Tyler's Dream (9 page)

Tyler felt weak with this fiery talk. The Hargill he had respected and loved so much was a madman and a traitor. “I can try to be,” he said faintly.

Haranio nodded. “A wise answer. Perhaps Hargill had not completely lost all his sense. He seems to have done well in choosing you, although it was foolhardy to do so without the proper agreement of the Council or a child of its choosing. The timing is also more than questionable, and now the safety of the one who is blessed is in grave peril. You are vulnerable, lost deep in ghatuan territory, with only two guardians to offer protection against the Dhimori and His army, who are close on our heels.”

“And you one of those hunters who supposedly volunteered to search for Hargill?” quipped Varkon with indifference. Tyler was surprised the ghatu still held much distrust in his tone, and he was not the only one who noticed. Haranio was obviously well aware of Varkon’s contempt.

“Yes, I am. I felt it was my duty, as Hargill’s closest friend, to be a part of the search. I would not hold yourself too highly, ghatu. I know that you do not trust me, but how do I know that you are really on our side? After all, your kind is the
real
enemy.”

Varkon leapt like an arrow to his feet, and Haranio matched his pace, glaring fiercely.

“My name is Varkon Kar Tavernev, son of Tirimu Kar Tavernev, and you insult me greatly, old man. I gave my
Ruilk
to protect the boy. I would not break it.”

“Hargill seems to have put much faith in this little tradition of yours, but he was mad. He has already put the fate of the free world at serious risk, and I severely doubt his judgement. I have never known of an honest ghatu.”

The situation was spinning rapidly out of control.

“Stop!” called Tyler. “I trust you both! Varkon has already proven his loyalty beyond all doubt, and Haranio has saved my life today. Have you forgotten that we already know who the real enemy is? The Dhimori is all that should concern us – that, and reaching Ithrim alive.”

Tyler’s outburst did much to calm his own, boiling emotions, but Varkon and Haranio did not back down straight away. Instead they continued to stare intensely, locked into each other’s gaze. Finally it was Varkon who broke the tension, shrugging his shoulders apathetically.

“I do not fear you, Haranio. I won’t pretend that I trust you, either. I have never heard of a shamif before. But your story seems to make sense, and the boy thinks you have saved his life. Perhaps if I heard the rest of your tale, it would easy my mind.”

Once everyone was seated Haranio, began to talk again, but more slowly this time. He also exchanged more than a few withering glances at Varkon.

“There is not much left to tell. Varkon, if you do not trust me now, you never will. What is left is to answer Tyler’s earlier question: what does Avalon’s Blessing do to the blessed? The answer is uncertain. All we have to guess at are the words of Avalon’s poem, and they do not reveal much. I am sure, however, that the effects will become obvious all too soon. Perhaps these dreams are an indication of the power of the blessing beginning to mature inside of you. It is impossible to tell.”

A terrible disappointment caught at Tyler’s throat. “But Hargill said that you would have all the answers. He told me that you would explain everything – why so much truth was hidden from me through my life, the effects of the spider bite …”

“I’m sorry, Tyler, I cannot conceive what Hargill could have meant. At least now I am here to help … as is Varkon,” he added grudgingly. “We, as a company, will reach Ithrim no matter the cost. Now let us rest, for shortly we will be forced to rise and have to travel far. We will stick with the walking times that you have been following, sleeping during the night so that we are able to travel from early dawn to late dusk.”

Varkon hissed dangerously from where he was sitting. “And who made you the leader of this expedition?”

“I am only doing what I think is right for the boy,” Haranio snapped back. “More important, where
exactly
are you walking, Varkon? You are travelling due east. That way leads only to the mountains – and ghatu.”

“I think I know the mountains better than you, old man. Let me handle the directions. There is no other way to the eastern shoreline except to walk around all of the Klinha range. We would all be as old as you if we took that path.”

“But it is less dangerous, so it is the route we should travel. We can’t afford to risk anything.”

“
No
! My way is safest. Any other path will not only take too long, but it will be full of hidden traps and pitfalls that I will be unaware of, and thus unprepared for.”

