David Grace - The Accidental Magician

"Do you think she will actually do it, against one of her own?" Castor whispered as he slid open the scullery door.

"That is the question, but there's no point in wondering. In a few days we'll know for sure."

Mile after mile Grantin and Chom trudged through the depths of Grenitch Wood. At the end of the second day they camped at the base of an immense ironwood tree, some two thirds of the way through the forest. The next morning they would break from the wood's western edge and enter the Weirdlands, an area about which Grantin's stolen map gave only the sketchiest information.

That night they slept uneasily and, mindful of Hans's warning, started nervously at the sounds of nearby beasts and birds. As soon as Pyra had risen high enough to penetrate the forest canopy, Grantin and Chom arose and took up a fast pace which they hoped would bring them through the Weirdlands by sundown. The exertion of the previous days had toughened Grantin. This morning he noticed that the aches and pains which previously had plagued him now seemed to be dissipating. For the first time he did not have to strain to keep up with Chom.

By lunchtime the forest had begun to thin. The terrain became more uneven, often displaying alternately ridges, then deep-cut gullies. It was clear that the land was becoming more rocky, less fertile. Small crumbling cliffs appeared, the edges of the formations displaying bright orange shale. The sun passed over the travelers' heads and, as they neared the edge of the forest, began to slant into their eyes.

"Chom, are you sure you've never heard any rumors about the Weirdlands?"

"None at all. All I know is what you read from Shenar' s map."

"The map! A mess of hen scratchings and obscure names: the Twisted Reef, Shrinking Monster Gulch, Domino Grove, Mirror Scarp-what's all that supposed to mean?"

Sensing that the question was rhetorical, Chom made no reply other than to slightly accelerate their pace. Near the sixth hour the trail descended into a gorge where it paralleled a shallow, swift-running stream. The walls on either side were composed of red sand and shale. The stream exuded a sulfurous mineral smell. Ahead the course bore first to the right, then the left, then, as it turned right again, the walls fell away to reveal a peculiar vista.

Water tumbled over a small falls fifteen feet in height at the base of which was a wide brown basalt pan. From there the stream meandered aimlessly in a hundred random channels to a stony meadow where its course was lost from sight.

To the left of the rocky plain began a field of boulders and shattered stone. Beyond the meadow the ground heaved and turned into a field of grotesque shapes. Grantin and Chom descended to the base of the waterfall across the rock ledge and meadow, there to halt in wonder at the eerie landscape beyond.

In all directions arose pinnacles, chimneys, towers, cones, and rocky protrusions. Their colors varied as widely as their shapes; mug green, deep purple, gray, black, rust red, and sandy ocher. Between these nests of stone lay a labyrinth of passages, tunnels, and trails. Grantin and Chom contemplated the barrier with sinking hearts.

"How wide do you think that is?" Grantin asked.

"Look again at the map and see if it gives a clue."

Grantin slipped off his pack and removed a cylindrical roll of stiff paper. Carefully he spread it on the ground, using a small stone at each corner to hold it flat.

"As far as I can tell we're about here," he said, indicating a point at the western edge of Grenitch Wood a fourth of the way from its northern border. "Could this be the Twisted Reef? The map is not exactly to scale, but it must be at least a three miles wide. What do you think?"

"Once lost in there we could wander forever. Could we find our way by reference to the sun or stars?"

"I don't suppose we have much choice, do we? Let's get started, then, while the sun's still high enough to follow."

Chom seemed not to hear Grantin's remarks. Instead he concentrated on the reef. When Grantin started to walk forward, Chom's lower arm gently grabbed his wrist.

"Wait-it is not what it seems. I detect subtle magic beyond. There are more than natural forces to contend with there. I suspect the Weirdlands were deliberately created by the Gogols as a barrier to keep their people from escaping into Grenitch Wood and through the mountain passes beyond. Let us make a test." From the side pocket of his tunic Chom brought forth a small hank of translucent string. "Tie this to your belt," he directed.

Grantin quickly secured the line, then struck off into the pinnacles. He found the going surprisingly easy and penetrated the first hundred yards without difficulty. Though he endeavored to keep the sun always in front of him, occasionally it would slip behind a tower. Then he would be forced to circle the obstacle in order to get it back in sight. Often the sun appeared in an unexpected quadrant of the sky, opposite from the point where Grantin had expected it. Whenever this happened he reluctantly turned from his planned course and headed again in Pyra's direction.

Without warning he was yanked to a stop. Had the thread run out already? Carefully Grantin turned around and backtracked along the string, winding it as he went. To his amazement he discovered a zigzag, twisted course, one which in fact crossed itself several times from different directions. It was a trail that might have been left by a blind, drunken snake. Carefully Grantin retraced his steps until at last with a sigh of relief he emerged from the edge of the reef to see Chom standing twenty yards ahead of him.

"It is impossible," he reported when he returned. "I ran in circles. We would starve to death before we reached the other side. I had better look at the map again." Grantin again laid out the parchment and tried to detect an alternative course. "This shading might indicate the boundary of the Twisted Reef. There, to the north, along the length of the reef seems to run the Shrinking Monster Gulch. What do you think?"

"It is no worse than sitting here."

Grantin and Chom paced northward along the ragged edge where the meadow joined the reef. From within the rock labyrinth sounds erupted, as if the stone pillars captured faint noises and amplified them. As they neared the northern edge of the reef, the scratching clatter of a group of Rex lizards trotting across stony ground could be heard. A few times Grantin even thought he heard garbled human voices. Once he detected the muffled words "… up ahead." Yon Diggery and his band had reached the pinnacles.

Grantin and Chom accelerated their pace. Shortly a ravine barred their way. The gulch appeared to be forty or fifty feet deep with steep but not unclimbable sides. At the bottom the ground was smooth and broken by a trickle of muddy water. The edge of the gorge merged precipitously with the northern boundary of the reef. Remaining in the lead, Chom moved toward the border of the pinnacles.

"We can make twice as much time by following the gorge," Grantin hissed.

"The bandits are mounted and have the advantage over us on flat ground. If we stay to the edge of the reef they will have to abandon their Rexes and come on foot. It is our only chance if we want to avoid a fight."

The clatter of the lizards' claws now sounded clearly from the near distance. With no time for further discussion Grantin jogged past Chom and entered the twisted reef. Standing sideways, facing the ravine, they inched along, careful not to pass more than two or three feet from its edge for fear of becoming hopelessly lost.

Behind them Grantin and Chom heard the voices of Yon Diggery's men. "They can't be far ahead of us; let's run them down," Diggery's Lieutenant, Dukey, shouted as he urged his mount down the trail into the gulch.