A BEGINNER'S GUIDE TO TIME TRAVEL
A NANOWRIMO CHALLENGE (chap 10 pt1)
10
“We won’t be able to go down the river much farther,” I said.
I was watching the distant shoreline on my left, where the grassland was giving way to a more treacherous terrain. Huge forests grew down to the water’s edge, obscuring the view. The Vandals were little more than a recent memory, their peaks lost in the distance and looking like a long, blue line painted with chalk. These new hills rose up at sharper angles, as if the land had collided with itself recently, throwing huge mountains at the landscape as if it was attempting to shut itself off from outsiders.
“Are we going through there?” she asked, looking at the massive trees lining the shore.
“Not if I can help it.”
“You don’t know?”
“I know very little about these parts,” I confessed.
“So you men you’ve never been here before?”
“Why would I have a need to? I grew up in the heart of the Vandals.”
“And what are those, then?” she asked, looking at the distant peaks.
They were different from the Vandals. Taller and more imposing. It didn’t know what the locals called them—I didn’t even know who the locals were—but I could see crags poking up into the sky with columns of rock buried under endless mountains of snow and ice. The tops of the mountains were lost in the clouds, and only once in a while would the clouds break and you see the sky beyond. They were a sight to behold, but just looking at them, I knew the Slavers would purposely avoid them. There were sure to be footpaths through the lower levels, but those would most likely be inhabited by wild tribes who would rain rocks down on you before attacking.
“They’ll want to avoid going that way,” I said.
“But you don’t know that for a fact.”
“No, I don’t,” I said, “But I do know that if I was leading an army of Slavers, I wouldn’t be going through mountains where the chances of losing my valuable cargo would be greater.”
“So how long before we have leave the river?”
“Soon. Too soon. The river is already starting to flow South. The Slavers will follow it as far as they can, before they head East, out over the plains.”
“What’s toward the East?”
“They call it Orado. It’s supposed to be one the ancient cities.”
“I thought you didn’t know this place? Is Orado one of The League of Ten?”
“What’s The League of Ten?” I said.
“A collection of old cities that traded goods and services with each other.”
“Maybe they’re a part of your time?”
“They’re a big part of my time. It’s where everything started from.”
“Everything? What’s that mean?”
“This time you’re in is what we call The Age of Cataclysm,” she said, and I knew anything that had a name, had a history.
“And what does it mean?”
“It means it was a time of warlords and constant tribal warfare. The Slavers is only one army we know of. There’s also the Scavengers, and the Riders. These are just some of the tribes that wander the plains. In time, they’ll become obsolete—but not until they cultivate the land and build cities—”
“The League of Ten,” I said.
“Exactly. But for now, the powers that be—the Slavers—are the ones that will rise to the top. Eventually, the slaves they abuse, will rise up against them. It’s a common theme.”
“Common?” I said. “Somehow, I don’t think there’s anything common about any of this. Not with you being here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You tell me you’re here from the future, but then, you say you’re not here intentionally.”
“I never said that.”
“So you are here intentionally?”
“I didn’t come here on purpose. The man that’s your ancestor in the past, came here. I followed him here—”
“Because you say you were with my brother—a brother is something I don’t have!”
“Yes. A brother you do not have in this present.”
“But in the past?”
“In the past you have two brothers.”
“And I came here to escape…what? An attack?”
“Yes.”
“And from that point on, everything starts to get confusing,” I said. “Because this man you say you’re following, or trying to rescue, is now, somehow, a part of me?”
“His subconscious mind is a part of yours, yes.”
“So you say,” I said, pointing the raft to the nearer shore. “We’ll put in there.”
There was a small sandy beach ahead, with an overhang of rock that would protect us from the elements, as well as any prying eyes. I jumped out of the raft and grabbing the rope, began pulling it onto the sandy beach. She jumped out a moment later to help. We picked up the raft and carried it the rest of the way, leaning it against the rocks while I put what little supplies we had in a small pile.
“Are we making camp?”
“We’ll be going the rest of the way on foot. We won’t be able to take the raft with us, but we can break it apart and hide it here.”
“Break it apart?”
“I’ll take the floor out and we can use it for a cover when we sleep. No one will see us from a distance, so I’m thinking it’ll be a safer way to travel.”
“Safer?”
“Well, safe from the night,” I smiled.
“Aren’t you afraid the Slavers will get too far ahead of us?”
“It’s an army. They can only go as fast as their slowest vehicle. The have wagons they lock their captives in.”
“How do you know so much about them?”
“My father told me a great deal about them,” I said. “He always told me, that if you see Slavers, hide. They have weapons that bark.”
“Bark?”
*
It took me most of the day to break the raft apart. I’d stitched the floor to the gunnels, lining them with pitch to create a seal, which I now had to slice open, one hand’s width at a time. It was tedious work, and my stomach rumbled the entire time, reminding my how we’d both missed our breakfast.
“We’re going to need a fire,” I said.
“Is that your way of telling me we need firewood?”
“Can you make a fire?”
“You know I can’t.”
“Then I guess you have to collect the firewood,” I said, pulling my sword out of my scabbard and passing it to her. “Remember what I told you. Don’t chop any trees down with it.”
“I thought you were going to say: Stay where I can see you,” she said.
“Do I even have to tell you?”
“Is it safe?”
“I wouldn’t send you out there if I didn’t think it was,” I said.
She made three trips out and by the time she came back with her fourth armload, we had a pile that would last well into the night. I was just finishing the last cuts into the raft, stood up to straighten my back, and looked for her in the distance.
She wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
I sheathed my sivic and picked up the longbow and quiver. It was too quiet. I wrapped the belt and empty scabbard around my waist as I stepped around the rocks, tasting the air for her scent. I didn’t smell it anywhere. Everyone has a distinct scent. I followed the small trail she’d made and noticed that she’d gone farther afield with every armload of firewood.
I came across her last armload of wood, scattered about, the sword laying off to the side. I picked it up and sheathed it, examining the trail. I followed it and came to a large hole in the ground, the dirt piled on the outside as if it had been pushed up, or even punched out of the ground. I picked up the dirt and smelled it. It was rancid, but there was also a trace of her scent in it. I turned and looked at the pile of firewood about two dozen paces away.
Whoever, or whatever it was, had come from behind her when her back was turned. I was out of sight behind the rocks. I walked the small path, eyeing the river, still unable to see where I’d been standing. I walked back to the hole, thinking it couldn’t be deep, that whatever it was, was probably a predator, and that I wouldn’t have much time to find her alive.
I stepped through the hole and hit the bottom of what seemed to be a well-formed tunnel. It wasn’t something that had been dug that day, but something that had been shaped over a span of years. I could sense whatever it was up ahead of me. I could hear her trying to fight it off, and suddenly a loud scream that was almost a roar. It wasn’t her voice.
I drew my blade, cocked the small crossbow hanging from my belt, and checked to see if I still had my three crossbow bolts on my wrist quiver. I slipped my bow over my shoulder, thinking I wouldn’t be using it as much as I would the crossbow, or my sword.
Suddenly the tunnel branched out into three separate tunnels. I bent to a knee, searching the ground, feeling it with my hand and looking for footsteps, or ridged depressions that told me there were shoes—because that’s what I found. I searched the opening of all three tunnels, finally deciding on which one to take. I stood at the entrance and searched the air. I found her scent and moved ahead with an extra degree of caution.
I didn’t know who it was that had her, but I knew it wasn’t Slavers, or even Scavengers. This was something I’d never seen or heard of before. If Jarel had been with me, he’d be documenting my search every step of the way. He had a habit of doing that; he had a mind that worked that way. That was why he could read the Star Charts.