Haranio considered this for a moment. “All right, Varkon,” he said finally. “I will trust you in this because Tyler does. But if I find that you are leading us to danger, mark my words: I will kill you before I myself die of your treachery.” There was an uncomfortable silence before Haranio spoke again with a sudden weariness. “I must sleep. It has been a long day, and I have yet to fully recover from my ordeal. If you stay watch for the first half of the night, Varkon, I will do the second.” With that Haranio rose from his seat and turned to stride off into the night.

“Where are you going?” said Varkon suspiciously.

“I like to sleep with room to myself,” called Haranio as he walked. “Don’t worry, I will stay close by and sleep lightly.”

Varkon grunted with irritation, sat down, and pushed his back up against a large boulder to wait out his shift. Tyler drifted off to sleep a little while later. He felt sad. It was hard to believe that Hargill, his dear friend whom he loved so much, had caused such devastation.

Black flame burnt all around. The sky was scorched clean of life and colour. A figure stood not far off, engulfed in a thick ring of fire, watching. Suddenly the raging flames leapt up around him. He screamed as he realised that he was burning alive. The laughter sta
rted.

Laughing, she collapsed on the bushel of hay. Her name was Lois Ann, and she was playing with her best friend, Jessica, who was beside her. The golden field was bright with possibility, and the open sky above made her feel limitless and
free.

It was late, very late at night. He was standing above someone, watching him sleep. He felt such an intense loathing for this person; he hated him more than anything in the world, but he did not know what to do. He had only known him for a little while, but it was already far more than enough. He wanted to get rid of him. He wanted revenge. He bent closer to the sleeping person on the floor. It was all he could do to resist coiling his hands around his neck and strangling the life from him. He crouched even lower, his body ridged with fury, his lips curling for blood. The face of the sleeper was slowly revealed through the powdered night
–
and it was T
yler.

CHAPTER NINE
THE ROOTS OF MOUNTAINS

The world had Tyler’s full attention. His eyes, ears, and mind were immediately on full alert. He sat bolt upright and stared around, half expecting the killer to be still be leaning over him, still breathing with menace inches from his face. But there was no killer to be seen, no danger to confront. The first rays of dawn were over the horizon, plugging into the pool of defiant morning fog. Varkon and Haranio had already risen and were milling about over a cheery fire. It was Haranio who first noticed that Tyler was awake.

“Tyler, good morning to you! I’ve found us a patch of ruburl roots, but they’re to be roasted before they’re fit to eat. Come and try one. You woke just in time.”

Tyler rubbed his eyes to give himself time to think. His dream had felt so
real
. If it was, then it was evident that one of his newfound “friends” wanted to kill him. More than that: the person wanted to grab his neck and hold it until the blood clotted in his throat and his lungs were sucked dry. He had
felt
that desire to hurt, and he wished that he had not woken so that some hint would have revealed the murderer’s identity.

Varkon growled, his short patience at an end. “Tyler,
now
! Or would you let our hard work go to waste?”

Tyler rose and smiled as though all was normal and well. It seemed that Varkon and Haranio were getting on much better. Perhaps they had talked before he had risen and had reached some sort of understanding – or perhaps they were both conspirators of his demise. He pretended to be sleepy as he sauntered over to them. In truth he was wide awake and terrified.

“Good morning,” he said dreamily as he plonked himself down next to the fire.

“Did you dream?” asked Varkon.

“No, not last night,” he lied with a bright face. Tyler looked between Varkon’s and Haranio’s expressions, but they gave away no hint of guilt. Perhaps he would safer by himself.

The food was delicious. Haranio proved extremely knowledgeable about the different plants that could be eaten and where to find them.

“Don’t eat the black nodes – that’s where the leaves grow from in the spring. You see, they’re tipped with poison to deter badgers. Useless to eat, but mix them with boiling water and breathe the steam to see strange visions of bright colour. Whole tribes of ghatu have been known to sit together in steaming rooms before battle, claiming the mixture thins the barrier between them and their ancestors.”

And yet, through the laugher and light conversation, Tyler realised that there was now no trust between any of them, so their words were at times forced and cold.

Suddenly Haranio rose and kicked dust at the fire until only smoky earth remained. “Come!” he called, and then he recited a poem.

We journey forward on broken
feet,

Suffering with the cold and heat

Suffering with the hail and
rain,

But always onward, mountain or p
lain,

Onward traveller! Onwards
roam!

For one step forward, is another
home.

