The Stair Of Time (Book 2) (13 page)

Line of Sight

“This is…it?” Gaven
asked.  “Are you sure?”

“Well
, course I’m sure, young’n’.  What else did you want, a harem of busty wenches to welcome ya with the dance of a thousand veils?  Or mayhap a troupe of scantily clad maidens with grapes and fans?”

Gaven shrugged, seeming to lack the sp
irit to respond in kind.

Gramps’ eyes filled with sudden concern.  “Seriously, my boy, what’s troublin’ ya?”

“I don’t know. I guess after all the talk, I was expecting something less…ordinary.”

Gramps cocked his head to the side, expression turning perplexed.  “Are ya blind, my boy?  Don’t ya see the green grass, the lake, the forest, the herd of bison?  Don’t it call to ya like a mistress in the
night?  Don’t ya feel the warmth and light?”

Now it was Gaven’s turn to look perplexed, as well as a little irritated.  “All I see is a sheer drop into a sea of
mist and endless miles of snow-covered mountains beneath black-bellied clouds…the sort you see before a storm.  I’ll admit, it was impressive when we came out from between the cliffs into the open, but there tweren’t anything
magical
about it.”

Gramps’ face filled with sudden doubt.  “Andaris,” he said, voice tremulous, “do
you
see it?”

“As clear as I’ve ever seen anything, Gramps,” Andaris replied, his words shining almost as brightly as his eyes.  “But
maybe…some people can’t.”  He glanced sympathetically to Gaven.  “Maybe that’s part of what’s kept The Lost City hidden all these years.”

Gramps nodded slowly, wrapping his m
ind around the suggestion with obvious reluctance.  “Yeah…suppose that
could
be….  Hmm….” 

“It could also be that—”

Gramps raised a hand.  “Give me a minute, lad.  Let an old man think!”  The wrinkles on his face deepened, seeming to fold in on themselves under the strain.

Andaris held his breath,
unsure what to expect.

Gramps’ face
relaxed in stages, then lit with sudden inspiration.  “The way I see it is this.  It’s far more likely for two to be seein’ true than one.  No offense, Gaven.”

The big man shrugged with feigned indifference.

“Which means, there’s a real simple solution.” Gramps beamed with self-satisfaction, the afterglow of which was underscored by something that looked suspiciously like guile.  “No need for us to talk ourselves into a corner when we can just walk the horses out over this drop you think ya see and prove it to ya!  In fact, if it’s really there, the horses won’t go—If’n they
see,
or don’t see as you do, that is.  But I don’t believe that’s the case.  Ten to one, the illusion works better on men than on animals.  Don’t know why that seems right. Just does….”

Gaven looked from Gramps to the sheer drop into
the mist, back to Gramps, to the mist, and finally to Gramps again.  “But what if what you’re seeing
is
the illusion, and they see it, too?”

“Now why would anyone go and do a fool thing like that?” scoff
ed Gramps.  “Don’t make a lick o’ sense.  Besides, I was here before—remember?”

Gaven grunted in
disbelief, dismounted, and walked to what he believed to be the edge, the snow that wasn’t really there crunching beneath his boots.  He knelt, picked up a rock, stood, and threw the rock as far as he could—which, not surprisingly, was quite far.

Gaven
saw the rock sail in a somehow alluring arc through the frigid air before dropping beneath the mist, never to be seen again.  The big man strained his ears, but did not hear the rock hit bottom.  He shivered and turned back to his friends, the expression on his broad face saying, “See, told you so.”  

Andaris’ and Gramps’
saw the rock follow the same somehow alluring arc. Instead of dropping into the mist, however, it landed in the tall grass where it could easily be retrieved, making a fairly audible thump.

“Don’t see why you’re lookin’ at me like ya made some big point,” said Gramps.  “I could go and get your little rock and bring it back t’ya without even breakin’ a sweat.  Would
that
prove it to ya?”

Gaven appeared highly dubious, shaking his head at the insanity of
the old man’s proposal.  He started to reply with something to that effect when Gramps yelled, “Hiya!” and again spurred his mount into a gallop.

“No!” cried Gaven, running to intercept.  “Don’t!”  But it was too late.  Gramps was past him, galloping over the edge and…
over
the mist.  Gaven squeezed shut his eyes, feeling woozy.

When he opened them again, he saw everything as described, bursting in startling
, vivid detail, too grandiose to call beautiful, too beautiful to call grandiose. 

Some sixty to seventy yards away, Gramps
reined in his horse, dismounted, reached into the tall grass and, with a triumphant grin, raised the rock high over his head for Gaven to see.

Suddenly giddy, Gaven jumped
into the saddle and galloped out to meet him, Andaris close at his heels.

Within the hour, after having followed roughly the same course as the bison, they reached the western shore of Sapphire Lake.  They felt like children playing make believe, exploring a land that could only exist in their imaginations. 

The surface of the water reflected
its surroundings with almost perfect clarity, their astonished faces mirrored back to them.  Birds wheeled about through the cloudless sky, each a twirling brushstroke of color against a boundless blue canvas.

T
he three dismounted, allowing the horses to graze.  Andaris walked to the edge of the water, examining his reflection.  He inhaled sharply and drew back, suddenly feeling as though something were staring up at him, peering intently from just beneath the placid surface, looking through his
own
eyes with a terrible longing.

He stepped away, unnerved. 
The depth of awareness in those eyes—his eyes—had been unsettling, to say the least.  A cold, calculating expression unlike anything he’d glimpsed in his reflection before.  There was a consciousness here, emanating from the lake in waves, something very old and, at least in part, asleep.

