T'Lan'toria

Chapter 3

Time kept changing here. None of the others could make sense of it. They tried to measure it by the cycle of the sun, as they would at home. The problem was, there were two suns instead of one. Only he knew the time, he had been raised in this place. He was the time keeper for the group as well as the guide. He told them when to sleep and when to eat, and which direction to travel. Sometimes this easy knowledge irritated the others but mostly they just accepted this knowledge with a shrug. After all, this wasn’t their concern. They were just following the Klicch’s orders. The orders were simpler this time: retrieve the Ancients as soon as possible. No one questioned the orders, no one questioned anything about the Klicch. So when the Klicch opened a door no one knew about and told them to step through and follow the orders of their guide, no one even battered an eyelash. Sometimes this total lack of intelligence irritated their guide.

Gricknell didn’t follow orders of the Klicch. He was above that. He was from the ancient world and as such had powers of his own that surpassed all he had ever met. All except the Ancients themselves. He had had to use the life-force of twenty of the Klicch’s men to seal them in the Tower but he was okay with that. After all, those men weren’t important. The only reason he dealt with the Klicch is because his father had struck a deal with the man and Gricknell couldn’t end the deal until the Klicch had disposed of the Ancients.

“Come,” Gricknell grunted, kicking out the measly man-fire the group had made to eat their breakfast. At first, Gricknell had been amused at these beings need to eat, now he was just annoyed. They ate of life instead of sucking it out of beings. These humans didn’t know many things, but that mattered not. They would end their existence soon enough and then he would be allowed to roam their little world instead of being trapped in this lifeless place. Gricknell was the last of his kind, his predecessors had sucked nearly all the life out of their world, and he was anxious to begin his line anew, where there was plenty to feed off of. But he could not travel there yet, he had to make sure the Ancients were dead before then and he could not kill them; they were far too great. And so he must wait, sucking life through the small door that led to the Klicch’s world.

One of the men groaned; he couldn’t stand. Gricknell shrugged. He had sucked a little too hard last night of that man. But that man had much energy in him, especially as Gricknell had sent him dreams. Yes, these humans were indeed strange, but they had their purposes. Gricknell reached down and snapped the man’s neck. It was a pity he couldn’t finish this meal. These humans were a great life-source supply because they had spirit. Gricknell grinned. Only a little while longer and the Ancients would be destroyed and he could feast as he willed. Gricknell smiled at the thought as he led the group that day.

The march that day was long and by the time Gricknell decided to let them rest, the forty or so men were sore and tired. Perhaps he’d pushed them too far in his eagerness to reach the Ancients. It didn’t matter how tired they were, tomorrow they’d only have a short walk to the tower. Perhaps tonight he’d let them sleep longer. Perhaps.

He mused as the men set up their camp. He thought of the better days soon to come as they cooked their meals. As he felt the men relax Gricknell realized he was beginning to feel how empty well of life had become over the day.

Gricknell watched as the men talked around their campfire that night, trying to decide which one he’d taste tonight. The one they called Regent was strong and Gricknell knew he was the strongest of the group. He had old blood in him. Too bad he was forbidden. Gricknell shrugged. Perhaps he’d try the skinny red headed boy who carried the old wooden chest during the marches. Perhaps. Gricknell stopped his musings, his interest peaked by the Regent and boy leaving the fire together, and listened.

“But what is in it, sir?” the boy asked Regent quietly.

“Like I’ve told you before boy, the chest carries some amulets and other trinkets.”

“But what are they for?” he urged.

“You’ll find out tomorrow. Now, no more questions. If you weren’t my sister’s child you’d be in deep trouble for knowing that much. As it is, if we don’t find Marsnick, you will take his place.” The large man heaved a sigh, “It is time for bed, Critney. Do you need repainted or are you still marked?”

“I’m still marked, Uncle.”

“Let me see it; those markings are what keep you safe here.” The boy rolled up his left arm sleeve as the Regent man did the same. Curious, Gricknell peered closely at the man. Burned in the man’s flesh were ancient signs. Familiar signs. The boy had the same signs drawn on his arm. Unconsciously, Gricknell shuddered. He knew those signs. He would never be able to feast on that man or the boy, or even touch them, with those markings on them. If he did, he’d become something less than himself. A part of the world yet frozen in it. Time would never move again. He’d starve, unable to feed except on himself until he gradual became part of nothingness. Very few humans could carry those markings and live. For the first time, Gricknell was afraid.