CITY OF BRIDGES

11

New Allies

“What was that scream?” Feiron asked himself as he topped the rise. Below, he recognised the landing area of the barge and glimpsed a burly ferryman running into one of the cottages. Curious what would make the formidable man act in such a manner, Feiron approached with caution using the trees as cover. The barge came into view. It was about five paces from the bank and he saw Leonie working the ropes. Her movements were slow and jerky. She was alone.

Feiron hadn’t expected this. Running to the bank, he called out, waving his arms to gain her attention. Any doubt about what made the man scream became clear when he saw Leonie turn.

“Fub. What’s happened to her?” Feiron’s initial confusion turned to shock and dismay when he saw her bloody face and legs. He poured out of the saddle and called again. “Leonie. Come back,” he yelled desperately.

She didn’t respond, carrying on as if he didn’t exist.

The barge gradually moved further from the bank; the rope bowing as the flow of the water took hold. As the angle increased, the pulley knocked against its housing.

Feiron grabbed the rope to pull the barge back, but Leonie’s strength surpassed his. A germ of an idea formed. He frantically searched the bank. Finding what he was looking for, seconds later he wedged the end of a small branch in the pulley. With luck, it would jam the rope and prevent the crossing.

The barge slowed to a stop and began rocking in the current.

Now Leonie, fight all you can, her blue glowing ally implored. The water weakens him. Remember how I showed you.

GET OUT OF MY MIND! Leonie directed her rage towards the dark brown malevolence.

Ah, little one, soon we will finish this. Lothas replied with a small but steady brown glow.

I WANT YOU OUT NOW! Not knowing where she found the strength to resist, she felt his control slip. Leonie slowly moved her arms by herself.

Good. The blue glowed brightly with encouragement.

No no, you cannot defeat me! Lothas cried out as his strength waned.

Do you require assistance, my master? A tan pulse intruded distantly.

Alen! Praise Opsyss you’re here. Meld with me. Strengthen my hold on this creature’s mind. The water elements drain me so. She will be ours once she crosses over.

It shall be as you command, master. Tendrils spread from the tan light towards the brown. Slowly, the intensity of the two flames increased.

Oh. He’s got help. Leonie cried.

You must keep pushing, the blue aura implored.

… together they are … too powerful. Leonie struggled. Through tears of anguish she felt the combined strength of Lothas and Alen grow.

She saw Feiron standing on the far shore as an eddy gripped the barge, rocking it in the deeper water. Soon she would be under the total control of these evil minds and he’d be unable to enter the water to help her.

A thought struck her. She remembered what happened back at the ditch. They hated the water. It caused them pain. Being close to the water was not enough to weaken both of them. She had to be in it. I hate water too. She looked at the river. It was deep and brown, churned up by the torrential rainfall over the last few days.

Leonie, do not do this! The blue entity grasped her train of thought.

It is our only chance, or we lose everything. Leonie picked up the heavy book from the deck and forced her legs to step towards the edge. She could feel the two evil minds gathering strength as they ‘melded’. Can we do what they’re doing?

Another step.

Not at this time. The effort would destroy your mind. Hang on a moment longer, Blue flashed rapidly.

She looked up, feeling the evil presence building in her head. Soon they would have complete control. I can’t. With an effort, she raised her arms. I’m out of time. Her head pounded with the effort; her muscles quivering in strain.

Now we have you! The brown lights joined, flaring brightly in her mind.

Her last step faltered. Teetering on the edge, her legs twitched as the joined minds of Lothas and Alen forced her to turn back.

The barge rocked ever so slightly in the rise and fall of the turbid water. In a last effort, she shifted her centre of gravity. The added weight of the book was sufficient for her to lose balance. Leonie toppled backwards, taking the book with her. The churning waters engulfed her instantly.

NO! Ahhh— The melded minds of Lothas and Alen blinked out; their hold snapped.

Gripping the tome tightly, Leonie sank to the murky depths. Will you stay with me until the end?

I am with you. The blue aura flashed in the emptiness. But the end is a long way yet.

From the riverbank, with his full attention on the barge, Feiron watched in dismay as his friend fell overboard. “It’s times like this I’m glad I took sswimming lessonz,” Feiron muttered, transforming into Drial the vorien, and dived into the water.

