Tyler's Dream (5 page)

Tyler shuddered. “Varkon, I—”

“Quiet. Let me talk without pause. I have much to say, and you have little time to hear it. Now, you were wondering about magic. The casting of a single spell is so complex even the most dedicated and talented wielders would not master more than one or two their entire lives. The greater spells take much longer to master: to summon fire, to command the rain …
She
must know a hundred such spells, as would the Dhimori.” Tyler’s stomach tightened a little with dread. Varkon seemed to sense Tyler’s feelings, although the night was absolute about them. “Ah yes, you saw the spiked demon, did you not? That was a Dhimori, one of
Her
servants. The Lady most call
She
.” Tyler could not imagine anything more terrifying than the Dhimori.

“It was thousands of years ago at the Grazzel Fields, when She first came into history. There, She defeated the highest Tsu, Nugarv-Klut, winning the loyalty of the lesser leaders and uniting them for the first time since the death of Razik Hakru,” Varkon’s tone sunk into rhythm.

Storm crow, black c
loud,

Cold mountain ringed with f
lame;

Brown earth quakes in
fury,

      Thundered by foot and
rain.

O Razik, mighty R
azik,

Last great Tsu of
all,

Ruler of the Grey L
ands,

Architect of Ornick
-hor.

Higher than the eagle’s wing

To dwarf the swirling c
loud,

Spiked towers pierce the mountain
sky.

It stands like
you,

So tall, so
p
roud.

A thousand battles you have fo
ught;

A thousand victories you have
won.

But now, alas, you are betr
ayed,

And by your very own and wicked
son.

The coward met Razik with de
ceit,

Three warriors to his every
one,

Yet still he crushed his child’s army

And killed his only, wretched
son.

But a mortal wound he was smi
tten.

Razik knew that death was c
lose,

So he gathered around his heroes

And made them swear the highest
oath.

I ghatu and proud swear on duties t
hree:

To respect my ances
tors;

      I remember they came befor
e me.

To fight when called for ba
ttle;

      A coward can never suc
ceed.

To honour my Ruilk above my
life,

      Or what trust could I possibly
keep?

Then Razik died a hero’s death, upon that blood-stained f
ield.

His memory is carried with his oath, for to it all ghatu must y
ield.

The ring of Varkon’s voice hung in the air after he had finished his recitation. He began to speak again just before the sound completely died. “All these thousands of years ago, and with the might of the entire ghatuan army behind Her, She attacked the Alliance, ploughing through its lands suddenly, like a dagger to the heart. The Dhimori were elemental in Her strategy; they were Her terrible servants, totally bent upon their mistress’s bidding. It is said that they once walked without capes, uncovered for all to see. However, even ghatu would tremble before the spiked demons, and so She disguised their terrible forms. Finally She reached Ithrim, the centre of the Alliance. The enchantress laughed as She approached at the walls, and Her laughter burnt all the courage from the defenders so that some cast down their weapons, knowing defeat was certain. It is also said the sea blackened and swelled, forming a towering wave that crashed upon the city and swept away most of its high walls. Victory was within our grasp.”

Varkon’s voice grew thin with emotion. “Then a single arrow, shot by some mere nÿmph from a remaining section of the wall, flew straight and true over a whole league and plunged through the centre of Her heart. Her army saw Her crash to the ground with a scream so full of lost power and magic that it petrified the minds of those who heard it for the rest of their days. The ghatuan army panicked, and in the disarray they were slaughtered. The survivors were driven all the way back to the mountains or the Grey Lands. The Alliance had triumphed over the Lady. Her Dhimori disappeared, and the ghatu broke into the Uric Kranaz, the Forever War. Ghatu against ghatu, tribe against tribe – the fight for the new Tsu was to last hundreds of years with none gaining the upper hand for long. My own grandfather and many of my uncles and cousins fought and died in this war.”

