Day 17. Valia and the Gaps

Chapter 40. 

   Though not as much of an obelisk and certainly not as large as in her dream, the creature still rose from the waters with a terrible presence and complete consumption of her vision, and for a moment that lasted far too long, Valia thought she was once more trapped in a sleep she could not awake from. 

   But no, this was real. 

   It climbed from the shallows and clawed toward them, a great crustacean swarmed with arms protruding beneath a bright purple carapace, the whole thing reminiscent of a centipede with great foreclaws like those of a sharpened lobster. It was the size of three or four carriages all in a row, and it raised up on its forelegs with snapping claws, and tiny eyes and whisker feelers flared on the flat head. 

   “Clawbore!” shouted Hyg first, and Valia had just enough time to wonder if the bard was making up names for these horrible monsters before her horse spooked and pulled her back away from the water line. 

   They were nearing the evening of the second day out from the pirate church, and had come across no dangers of shifting earth or swashbuckling man, and Valia knew that such a thing as the lobster-centipede creature was bound to come upon them. Of course, not exactly like the creature that came upon them. 

   The men let go of the horses who all promptly ran the several hundred yards to the other side of the Quakslan land strip, and many of them followed though a few stood their ground with drawn sword and spear. The few crossbows that remained were knocked and aimed, but all men waited for Captain Oren’s command. 

   “It may not bar our path!” said Oren at the helm of the small company of defenders. “If we can gather the horses and continue on, we may be able to avoid a fight.” 

   “They are fast,” said Luc, and Valia could hear in his voice that the man had seen them before. 

   As if it had been listening or perhaps just to give them a warning, the large creature scuttled forward with a whip of the back of its body, coming far too close to Captain Oren. 

   Hal and Ben strode forward with sword and axe, Ben with the latter held in two hands, and Valia thought they looked very small then against such a titan menace. 

   “Hold!” shouted Luc, a wind off the sea blowing his robes around him giving him and Meino the appearance of grand wizards from a tale. They were only missing gem tipped staves and glowing runes about their form. 

   The boys paused for a moment and the creature roared at them, a pitiful sound that was more like a deer in the forest dying than a great sea crustacean attacking smaller prey. 

   “It’s so horrid,” cried Alett, clinging to Valia. They had moved with the horses to the other side of the water, standing just on the edge of the lapping waves.

  “It might leave us alone,” said Valia, though she didn’t truly believe it. 

   Hal turned back with his sword raised high, a look of heroism on his face that broke into a sure smile. 

   “He’s going to die,” said Valia as much to herself as she could, but instantly she felt the younger girl cling to her more tightly. 

   Hal and Ben continued forward, their weapons at the ready, spreading apart slightly as if to give the monster a broader target. 

   A screech rang out through the air, a sound that far exceeded the Clawbore’s yell in both volume and terror, and for some reason of instinct, Valia ducked. 

   Shadows passed over the setting sun and Valia looked over the horses to see a group of winged foul sweeping over the Quakslan toward the party and the sea creature. They were white of wing and dark of beak, the span of their bodies at least four or five times that of a normal seagull, but Valia thought they resembled the bird in many ways. 

    The boys ducked at the head of the company as the bird swept in low, landing with webbed feet on the back of the clawbore and with sharp beaks began picking at the creature through the spaces between carapace. They were eating it alive. 

   With a rush, before sword met shell, the monster thrashed and flung itself around and back toward the sea, even as the birds tore and ripped large chunks of flesh from its back. In a flurry of foam and spray the monster vanished once more into the water and the birds rode as long as they could before the waves hit them. They floated there, then, eating what they had picked, their great black eyes reflecting red the setting sun. 

   “Run,” urged Meino, his red hair waving in the wind enough to give Valia some semblance of a magical aura from the story books. 

   They company hurried back to Valia and Alett, took the horses by the reins, and dashed down the rocky beach even as the birds lifted from the sea and flew toward them. 

   “Have you no magic?!” shouted Hyg, running towards the helm, his shout directed at Luc and Meino who rat beside him. 

