Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) (6 page)

I stopped suddenly and frantically tried to look for the source. A small rock a little larger than my head began to tremble violently. Without even bothering to question why, I drew my sword and struck it. A sharp note pierced the air as my weapon reverberated from the impact, however the rock looked undamaged. Four sharp pieces of thick metal suddenly protruded from the discoloured exterior of the rock, acting like limbs of some kind. I struck again, however two more sharpened metallic bits emerged from the front, blocking my assault.

What was once no more than a small boulder, had now assembled itself into a golem like construct, similar in structure to an arthropod. The body was completely beige save for the front of the creature which glowed like a burning piece of coal. Supporting the base of the creature were four, dagger like legs, and just above those were two more extensions resembling iron swords.

The contraption lunged at me faster than I could have anticipated and slashed the base of my leg, causing a painful wound to open up along my calf. Flailing my weapon, I tried in desperation to ward off the incoming blows. After sidestepping one of my lopsided lunges, the creation scuttled forward and slashed at the same leg but this time higher up. No physical contact was made, yet I felt a shift in weight accompanied by the sound of fabric being sliced. The key to the podium fell from my torn sack pocket, landing with a dusty thud on the earth. The creature ignored me completely and raced towards it with its claws outstretched. It wasn’t me the machine was after, it just wanted the key!
              Jumping to the side, I managed to kick the podium key away from me, sending a cloud of dust into the air as it skittered away. Bringing my sword down in front of the creature, I revolved around it long enough to pick the key up and hold it out. The red hot stone in the middle of its spherical body followed it with earnest desire. Instinctively I jabbed my sword forward, and much to my relief saw that the sword stuck into the red section of the thing like a warm knife in butter. The vicious clicking ceased and without so much as a dying spasm, all movement from the golem suddenly stopped. The rock hide of the being slowly crumbled away leaving nothing but the rusted limbs and the strange crimson substance which fizzed slightly as it was exposed to the cold night air.
              Somewhat curious, I touched it apprehensively and was intrigued to find that it was cool to the touch. It looked identical to the mounds of coal I had to mine every day, save for its intense and blinding maroon colour. With exciting comprehension, it occurred to me that I did know what this red rock was. In the book: Defending from the magical arts: It described a material known as “Arkoal.” A naturally occurring rock, embedded with vast amounts of energy. The mages used these rocks as storage cells to keep and then transfer their power when they needed it.

“The Grimlars must have used it to power that strange mechanism,” I thought to myself, turning the arkoal over in my fingers. Before I had time to do anything else however, the ominous clicking noise had begun to sound again. I looked up and instinctively leapt back, however the rattling continued to intensify. As the boulders began to move, the earth shook as if it weighed no more than a bedsheet. One by one, each rock assembled itself into a golem much like the one I had struggled with before. There were dozens, maybe even hundreds. The arkoal fell out of my hand and onto the ground as every muscle in my body went limp from fear.

Looking back, it was horrible to think that someone had created these machines with such a profound understanding of warfare. It was evil like I had never seen it and yet I couldn’t even run. A strange disturbance around my feet caused me to glance down, and stare in awe at the spot the arkoal had fallen. As if disregarding the laws of time altogether, a sapling began to grow alongside a ring of vivid green grass which extended out in all directions. The growth spread a resurring warmth throughout the cold emptiness which in turn caused the wind to pick up. As the grass strolled out to meet the mechanisms, they all began to back away.

I blinked and continued to stare with uncomprehending eyes. It had been years since I had seen grass, but I remembered it well. It was that soft sort of plant that littered the grounds outside of the orphanage and made you all itchy. “Where did it come from?” I wondered. “And why aren’t they coming any closer? What’s stopping them?” The sapling in the middle of the field was growing much quicker than it should have been possible. Within only a few seconds, it was as large as any other tree. I realized after a moment that it was leaning towards me with all branches folded back except for one. The branch that was extended calmly folded it’s limb towards itself before extending it and repeating the motion. It was an urgent movement yet unmistakably.
              I took a single step towards the tree and the movement deepened. When I was close enough to touch, it had stopped almost completely. To my absolute awe, I saw that the tree branches on the limb had melted together to form a perfectly carved replica of a human hand. I apprehensively wrapped my own palm around the smooth grainy wood, and slowly shook the hand of the tree. It was so silly and unexpected, I couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer impossibility. Without letting my hand go, the tree resumed its unusual growth, taking me into the air with it. I screamed in alarm, but was immediately reassured by the tight grip of the strange life form ferrying me to the clouds.

“This can’t be real.” I said to myself, shaking my head again and again. “I should be dead.” The gentle inflation of the tree branches eventually ceased after a few more seconds in heightened silence. Multiple large branches swept under me, providing me with enough room to sit in comfort as I watched over The Forest. The mechanisms paced around from below, marching in perfect formation around my dense circle of plant life. The large golems were supported by as many as six-oversized metal pikes, with a dozen or so arms which often times flailed around blindly. A few of the medium sized ones carried flat steel blades which I imagine could be used as projectiles. All of them however, contained some of the gleaming arkoal.
 

“
Why did the arkoal react like that?” I wondered. “What was so special about the ground to make all of this?” There had to be something in the earth, but the colourless land contained not drop of water, nor a scent, nor a colour. The dirt seemed to be a shadow of life itself, reflecting the surrounding land as if doing some strange interpretation.

I blinked and reconsidered. When the arkoal was taken in by the earth, it turned a small patch of ground normal. That must have meant that the grey ground was abnormal somehow. Perhaps it was made by the Grimlars? For what reason though?

I scratched my head and frowned even deeper. That still didn’t make any sense. Why would these golems be unable to walk on a patch of normal land? I blinked and gave a huge shuddering sigh, suddenly realizing how tired I was. I would answer these questions later. I would find answers to everything, but at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to rest.

