Penumbra - Book 2 (12)

Kerron was fond of his crib-mother, but got the sense that she tolerated him, rather than loved him in the way he felt she loved his other criblings. Later, when he would look back on this day, he would feel sadness at having left his crib-mother without saying goodbye to her, and would realize that he missed her far more than he ever would have imagined it possible. But today, as he and Mott made their way through the already moving occupants and material of the camp as it disassembled, the only thought on his mind was of the adventure ahead. He was almost jumping with excitement and questions, but had to practically jog to keep up with Mott's purposeful, long-legged stride. It was only as they left the periphery of the camp and the noise of the busy people began to die down that he realized they were heading due east, back towards the Rashadas and directly toward the sunrise. The blue sky above the mountains ahead was now so bright that it nearly bordered on white, and Kerron's light-sensitive eyes could not look directly on it.

"Your caves are east, then?" Kerron asked as he temporarily caught up to Mott. The tall hulk glanced down at Kerron with a momentary look of annoyance before returning his gaze ahead. Kerron feared he would continue to maintain his stony silence for the entire journey, but after some moments he answered Kerron's query.

"Yes, the nearest entrance to my home is in these mountains, and in spite of Asha's words, time runs very short, for both of us."

"Because of the enemy?"

Again a look of annoyance, but the answer came more quickly this time: "Yes, their forward elements will already be past where we must get to, and it's likely we will encounter them. With the sky as bright as it is, we are no longer in our element. It is their territory now, and their advantage. Fighting will not be an option- we will be outnumbered and physically disabled, because of the light. We must stick to narrow places, places where we can use stealth and subterfuge to best advantage, to avoid the enemy as much as possible. I only hope sure measures will not be necessary. But even the enemy," he said grimly, "is not my greatest concern."

Kerron couldn't imagine what could be more dangerous than the enemy. Although he had never encountered them face-to-face, he had been taught from birth that they were the greatest threat his tribe or any other tribe could face. "What is it that worries you, sir?"

"Have you ever been under the sun, boy?" Mott asked grimly.

"I've seen the sunrise." Kerron said. Mott made a low grunt that could have been a laugh, but held no humour.

"Did you ever feel it prickle your skin with its heat?"

"Yes, I've felt its hot stare."

"Have you ever been under its gaze for more than a few hours?"

Kerron thought on this. "Uh, no, I guess I haven't."

"Let's just say our skin doesn't respond well to prolonged exposure. That heat you felt only gets worse, and after a while turns to a painful burning- one that is ultimately fatal. We wouldn't last more than a few hours. We may avoid the enemy, yes, but if we don't get underground quickly, there will be no avoiding their god." his deeply-cowled eyes lifted momentarily to the horizon, where indeed the first rays of sunlight could be seen shimmering through a gap between two reaches.

As they continued to walk at the swift pace set by Mott, Kerron hefted the bag that Asherei had entrusted to him. It held some rations, a flask of water, a sealed document, a quantity of the black powder sulpur held in a pouch similar to the one on Mott's belt, and most importantly, the seal of his tribe, marking him as an envoy of Asherei and kin to his sister-tribe that traveled the same path as his- only they would pass through these mountains six months from now, when the sun would finally be setting. Whereas Kerron's tribe, the Keldon, was constantly running away from the sun into the darkness, his sister tribe, called the Heldei, was ever doomed to chase the dusk, to stay in the warmth of the darkness that was left behind the retreating sun, before the coldness of black winter overtook them. It was to the elder of this tribe that Asherei had quested Kerron to deliver the seal, the message, and the black powder. As he considered the enormity of his mission, many questions came to him.

"I wonder why my tribe-mother felt that I had to be her messenger." Kerron wondered aloud, not really expecting an answer from his grim companion. "Could you not take the powder to the leader of the Heldei, since they will eventually pass by your caves anyway? In time, I mean."

To Kerron's surprise, Mott did answer:

"As I am sure it is with your own, the politics of my people are shifting and complex. There are many of us who feel that any contact at all with the overground is unnecessary and perhaps even harmful. They're fools, of course, we would not survive without certain supplies that only trade with your people can provide, and it's never the course of wisdom to cut one's self off from the wider world, but that is not to say I don't have some sympathy for that viewpoint." For the first time, some measure of emotion came into Mott's voice as he spoke, although still he did not take his eyes from the trail ahead. "We are by definition a reclusive people. In many ways, your conflict with the lightsiders is not something that directly affects us, and many feel that it is not something we should interfere in, even if we do trade with your tribes. This," he said, shaking the pouch on his belt with one hand to indicate its contents, "is a subject of great secrecy, even in the caves. Some who know of it would kill me for bringing the secret above-ground, and even now multiple factions vie for control of the means of production, and argue over whether to give it to your people, sell it to the highest bidder, or even just bury the secret forever, to maintain the status quo." He looked down at Kerron, who had been watching the dark shadows that covered his eyes. "Many fear change, especially when the future seems unpredictable."

