherever your da is, whether he’s safe somewhere or whether Mishra has called him we don’t know, but he’d want you to make him proud. I’ll look after you now. It’ll be okay.”

  His words seemed to have the desired effect. Sitting back again, Jinny wiped her eyes with her sleeve and took in a few deep breaths. Thom placed a hand under her chin and gently lifted her downcast face till she looked him in the eye once more. “You okay?” he asked as she used the back of her palm to wipe back another tear that had trickled from the corner of her eye. Jinny nodded, and then managed to force the briefest of smiles in response.

  “Thank you,” she said after a few moments. “I’m sorry. It was so real. I was so scared.”

  “I know. I have those dreams too. It’s best not to think of things like that right now. C’mon, let’s eat.”

  Jinny was only too happy to accept the small pieces of dried meat and the bread that Thom had laid out beside them. The bread was stale, but she knew that it and the meat were all that were on offer. Their supply of food had run right down, so much so that they had only enough left for one more small meal. Water wasn’t a problem; they had found plenty of opportunities to fill up their flasks along the way. Food, though, was scarce. What little had been left behind by the departing Algarians had invariably been looted by the sligs. It was a good thing they would be in Kurandir on the morrow, thought Thom. As if eluding the sligs wasn’t enough of a problem by itself.

  They ate their meal in silence, and when they were done they rose from their resting spot and moved on. Though it was tempting to stay where they were and sleep right through the coming night, they both knew what had to be done. Somehow they found the energy for a final effort and for the first few hours they made good progress. The knowledge that they were getting closer to their goal seemed to lighten their step.

  To Thom’s surprise, it was some time before they saw more sligs. The course that he led them steered clear of the small hamlets and farmhouses that dotted the area they were traversing. He wanted to spare Jinny any further distress if he could. She had seen enough corpses in the last few days to last her a lifetime, they both had, and, if anything, the sight was only getting harder and harder to bear. The bodies they found in and around the deserted houses now were invariably bloated from days of exposure to the elements. Too often, the corpses had been mutilated as well. Many of the victims had clearly been tortured before they’d been killed. Thom knew that some of the images he and Jinny had seen would stay with them for the rest of their lives. The fact that they were avoiding the farmhouses had the added benefit of keeping them clear of the spots most likely to be frequented by the invaders. Their very caution, however, was what eventually led to them becoming careless.

  It must have been close to midnight by Thom’s reckoning, and he had decided he would call a halt for a short rest once they cleared the small ridge they were ascending. They had nearly reached the crest, and Thom had turned to look back and confirm his bearings, when it happened. His eyes scanned the slope behind them, searching for the old rotted tree he had been using as a landmark during their ascent.

  “We’ll rest soon,” he whispered to Jinny as she passed him by. She had been trudging along in his wake for most of the evening and obviously wanted to get the climb over and done with before she stopped for a breather. A few moments later, just as his eyes caught sight of the blackened stump of the tree he’d been searching for, Jinny’s scream pierced through the night air. Instinctively turning his head in the direction of her voice, Thom was nearly bowled over as the girl came bolting back down the hill towards him.

  “Sligs. Run.” she shouted as she sprinted past him, back in the direction they had come from. The look on her face was one of sheer terror. Even in the dark of the night, Thom could see the outline of the huge warrior that was scrambling down the hillside in hot pursuit. He wasn’t far behind her, perhaps a dozen paces, no more.

  It all happened so quickly. Before he could think, Jinny had passed him and he had quickly turned and sprinted after her. “Run Thom,” she gasped as she flew down the hill, as if he needed any encouragement. The roar from the warrior behind him told him that death was only paces behind him. He felt something touch his back and the fear that gripped him then gave him the strength to surge forward. He ran as he had never run before in his life. As fast as he ran though, Jinny was outstripping him.

  There was no time to think; it was all he could do just to make sure that he didn’t lose his footing in the dark. The cracking of twigs and branches from behind told him the warrior wasn’t far in his wake, but he didn’t dare break his stride to look back. The only thought he had seemed to repeat itself over and over again in his head. Don’t fall, it said. I mustn’t fall. Jinny, please, please, please, don’t fall. Just run.

  And run she did, like the wind. And so did he. After a while, he didn’t know how long, he began to tire. They had almost reached the bottom of the ridge and his breathing was becoming labored, but still he dare not stop. Somehow, he willed himself to keep going. A quick glance over his shoulder was of no help. He was running too hard to get a proper look and he dare not stop or slow down long enough to see whether they were gaining or losing their desperate race. At any moment he feared the slig might reach out and grab him, or its cold blade would cleave into his back.

  Jinny had actually drawn some distance ahead of him and it was only when she stumbled that he finally began to catch up to her. She regained her footing quickly, but it was enough to allow him to close the gap. She was obviously tiring too. The trees were thinning out and soon there would be a fence to negotiate. He remembered them clambering over it some time earlier. Eventually, he knew he had to slow enough to risk a look over his shoulder, and he did so. There was no sign of the slig. He kept running anyway.