   “Abjuration is defensive, ceasing, halting holding,” cried Luc as they ran. “Casting spells is for wizards, and wizards are not real!” 

   “Shame,” muttered the bard, and they ran on, the birds swooping near. 

   Two of the birds flew together and lifted the first soldier into the air, raising him up a dozen yards into the sky as he shouted and flailed, before tossing him out and to the side. Valia watched out of the corner of her eye as the man spun and shouted as he crashed back down to the ground, only a dozen feet from the waves, water that would have surely broken his fall. Thankfully, horses were blocking Valia’s view and she couldn’t see the man land. If only the pounding of the hooves blocked the sound of his body. 

   “Mount up!” shouted Captain Oren, springing into his saddle. 

   The others did the same, Valia pulling Alett up behind her, and they raced away, leaving the man behind. As they gained more and more distance they slowed their pace and Valia maneuvered to where the soldier’s horse trotted, letting Alett climb over and take the reins. 

   Three soldiers, three horses, plenty of morale. 

   Valia was keeping a mental tally in her head, one that pained her greatly. 

   No one spoke as they rode on, and the birds didn’t follow. The land spread out wider and wider and by the time it was full dark Valia couldn’t even hear the roar of the waves. 

   Captain Oren called for a halt and they gathered in a huddle after hobbling the horses. They were out of firewood or brush and ate salted beef and raw potatoes, the silence of chewing bitter and cold food deafening in the dark. 

   “If the land hasn’t shifted too greatly, we shall see a small lake in the next couple days,” said Luc, breaking the silence. 

   “A lake?” asked one of the soldiers. “Fresh water or ocean water? We’ve nearly run out of water and I’ve heard you aren’t supposed to drink the sea.” 

   “If the sea you sip, I’ll see you slip, and sink like ships and die.” 

   Everyone looked at Hyg in the dim moonlight at the curious words of his strange rhyme. He shrugged and stuffed two more small potatoes into his mouth. 

   “Fresh water,” said Luc, ignoring the bard. “It is an oasis in this horrid place.” 

   No one said any more and no one disputed the state of where they were. Someone spoke first about the soldier who had been taken by the giant gulls, and then the men went in turns, saying a kind word about him and giving him up to whatever god or gods they served. Many of them followed the druids, but Valia was surprised to hear one of the men give an Olereon prayer of water, and another said something about the Upright Heart, a religion she hadn’t heard of. 

   Oren set up the night’s watch and had everyone get to their bed rolls. Valia couldn’t sleep, the silence of the night was terrible. As the land spread wide and the sound of the seas abated she thought it would be nice to have some peace from the roaring waves, but laying there looking at a cloudy sky she realized that the waves had been lulling her to sleep and without them the fear of what might crawl from the water took over her. 

   She must have fallen asleep at some point because she awoke with a terrible shaking coupled with shouts from the men. 

   Valia reached out to feel Alett, to get her to stop shaking her, but the girl wasn’t there and Valia realized the ground was doing the wake up. 

   She scrambled from her bedroll, looking around in the fresh morning light, the sun still shy behind the horizon, and found the men and horses in a scatter, and large cracks opening along the landscape. 

   Alett stood among the hero boys, both whom she didn’t care for in conversation but apparently understood the value of their defense, and Valia could see the tears on the girl’s cheeks even in the dim light. 

   Captain Oren was shouting orders, trying to gain some order among the group, and both Spokesmen were sitting on the ground with their hands folded in their laps, staring down at the ground before them. There must have been some damage to their mental gate if they needed to focus on it at such a moment. 

   One of the horses took off and ran back the way they had come, and as Valia hurried along the rumbling ground toward Alett and the boys, Hyg ran past her with a wild smile on his face, his pink scarf flapping behind him like the tail of a running bird. 

   Valia reached Alett to look back and see the bard reaching the horse just as the ground shook greatly, knocking them all over. The rock and sand began spilling down into an opening hole, right where Valia had been sleeping not moments before. The hole continued to grow, spreading wide to the right and left, sand spilling into it like dark waterfalls. Fissures spread out from the wide gap the hole was becoming, some reaching towards them making them all turn and run away, further south. 