Varkon subsided into silence before continuing. “
She
has risen again. No one knows how; it is said that Her body was burnt to dust after the Last Battle all those centuries ago, while thousands watched. Yet even so, She lives. The Dhimori have returned, and She has won back the loyalty of my people and put an end to the Uric Kranaz. The weak Alliance is growing fearful of the blow that is sure to come.”

The story was not a happy one, and yet Tyler felt an odd sense of satisfaction. He had just gained a little bit of the greater history that had been kept from him his whole life – and it had taken a mortal enemy to tell the truth.

Something shook him hard. Tyler startled and cried out.

“
Fool,
it is me. The blind and deaf have more senses about them than you. Now come; morning is only a few hours away. We must increase the pace tenfold to make up for your delay. Are you ready, boy? The real journey now begins.”

CHAPTER SIX
WHERE LIONS WALK

They travelled though a world cast in the simple shine and shade of night. Soft shadows gave life to dead branches while owls balefully called from the deeper wood. Varkon was watchful and mostly silent. When he did speak, it was to curse; the ghatu had intended to travel east, but fate had set them on the western bank. The freezing, quick rush of the river made swimming across unthinkable, so they instead followed it south, hoping that some other means of crossing would reveal itself. The ghatu maintained the pace ahead of Tyler, always keeping in sight of the river yet remaining within the tree line to take advantage of the lighter snow and to hide from prying eyes on the open bank.

The shelter of darkness burnt away with the arrival of a limpid, cold sun. Blacks and greys melted into a cascade of spring greens, lemon yellows, and berry blues, warming the bark and bright lichen on the trees. The river bubbled loudly, splashing past wet rocks to the sea. It was beautiful … not that Tyler cared. Exhaustion had long since set upon him, and only some deep reserve of energy now remained to drive his leaden legs.

At noon they rested beneath the branches of a squat pine that stretched its spiny leaves over the river. Tyler sipped at the freezing water of the steam. His thirst had been satisfied quickly, but he now felt much more out of breath and cold. He knew his clothes weren’t nearly sufficient to keep him alive if the wind picked up.

“Well, I’d make a pretty snowman,” he mumbled bitterly as he tucked his hands under his shirt and held onto the spider-stone. Its warmth at least was comforting.

“Come, we must go,” said Varkon, rising to his feet.

“Varkon!” Tyler moaned in disbelief, tucking his aching legs further towards his chest. “Please. My fingers are still frozen!”

“How do you
mukwa
get by in this world?” said Varkon with pity. “Look at you! Barely three leagues, and already you can hardly stand. The youngest of my sisters can travel twice the distance in half the time.”

“You have a sister?”

“Brothers, sisters, uncles, cousins …”

“Sorry, I thought … Do you miss them?”

The ghatu stirred at the question, a dangerous gleam appearing in those wide eyes. Tyler swallowed. Was he on the edge of invoking another rage? But Varkon was apparently not in the mood for strangling people today, and finally he answered, “In my way.”

And just like that, the overwhelming detachment that had numbed Tyler’s senses since he had found out about his family’s death parted just a little. “OK, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Tyler trudged with his arms crossed and his shoulders hugged together into the night that had cascaded about them. Varkon still strode purposely forward, as he had done all day. Tyler’s eyes strained to see from beneath their bruised lids, and he cast them downwards, watching the gaping holes left in the snow by Varkon’s enormous feet.

The tracks ended. Varkon had stopped. “Far enough. We will sleep here.”

They were standing in a small clearing cut against the side of a flattened hill. The river was out of sight, but its sloshing water was still audible. A rock, sides separated into distinct layers like a stack of pancakes, defined one edge of the opening. Varkon brushed away a patch of snow at its base and motioned that Tyler should sit, which he did unquestioningly, resting his back against the rock and curling himself into a small and steaming ball of exhaustion.

“Wait here. Be watchful,” Varkon warned before slipping away between the trees.

Tyler was so hungry that he couldn’t fall asleep. From time to time his belly would emit a violent groan. Varkon was taking a long time, whatever he was up to. He rubbed his eyes. Something flickered between the trees. He stared outwards with more attention. Was he was seeing things? The consequence of blurry vision and a tired train of thought, perhaps? Then there was a glint from the woods, a definite flash; he was sure of it this time. Suddenly alert and warmed with a nervous energy, he cleared his throat.