And so they travelled for three days. Each night Tyler was afraid to sleep for fear of being throttled by one of his “loyal” companions. He always offered to keep watch but was only successful once, and much to the disagreement of Varkon. In the end the ghatu had backed down, but Tyler was sure he had only pretended to sleep and had stayed awake all the same.

Whenever he did succumb to overwhelming exhaustion, Tyler’s dreams were the usual mix of visions. He reflected on them a great deal during the day, and the more he considered how he was experiencing every possible taste, touch, feeling, and scent of the characters he connected with, the more convinced he became that they were real. But he kept this idea to himself, for the nook of trust he had felt so briefly for his companions had now widened into a valley of suspicion.

For an orphan and an innocent to the world, such bitter suspicion was not healthy to bear. The nights were filled with interesting conversation and tales, and food was kept in plentiful supply, but Tyler struggled to enjoy himself. As the days wore on, he became an empty husk of his former self, rising in the morning only to walk his bit during the day before lying down at night and trying his utmost not to fall asleep. If it weren’t for a promise made in the flames of all that he had loved, Tyler felt sure that he would have given up a long time ago.

It was the fourth day that saw the company take a welcome rest at the tip of a gentle rise. The land was becoming much steeper and defined, shaped by slumped boulders and sudden cliffs. The pine forest, which was all Tyler had ever known, was thinning, and a very different landscape was taking shape. Instead of fragrant pine branches, they now traversed through empty expanses of rocky ground, a desert of stone, and lonely grey shrubs.

Varkon took Tyler’s shoulder and gestured to the east. “Look, Tyler. Can you see?”

Tyler lifted his head and looked to the horizon with unconcealed weariness. Over the past few days his companions had noticed his sullen change of mood. Now both were treating him kindly, perhaps suspecting Haranio’s story had shaken him for the worse. If only they knew the truth.

Sitting across the horizon was a barbed ring of distant mountains. The craggy peaks were too far away to observe any detail; instead, the wonder lay in the sheer scale and number of them, the skirting of cloud that hung against the summits as though snagged by the jutting pinnacles. Tyler gloried in the reaching canvas of emerald blue sky, the cool iron-grey of the mountain backs, the vast emptiness before them, the overpowering expanse of it.

“Well?” called Varkon, his voice warm with pride. “This is my home, boy. The Klinha Mountains. If you were look north-east from here on a clear day, I am sure it would be possible to see the ruins of Ornick-hor. My home is few leagues further north than that. However, we are heading due east, towards that peak, Mount Natsa.” Varkon raised a stubby finger to indicate its direction. It was obvious that Varkon enjoyed talking about his home, perhaps because it was the first familiar place he had seen for so very long. “We will rest here tonight. Tomorrow we will begin our ascent.”

It took much longer than Varkon had anticipated. As they approached the mountains, the ground became increasingly punctuated by rocky passes that had to be scaled, and the snow grew deeper and less safe. Soon the vegetation simply vanished so that only the whirling wind and yawning white landscape remained.

It was another three days of painstakingly slow progress that saw them to the sharply sloped base of Mount Natsa, where their climb began in earnest. Frostbite had taken its unfortunate toll on Haranio’s foot, bruising it into a cadaverous, plum-like colour. It was agreed that he should transform into a more suitable shape for the journey, although this meant Varkon was forever casting a suspicious eye towards the shamif. Tyler wondered how easily Haranio could lose himself again.

And so they continued, with Varkon ahead, Tyler following closely, and Haranio in his snow lion form trailing effortlessly behind. The higher they climbed, the colder it became. Ice crystals threaded through Tyler’s hair, and his cheeks stung red as hot blood rose through his frosted veins.

Varkon led them up the spine of an arched ridge, which enabled the company to avoid the brunt of the roaring wind as it dashed against a conveniently sloped bank that ran edgeways to their right. Soon the view was lost to the quick-moving mist as they trespassed into the clouds. Static plumes of grey and white thrashed together violently, and Haranio’s skulking form was almost impossible to spot against the barren wasteland of the mountain. As evening approached, Varkon led the way around the side of an enormous V-shaped cleft that widened into a cave.

Varkon and Haranio piled together some dry sticks that they had foreseen to gather from the bottom of the mountain, and a small fire was soon spluttering away. Tyler pushed his hands close to the blaze and bore witness to Haranio performing another grizzly transformation back to his human form. Then the man sat back comfortably with Tyler’s jacket draped across his lap.