   Finally the heaving ceased and Valia watched as the sun rose, seeing the ruin of the land where they had just been. And Hyg, standing alone on the wrong side of it. 

   The bard raised his voice in a joyful song. “If words were birds and dance was grass, I would sing my wings and plant my–” the horse nudged Hyg from behind, pushing him dangerously close to the chasm. 

    The men burst out laughing at the antics of the horse, and Valia couldn’t keep the mirth from her own voice, shaking with the residuals of the fear still in her. 

   “No, don’t try to save me, no I insist!” cried the bard, stepping back away from the gap with a light spring. “Oh, you have no ropes long enough? To cast across for me? What a shame!” 

   “I actually don’t think we do,” mused Hal beside Valia. 

   “We can find a way!” shouted Captain Oren. 

   The bard shrugged and sat down on the ground. “No need, good man. I have my instruments here and a bit of dried seaweed. I shall endure!” 

   Valia noticed then that the horse was indeed Hyg’s, his small pony, and him chasing after it made much more sense. 

  “The land will erode and the water will fill the gap in a day’s time,” said Luc as the group on the south side of the split gathered together. “We will not have that much of an advantage on him, and he will be able to follow, even if he has to swim across the channel. 

   This seemed good enough for Oren and he ordered the group onward.

   Over that day and into the next they crossed a number of smaller gaps in the ground, fissures that had split in the quake, though all of them tapered to a point that was least narrow enough to step over. 

   They reached the lake by midday and Valia felt a flutter of hope in her chest at the sight. 

   It was large and round though tapering at the far end like a teardrop, and while it might have been more of a pond than a lake, Valia couldn’t complain. Trees dotted the edges as did shrubs and brush, and small birds flitted about the trees and there were even splashes of fish in the water. The group raced to the edge and dismounted, each of the riders tasting the water hesitantly first before deciding it was safe to drink and taking mouthfuls. 

   Valia leaned back on her knees and stared out at the water, her belly full of the liquid making her realize how dehydrated she had become. Without the lake, she wondered how they would have made it all the way to the Spokesman’s valley. 

   They gathered enough dead logs and branches to make a large fire, and cooked fresh fish caught from the lake over the flames. It was a hearty meal and though Hyg wasn’t there to play music, the men sang marching songs and tavern dirges and Valia sat with Alett to watch the sunset. 

   Away from the lake to the east, in the rays of the setting sun, Luc sat alone on a pile of flat rocks, his legs folded and his back straight. He was a dark shape on the horizon, and Valia left Alett to walk out to him. 

   She made her footsteps loud on purpose to not spook him, and when he turned around to watch her approach she felt better that he wasn’t focusing. She thought it wise to ask anyway. 

   “No,” he answered gently. “Just remembering.” 

   “May I?” she asked, rubbing the toe of her boot on the rock beside him. 

   He shrugged but didn’t say no, and Valia sat down beside him, careful not to be too close. 

   “Are they good memories?” she asked. 

   Luc shook his head, not looking at her. 

   Valia brought her knees to her chest and hugged them tight, for the sea breeze blowing toward them was much colder than the still air beside the fire. 

    “Do you think the bard will follow us?” Valia asked. 

   Hyg laughed a little. “I would hate to make a guess either way and be proven wrong. The man does not follow patterns of the universe. He might find his way back to Taro Myule for all we know, find an old doorway that leads to the citadel perhaps.”

   “If such a doorway existed I think I would follow him,” said Valia. 

   The man looked at her, his dark eyes piercing and deep, following every movement of her own. “We are close,” he said finally. “Would you abandon the quest now?” 

   “You were right before, I think,” she said. “I bring no value to this party, and all there is for me is death or survival, and that by only a thin margin it would seem. What more danger can we take that I can escape from?” 

   “If everyone dies before we reach the relic, we will need you to consume the magic,” Luc said. 

   Valia began to smile but saw that the man was entirely serious. She frowned and shook her head. “I know nothing of magic, and I don’t plan to.” 

   Luc looked out to the sea, the wind blowing a little at his dark hair, pushing it around over his forehead. “We knew nothing either,” he said. “We had no plans to come upon what we did.” 