  “I think we might have lost him,” he gasped to Jinny as he drew level with her. Their pace had slowed considerably now, though neither was prepared to stop as yet. They kept going like that for some time, gradually slowing down, and looking back for the slig frequently. There was still no sign of the creature. Thom began to think the beast might have given up the chase. Finally, they had to stop. They had almost reached the point of exhaustion.

  They stood for a while, gasping and wheezing, bent from the waist with their hands braced against their thighs, both desperately trying to replace the oxygen they had just so flagrantly consumed. Neither of them could take their eyes away from where they had come from. The slig was back there somewhere and they both knew it. Perhaps he had given up the chase. They had certainly flown like the wind, but maybe he was still out there looking fo
r them. Maybe he had just slowed to get his breath as well.

  “Let’s go,” said Thom. He was still gasping for air but he dare not stay where they were. Jinny was in no better condition than he was, but they both knew the danger of standing still. They took a right angle turn from the course they had been following before they had seen the slig. There was no going back, but they couldn’t follow the line they had been taking either. They moved along in silence and at as quick a pace as they could manage, stopping frequently to listen for sounds of pursuit. Thom knew that his heart was still racing. He was tired, and he longed to lie down on the ground, but they had to keep going. Jinny couldn’t be in any better shape than he was.

  He couldn’t credit what a close call they had just had. They had put a foot in the very jaws of death and somehow managed to escape. Just how many close encounters could they hope to survive? Surely their luck would run out at some point soon.

  It must have been hours before they finally halted for a proper rest. They saw no further sign of the slig, or of any other sligs for that matter. They were both totally exhausted, and when they stopped, they just lay down on the ground, right where they were. Thom’s legs were aching. He heard Jinny’s voice from beside him as he stretched his aching limbs.

  “Wh . . . what’ll w . . . we do, Thom?” She could barely speak. Though she must have been as tired as he was, the sound of fear in her voice was unmistakable. She was still scared out of her wits.

  “We’ve lost him now. I’m sure of it,” he replied. “I know that was too close for comfort, Jinny, but we got away. No one could have caught you the way you flew down that hill. It was all I could do to keep up with you.”

  “You . . . you’ve got to promise me, Thom. Promise me you won’t let them catch us.”

  Thom rolled over and took a hold of Jinny’s arm. Looking into her eyes and in the most solemn voice he could manage, he responded to her request, knowing as he did so he had no way of ensuring he could deliver.

  “I promise, Jinny. I won’t let them catch us. I’m sorry. I made a big mistake back there. I should have been much more careful. They aren’t going to get us, Jinny. They aren’t.”

  That seemed to quieten her. She said nothing for a few moments, and when she spoke again it was in the barest of a whisper. “Hold me, Thom. Hold on to me, please. I’m so scared.”

  The dawn had already arrived by the time they made their final approach to Kurandir. Though their mad race from the slig warrior had been their only sighting of the enemy throughout the course of the night, that encounter had been enough to ensure they had proceeded with the utmost caution from that point on.

  Thom had wanted them in Kurandir before the sun had risen, but that was no longer possible. Though they could see as far east as the Giant’s Teeth from their vantage point atop the plateau, the fiery orb hadn’t yet shown its face above the horizon. It could only be moments away from doing so, however, and the land was awash with the soft glow of the impending dawn.

  He and Jinny weren’t that far behind schedule after all. Once they reached the edge of the escarpment, Kurandir would be but a few leagues to the west. They should have a clear view of it from that vantage point and the trip down to the gates wouldn’t take them long from there.

  It was time to move forward once more. They had waited and watched for a while but had seen no sign of the sligs anywhere on the plateau. Thom was glad to find it so on two counts: as well as ensuring their own safety, he knew it meant that the invaders were not attacking Kurandir. If any such attack had occurred, then they had either pulled out or been forced back from the town.

  Thom had heard enough about military strategy to know that if an assault had been underway, the plateau, and the escarpment in particular, with its commanding view of the valley that harboured Kurandir, would be a vital strategic point. It would have been crawling with sligs. The fact that it wasn’t was a clear indication Kurandir was not only still safely in the hands of the Rangers, but it was under no immediate threat of assault. It was possible the sligs had simply passed it by, but Thom preferred to believe they had suffered a defeat here.

  Moving out from their hiding place, the two weary travellers slowly made their way westward, towards the edge of the escarpment. Though every indication was that they were no longer in any danger, they stuck to their routine, moving slowly, from cover to cover, keeping low to the ground to ensure that their silhouettes didn’t show up on the horizon. As they moved forward, Thom began to feel the first twinges of doubt.

  Over the last few hours, the glow in the western sky had helped guide them to their goal. Thom guessed that the glow was sourced in the fires of the Algarian troops that would be billeted in and around Kurandir. Now, for the first time, he saw the plumes of smoke that were drifting up into the cool morning air from the valley ahead of them. It seemed more than he would have expected for just the cooking fires of the troops.

