A Quick Sun Rises (25 page)

It was then, in the midst of his growing determination, that a dark shadow briefly enveloped them, blocking out the sunlight for a quick moment drawing his attention skyward just in time to avoid the talons that dropped down behind him, their terrible claws digging deep into Tchee’s back. Tchee let out a horrific scream of pain and anger as Teek suddenly felt his building courage sapped away in an instant as he faced the black roc now clutching Tchee’s back. In an instant, a sharp beak was dropping down on him forcing him to the side where he tumbled toward Tchee’s fluttering right wing. She cried out in pain as the black roc’s beak sliced into her back just below the neck where Teek had just been.

Grabbing her wing as he fell, Teek caught himself but was now being tossed about as Tchee tried desperately to stay in the air. They were losing altitude fast as the black roc pecked at Tchee again. Teek knew she couldn’t fight back for fear of throwing him off, but to do nothing would invite her own death. Without thinking, he grabbed at the feathers on Tchee’s back and pulled himself back up to just under the black bird that was not paying attention to him as it continued its barrage on Tchee. The wind created by its flapping wings almost pushed Teek back off again but ducking behind as the wing rose, he scrambled just behind the black one’s talons and then reversed his motion as the wing was coming back down giving him the opportunity he’d been looking for.

Tchee cried out in pain again as Teek scurried up the black roc’s wing and then onto his back where he unsheathed his dagger. Tchee’s attacker made a final assault on her with his vicious beak, unaware of his new passenger, until Teek dug the dagger into his back as hard as he could.

The black roc shrieked, his talons instantly releasing their grip on Tchee and letting her go as Teek’s dagger came down again hard digging deep into the bird’s flesh. Moving up as he did so, Teek was at the bird’s neck when it turned sharply trying to dislodge him, but Teek had anticipated this having his legs wrapped tightly around the rocs neck. In a frenzy of anger he again dug his dagger in, this time planting it into the bird’s neck as much for the kill as to keep him from falling off and plummeting to his death. It was at that moment that Tchee, now recovered somewhat, dropped onto the black roc’s back, her own talons latching onto the area where moments before she had been held. The black roc flapped his wings desperately as Teek continued without mercy to plunge his dagger in again and again all about his neck.

No longer was Tchee’s hold one of attack but instead was now used to try and keep the dying bird from dropping too quickly as it was starting to plummet toward the jagged mountainside below. But she was weakening as well, her injuries enough to threaten her own survival. She screamed at and even brushed Teek with her beak but he was beyond hearing or feeling anything. The only thing that mattered now was his dagger and the bird that had attacked them and how many times he could plunge his blade into its flesh.

The fight was now completely gone from the dark roc, his death looming as he plunged toward the ground, his great wings barely moving, an involuntary action that occurred innately to try and keep him from hitting the ground with force. Teek paid no mind to the rising mountainside that threatened him as well as once more his dagger sank deep, cutting through feather and flesh and opening another gap for blood to escape.

Teek raised his hand for another stab but was suddenly pitched forward, the air forced from his lungs as he hit hard the back of the black bird’s head and then tumbled over onto a rocky outcropping. Not immediately feeling any pain, he rolled over and tried to stand, his dagger at the ready, the anger and battle rage still hot in the blood that pumped so loudly in his skull. Taking a step forward, his vision suddenly blurred and then darkened as the ground rose up and punched him hard in the face.

Chapter Nineteen 

The cock called out again as if in anger that Bram had not answered his first call. Groaning into his warm covers, Bram rolled onto his side and forced his eyelids to open just wide enough to take in the blurry surroundings of his small shanty. The cock didn’t even belong to him, but had been his town crier at first light ever since he moved into the dirty shack he now called home. Having argued with his father one time too many, Bram was now on his own and the freedom he enjoyed was well worth the price he paid to keep it. Working the early mornings on the docks was difficult work that paid very little. And though half of his wage went to paying rent on the hovel that contained the small cot and molding hay mattress, it was worth every bit to be his own man. He had lucked out that one of his four uncles took pity on him and gave him a job. The other three wouldn’t even talk to him after they got word from his father. Luckily, his Uncle Andro was not on speaking terms with his father either and so the job was as much to help Bram as it was to get back at his brother. If not for his Uncle Andro, Bram would have been forced to eek out his living on the streets as so many others like him who had been turned out of their homes.

The cock cried out a third time and Bram finally sat up, pulling his legs around and setting his bare feet on the cold dirt floor. Though he wanted to stay in bed and give more time for his head to clear from the previous night’s revelry, he couldn’t risk being late to the dock. His uncle’s charity only extended so far. Pulling on his only shirt, he ran his hands through his hair and then opened the door into the cool morning air. Since he’d spent his last bit of money on ale the night before, he would have to steal breakfast from one of the cart drivers headed for the open air market near the town center. A quick reach under a cart’s canvas in the dim dawn light always produced something to fill his belly. And in the bustle of everyone trying to get on to work, it was almost too easy to do it without being noticed by anyone.