   She waited for him to share more and when he didn’t, she pressed him, as gently as she could. “Would you tell me the story?” she asked. “Of how you came here?” 

   He didn’t answer for a long while and Valia was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t heard her, when he finally cleared his throat a bit and gave a small nod. 

   “I’ve been harsh to you, Valia of the forest. Perhaps this can be a small amendment.” 

   And he began his tale. 

Chapter 41. 

   Meino Jovis and I were as close of friends as you could have, brothers in all but blood. 

   I was the youngest and had older brothers, but Meino and Jovis never treated me as their younger counterpart, they included me in all that we did. Meino was not from Raelle, he came from across the White Sea, the son of a merchant who had been run out of his country for some bad trade deals and sought new shores and new opportunities. They were wealthy when they came, for the value of money was not aligned between continents, and Meino’s father built a spice factory in Taro Myule to begin his trade anew, working with traders of camel and ship to begin a new empire. 

   Meino loved all things history. He read as much as any scholar I had met, even more than my father who was a scribe under the then king, and he could tell us about any general from wars in the past, of every name of every island in the Southern Eyes, and of all seventeen unreached peaks in the Farra Peaks. Meino was and remains the smartest person I’ve met. 

   As we began teens, Meino wished for adventure more than anything. He dreamed of pirate treasure and hiking through untouched jungles, crossing the continent back and forth on foot and going across the White Sea to his homeland. He believed all the old stories of dragons and wizards and powerful ultimate godlike beings, and believed they were all still in the world, they must only be found. 

   Jovis and I followed his lead, playing into his fantasies, though Jovis disbelieved him more than I, for some of Meino’s dreams I could see the reality of, whereas Jovis believed none of it, only playing along for the fun. 

   Jovis’ father died in a carriage accident when he was young, Jovis only five or six years old, and so he grew up with his mother and older sisters, all of whom worked a small cobbler business that Jovis’ father had started. A little beside the point, but I believe Jovis did not believe there was adventure and good things in the world, because such a terrible hand had been dealt to him. 

   By the time I was in the first few years of my twentieth year, the three of us had traveled to the northern plains to see the bean and meat production, the three of us even trying Hef and getting very sick in a tavern in the foothills, and we traveled to the Southern Eyes and sailed around with a very tall man with very dark skin and eyes, with little hard stumps around his head like a crown. To this day, Meino would claim that they were horns that the man filed down, trying to hide that wasn’t really a human. Meino lived for that type of thing. 

   He would take seasons and help his father trading spice, while I worked with my father scribing and Jovis sold shoes. 

   Years passed on and Meino became obsessed with the pirate stories of the Quakeslan, and I think he believed them all at the time. Unfortunately, we have proven most of them true. 

   There was a valley, he believed, in the very south of the strip of land, that held a fountain overflowing with a crystalline water so pure it could grant all the powers of the goat meat but eternally, with one sip. It was healing and strengthening and allowed you to fly and push your dreams into reality and change the shape of objects and a host of other things that Meino would now tell you are stupid childrens stories, for that’s what they were. Yet, he was convinced. 

   He was so convinced that, while he had Jovis and I for the journey, we would follow him to the Pits of Lorn, I’m convinced of it–I still might if he had good enough evidence and really believed it himself–he wanted to have others to go with us. Mainly, my father. 

   Yes, Lavnan is my father, the scribe who worked for the old king, documenting court proceedings and organizing the royal library. He is the second most well read person I know, only behind Meino. 

  I believe Meino at the time wished to work for my father, to sit among the libraries and study the world, though I don’t think he realized that he had already done so and not out of duty but of love for knowledge. Yet, Meino could not be swayed out of his thoughts, and believed deeply that my father should join us to act as scribe for all that we did and saw. 

  Finally, with enough funds gathered and a proper plan, though the plan all turned to nothing as there were hardly any concrete documents regarding the Quakeslan, Meino was able to convince my father to come along. I think in the end, it was the threat of danger that brought my father. He wanted to protect us if he could, and when he could not convince us to go, he agreed to join. Percho was his assistant scribe, an older man than the rest of us but younger than my father, the man who would take his place when he died. It was the job Meino wanted but my father would not give him, and I believe it was because he knew Meino’s true nature for adventure and did not want to hold him back. 

