Tim Lebbon - Dawn

Kosar continued rocking, looking down at the ground between his knees and groaning each time his wounded ribs shifted. It was almost as if he was welcoming the pain. O’Gan felt sorry for him. “No,” Kosar said. “Without him I’d have been dead twice over. He rescued me from a band of Breakers. Then he took on a sand demon, and-”

“The Monk fought a serpenthal?”

“If that’s a sand demon, yes. Weird. Lots of parts. He said it spans, whatever that means.”

O’Gan’s stomach felt heavy, and his throat suddenly tasted of bile. He stared at the Monk and the Monk looked away, drawing shapes in the dust with one long finger.

“They’re deadly,” O’Gan said. “They live deep in the desert. Prey on desert animals, or lone travelers and small bands of traders.”

“Don’t they prey on you?” Kosar asked, looking up.

O’Gan shook his head. “Most Shantasi know better than to go into the deep desert alone.”

“Well, we met this one almost before the desert began, back to the west. Lucien killed it. Took some time, and he got hurt, but he cut it to pieces.”

“Theyare pieces.”

“Smaller pieces, then. So yes, he’s saved my life, but I don’t like that any more than you.”

“If you hadn’t reached us, I would still be sitting in the desert with the remains of an army,” O’Gan said. “Waiting for a sign. Waiting for hope to present itself.”

“So you believe me?” Kosar said. “Even though I have these brands, and I travel with a Monk, you truly believe me?”

“You’re a thief, but that doesn’t make you a liar. And we both saw A’Meer.”

“We saw mimics imitating her death,” Kosar said. “They could have their own end in mind.”

“I’m sure they do. They’re as unlike us as a shade to a sand rat.”

Kosar went to stand, cried out in pain and accepted O’Gan’s helping hand.

“I can give you something for the pain,” O’Gan said.

“More drugs?”

“Medicine. It’ll not heal you, that’s for your body to do. But it will dull the aches.”

“I’ve got too many pains to dull,” Kosar said.

O’Gan smiled sadly and squeezed the big man’s arm. “The physical pain,” he said. “Any other is, I’m afraid, beyond my control.”

Kosar nodded. “So,” he said, “when your army arrives, how does it travel?”

“We have our ways and means,” O’Gan said. Kosar frowned and looked at the ground. He’s heard that phrase before, the Mystic thought. Ways and means.

Kosar grunted. “I only hope we’re not too late.”

ALISHIA RAN THROUGH the halls and corridors and cliffs of books, and for the first time ever they did not make her feel safe. She had grown up around books; her parents’ house had been full of them, and when they died it had been a natural progression for her to become a librarian. She found them warm and welcoming, even those she had not read, and touching the spine of a favorite tome inspired memories more intense than smell or sound ever could. With every favorite book, she could remember where she had been and what she had been thinking when she read it. They were old friends, constant companions, and their worlds often became real in her mind.

Now the books were here to trap her. Some of them burned, some did not, but all of them were leading her toward the presence that had invaded this place. However fast she ran, in whichever direction, she seemed to be drawing closer to the terrible thing in here with her, one oftheir things, the Mages. Apart of them.

The land whispered to her in its own tongue. That gave her comfort and instilled hope, even though the dark thing seemed to be closing in with every heartbeat.

I’m still incomplete, Alishia thought. There’s something else for me to find before I fully understand. And now more than ever, I’m running out of time. Her legs were beginning to ache from the constant running. She was strong in here, almost tireless, but the younger she grew the slower she ran. And when she regressed even further? What then? Would the future of Noreela be balanced upon the back of a crawling, mewling infant?

She changed direction again, and the darkness still hung before her. She could hear it moving and expanding, and it bore the weight of a dreadful consciousness.

She rounded a corner, tripped over a fallen book and went sprawling. The thing was behind her now, crashing through a stack of books close enough to shake the floor beneath her, and ahead of her the floor had been smashed open. The hole was far too wide to leap. She shoved a book across the timber boards and watched it fall in, swallowed by the utter darkness almost before it tilted from this place into another. She heard its covers flapping like some fledgling bird still unable to fly, but she could see nothing.

Whispers in her mind, confused words in her own voice. I can’t hear! she thought, and the words came louder. She frowned and closed her eyes, but however much she concentrated, the language made no sense.

Something thumped the ground, hard enough to wind her. She gasped at the smoky air, inhaling deeply when her breath returned, and rolled onto her back. She could see nothing, but shefelt it, coalescing like a storm cloud threatening to never pass by. It’s almost got me, she thought, and then the shelving to her left started emptying its books. They fell in regimented lines, some striking the floor around the ragged hole, most of them disappearing into it. They were swallowed and more followed them in, one or two catching fire just as they disappeared. Alishia crawled to the hole and stared in, watching stars of fire plummeting quickly into the abyss.

A book struck her shoulder, another hit the back of her neck, and she retreated from the hole.

And then a line of books struck and held. They hung impossibly over the darkness, stretching from one side of the hole to the other, curved like a stone bridge over a river yet nowhere near strong enough to maintain their shape. More fell and added to the bridge, thickening its ends and supporting its center. It was one book wide, and many volumes were already beginning to smolder.

That won’t hold me.

The presence behind her was strong and heavy, its gravity a dreadful pull on her thoughts.

I’ll break the bridge and fall into that darkness, and there arethingsdown there…

The thing came closer, scouring books from shelves and turning them instantly to soot. Alishia could sense moments in time being wiped out as she waited: no smoldering, no burning, no warning…they were simply gone.

She placed a foot on the first book. It gave slightly, as though she were stepping on a thick bed of moss, but when she lifted her other foot, the book bridge held. She walked on, staring down at her bare feet and trying her best to ignore the impenetrable darkness beneath her. One step at a time, she thought, moving on, and on. The bridge flexed and swayed. Alishia held her arms out to either side to maintain balance. The pit’s like the ravine. Bottomless. Filled with things we can never know. It’s so black… It pulled at her, and for one terrible instant she started to lean sideways, her knee buckling and lowering her toward a fall that would never end. But she bit her tongue, hard, and the explosive pain and taste of blood drew her back.

So close! she thought. The presence chasing her came suddenly closer still, keen to benefit from her confusion.

But then she was across. The timber floor felt so good beneath her feet that she dropped down and kissed it, turning just in time to see the bridge of books tumble away into darkness. A whole library of sacrifices. But most of the books had not been burning as they fell. They were gone from this world, but they would still exist somewhere.

She ran, and for the first time she felt the distance between her and the invasive presence growing with every step she took.