Probably best
to keep it that way,
he thought, turning around and hurrying back to his friends.
Need to tell them what just happened,
he realized.
Warn them to give the lake a wide berth.
  But something gave him pause, making him question the wisdom of this decision.  There was some reason it was better for them not to know.  Telling them what he’d discovered would put them in danger somehow.
I can always warn them if they get too close,
he decided.
I’m sure it’ll be fine….

Truly, the plateau was a wondrous place, all that Gramps had promised and more.  The colors seemed brighter, more vivid, an artist’s interpretation of reality.  The air was crisp and clean, redolent of wildflowers in full bloom, their sweet fragrance floating on the breeze like a blessing.  Everywhere they looked, the land was bursting with life, the flora and fauna unlike anything he’d beheld before.

Remarkable,
thought Andaris. 

He had
yet to observe anything overtly magical about the animals, but they were extraordinary nonetheless.  Many were thought to have been extinct long ago.  Others, at least as far as Andaris and his companions knew, were unique to the plateau, existing only here—an ecosystem of singular diversity.  Indeed, even after everything he’d experienced on his travels, he would have doubted that such a place could be real if he weren’t seeing it with his own eyes.

“
Should” doubt it anyway,
he thought,
especially after what I saw, or thought I saw through that window in Ashel’s tower.  And after that dream about the box.  But I can’t.  I won’t….  This is different.

It was real all right
—as real as anything else, anyway.  He could feel it.  And out of all this diversity, out of the multitudes of bizarre and whimsical creatures they saw roaming the landscape, not one exhibited the slightest hostility towards another.  There was the occasional outbreak of playfulness that escalated to the point of mock fighting, but that was all.  It was as if doing harm was a foreign concept.  They were gentle, noble, and at one with themselves and their environment. 

Andaris
found that he was very grateful for this, for it looked to him as if some of them could do a great deal of harm if provoked.  There was something that resembled a giraffe, except its neck was twice as long, covered with white feathers and as sinuous as a serpent’s.  Here was a bear that looked to have been crossed with an elk, vicious spikes jutting from the tops of its furry paws, a dozen deadly points that could pierce through even the most formidable of armor.  There was a herd of horse-like creatures with six legs and velvety green horns, the latter wrapping around their heads to cross and re-cross in the front like a kind of ribcage helm.  Here was a great lumbering beast that made the ground tremble as it walked, similar in shape and demeanor to an elephant, but much larger, its back plated with golden scales that shone like treasure in the sunlight.

Remarkable,
Andaris thought again.

Here was
harmony and balance and peace.  Here was life as Rodan intended—in all its pristine glory, uncorrupted by the nefarious workings of man.  And it wasn’t just what he was able to experience with his five senses, either.  Just beyond his purview, there resonated an intangible…something.  It permeated all that he saw, heard, and touched.  And yet, like the lake, remained wholly inscrutable.

Some would call it magic,
he supposed, but Andaris didn’t think that was quite right.  Sure it was a
kind
of magic, but it wasn’t
just
magic.  It was also something else, something
more:
a distant vibration traveling to them on the wind, a sort of spiritual hum striking chords deep within, resonating through all of creation, a unifying force that went far beyond nature into the realm of the fantastic.

“I don’t like the thought of campin’ out here in the open where we’re so…visible,” said Gramps, interrupting his reverie.  “There’re eyes everywhere, and not just the ones we can see, neither.  You feel it?  I say after the horses have their fill, we head for yonder tree line, and make camp just inside.  At least that way we’ll have some cover in case there’s somethin’ of a nocturnal nature that ain’t as
friendly
as its daytime counterparts.  Tonight we can consult the pages and hopefully find a way into,” and here Gramps lowered his voice, looking around with apprehension, “The Lost City.”

Andaris and Gaven nodded, expressing their consent as discretely as possible, the feeling that they were being
scrutinized growing with each passing moment, their worth being weighed and found wanting, the eyes that they could not see seeming to peer at them from behind every bush and boulder and blade of grass.

The shadowy
entrance to a small cave lay no more than fifty yards away, mystery and menace lurking within, beckoning Andaris to come and explore its labyrinthine depths.  Indeed, it seemed to call to him like a siren from a rocky shore, so sweetly that he felt his will to resist weakening.  He was actually on the verge of suggesting that they make camp inside the cave before he got a hold of himself, shook his head and, with a considerable effort, looked away, feeling like he had with the lake, like he’d made eye contact with something—a being as patient as time, as constant as death, and, at least in part, asleep.

He shivered. 
Best keep this to myself, too,
he thought. 
Can always go have a look after we get back from The Lost City.  

In due course, they made their way to the edge of the forest, traveling at a leisurely pace, marveling at all that they saw along the way.  At one point, Andaris nearly wheeled Del about and went galloping after a herd of hornless gazelle, each made beautiful by a luxurious coat of multicolored fur, scaled heads flashing in the sunlight as they wove between stands of fruit bearing willow trees.  There were hundreds of them, leaping through the air with joyful exuberance, their movements appearing to have been expertly choreographed into a kind of flowing dance, every strike of hoof and swell of body perfectly in sync.

Gramps
dismounted before reaching the tree line, deciding to walk his horse the last few yards.  Gaven and Andaris followed suit.  As they drew near, they stopped and stared, standing as still as statues, holding their stirrups with expressions that were somehow blank and inquisitive at the same time, each imagining something different about what might lay inside, the hair on the napes of their necks standing, as well.

Gramps was thinking about that majestic steed he’d seen all those years ago
, wondering if it would let him pet it on the nose and feed it an apple.