Kerron took this in. "So you are not a representative of the Thal, as a whole?"

Mott considered this. "There is no such person in the sense you mean. We are no more a united people than your own scattered tribes. You could say I represent a certain viewpoint within the Thal, and bought that viewpoint to my cousin, your elder, for consideration. But no- I acted alone. So to answer your original question, I do not have a relationship with the Heldei tribe, or any other tribe on the dusk-side of the penumbra, or this side for that matter. Asha thought it wise to send the news I bought her as a courtesy to the dusk side. She has her reasons for that decision and I do not question them. But I am not her messenger, boy, you are. She has tasked you with the errand, not I, and Asha knows I'd never have accepted such a burden, just as I know she'd never have asked me to undertake it. I'll take you under my protection within the caves, though we'll have to think of a suitable excuse for your presence for the time you are there, and I shall expect you to pull your weight when asked to. It will be a trying time for you, but I think the day shall pass over fairly quickly for you when you are working hard. But once night falls again, the task is yours. I'll lead you back to the cave entrance and you must make your own way from there. Do you understand?"

Kerron nodded, and said as much this also. They again walked for some time in silence. They were now well away from the camp and the grassy foothills at the mountain base had shifted to the more rocky terrain that formed the Rashada range proper. They had deviated from the Great Path, which was a necessity as by now the moving towers of the lightside frontier that Kerron had been drawing in the sand would now be well into the pass, and be emerging from the Rashadas within a couple of hours, again spreading out to take their regular formation in one immense, horizontal north-south line. It gave Kerron chills to think that he would, very soon, be on the light-side of that line, something that no-one in his tribe, to his knowledge, had ever accomplished.

Mott was leading them into the ranges on the southern side of the path, whereas previously Kerron had only scouted into the northern side, and the terrain was unfamiliar to him. They were walking a dusty sand-track that winded its way through large boulders and man-sized cacti that stretched their arms upwards in strange patterns, thick spines pointing in all directions. Although deadly, Kerron also knew that, if cut open, there was water and edible green flesh within. These were one of the main harvests of the mountain crossing, and he had eaten many. He'd never seen them in such light before, though, and was amazed at the colour.

"May I ask another question, Mott?" he asked after another long period of silent walking.

"You've never asked permission before." Mott said gruffly.

Kerron took this as a call for silence, and so said nothing. After a spell, Mott continued: "Ask your question, boy."

"Why did you choose to help us? To contact my tribe?"

Mott considered this. "Loyalty to Asha- Asherei, your tribe-mother, I mean- for one thing. We go back a long way, her and I. She may look old now, but there's a reason she is so respected, and a reason she survived to be tribe-mother when all others did not. The black powder, a gift and a curse, will significantly change the world, one way or another. For everyone. I owed it to her to tell her of this development. But also..." He seemed hesitant, as if accessing dark memories. "I've seen what the lightsiders are capable of, I know they..." His words cut off suddenly and he stopped in his tracks.

Kerron mimicked his action unconsciously, also freezing in place, turning to look at his older companion. Mott stood still as a sentinel, listening intently. Kerron listened also, and at first heard nothing, but after focusing on the track ahead he thought he could hear, very faintly, the sound of wheels creaking, and possibly low voices. A cart, perhaps, but men: certainly.

No sooner had Kerron heard this than Mott whispered in a harsh, near-silent hiss: "We must take cover." Before stepping gingerly on the pads of his feet in a stance that would have been comical at any other time. Kerron quickly followed him, imitating his strange gait, trying not to disturb the sand as he walked. Mott made his way to a large boulder that stood half-buried in the red sand to one side of the path they had been walking, wedging himself in between the chalky side of the boulder and a copse of cacti that was growing to one side of it. Being careful to avoid the thorns, Kerron followed him into the dark gap that was formed between the two, a narrow triangle of space in which they both barely fit.

Mott continued to whisper sharply, his head to close to Kerron's that he felt the words as hot breath on his ear: "We must pray that they do not see our tracks in the sand. While it seems bright to us, it will still seem dim to their eyes, so there is some hope, but it is to almost no doubt that they are forward elements, and so will be on guard. Give me your pack."

