Read The Source Page 7

he had seen them before. He had fought them before. Still…

  She can read their language. That was another odd thing. He didn’t know anyone that could. He started moving his arms about, loosening the grassy grip of the land.

  She stood back, watching. “I…well… they do come from my lands you know.”

  Ah. That would explain why she knew–

  “Even then, this is not the normal kind of contract.” She looked out over the plains. Frowning at the hill they had left. He knew the look. It seemed like they had not gained any distance from it. “Are you–”

  “Yes for hell’s sake we are much further away than you think.” He tugged on the grass one last time to free his right arm. He drew a dagger to work on the grass that clung to his left arm. She paused. “You were saying?”

  “Uhm. Well, they come from my lands. So obviously I know their language. Haven’t you noticed my accent?”

  No. Not really.

  She frowned. “Anyways, this is a contract to kill me and take–” her eyes suddenly snapped to his. “You will help me, yes?”

  He cut away the last of the grass and worked the dagger along his side so he could sit up. “I am taking you to the nearest town. From there–”

  “That’s what Onsho said.”

  He paused, frowning at her. “Who?”

  She smiled a sad smile. “Onsho. He was a warrior.” She smirked. “Much better than you.” Before he could reply to that she turned. “He was young too. And handsome. Such a magnificent warrior.”

  He couldn’t help himself. “Yet he died and here you are, with old, ugly, wounded me. What does that tell you about this Source of yours?”

  She sighed. Looking over her shoulder, her aqua eyes swam with tears. “It’s not my Source fool. I told you this. Onsho was good. Very good. With my other companions, I thought…I thought–”

  He sat up. The cut grass falling away. Bah! The grass had worked its way through the hole in his foot. It was probably crawling through him now, trying to work its way to his heart.

  This will hurt. Once the last of that magic vial wears off…this will hurt like hell’s own fury.

  He grabbed it and slowly began to pull it out. You didn’t want to snap it. Oh no. Any grass left in your system would work its way to your heart even faster, trying to kill you out here to feed the plains.

  “Go on.” He growled. Gritting his teeth he pulled inch by bloody inch. The grass was not wanting to come out.

  She looked at what he was doing, paled, snapped her eyes up, into the distance. “Well, I had a full company,” she glanced at him again. “that’s ten where I come from.” It was ten here as well but he didn’t feel like talking as the grass fought every inch of the way. “Onsho was the newest and the most upbeat of them. He knew what we were doing and he believed in it with all his heart.”

  Breathing heavily, he pulled the last bit of grass from his wound, tossing it aside. Ah ha! He lifted his lip at it. Man beats nature. “He worshiped this Source then?”

  “Yes. Yes he did. It gave him strength you wouldn’t believe. Faith. He had faith we would succeed. So much faith that it infected all of us. We knew we would come through in the end.”

  He eyed her trembling back. This story didn’t end well. That was obvious.

  “Well…as we traveled, more and more hunters began to come. Soon, even Onsho began to tire.” She laughed softly. “No one can stay awake forever can they?” She turned, watching him. “Can you?”

  He cut the last bit away, kicking his legs as best he could. They hurt. Both of them. “No. Wouldn’t want to even if I could. Being awake is pain. Being awake is cold solitude. Being awake hurts. Only sleep brings solace.” He glanced at her. “And death. Death is the ultimate sleep after all. Oblivion. Never ending. Peaceful.”

  She frowned at him. “Do you believe that?”

  He shrugged.

  “That’s a sad view on life and death.”

  “Life is pain.” He grunted as he stood. She tried to help him up but he waved her off. She stood back, crossing her arms, watching him struggle. “You should know that. Life is only pain. There is nothing here but pain.”

  “Friendship–”

  “They die.”

  “Family is–”

  “They leave you as a babe.”

  “Love–”

  “Fades.”

  She lowered her eyes. “We’ve not lived the same life. That much is for certain.”

  For once, the little tart spoke truth. “You were saying? No one can stay awake? Something…?”

  He picked up his belongings, glad she was carrying most for now, and marked his location. Not much longer now. He began walking. It hurt.