   I was nearing my thirtieth year when we set off for the south, bringing pack mules with us laden with goods for the journey there and back, for in truth, Meino did not know how long we would be gone. 

   We encountered much of the same dangers we have seen so far on this return journey, creatures from the deep, birds that are far too large, pirates, and the earthquakes and schisms. We reached this lake and had a terrible conference much like we might have now if the men get an idea that they can desert and return, but Meino was able to convince us to carry on. 

  We did so, some of us more reluctant than the others, Jovis and my father in that first group, Percho somewhat neutral, and me leaning towards Meino’s side with hope that he was right. Of course, Meino was the most on the end away from reluctance. 

   We circled the lake and continued on, passing the hills and valleys, the forests and the canyons, the land narrowing and widening, and finally we reached the valley. We knew it was the valley because it was not like anything we had seen up to that point. 

   It was a bowl in the ground, a crater like what a great stone might make if it fell from the stars, yet instead of a stone in the center there was a pillar, rising from the barren ground like the dark finger of an ancient giant, thrust up out of its terrible burial. I had nightmares, after that day when we hiked down into the crater and touched the stone, the relic as we called it, of the creature in the ground raising up and showing the rest of his fingers, made of marked stone as was the relic, coming up to swallow the world. 

   Of course, that was an image of what will happen, I believe that now. 

   It was strange, looking down into that crater, seeing the relic there, a dark pillar of stone marked in turquoise runes from top to bottom. It was planted not directly in the center of the crater as though it was not what had formed the bowl in the ground, but rather a thing that had fallen there afterward. It was no fountain of holy water, but none of us thought much about the water anymore, for there was a pull to the stone that we could not put aside. 

   One at a time we hiked down into the crater until we all stood around the stone pillar, looking up at the blue-green runes that marked it. They were not of any language I could read, and even my father and Meino could not discern them. 

   Then, it was as though we were all joined in thought, pulled together by the same string, each of our minds just hooks on the line tugged in the same direction. Our hands reached out and touched the stone and we were blind and filled with the magic in the stone, the power that it held, waiting for something living to take it, to hold it, and horribly, to see what was trapped behind the pillar. 

   It was a gate, we realized, a piece of a gate at least, something that was joined with other pillars hidden somewhere else, a great thing that was keeping a terrible darkness at bay. We could all see it in our minds, and as the turquoise color faded from the stone, filling us instead, we found our fingers had grown dark as though dipped in ink, the color that has now spread further up our arms. 

   We fled, going back the way we had come, losing our mules and horses along the way until we reached the continent body again and found a safe place to focus and learn what was there. Here, Jovis became our guide. 

   I suppose it is like running, some of us are fast and some slow, though with training the playing field may be more even spread, the natural skill cannot be removed from some. Jovis could focus longer and sharper than the rest of us, and he could see the danger trapped more clearly than the rest of us also. He was the most afraid and the most convinced that we must align with the kingdom to ensure that there were no wars, that peace was formed among the kingdoms, and that the north be set as a safe place to grow immense crops of beans and powerful goats, for he was certain only superior soldiers would help us in the day ahead, when the darkness was eventually unbound and set free. 

   That was another aspect Jovis was convinced of: he saw, more than any of the rest of us, the end of the world, and the inevitability of it all. 

   He saw us die, over and over, thousands upon thousands of times, and believed your coup would end it all, and so his hands met your brother, and your friend took his end. 

   Luc didn’t look away from the ocean as he finished his tale, the sun long set and his voice growing more and more dry with each word until he was nearly rasping out the end. 

   “Have you seen it all end?” Valia asked, unsure, really, where to go with all of the information she had just heard. 

   He looked at her and she almost gasped at the profound sadness in his eyes. “More times than I can count. It’s been eighty-nine years since we came here and touched the relic. Eighty-nine years of nightmares.”