Kerron started to turn to take off his pack, but before he could Mott had already opened it, still on his back, and was rustling through it. He removed the pouch of sulpur and then swiftly untied his own pouch from his belt. He crouched in the tiny space they were hidden in and quickly buried the two pouches in a shallow space he dug with his large hands, explaining himself as he did so: "This must not fall into enemy hands. While it's unlikely they'd discover its purpose randomly, it's certainly possible. If they find us, they must not find this also."

Kerron nodded, terrified at the very real prospect of meeting his demise at the hand of the lightsiders so soon after having embarked on his adventure.

"Now lie down and stay silent until they pass." Mott instructed, and Kerron did as he was told, lying flat in the dusty red dirt. Mott stayed crouching in the tiny space, but shifted position and withdrew a wicked-looking mace from a loop under his cloak. Kerron had heard that the Thal were master iron-workers, and that they had great furnaces in their underground homes, and from the four steel blades that came out at right angles from Mott's weapon, he appeared to be staring at the evidence behind such rumours from a very close distance.

They stayed in this odd configuration for many minutes, the sound of the cartwheels and voices growing closer with every one that passed. Through the small gap between the boulder and the plants, Kerron could see the path that he and Mott had so recently evacuated, and he thought that surely the voices must pass by, but it took much longer than he anticipated. Again, the rocks of the mountain must be bouncing the sound to make it seem much closer than it was. He only hoped that his own conversation with Mott had not reached the ears of the lightsiders. Who knew what their hearing range was?

When he thought he could bear it no longer, the gap in the road was suddenly filled, and Kerron's heart filled with fear. As fascinated and terrified as he was watching the ant-like figures of the enemy from his mountain perch so many hours ago, he was now watching lightsiders pass by him not more than a few feet away! His heart pounded blood audibly through his ears, and he felt certain the vibrations of it would surely be felt through the earth. He held his breath as he forced himself to calm down. As one part of his mind was lost to terror, another, more analytical part of him, his curiosity, was keenly interested in the sight before him.

Physically, the lightsiders seemed far more familiar than he thought they would. Broader than his own people, certainly. Taller, larger in limb and torso. Their skin was dark, they wore beards and had thick hair on their heads. They jangled with weapons, armour and buckles. But apart from that, he thought they seemed remarkably like his own people. Was this the enemy he had feared from birth? The vicious creature that consumed infants and never took prisoners? They looked like men. Different, yes, but more alike than not.

There were three- one walked ahead, a bow held down in front of them with one hand, an arrow nocked and held in the other. It was looking about itself warily, but its eyes passed over the place where Kerron and Mott lay hidden without stopping or registering alarm. It continued to walk on, and was soon followed by two others that were each leading a horse, both of which were drawing a single cart. The cart was covered with a tall awning, and could have held many more men, but there was no noise from within. The two with the cart were much more at ease and were not looking about them but rather speaking to one another in a strange, alien tongue that Kerron did not understand, but certainly recognized as being some kind of language. It sounds foolish, but this was a revelation to Kerron, who had always assumed, if he'd thought about it all, that lightsiders were savage barbarians that had no more need for language than a horse or a wildcat. They spoke! As he did. Again, while one part of him was made even more terrified by this information, another was fascinated, and even then, lying in the dirt, began to race with the possibilities.

Certain darksiders tribes had their own tongues, as did the Thal, and these barriers were overcome. People communicated with them. Could the lightsider language also be understood, and learned? Could they be spoken to, even negotiated with? Surely he could not be the first darksider to have known this. His mouth hung open.

The pounding in his heart slowed somewhat as the cart passed them by, the thud of the horses hooves muffled in the soft dirt of the path. The tracks they had made in the sand were obliterated by the passing. The covering of the cart was closed at the back, so even from the rear Kerron could not discern its contents. He allowed his breath to slowly leak out of him, and he breathed in again slowly, the chalky taste of the red dust coming with it. They were safe. Mott did not move.

With a soft padding of sand under his feet, one of the enemy that was leading the horses broke away from the cart and came jogging backwards towards the precise position where Kerron and Mott were secreted. Kerron didn't understand- the creature did not look angry or even wary, it was trotting directly towards them with absolute carelessness. Kerron felt, rather than heard, Mott's body tense and was sure that, above him, the mace was being raised for a strike.

The daywalker came to stand before the triangle of space they had chosen for a hiding place, but yet still it seemed not to see them, its body angled away from them rather than directly towards them. From Kerron's perspective the lightsider towered over him, and was so close that Kerron could see the individual dark hairs that made up the thing's beard, and the whites of the eyes that shone from the darkness of the face. Kerron was almost shaking with fear, and struggled to control himself.

