CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
In the bowels of Lunis, City of Moons, the Dark Mage, Ragund,
smashed his fist against a wall again and again. Much of the workshop’s
contents quivered like jellies while a variety of objects flew in all
directions. It had been a brilliant
plan, almost perfectly executed until…what? How had he failed? He smashed
another fist into the wall, oblivious to the whole room shaking as if a minor
earthquake had struck.
How is it I
have failed? It
was incomprehensible. Worse, it was unnerving.
It had proved
no easy task to impersonate Astor and win the confidence of Galia’s brat. Yet
he had succeeded, brilliantly. All he had to do then was clone the Nu-gen with
young Michal and there he had it, a pawn to beat Astor at his own game. Controlling a Nu-gen would be easy. He would
pass him off as Michal and no one would be any the wiser until it was too
late.
How can it
be that I, Ragund, have failed? Astor hadn’t
guessed. He, Ragund, would have known of any interference from that quarter.
The boy, Michal, was pliable enough. True, he was warded, but to no extent that
he, Ragund, could not penetrate. The Nu-gen, Mulac, he should be able to
dismiss as being of no account whatever. So
why can’t I…? But the thought had barely registered before he turned to
more pressing matters.
Others could
sense his presence. He had felt theirs. Who? Not that idiot Ricci, that’s for sure. Nor elves either. Not druids
even. His disguise had been the result of one of the finest if not darkest
spells he had ever worked. Yet, it had been discovered. How, and by whom…?
It was
mystery.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Irina was almost dragged into the ravine by the coarse branches protruding
from the cliff edge as, with reluctance and protesting loudly, the tiny bush’s
roots were wrenched loose by the frantic pressure of her grasp. Only a
last-ditch foothold on the ledge where she teetered saved her. Yet, even as she pressed her back against the
treacherous rock face, her legs began to slither forward. She screamed in
terror. Surely, nothing could save her now?
Once over the edge, all she could expect was freefall and certain death.
A
fraction of the ledge gave way and hurtled below. The elf girl almost slipped and screamed
again, “Gar!” Her feet found a new, if precarious,
hold. She repositioned herself slightly
to one side. Another chunk of the ledge dropped into infinity. She screamed
again, “Gar!” All at once, as if in answer to her cry, she rumbled
inwards. Moments later, she found herself sprawled on the floor of a cave that
she could not have known lay behind a natural camouflage of mud and grass.
Relief
soon turned to a mixture of fear and desolation. Elves like company. To be left
alone for long was horrid. True, her brother Pers was an uncommon exception.
Not so, Irina. For all her apparent
self-confidence, the daughter of La and Ka needed an appreciative audience to
bring out the best in her. Crawling on her belly to the cave’s mouth, she
rolled over and tried to peer upwards, yelling at the top of her voice, “Pers!
Please, help me!” But she could make out
no sign of life at the ravine’s edge and no answering shout was
forthcoming. She tried again and again.
Finally, exhausted, she lay quiet and contemplated her fate. This is worse than being taken captive by krills, she lamented, but not for long. Stories were told, even around
elven campfires, how the scaly creatures enjoyed performing unspeakable acts of
cruelty just for sport. But for the
others, who knows what her fate might have been? “Dear Ri, the others!” she wailed aloud. Poor Pers would suppose her dead. “I might as
well be!” she sobbed. How could she expect to survive alone in such a place?
After
a while, self-pity gave way to a native defiance that could always be relied
upon in the face of adversity. Once she
had calmed down sufficiently to attempt a rallying of spirits, Irina proceeded
first to take careful stock of her surroundings then to explore. The clammy gloom revealed precious little so
she was forced to feel her way
around the cave. Its low roof kept her on her knees. It did not take the elf
girl long to realize, however, that the cave was far bigger than she had at
first surmised. Moreover, the further
she ventured into its forbidding interior, the more headroom became available.
She had a sense of its continuing some distance. A tunnel…? A way out, perhaps or a dead end…? Irina braced herself. There was only one way
to find out.
Gamely,
Irina put her best foot forward…and froze.
A
distant rumbling, like thunder, shook the rock floor. An almighty shudder flung
her against the cave wall. A jutting stone ripped her tunic and grazed a
shoulder. Panic-stricken, she swung round and headed back towards the light. If
offered no solution, she knew that, but at least it was a comfort of sorts.
Meanwhile, the tremors grew stronger and more frequent. She paused and had to struggle to keep her
balance as the ground heaved beneath her feet. A shower of rocks cascaded in
front of the cave’s sneering mouth. Some
struck the ledge and tumbled inside. Before the elf girl’s very eyes, they
quickly piled up until obliterating even the faintest glimmer of light. Still the tremors persisted. Irina wept and stamped her foot. Taking
several deep breaths, she turned to confront the roaring blackness. The only way to beat danger is to tackle
it head-on. She could almost hear
her mother’s voice urging her not to be afraid.
So be it. Irina gritted
her teeth and moved forward, stumbling often at first. Then, in sheer desperation,
the elf girl put on a spurt and sprinted down the tunnel, dodging flying rocks
and leaping sudden fissures more by intuition than any real awareness of the
dangers. The darkness, smell, and dread of being underground became less of a
hindrance once she achieved a rhythm of sorts, relying on a native sureness of
foot to carry her along. Instincts she
trusted lent her wings, carrying her along with a sureness of purpose she was
far from feeling. Whether or not Ri
chose to aid her, Irina was past caring. Whatever, the elf girl knew only too
well that she dared not pause for thought.
How
long or how far she ran the gauntlet of horrors the angry earth spewed up at
her, Irina had no idea. Her eyelids,
reduced to slits, suddenly responded to a discernible lifting of the blackness
weighing them down. They flew wide open.
Her heart leapt. Directly ahead, she could just make out a pinprick of
light. She ran towards it without thought or fear of what might lie beyond.
There simply wasn’t time for either. The
walls of the cave began to shrink and narrow even as they continue to shake. By
the time she all but reached daylight, Irina
had to crawl on hands and knees again, constantly having to twist and
turn to negotiate a want of space as well as flying rocks. Finally, she dragged
herself through a tiny opening and lay, smiling and tearful, on a carpet of
reddish grass interspersed with tiny yellow flowers.
“Who
the devil are you?”
Irina
gave a start and jumped up. The first thing that struck her was that the voice
belonged to a child. He was approaching adulthood, yes, but a
child still. Moreover, he was plainly a motherworlder. She studied him more closely. His flame
coloured hair reminded her of leaves on the Fire Tree back in the Forest of
Gar. Before she could surrender to another attack of homesickness, however, she
became alert to the boy’s ill-concealed distress.
“Who’s asking?” she countered
evenly.
To be continued