Turning left and then quickly right again, Bram made his way through the maze of shacks that filled this area of town to almost overflowing. It wouldn’t be for another quarter mile or so before his feet left the dirt and touched down on the hard, cold cobblestone that was found in the city proper. Though most large cities were protected by walls that marked the borders with the surrounding country, Tigford’s walls had been razed centuries before in some war that none remembered and few cared about enough to even pass on. And without walls to contain it, Tigford had simply grown outward like a rich man’s waistline.

Bram finally put his feet to the stone streets and started keeping watch for a passing cart and his breakfast. Though the sun was still trying to climb over the Dorian Mountains to the east, the city was a bustle with people trying to get to the daily drudgery that would hopefully earn them enough to fill their bellies that night. Though the streets had widened, now that he had reached the city proper, that only meant they were filled with more people.

Seeing a cart he knew was carrying fruit from the orchards at Walwyn Grove, he almost jumped up in excitement. No one had fruit like the growers from Walwyn. Though most of it went out from the private ports that surrounded the Grove, some was carted into the city especially for Tigford’s upper classes. Bram would be one of those lucky rich today.

Pressing forward in the wave of passersby, he reached the cart and positioned himself right behind the guard that watched the cart for people just like him. With the slightest hesitation, he reached up under the canvas and caught hold of an apple that was almost as large as his hand. It was too easy! But in the process of pulling out his meal, his hand froze as a large shadow passed over the crowd pulling everyone up short in an instant. His heartbeat almost instantly increased as he felt a strange terror spread over him as it rushed through the crowd filling everyone with a sudden sense of doom. Turning his eyes skyward, he tried, with the rest of those that crowded around him, to discover what it was that had caused such a shadow and was filling them all with such terror. Not seeing anything, he brought his head down meeting the eyes of the guard who was now staring at him with his hand in the cart. Both stood frozen for a brief moment in time until the guard finally started to react and reached out for him. But at the same moment, the whole body of townsfolk jump and began pushing each other to try and find some escape from the terror that had settle like a cloud over the city.

Someone smashed into the guard’s side giving Bram just the instant he needed to pull free his meal and dart into the melee of horrified people. Twice he was nearly knocked to the ground and once tripped on the body of someone who had fallen and had long since stopped struggling to rise again. Another deafening cry rolled through the throng and sent them all into a greater frenzy of fear and desperation to escape.

Bram tried to force his way through the crowd so he could make it to the docks but he was buffeted on every side. Many an elbow or fist connected with his stomach and ribs as people fought one another trying to force their way in every conceivable direction. He was close to the main street that would lead him down to the docks, the thick salty air suddenly more abundant and fresh even in the mass of compacted bodies, but he couldn’t seem to push hard enough to lurch the throng in the direction he wanted.

Suddenly finding himself next to a tree, he quickly climbed its trunk. A hand reached up and caught hold of his ankle trying to pull him back but a swift kick to the face quickly freed him. Shimmying up the limbs, he found one that reached a balcony on the second floor of the shop below and threw himself over the railing. Not wasting time with the woman who screamed at his intrusion, he jumped onto the rail and then hoisted himself up and onto the roof. Climbing to its pinnacle he paused to catch his breath but was frozen in place with horror when he glanced over to where the docks had once been. It was as if the whole area had simply been melted away. There was no other way to describe it. Great pieces of ships and their masts were just gone as were many of the buildings that once surrounded the water.

His eyes scanned the area that was in total chaos as people ran in every direction trying to escape the nightmare that had fallen on the port city. He saw some that were knelt down next to puddles of dark liquid crying over them. One person leaned forward into one and seemed to melt away as he watched horrified. A loud screech from above suddenly chilled him as if the hand of death itself had embraced his slight frame. Turning with a shudder he saw what it was that had caused the shadow in the street below and what must be the cause of such destruction and chaos. A great, dark, serpent-like creature flew toward him, midnight colored liquid rushing from its mouth as it sprayed the buildings and people. Anything the fluid touched seemed to merely disappear.

Bram wanted to run away but he was unable to move his limbs. Fear gripped him like a fish caught in his uncle’s nets; there was no escaping his approaching doom. The creature opened its great jaws and spewed its watery death washing over Bram and melting him to nothing save for his right arm that dropped to the melting shop roof, still clutching the stolen apple.

* * *

“It’s dusk boy. Time to be away,” Egan called out to his son who was stacking another large log into the cart. Brandt nodded in agreement but bent down and retrieved one more piece which he tossed on top of the others. It was dangerous work to gather wood as they did from the edges of the Underwoods forest. None dared venture into the menacing woods deeper than necessary to cut or gather the naturally discarded timber. Many a life was lost by those careless enough to be drawn in deeper than a few yards. Nothing but evil was found in the Underwoods.

It was a strange livelihood for ones who lived in the port town of Gildor where shipping and fishing were the main occupations, but people still needed to stay warm and most were happy to share their daily catch or vegetables from their garden with ones brave enough—or dumb enough—to gather wood from such a dangerous place. But Egan knew these woods as well as anyone and better than most. He had helped his father before him and was now training his only son as he’d been trained.

