Thursday, June 25, 2009

The Valley of Thunder (part one)

The party stopped on at the hilltop – you could almost call it the summit – and looked far out to the east. The Green Wash spread out before them, stretching out for thousands of miles. So far, in fact, that Gilbert thought he could see the curvature upwards of the shell. They had already been on the road for two months to reach this point and had seen marvels beyond count. Still, the sight of the wash took Gilbert’s breath away.

 

“What’s that in the distance?” asked Spencer, who at 13 was making his first ever pilgrimage. This was Gilbert’s fourth. So far, Spencer hadn’t been that awed by what he’d seen, but the youth rarely are. It takes years to truly understand the subtle marvels of the world. “Is that where we are going?”

 

Spencer had noticed what appeared to be a storm about 100 miles further along. It covered a wide expanse of ground. From experience, Gilbert knew it was larger than the country they came from, far far away.

 

“Yes,” said Helen, the group leader. “But we still have a long journey ahead of us. This is a traditional place where people stop on the journey. We will need to be fortified before we enter the Wash.” Helen set the dozen pilgrims on assigned tasks. Gilbert and Spencer gathered firewood in the nearby copse of trees.

 

“Why are we stopping?” Spencer asked. “It isn’t even full sun yet. There would seem to be hours left before we would be forced to stop on our journey.”

 

Gilbert laughed. “Don’t be impatient. The grounds of the Wash have their own dangers and we need a full span of light to get from here to the next safe spot. Do you see that spec there, about halfway between us and the storm?” Spencer nodded. “That is how far we will journey tomorrow. There is a second way station that we will make after that. On the third day, we will be at the Valley.”

 

“What is it?” Spencer had spent most of the past two months asking questions, only Gilbert seemed patient enough to answer them. “I have heard everyone speak of the Valley since I was a youngster, but no one has ever said what is there.”

 

Another laugh. “Part of your journey is discovery. It is not my, or any else’s, place to say what comes ahead of time.”

 

Spencer nodded. As he had the last few dozen times he’d asked Gilbert for information about the end point of their journey. He’d tried every possible tactic, but all had failed. While there were five other newcomers on the journey, none of them were nearly as inquisitive. Gilbert was reminded of himself on his first journey, perhaps another reason why they had been paired.

 

***

 

At first sun the next morning, they broke camp and set out. It would be a hard day’s hike to the first waystation, though at least it would be a relief to not have to climb. They followed the well-worn path down the side of the tall hill and finally, as the second sun uncovered, onto the green veldt of the wash. That morning – and again as they approached the land – Helen warned all to stay on the path. The older, veteran pilgrims took positions to the outside and behind, leaving the newcomers in the middle. Gilbert hung to the back, unbuttoning the cracked leather holster for his ancient field gun he had carried on each of the pilgrimages. The gun had been in the family for at least 10 generations, only used on these trips. Though hundreds of years old, it still held its charge well and had made a satisfying hole in the target when tested two months before. Since then, it had remained in its holster.

 

Spencer wandered back, as Gilbert knew he would. “This is not a place for conversation,” Gilbert told the youngster. “I’m sorry, but no questions today. Just watch the green and do not wander from the path.”

 

Amazingly, the youth listened to this, though he still stayed close to Gilbert throughout the day. In the high grass on each side of the path, there were occasional rustles and sudden glimpses of fur and teeth and eyes in small gaps, but nothing emerged during the long day. Finally, they approached the way station. It was far more fort like than any of the other camps they’d seen on the long journey. Again, they paired up to make camp – though part of their duties this time were to make any repairs needed and to make sure there were enough supplies on hand in case the station would be needed for an emergency. Mostly, the wide plain was deserted of travel – but the way stations were available to anyone who wished to use them.

 

Day two was much like day one, except that everyone was tired from the previous day’s long walk. Nerves were frayed now, and not as much care was taken. Twice, the older guides grabbed charges who had wandered too far from the path and were in danger of what lurked in the dark grass. Spencer, remarkably, wasn’t one of those people.