  She followed behind him. “Two groups came one night. It was a…a mess. Most of my companions, my friends, were killed. Onsho lived but he was badly wounded.” He could hear the slight quake in her voice but he’d be damned if he looked back. He had trouble keeping this pace as it was with his leg hurting as it did.

  “Night after night they came. Soon…soon…”

  Now he did glance back. A few tears threatened to roll from those strangely deep eyes of hers. She did her best to control it. “He didn’t make it.”

  She shook her head in reply. “He–he was the last to fall. Fighting them at the river.”

  I knew it. She ran all that way, into the maze, and somehow found me. Still. How was it possible? “The Tharin?”

  She shrugged, looking up to catch him watching her. He tried to turn, those eyes of hers held him like a vice. “I’m not sure what it’s called. If that is its name… he died there. I made it across and into this…this…” She looked around.

  “Maze.”

  She shook her head. “Whatever it may be. I made it here and still they followed. I knew Onsho was dead. I knew they were all dead.” She clutched her chest. “The Source diminished when they died. It’s still here, oh yes, but it weakened after every death.” Her eyes never blinked, never let him go. “It strengthened again when I found you. How peculiar, no?”

  He just spit to the side. It did not turn her eye as he had hoped. What else did girls hate? He couldn’t think of anything with those aqua traps holding him.

  She ran a hand over her small breast. Her heart…her heart. “I didn’t understand at first. How I made it here. Where I was. Then…then I was pushed toward you. Sitting there on that hill. Standing out like a black scar on the land.”

  A black scar?

  “So different from my friends. So different from my family. They all glowed to me. Shone as brightly as freshly spun gold. Even Onsho glowed so very very brightly and yet… you were their equal in your blackness. In your absolute lack of any color.”

  “Thank you?”

  “So I knew then. I knew you were my next companion. The Source guided me to you and close to you, it flared to life. Exploded! Bloomed!” She shook her head. “I can’t even find the words. It was so much more than before. Did you see how I attacked those hunters?” That would have been hard to miss. “I was never able to do that before.”

  “You’re welcome?” What do you say to that?

  “So it makes me wonder, what are you? Why are you so…bleak? Dead? Are you living? Yes. Yet I can tell you are empty. I can feel the ache. The bitterness. I listen as you talk to the clouds.”

  That finally got him. Enough to speak at least. “I don’t talk to clouds! I–”

  “Lost ones?” She turned her head to look upward. “I thought you said death brought peace? Death brought oblivion?”

  He was finally freed as she had looked skyward. He stared out into the seemingly endless plains. Soon. Soon…

  “Insane or not…I need you. The Source has chosen you. If light and happiness can not bring me through, bring it through, then I guess it chose the opposite. Anger. Hatred. Bitterness.” She sniffed. “I would question it…if it would answer.” He saw red flicker in front of him. He glanced back. She was holding her hand before her, staring at the flicke
ring, tumbling ball of red.

  I wonder if that is her answer?

  She met his eye, or tried to. He looked away. Something about her. What was it? “Do you think this is an answer?” She asked, the red before him brightened but he did not look back. He just shrugged. She made a thoughtful sound.

  “I don’t even know what this Source of yours is. Why is it coming here? What does it–” He caught his tongue. This wasn’t his business!

  Yet I feel strangely compelled…

  “’times ya don’t have a choice, lad.” Old Grommy said. “’times, yer just a puppet on er string.” He could hear the old man chew a wade of white grass, sucking the juice out. No doubt getting ready to project it as far as possible. It seemed fun to the old fart.

  He jumped when a small hot spot lighted on his back. “Are they talking to you again?” She was staring at him, he realized he had come to a stop and had been staring at the sky. “What do they say? Who are they?”

  “Tart–”

  “Gennifer.” She stomped her foot. Ha! No…not physically. Mentally at least. So he could still get to her. Good. Good. A warrior must try to always learn, even at the end.

  He shrugged, his lips lifting into something that was not exactly a smile. “Tart…” he wasn’t going to use her name. Never. It was something he didn’t even want to know in the first place. “…it is none of your business. I told you, they are not your concern.”

  “Did you say that?” She tilted her head.

  “Of course I did! I don’t wa–”

  “What’s your name?”

  “–to even…what? What do you–”

  “What is your name? I can’t go around calling you fool or jester