“How much c-colder is it going to get?” asked Tyler, his teeth clicking in sync with his shuddering body.

“Much colder,” said Varkon, eyeing him with concern. “Stay strong, boy. We have nothing more to keep you warm.”

They did not talk much that night. Instead the company sat watching the small flame crackle and fight against the wind.

“Here, I have some food,” said Varkon, “Finish it all. There is no other sustenance in this barren place.”

The mushroom he handed out was sweet, and Tyler savoured every bite. It was certainly a change from the dry
krus
. Afterwards the trio sat in silence until the meagre flame finally faded away with a last, apologetic flicker.

“Right,” said Haranio, his first word in several hours. “I think we should all get some rest. No need for a guard tonight – we will not be troubled here.”

Tyler lay awake in the darkness long after he was supposed to have fallen asleep. He watched the hurtling snow outside, afraid to fall victim to his dreams, and he fought back his heavy eyelids. Then, just when he knew he could not hold back his exhaustion anymore there was a quiet noise, and the silence after it seemed unnatural. It was the sound made by someone who didn’t want to make a sound. Tyler pinched his eyelids into two tight slits and peered through the dark.

It was Varkon. The ghatu rose carefully to his feet and, after glancing about him, disappeared like a flitting bat into the night and snow. Tyler sat upright immediately after he had left. What was Varkon doing, sneaking around in middle of the night halfway up a desolate mountainside?

Haranio remained peacefully asleep to Tyler’s right. Somehow he had managed to cover himself from head to toe with only Tyler’s jacket and half of Varkon’s torn shirt; this lent him the appearance of a caterpillar wrapped in a long cocoon. Every so often his sides heaved deeply with sleep. For a long while Tyler considered waking the old man and warning him of Varkon’s disappearance, but could he be trusted? If Haranio was the betrayer from his dreams, he might use this opportunity to carry out his murderous intent.

It was only after most of the night had passed that Varkon finally slipped back into the cave and settled into his corner. Tyler saw him do this, which was surprising because he had drifted off more than a couple of times during the night. Not long after, the cave began to collect the early morning light, and Varkon rose yet again, this time, to wake everybody.

“Come on, get up!” the ghatu called in high spirits. “First breakfast, and then we must push on. We have a long day ahead of us.”

Tyler observed the ghatu suspiciously from under the guise of his black-ringed eyes as he nibbled on his mushroom.

Once more they ventured into the strange and frozen realm of the mountainside. Although the snowstorm from last night had eased, flakes still drifted limply from the mist. Tyler struggled through the snow, which was much deeper than the day before.

Varkon led the way with a definite spring to his step. Tyler had at first thought this behaviour suspicious, but as the day wore on, he began to doubt his initial concerns. The ghatu had told him that he felt far more at ease in the dark. Perhaps Varkon had only been scouting the way ahead last night, checking for avalanches and other dangers that lay hidden on the mountain path. Tyler shook his head. Varkon had saved his life so often. It was Haranio whom Tyler should be watching.

They travelled until noon, Tyler pondering all the while, until they heard it. Loud and harsh, the scream echoed for a long while off the mountains. Tyler dropped forward onto his stomach so that the ice crunched underneath him; he had long since learnt he was far less vulnerable when pressed flat against the ground. He peered upwards, his chin tipped with snow. They had reached a gentle incline on the mountain, a straight cut into its natural slope, and on either side of this sat a twin set of colossal rocks.

Three spears thudded into the ground not too far away, and then the screaming was taken up by a hundred voices or more. Ghatu crawled over the tops of the rock on either side of them like cockroaches, some on all fours, and some with fifth or even sixth limbs to help them hang against the vertical walls of stone. More appeared, streaming from behind the pair of goliath rocks in countless numbers to trap the companions. Haranio roared in his snow lion form and swirled about his tail, as though he could not decide who to attack first. Tyler craned his head behind to search for an escape route, but a solid wall of ghatu approached from the rear. Those that did have recognisable features twisted them with malice.

They pushed down the passage between the rocks, eager to advance, sandwiching Tyler, Varkon, and Haranio between them. Closer they came, and closer still … Then suddenly and apparently without command, each one of them came to a simultaneous halt. Their grinning faces were so close to them that it was possible to smell their stench. There was no place to run.