 

That night, he did have questions.

 

“What is so dangerous about the grass?”

 

“We don’t know. No one has ever gone in.”

 

“Then how do you know?” Spencer interrupted.

 

“Let me finish. No one has gone in and come out again. My grandfather says that on his second time, a great paw came out of the veldt and grabbed a charge. It happened so quickly he wasn’t able to even un-holster his pistol. All of the guides on that trip spent the next three years in Far Wastes for penance.” Spencer nodded at this. It was a great shame to lose a charge on the journey. “It is rare, for we know not to journey into the Wash, and the inhabitants know not to visit the Endless Path.”

 

“How…”

 

“Enough questions. We make the last stage of this journey tomorrow. Rest, and be ready.”

 

***

 

Rest was difficult, for the storm that shrouded the valley never ceased. Even from a dozen miles away, the crashing of thunder and sight of lightning never ceased. For the first timers, there was also the excitement of being on the last leg of the journey. And tomorrow, they would be on the road to adulthood.

 

The first dawn came. They broke camp quickly and began their final day’s walk. The path widened considerably as they closed in on the valley. The danger from the sides lessened, which allowed all to focus on the sound and fury that lie ahead. Helen stopped at midday for a break, a few miles from their goal. From here, they could see the stones that lined the top of the valley. And they could see that the clouds were not of vapor, but dust. And that the lightning and thunder did not come from the sky, but from the valley itself.

 

There was a stench in the air, unlike any that the newcomers had smelled before.

 

Helen kept a steady pace for the last few miles, though all of the youth wanted to run ahead and see what was there. By the fading of the second sun, they arrived at their destination. The path ended in a cul de sac. The sound was intense – each of the members had stuffed cotton into their ears to drown some of it out. Once they arrived, the main group was held back, while each guide took their charge to the tip of the space and then down to view what was below.

 

Each came back alone.

 

Gilbert and Spencer were second to last, though it took quite an effort for both to wait patiently. Gilbert loved this view, if not what was to follow. At last, they took their position, and Spencer looked out and gaped.

 

The dust obscured the landscape, so you could not see that the valley was, in fact, a deep and long gorge. It was nearly 10 miles wide and at least a mile deep. And within it lived…

 

Monsters. That was the only word that befit the creatures below. They resembled the lizards and birds and animals of the land around, but grown to massive – impossible – sizes. Gilbert had seen ancient pictures that resembled these great beasts, but when in the flesh there was something so much greater to see. Below them, in the river bed, a green-scaled creature – like a lizard, but standing upright – fought with a creature of the water, a giant snake that seemed to coil on endlessly. Overhead, two giant vultures – at least 20 foot in wingspan – fought for the right to be the first to feast on the carrion. The stench of death was deep within the air here.

 

“It is amazing… but where are the others?”

 

And below, they could see four small figures, picking their way along the rock face, headed for the bottom of the canyon.

 

“Here we part,” Gilbert said. “You six, of all of the lands, have been chosen to take this journey. Across the valley is a second stair. At the top, we will wait for five days. If you return.” Gilbert paused. Only once had he returned with his charge. “If you return, you will be groomed and courted as a great leader. You have the use of all of the supplies in your pack, and your friends, if you wish to band together. And your wits. Do not forget your wits, Spencer. They will be your greatest ally in the coming days.”

 

Spencer nodded and then turned while fighting back a tear. As he began to clamber down the steep path, Gilbert watched him for a few moments and then returned. Helen guided her charge – her youngest daughter, Melody, as it was – and then returned a few minutes later. The six guides said nothing of the trip they had taken, or what lay ahead. The silently walked to the side of the space and uncovered a waiting hover ship. They climbed in, breathing fresh but scentless air for the first time in months. Helen checked the systems and then guided the ship slowly up and then over the storm, safe from any of the creatures below. It would take about an hour to clear the space and then land again. After that, there would be the wait.

 

Gilbert always hated the wait most of all.

 

 

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