“Varkon?” He coughed and tried again. “Is that you?”

No sound. The trees stared blankly back.

He unearthed a suitably weighted rock next to him. “Great. This will do a lot of good if I’m found by a ghatuan search party,” he whispered sarcastically.

His back was too close to the trees. The thought hit him with a simultaneous wave of discomfort. The rock was providing a false sense of security. He stepped out swiftly to the centre of the clearing, twisting his head.

Standing on the rock was a terrifyingly large animal, mottled in the moonlight. It looked like an enormous cat the size of five men at least. The wind gently massaged the silky snow-white fur that covered its long, lean body. A set of intense yellow eyes were fixed upon him.

Carefully Tyler pivoted the rest of his body so as to face the same direction as his head. The creature remained motionless; only its tail betrayed movement as it flicked from side to side like a pendulum, counting off the last moments of Tyler’s life.

The creature crouched.
It’s going to pounce
, thought Tyler. He wound back his arm and yelled.

The cat paused. It cocked its head, and in a white flash it slipped away into the night.

Varkon burst into the clearing at the same instant. “What’s wrong? I heard a shout.”

Tyler fell to his knees with relief, adrenaline rushing madly around his body. “I don’t know. It’s gone.”

“What is, boy?”

Boy.
Tyler realised that Varkon had never called him by his real name; perhaps he did not know it. Why this random insight mattered suddenly was beyond him. “An animal, all white. Looked like a large cat.”

“A snow lion? Are you sure you did not mistake it for a wolf?” One look at the quivering Tyler seemed to convince him otherwise. “I won’t leave you alone again. I’ll stay guard tonight, giving you a chance to rest.”

Tyler nodded in ready agreement. Varkon bent down and offered him … a root? It had been washed in the river and was still dripping with icy water. “Eat this,” the creature said.

Tyler snatched the root from Varkon’s hand rudely without meaning to, and he bit into it. It was extremely dry and had a strange, chalky taste. He finished it in no time.

Varkon’s face contorted into an assorted smile of hooked teeth as he watched Tyler eat. “Like that, eh? Good. It’s all we have to get by on. I found a decent patch not far from here. It’s called
krus
, a tulip that remains hidden under the ground until it shoots out a bright red flower in the summer.” Varkon patted his back, which had about twenty
krus
secured skilfully to it with pieces of cloth. Half of his shirt had been used to achieve this, so the dark flesh across his chest was now exposed, revealing new coils of tattoos. If the ghatu felt the cold, he didn’t show it. “You should rest; tomorrow will not be easy. If we don’t find a way across the stream, it will only be a matter of time until we are captured.”

Tyler was too tired to care. As he dozed off, he could hear Varkon softly singing.

Child of troubles, Child of st
rife,

Sleep, sleep de
eply.

Then awake, Child of
life
.

Tyler did indeed sleep deeply. He woke briefly only once, and he saw Varkon close by, watchful and attentive, staring into the night.

He sat, waiting and watching. For almost half a day, he had patiently remained in his position, nÿmph-feet perched carefully upon a swaying branch. His ears searched the wind for some sound of his hunt. His prey was the duik, a small, hoofed animal. Tradition held that it was forbidden to hunt one with a bow. Instead, the ultimate triumph was to catch one using only bare hands and keen wit. One of its small black horns could then be kept as a token of suc
cess.

A slight rustle of leaves down below signalled the emergence of his prey. He stemmed his excitement and hooded his eyes, soaking in every detail. Timing would be everything. After arching his back, he rose and ran nimbly along the fragile branch on which he had been waiting. Suddenly and without pause, he sprang through the air, landing quietly upon a jutting tree limb in one swift step. Then he was in the air again, cutting through the wind like a deft arrow and catching hold of a feeble acara bough. The leaves barely rustled. Now he was directly above the duik, who was still grazing blissfully. He let his fingers slip, and he fell the remaining fourteen feet with a faultless twist, landing neatly with his feet either side of his quarry. He slid his knife from his belt and slashed at his mark. The duik startled before hurtling away into the bush. Smiling, he picked up the small, twisted black horn that lay propped on the g
rass.