  Slowly they approached the edge of the escarpment. The last few paces led them to a rocky ledge. As they crawled across the cool stone surface, something told Thom to maintain his caution and he motioned for Jinny to keep her head down. Together, they edged themselves up to the precipice and peered over the edge.

  Thom could do nothing to choke back the cry he unwittingly released as he saw what lay before them. There lay Kurandir, nestled in the floor of the valley, just as he had expected. All of his hopes and all of his expectations were dashed, however, in that one moment, as he looked down on the town to which his parents had fled. No army lay encamped around its perimeter. No gleam of metal shone from the helms of the defenders as they manned the walls, alert to the prospect of attack. No flag fluttered proudly from atop its battlements.

  Kurandir was a smoking ruin. It had been all but burnt to the ground. Even from this distance, he could recognise the bodies of both Algarians and sligs that littered the ground around its shattered walls. Not a living soul was to be seen in the whole of the valley. Black plumes of smoke drifted lazily up from the remains of the many fires that had all but burnt themselves out. Kurandir had fallen. The invaders had sacked it and moved on.

  ~~~

  A loud rumble pealed across the valley, battering Kell’s eardrums as it passed. Desperately the wizard fought to maintain his seat as the gryphon beneath him struggled to maintain both height and airspeed in the aftermath of the lightning bolt’s passage. It wasn’t enough to avoid being struck by the bolts themselves, for the buffeting that followed was equally as dangerous. More than once already, the winged beast and his rider had barely avoided being dashed against the rocky crags along the eastern side of the valley by the treacherous aftermath of a bolt’s passage.

  Somehow, Thyfur rode out the buffeting from this latest missile. How much longer can we last like this? wondered Kell. It was all he could do not to raise a hand to the searing pain that arced across his scalp. The burn was hellishly painful, and he knew from the red streaks that smeared his arm where he had brushed his cheek that blood was running freely down the side of his face as well. Though Kell couldn’t be certain of the exact extent of the beast’s wounds from where he sat, he could tell that Thyfur was faring little better than he was.

  That his renegade colleague had their measure now was obvious to the Guardian. That Thyfur was tiring rapidly was equally certain. The gryphon’s wounds were beginning to take their toll. The battle, which had started out so well for Kell and his comrade, had now turned decisively in Golkar’s favour. With a wrench of despair, Kell realised there was no choice but to beat a retreat before his adversary finished them.

  As quickly as the decision was made, Kell signalled his intention to Thyfur. The gryphon responded within a heartbeat, acknowledging Kell’s thought and wheeling suddenly, and with amazing adroitness given the current state of his health, to his right and upwards. From the speed of his response, Kell guessed that Thyfur had been anticipating his decision. Within the space of a few moments, they were up and over the crest of the crags and out of direct s
ight of Golkar.

  With a few beats of his mighty wings, Thyfur swept down into the adjoining valley and turned to follow its course. They headed east, away from Tu-atha, to safety. Kell knew that each stroke of the great wings came at great cost to his mount’s remaining strength. He also knew that the gryphon would make better speed if he expended the energy now to climb in one ever-expanding spiral high up into the sky where he could find and harness the great thermals on which he could glide for leagues with barely a flap of its wings. He understood his friend’s need to put a considerable distance between themselves and Golkar before he did so, however. Any attempt at such a maneuver here, this close to their opponent’s abode, would only expose them to further assault from Golkar’s awesome range of weaponry, not least from the deadly lightning bolts which had finally turned the battle against them.

  Looking back over his shoulder, Kell could see no sign of pursuit. Not that he expected to tell much just by looking; it had been an instinctive act more than anything else. Tentatively, he used his other senses to scan the area for the telltale signs that only a creature of power would produce. It was a risky move. If Golkar or any ally of his was in pursuit, the scan would nullify Kell’s ability to mask his own presence. He had to do it nonetheless. He needed to know if Golkar meant to continue the battle.

  Kell knew that neither he nor Thyfur was in any state to continue. The critical question was whether Golkar realised how close he had come to destroying them. If he did, he would certainly act to finish them now before they had a chance to recover. Kell breathed a sigh of relief. He could sense nothing.

  Using the mind link, he sent out a simple message to Thyfur, To Ormuz. Yes, to Ormuz, he thought to himself, but whence from there? Their bolthole in the Northern Wastes was the only logical choice after the debacle they had just endured. But what then?

  As he clung to the great beast’s neck, Kell wrestled with his thoughts. He chided himself for his choices. What had he been thinking to drag Thyfur into this mess? And why risk all, as he just had at Tu-atha? His foolishness had almost handed Golkar the victory he sought, and on a silver platter to boot. Why, the madman hadn’t even had to go looking for him. Like a fool, Kell had simply knocked on his door, just like Tarak had done before him. The result had been perilously close to the same as that which must have befallen his colleague.