The thing adjusted itself, and a moment later began to urinate on the ground ahead and to the right of Kerron, amongst the copse of cacti. Understanding flooded into Kerron- it had not come back because it had seen them hiding, it had simply chosen the same place they had as a good spot to relieve itself! Kerron held himself as still as he possibly could. A warm trickle of urine ran downhill into the nook they had hidden in, and still Kerron refused to move even an inch. He still couldn't believe the lightsider had not seen them- their eyesight must surely have been terrible.

Above him, Kerron felt Mott's position shift, and simultaneously saw the eyes of the lightsider go wide with shock. The thing let out a loud cry that was cut short instantly as Mott's mace came down hard onto its head, caving the skull in with a sickening crunch. The lightsider's body crumpled like a puppet discarded, the bloody half-face landing right in front of Kerron as the legs folded beneath it. The one remaining eye was open, staring directly at Kerron, but staring through him, seeing nothing. Lifeless. This was no monster.

It had perhaps been Mott's intention to silence the enemy before he could cry out, and perhaps if he had struck a second earlier he may have succeeded, but even the split-second cry the man had made was enough to alert his fellows, who were even now shouting and running backwards towards where he had met his gruesome end. Mott leaped from the shadow under the rock and ran towards the first of the men, the other one that had been leading the horse. Kerron, in shock, followed Mott with his eyes, but was too paralyzed with fear to take any action of his own.

The first lightsider came running at Mott with a yell, drawing a large knife from a sheath on his belt as he did so. Mott sidestepped the running man easily, smoothly standing to one side to avoid the charging knife, sweeping his bloodied mace downwards into the man's knee and then upwards to send him flying face-first into the red dirt. The mace, now arced high in the air from the sweep, followed through by crashing back down into the now-prone enemy's lower back, which again made a harrowing sound as bones splintered under the weight of the blow.

Mott did not even have time to pull the weapon from his opponent's body before a whistling arrow flew from further up the path and rammed straight through his throat, a gore-covered arrowhead sticking far out below Mott's chin. Kerron looked in the direction of the arrow shot. The scout from the head of the party had made his way past the cart and, seeing Mott dispatching the second of his companions, let fly with his arrow. As Kerron turned, he could see that the archer was already notching another arrow to his bow. Mott turned towards Kerron and looked straight at him, and then, in disbelief, down at the arrowhead that protruded from him. He made a strangled gurgling noise and then followed his victims by falling onto the body of the man he had just attacked.

This had all happened so quickly that Kerron had not even fully processed what had occured. Further up the pass, the man with the bow was holding the arrow up to his eyeline, drawn tight against the wood of his weapon, the bowstring tensed for the next shot. Carefully, he took small, cautious steps towards the bolthole Kerron still lay in, where the first corpse lay in front of him. It would be mere seconds before the archer had spotted him, if he hadn't already done so and was now just lining up for a better shot. Panicked, Kerron began to search the still-warm body for some kind of weapon, but he was not trained to fight, and did not know what good a hand weapon would do against a man with a bow anyway. Fear had overridden logic, and he was barely keeping up with his own instinctive responses.

He found the handle of a knife tied to the man's belt, just where his companion had drawn his from moments before, and pulled it out. He emerged from behind the rock with the knife held before him like a protective talisman. He'd held knives before of course, but never one this big, and never with intent to harm. He had no idea what he was doing.

The man with the bow saw him, and his eyes went wide at the spectacle of a darksider standing over his friend's corpse, holding only a knife to defend himself. He considered this strange visage for only a moment, before sighting the arrow directly at Kerron, and pulling back even further on the drawstring for extra power. There was no hope for Kerron to avoid the arrow, and he simply froze with indecision. The distant arrow-point seeming to fill his vision, he closed his eyes.

Just as the man let the arrow fly, a sword-blow came crashing down from one side, cutting the archer's arm and sending the arrow flying off-target, to go pinging against the rock that Kerron stood against. The archer, now disarmed, turned with a yelp and tried to use his bow as a club against his attacker, which Kerron saw to his disbelief to be Salazar. The bow cracked on Salazar's head but did not slow him down, and he yelled as he struck the bowman down with a second heft of his serrated sword.

Kerron stood with mouth agape, still overridden with terror but now with relief flooding through him.

Salazar spat on the body of the lightsider as it slid from his sword to the ground with a wet thump, then looked up and flashed Kerron a grim smile.

"You're lucky I followed you, Kerron. I'd say we best get going."