Tyler opened his eyes. He had been having such vivid dreams lately. He wearily shook his head and blinked at the rising sun. Varkon was standing in the middle of the clearing, watching him.

“Get up. You’ve had a long rest,” the creature gruffed.

“It’s light already?” asked Tyler. “I thought the plan was to travel much earlier than this.”

“Tomorrow I will not be so kind. Come – we must cross the stream by this evening. Take this
krus;
it will help to wake you.”

Tyler took the root and began to gnaw on it as he followed Varkon. It didn’t taste nearly as good as the night before.

The day was much the same as the previous one, except that for a long while Tyler was plagued by cramps. Fortunately this fell away as he began to sweat with the effort of ploughing forward. The morning passed as before, with the exception of one odd moment when the companions spotted two cows wandering blissfully on the other side of the riverbank. Tyler could only dream as to what strange path they must have taken to end up there! At noon they made a brief stop to dine on another
krus
.

During the long stretches of mindless plodding Tyler had time to reflect on Hargill’s untruths, the mysterious snow lion, the spider-curse that had been inflicted upon him (for he had begun to see it as a curse), Varkon’s fickle moods, the murder of his family, the purpose of this “quest”, why he was being chased by the Dhimori … So many questions, but he had no answers to any of them.

“Varkon?” he called one point in a moment of bravery. “Why did you kill those men?”

“Who?”

“Innor and his friends, from the cart.”

Tyler noticed the ghatu raised a tentative hand to his bandaged arm. “One of our scouts was spotted by your outer encampment.”

“Firith,” said Tyler.

“I was sent alone by the Sa-Tsu to kill a party that was sent out to warn your village. The scout reported only two men in the group. The miserable creature lied – there were six. I’m lucky to be alive and have
this
to show for it,” Varkon gestured to his bandaged arm. “From an arrow that missed my heart.”

They continued in silence after that until dusk, but there was still no way to bridge the river. Varkon called their grinding pace to an end. “If we stay by this river any longer, we will be discovered.” Tyler nodded, too tired to verbally agree. “Last chance,” said Varkon. “Can you think of any way over?”

“No. Besides the mad thought of swimming, I cannot.”

“Let us trust in madness, then, to take us further.”

“You want to
swim
?” Tyler thought Varkon had lost his mind. “Well, perhaps you could survive the cold, but I cannot. Besides, the current is too strong. How could we hold our own against it?”

Without further comment Varkon took hold of his long hair and tucked it into what was left of his shirt.

Tyler rubbed his hand against his forehead with weary disbelief. “Do you remember the other night?” he asked doubtfully. “I was barely in the water for a few
moments,
and I almost died.”

Varkon reached behind his back to make sure all the
krus
was secured. He then slapped his huge hands together with such a bang that a flock of birds startled from a nearby tree. “Are you done complaining?”

Tyler flung up his hands. “Varkon, I
will
die. Please understand.”

“You
will
give me a headache if you keep acting so precious. All right, grab hold of my back.”

“What?”

“Grab hold of my back,” Varkon said slowly. “I’ll swim across with you.”

“How can you possibly swim with me dragging you under?”

“I’ll be the judge of what I can and cannot do.
Move,
boy, do as I say.”

A frosty silence marked Tyler’s surrender to Varkon’s will. There was no possible way that they would make it, and yet what choice did he have? He slowly pulled off his boots, secured them to a buckle on his pants, staggered reluctantly over, and took hold of the ghatu’s shoulders.

“No. Not there. Here,… and here.” Tyler wrapped his arms around Varkon as tightly as he could. This was without doubt the most reckless thing he had ever contemplated. And to think: a few days ago he had been hesitant to break a window! Now he was hopping into a deadly cold stream on the back of a ghatu.