Kelfor (The Orthomancers)

Chapter 3

I wake up when Torch reaches into my carrick and shakes my arm. I groan. Most of my muscles have seized up in just sixty minutes. It feels like it would take oil and heat to get them moving.

I shuffle out of my carrick and discover that the rest of the members of the group are doing the same thing. All except Torch, that is. Torch is already ready to go, his carrick strapped to his back, his weight shifting from foot to foot.

Thurifer makes signs for me to hurry. He comes over to check I am all right.

"We believe the Scoriats must be very close," he whispers.

"How do you know?"

"Ballen says the skulks are nervous. They can sense movement behind us. He says that there are people close to us, within five miles. We need to be on our way."

Five miles! FIVE MILES? That is nothing! We are doomed. I strap on my carrick with much more motivation. We could be overtaken within hours!

I am not the only one thinking the same thing. Ballen and Rannyl seem to have buried their differences. They are moving quickly away from the rest of us, Rannyl forging ahead. As I watch, they vanish into the tall grass.

Thurifer watches them go. "The skulks are too easy to see and hear," he tells me. "As are the argents when they circle. Ballen and Rannyl will try to get them safely out of sight. Karith has told them which general area to head for. We will find them near the rift."

The unspoken 'if we are still here' rings in my ears. Perhaps in his, too. We stare at each other.

Zivan speaks. "Torch can sense people coming."

It's true. The boy is clearly extremely worried. He is breathing heavily and his eyes are fixed on a point on the horizon. He is beginning to wail quietly to himself. He sounds like an animal which has been tied up but needs to escape.

Zivan signs to him. He stops the noise, not without an inward struggle, and turns his back. Then he simply stands, trembling with the need to be moving. I notice that Jethran and Karith exchange looks. I realize then that, to them, he is special in a different sort of way. Special to them means lacking something. That makes me sad. I think he knows things the rest of us can't. I think he is remarkable.

Zivan signals to Torch and they split quickly from the rest of us.

"Keep going," the thief says, mainly to the two speakers of the land, who are leading us to the only place where the Abaloss Rift can be crossed, Boulderstone Pass. "Torch and I are doubling back for a moment. There is something ... I am not quite sure, but ..." Her brow is creased.

Quondam Azrial agrees at once. "Yes. Check it out. You will be able to find us later. Good luck."

The thief frowns. "I do not believe in luck."

"No, I suppose you don't."

"If I had believed in luck, I might believe that the timeworn would intervene to stop the Triune Program in the Xenokarth. And that would prove to be a mistake ..." the girl's face is set, "... because they never have intervened, have they?"

The quondam is aware of a faint mirrored resentment inside her own weakened heart. Who does this girl think she is to so question the timeworn? "You are very harsh."

The answer is flat. "Life is very harsh."

Zivan and Torch melt into the tall grass behind us.

The rest of us begin to make our way toward the Abaloss Rift. It is quite clear now, a ridge of about fifty yards high, reaching up in front of us in a long line. We can see no break in the crest either to the left or to the right.