Unperturbed about the drama on the water, the di’anth wandered over to the nearest leaves as the vorien slid into the water. Moments later, a huge shadow passed overhead before ploughing into the water. Jumping back in fear, the di’anth bolted towards the road and into the hills.

The water was murky but the shadow of the barge loomed overhead. Using the outline as a point of reference, Feiron swam with the flow, intent on searching as much of the riverbed he could between breaths.

He saw a dark form moving along the bottom. Flicking his tail, he surged forward only to find a dense mass of weed. It was time for air. Surfacing, he gulped in huge breaths, taking stock of his location before he dived again. He saw another shadow in the murk. He froze in sheer disbelief at the size. It was massive. The shape of the vorien merman dissolved as Feiron lost all concentration.

Unsure how much time had passed, Feiron found himself on the shoreline. His mind in turmoil. Confused. He glanced to the barge in the hope somehow Leonie made it back. It was rocking in the middle of the turbulent river. Still unoccupied.

He tried to reform into the vorien, but it refused to take shape; his body absorbed too much water. Moving like a bloated jellyfish, he ambled to the river’s edge. He wondered how he had made it back to shore.

As hard as he tried, his body refused to shapeshift. “Leonie could be drowning. This is no time for timidity or incompetence,” he cried, utterly frustrated. “I must find her.” Feiron looked to the murky waters. He waddled into the water, determined to find her. His body rose and glided effortlessly above the ripples and back to the shore and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

Back on dry land, he looked around, bewildered.

Further along the coarse sand and flotsam, he spied Leonie slumped on the grass. “How did she get there?” As fast as his ungainly body would allow, he squelched to her. Water seeped from the pores of his body as he examined her. Covered from head to foot in scrapes and lacerations, cleansed somewhat by the water, of her recent wounds were bleeding.

Befuddled by recent events, it took several minutes before he noticed the massive head above the canopy of the trees.

Feiron froze while his bloated body oozed water continuously.

A stick rose from the ground and began scratching in the sand on its own volition. Surprised, Feiron glanced down at the sand quickly recognising words. The wyvern was writing.

‘Greetings. It is clear your kind cannot mind-speak.’

Still too confused to respond, the silence stretched.

“You scared the shape out of me,” Feiron blurted. “Was that you in the water? What’s happened to Leonie?”

‘My apologies for startling you. Yes. Your friend is in a coma.’

“What? Why?” He turned to look at her again. Her breathing was shallow but steady. He wondered what had made her do this; to run off alone with the codex? How could she possibly move the barge by herself?

‘An entity known as Lothas—’

“The high priest of the Death Sect?”

‘He took over Leonie’s mind during the night, pushing her body far beyond its normal capabilities.’ As he wrote, the Seer’s Codex emerged from the murky waters, green lengths of weed off it. Floating over the water’s surface, the book settled by Leonie and Feiron. ‘All to gain this tome.’

*

None of the inhabitants of the small village dared leave their homes with the wyvern present, leaving Leonie and Feiron the privacy of the barn to recover from their ordeal. Smelling musty after all the rain, the straw-littered floor showed spots of mildew. In one corner was an overturned boat, its hull in need of repair. Oars, coils of rope, an old coracle that had seen better days, and other boating paraphernalia littered the area.

With Leonie’s poor condition, it was better than being outside. Feiron administered what aid he could, applying his balm and wrapping her many wounds in any clean cloth he could find. Once her fur dried, he swathed her in blankets on a bed of the straw. He placed the tome next to her. Once she recovered consciousness, it would relieve her to know the wyvern found it.

Shadows flickered on the walls as flames licked up from the fire in a small hollow scraped in the dirt. The wyvern lay nearby, motionless, his tail protruding out the rear door.

High clouds, blotting out the stars, scudded across the sky. The twin moons, Luminor and Luxor, had already crested the horizon; the intermittent light shining through the doorway casting elongated shadows across the hay-covered floor.

Tossing another faggot onto the fire and sending sparks flying, he dragged out a small bundle from his pack. Since most of their gear was back in Swangrove, only a small amount of food was available. He glanced across to the wyvern.

A stick started scrawling in a cleared area of ground.

‘If I perceive your intentions, I have no food requirements.’

Watching Leonie’s chest rise and fall steadily, Feiron’s mind had finally calmed. “I must thank you for saving her and finding the book. It will relieve Leonie to know of its return.”