“This should carry us for the rest of the week,” he said with a smile to his boy as he climbed onto the wagon. “You did good today, son.” Grabbing the reins he passed them over to Brandt whose face lit up at the prospect of driving the cart home. Their horse was an old mare that was not long for the stew pots and probably couldn’t go any faster than a slow walk if she were trailed by a pack of wolves, but she was still strong enough to pull the log filled cart and had herself spent her life in and around the woods enough to know when real trouble was near.

Taking the reins, Brandt gave them a gentle snap and the cart lurched forward. Egan gave out instructions on keeping the mare on the trail but there really wasn’t any need for any since she probably could have walked the road back to their home in complete darkness. They trekked along the south side of the forest heading southwest until a quarter mile down they could catch the lane that ran directly south into town and home. As long as they were clear of the forest’s edge by nightfall, they were relatively safe. Most of the dreaded creatures that lived in the Underwoods were nocturnal, though even in the day the forest was to be watched cautiously.

Egan checked the suns position and the long shadows that were forming and decided it would be best to move the mare on a little quicker. “Snap her again, Brandt,” he commanded. “I’m hungry for your mother’s cooking.”

Brandt just nodded, lifting the reins slightly and then snapping them down on the mare’s back. Making a noise in protest, the old mare pressed forward a little faster though it would have been difficult to tell much of a difference in speed. Distant calls could be heard deep in the wood now as the forest was coming to life at night’s beginning. Egan’s hand rested on the axe handle leaning against his leg though he showed no outward sign of alarm or worry. Just up ahead was the turn toward town and the road that would distance them from the Underwoods. Egan breathed a sigh of relief having worried they had left too late when the mare suddenly stopped.

“Give her another whip,” Egan directed, his eyes darting to the right to scan the tree line for any signs of danger. Brandt whipped her back repeatedly but still she would not move. Grabbing the reins from his son, Egan snapped them hard on the old horse’s hide and she jolted forward but stopped immediately, her body suddenly shaking. It was then that Egan felt the cold grip his heart.

“Papa,” Brandt called out, his face white with sudden terror, his eyes large and round.

Grabbing his axe, Egan stepped down from the wagon using all of his will power to resist throwing down his weapon and racing headlong for town. Never in his life had he felt the terror that now reached into his throat and threatened to cut off his breath. His eyes strained, searching the wood for whatever it was that shaking him so. Tears started falling down his face as he could feel his doom was set and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

It was then that a large shadow passed them overhead, and Egan threw himself to the ground, his own scream swallowed in that of the giant creature that was swooping down upon the town in a fury. Egan pulled himself up to the side of the wagon and watched with his son in stunned silence as fire shot repeatedly from the creature’s mouth and devoured the town and its people. All night they remained in shocked quiet neither able to speak or move as they witnessed Gildor burn, the muffled cries of it citizens filling the cool night air.

* * *

Rem walked along next to his horse letting it rest the last few miles before reaching Waterford and home. He’d been away for three weeks, two of that in travel alone, and he missed his family desperately. It had not been all in vain though as his pack horse was full of goods for which he’d been able to trade the week he’d spent in Clear Water. Normally he would have made the trip the month before, but a late spring had put off his semi-annual trip until now. In the fall he would do it all over again. He didn’t enjoy being away from home for such long periods but the income he received from it would almost feed his family for the year. Six total weeks away was definitely worth such returns.

This trip was especially fruitful and he smiled thinking how his little ones would react when he pulled out the presents he’d bought for them. A cornhusk doll for Kaely, a carved horse for Mallory, and a play sword for Teryn would make him their hero for months to come. He chuckled at the thought, finding himself suddenly whistling one of the catchy tunes he’d heard coming out of the tavern he’d camped by on the outskirts of town. With the money he’d made he certainly could have enjoyed better accommodations but he preferred to use the extra he’d save to buy the dress he was bringing home for his wife, Annie.

His step got quicker at the thought of his sweetheart. They had practically grown up together and had decided to marry almost as soon as they could talk. Although no one would have expected them to keep such a promise as was made when so young, everyone could see as they grew how well they complimented each other. So it was no shock when they finally did wed. Many commenting that they either thought they already were or that it was about time.

Rem crested a small hill and paused for a brief moment rising on the tips of his toes as he tried to catch the slightest glimpse of home. If the light was just right he knew he’d be able to see the few houses that were built right at the water’s edge, but the sun was low in the sky to the west affording him no such view. He sighed and pressed on. It was only a slight drop and then another climb before he would be standing on the last rise and the short descent into town. There he would be able to see the whole town and feel the salty breeze press against his face; something he had loved since boyhood. Though he wasn’t a sailor, it was the sea for Rem. And had it not been for his extreme nausea when even in the calmest waters he would have taken to one of the ships in Waterford’s harbor and sailed as far as the eye could see on the horizon.