The Draykon Series (1-3)

Chapter Twenty Five

Llandry couldn't move. When she tried, the world tilted and fell and she fell with it. She suffered nausea so intense she could only lie in the damp moss and clutch her belly, waiting to vomit. The winged daefly-thing flew into her face, beating at her with its tissue-paper wings. She ignored it. The pain and nausea seemed a fitting end to the events of that day. But Devary's face rose in her mind's eye, fighting against dangerous odds, his attackers closing in around him. She pictured him bloodied and weak, wounded, even killed. The image was enough to force her to her knees, then to her feet.

   The world swam before her eyes and she closed them. She felt wings against her face again.

   'Stop that,' she muttered. 'I'm up.' She caught the thing carefully in her hands and opened her eyes. She could focus on it without falling: good.

   'We have to go back,' she told it, firmly. 'There must be another gate nearby, or maybe one will open. There've been enough of them lately.'

   The coloured thing beat against the prison of her fingers, trying to release itself. She frowned down at it.

   'You need a name. I can't call you “Thing” forever.' She thought for a moment. 'You can be Prink.'

Prink sank its sharp proboscis into her thumb. She winced, releasing it.

   'Well, Prink, can I rely on you to help me?' Prink fluttered away from her, distracted by a passing insect. Llandry sighed. 'No. I suppose not. Come on.' She looked around. A twisted replica of the forests of Glinnery surrounded her completely. She could see nothing but towering glissenwol, draping vines and moss. At length, she picked a direction at random. Unfurling her wings, she climbed into the air, ignoring the pain of overuse in the muscles of her arms and back. She didn't care if it hurt. She could make much faster progress on the wing than on foot. She gritted her teeth and flew on.

   She flew until her back was screaming with pain and her eyes were sore with staring into the misty skies, searching for the tell-tale ripple in the air that revealed the presence of a gate. She saw nothing, no sign of gathering mist or building heat that might suggest she was drawing close to a gate. Around her the glissenwol rose in unbroken ranks, so similar to her home that she began to doubt herself. Had she indeed crossed over at all? Perhaps she was merely confused. But no: no glissenwol of Glinnery grew to such impossible, regal heights, nor were they decked with such vividness of colour. The jade-green sky spiralling with lights was no figment of her imagination.

   She was angling in circles around the location where she'd come through, intent on searching every inch of the forest until she found a way back. She stopped circling when she felt a distant tug, a faint pulse of energy that drew her irresistibly to her left. She'd never felt that kind of a pull before, but things were certainly different here. She followed the sensation, feeling it grow stronger as she flew.

   She landed after a time and proceeded on foot. Prink fluttered ahead of her, frequently distracted by the prospect of a fat insect or two. After a few minutes she passed between two particularly majestic glissenwol forming a kind of archway over a silent clearing. Here was where the energy came from: she could feel it filling her body, pulsing in her bones. But no gate was in evidence. Just what was it?

   Instinct drew her eyes to the ground. She saw a carpet of moss, blue like the forest floor at home but twinkling in a way no Glinnish moss had ever done. She knelt, ignoring the seep of moisture through the fabrics of her trousers. Running her fingers over the soft, cushiony moss, she felt the coolness of stone.

   She inhaled sharply. Buried in the mosses were motes of indigo colour, shining softly silver. She tugged gently at a piece of the stuff and it came off easily in her hand.