‘It was no trouble.’

“I gather you can hear me?”

The large head nodded.

Feiron sat down by the fire and looked at him. He guessed the wyvern was eighty-feet long, mostly black and dark shades – a hint of blue when the moonlight reflected in a particular direction. Feiron started to chuckle – his distended body wobbling.

‘Amused?’

“In a warped way. Leonie doesn’t believe in coincidence. I was thinking of her reaction once she’s recovered.” Feiron rummaged through the bag for the rest of nut-loaf. Breaking off half and putting it back.

‘I do not understand your meaning.’

“My mentor has given me a task to fulfil for her research – to return with wyvern eggshells. We were travelling intending to find wyverns. And here you are. Too much coincidence.”

‘To be precise, I am an elemental.’

“Not a wyvern?”

’I was for a very long time. You might call it ‘transcending’. After my ‘passing’, I was granted access to dwell on a higher plane of existence as a reward for things I did – or did not do – during my time.’

It mystified Feiron, food halfway to his mouth.

‘Perhaps a demonstration?’

While the illios watched, the elemental faded to nothingness. He reappeared moments later. The stick scribbled in the sand. ’I have no ‘body’, but can make myself corporeal – solid – if the need arises.’

“Amazing.” Feiron began to nibble the stale bread idly. “Whether fate or coincidence – here I am, talking to one. I didn’t really think it would happen.”

‘As for coincidence; I knew of your intentions.’

“And you just happened to be in the area, or was it ‘foretold’?”

’I am pursuing one of the many strands of prophecy. Some of us keep watch on the unusual events that transpire on the astral plane. I encountered the aura of a particularly nasty entity. I followed it and it led me to your friend. The aura had entered Leonie’s mind. Possession is not something we condone.

‘Leonie has hidden deep inside her mind. She should have died when he took over. Her mental endurance is extraordinary – enough to pique our interest.’

“Our interest?”

‘There are others on the astral plane apart from hroltahgs.’

“Do you know one named Styx?”

‘We have communicated.’

“Can you tell me, and forgive me if this sounds crazy… Is this part of prophesy?”

‘Isn’t everything to some extent?’

“I…” he started. “We…” Feiron stumbled with his thoughts. “Never mind. What about this Lothas, is he still about? What about the Brotherhood?” Feiron asked, moving on to a more tangible subject. He watched as the sand smoothed itself before more writing recommenced.

‘I perceive no threat in the immediate area,’ the elemental wrote.

Feiron took a few moments to digest this information. “If Lothas had control of her, why didn’t you stop him, or Leonie jumping into the river?”

‘Several reasons; intrusion in mind-control can be very dangerous, especially untrained ones. Your friend knew the book was about to fall into the hands of someone evil and depraved. She discovered a weakness in Lothas’s control. Water is a strong elemental disruptor. Leonie managed to gain control for a moment and fell off the boat on purpose.’

“But Leonie can’t swim. She hates water.”

‘True, but her reasoning of the ramifications of Lothas gaining the book outweighed her fear. It worked. Lothas has gone.’

“Dead?”

‘No. Incapacitated.’

Leonie groaned in her sleep. Feiron watched her for a moment.

“You couldn’t ‘lift’ her out of the water sooner? Before she drowned?”

‘It is obscure and no doubt unsatisfactory to hear, but certain thresholds must be crossed before the granting of any support.’

Feiron considered this information. “That… would be a difficult task to undertake.”

‘Indeed. Her body heals remarkably well, but my concern is with her mind.’

“I don’t feel too good myself,” Feiron muttered. His body seemed bloated and pale. “I might go for a walk. A bit of exercise might ease the ‘discomfort’.” He stood up, leaving a muddy patch where he had been sitting. Feiron sloshed into the darkness.

On his return a short time later, he felt better but weary. He checked on Leonie, who was twitching and softly moaning in her sleep.

‘Her subconscious is working through a recent trauma.’ The stick began scratching in the dirt again. ‘It could take time. Get some rest. I will look out for you both this night.’

“Don’t mind if I do.” He squelched down away from the fire. Feiron made a depression in a pile of hay. He then laid a length of sailcloth over it and pooled himself within.

‘As you are seeking wyverns, I know of a lair in the ranges to the west. Tomorrow, I will take you there.’

When Feiron awoke, the old coracle was outside with their few supplies inside. Leonie, still swathed in blankets, floated into it.

‘This trip will take most of the day. I hope it is not too taxing for you.’

“Less than a day to the ranges?”

‘We will not be travelling by land. Now that your friend has gained the interest of a very dark entity, she will need help and protection. I have dallied overlong and must return to the astral plane. You will be well looked after. I am certain.’

“I see. Will we communicate like this too?”

‘I do not believe their trainer has taught them to write.’

“Trainer?”

‘There is a human. He will communicate. We should go.’

Feiron rose and carefully slipped over the edge of the small boat so as not to land on or disturb Leonie. Halfway over the side, he stopped. “What about Argus?”

‘With regret, your di’anth has run off in a panic.’

“Can’t we look for him?”

‘We could, but to what aim? Transporting him would be awkward, not to mention a very unnerving experience. He would not do well in a wyvern lair.’

Inside the coracle now, Feiron slumped. “I was getting quite fond of him.” Once seated within the small, round craft it lifted off the ground a few feet then drifted out the rear door of the barn. It was still dim outside, the small village was still asleep, but he saw one wavering light through a curtained window.

As the craft rose higher and higher, Feiron checked Leonie was settled and covered from the cool breeze. The view below and around him – spectacular on any other occasion – was an alternate distraction to look at other than his bruised and battered companion. Without Leonie to converse with, it was a silent trip to the central ranges. On occasions, she’d moan as if in a dream, but that – and the rush of the wind – were the only sounds. Even the wingbeats of the elemental were silent. With nothing to write on, communication with the wyvern was impossible. Now and then he’d work at deciphering a few pages of the Seer’s Codex to pass the time.

The mountain range grew larger, and once distant peaks became more detailed. Soon, one peak, in particular, stood out because of the wisps of smoke issuing from it. He thought he could see shapes flying in and around the smoke. Feiron realised the wyvern elemental had disappeared. Part of him knew he was safe, but it was very disconcerting to not see the wyvern. He hung on to the coracle sides, wondering why the secrecy. When they were bout a league from the active volcano, they started a slow spiral down to a hilltop devoid of vegetation larger than small, thorny shrubs.

After the coracle gently nudged the ground, a stick started scrawling in the dirt. The elemental remained invisible.

‘If you light a large fire, they will come to investigate. I must be away. I bid you and Leonie farewell.’

Feiron glanced around fruitlessly. “Oh. Umm… thank you for all your efforts.” He awkwardly addressed the empty air. “Perhaps we’ll meet again?”

There was no response, and the stick lay motionless on the ground.

With a sigh, he checked on Leonie before exploring the hilltop. The southern and western sides ended with a sheer drop. Far below separating the base of the hill and the foothills of the volcano was a steaming lake. When a gust of wind came up and over the precipice, it brought with it an appalling stench of sulphur. The buffeting wind also made loitering precarious. He moved to the east side, noting a rocky, unused trail leading down and turning to the north. Towards Hallam, he suspected as he set about lighting two fires; a large one to summon the wyverns and a smaller one for cooking. He made enough dinner for two, but as there was no change in Leonie’s state, he left her portion to cool.

In the shadow of the mountains, night descended early. He spent a short while trying to shapeshift, but his waterlogged consistency prevented any form holding firm. Sullenly, he built up the bonfire, then also went to sleep.

The next day dawned clear and crisp.

Leonie’s condition was unchanged. Feiron warmed some the food from the previous night for breakfast. A shadow passed overhead as he ate his solitary meal. He looked up, squinting in the glare of the early morning sun.

Tense moments passed. Forgetting the food, he watched in both awe and trepidation as the shadow banked and spiralled down, a rider visible on its back. The creature looked like a huge flying snake, but with legs. A pair of long wings sprouted about a third of the way down its back. Two taloned feet crunched into the gravel when it landed with a thud on the edge of the trail. The sun glinting off its scaly hide gave it a green glow. It wrapped its barbed tail around the base of the rock; a fearsome yet beautiful sight.

The huge green wyvern cocked its head to gaze down at them. When it opened its mouth slightly, it exposed fangs as long as Leonie’s forearm. The serpentine neck lowered to ground level, and the creature emitted a loud hiss in his direction.

Feiron exuded more fluid at that moment than all the previous days combined.

* * *