“I’m alive,” I whispered, hugging myself a little. “I’m alive.” It was a beautiful sentence to say after such a long time, so I continued to repeat it until it lost all meaning to me. Looking out to the cloudy north, I could see that I was no more than a few miles from the gargantuan base of the podium, a distance I could easily make in the morning. Comforted by the reassuring knowledge that I would live through another night, I carefully closed my eyes, shifted in my seat and fell asleep.
 

             
***

As I slowly woke up, I let out a healthy yawn and stretched from side to side while keeping my eyes closed. Much to my surprise however, I didn’t feel any of the  tree branches through the movement. With some degree of concern, I cracked a single eye open, and saw that was no tree. There was no grass. I was lying on the cold ground, exactly the way it was the previous day.

I stood up, and turned around to get a better look. There was nothing there but a peice of arkoal. Despite still being bright red, it seemed to have lost its inner glow. Was it ever glowing to begin with? I carefully picked it up and put it in my pocket, thinking that it might be of use later. “So it was a dream?” I wondered, quickly looking around. I now noticed that there were a ring of boulders surrounding me in a perfect circle. I was sure that they hadn’t been there before.

I apprehensively sidled up to one of the larger ones and placed my hand on it. Cold and clammy, the rock neither moved nor reacted to my touch and instead felt exactly like how a rock should feel. A few minutes passed where I didn’t do anything. I just sat there, stupidly looking up to the sky and trying to ignore my thirst. I got to my feet and stumbled off in a scatter-minded fashion, only vaguely aware of the direction I was going in. “Perhaps I should try drinking the clouds,” I mumbled wearily. The suggestion was so earnest and so full of hope, I had no choice but to bend my will to the slippery insanity. Jumping off one foot then the other, I sucked in air with all my might before tumbling dramatically to the ground and earning myself a drink of dry dust.

“Perhaps I should try running as fast as I can, to try and collect water droplets in the air.” I flailed my arms around in a pathetic hash of movement while I shuffled myself forward. After a few minutes, I realized with weary giddiness that a horde of thin droplets had materialized on my limbs. I slurped them down, and recoiled at their salty flavour. “Not water,” I concluded, before walking off again.
              “Perhaps I should try drinking the strange yellow vial in my pocket,” I suggested while snickering a little.” I paused to consider the prospect. In many ways it was the most ridiculous of my options, yet it was the only one that carried tangible possibility. Right there, just resting by my thigh was an opportunity for me to be free of hunger and thirst and possibly even survive. Would I deny my body this? I tried to rationalise further. Professor Wenchenberg could have given this to me. He would want me to survive, even if I couldn’t see any logical reason for it. The Grimlars on the other hand would love giving the trainees a vial of poison. They’d probably laugh themselves to tears at the thought of a stupid little Ickle-bit accidentally killing himself.

“Keep your pockets clean.” Profesor Wenchenberg’s voice repeated in my head. Did he mean for me to get rid of what was in my pockets, or to keep what it was inside? It seemed certain that he knew about this beforehand, but whether or not he made his intentions clear was something else entirely.

I removed the vial from my pocket and held it up to the light. “It almost looks like molten gold,” I mumbled to myself after a while. I licked my wilted lips and laughed weakly. “Yeah, it really does in this light doesn’t it? Pure gold.” I had just said this when a memory in my head suddenly fluttered. I remembered that just three nights ago I was reading about gold. I pressed my sandy palm into my sticky forehead as I thought about this for another moment. “There was something about gold and dragons,” I said, now pacing back and forth. “It said that gold was the reason dragons lived so long. Wasn’t gold supposed to be the life essence of a dragon?” I cocked my head to one side and felt my mouth fall agape as a new thought crossed my mind

“This may be a dragon soul,” I said, surprising even myself. It took me a moment to fully realize what I said and when I did, a horde of questions swarmed me. “Where would the professor get a dragon soul? Why of all people would he give it to me? What are the odds of survival if I were to drink it?” To become one of the Quenched would be to risk everything, but did I have anything to lose? Was there any other way to survive?” I clenched at my chest, feeling terribly sick at the thought of making a decision this big. There I was, slowly dying from the elements and letting myself believe that there was no way to fix it. The vial made its presence known as I continued to walk forward, bumping against my leg with every step I took.

“I’m going to die,” I admitted coldly. “Today or tomorrow or even years from now; I’m going to die.” I wiped my salt stained face with my arm and sniffed a bit. “It doesn’t even matter what I do now. The outcome is all the same isn’t it?” I asked as if expecting an answer.  I gritted my teeth and shook my head but just kept talking. “Why am I running from this great big thing that’s always going to catch up with me? What’s the point in running if its only going to tire me out?” I looked at my hands and was surprised to see that they weren't shaking. I realized that I wasn’t scared; just incredibly tired.

I clutched the side of my pant leg and began to breathe very deeply. “Maybe I’ll just keep running for a while longer,” I said, chuckling to myself quietly. “Keep running even though I know how the race is going to end.” I looked around and sighed. It could have all stopped then and there but for some odd reason I could see a bright future somewhere off in the distance. I figured if I was going to die, then I would die knowing what was in the bottle.
              A small pop floated through the air as the stopper was quietly torn from the vial. A fantastic wash of aroma flooded over me as the liquid was exposed to the air. It smelled like like flowers, smoky wood fires and leather all in one. My innards painfully demanded more and pounded desperately on my sides as I brought the vial closer to my nose. I lifted it further and watched in unperturbed silence as my resistance crumbled away.
              While gradually adjusting the angle of the trembling container, I was surprised by how quickly the liquid flowed from the glass. Without a second thought, I brought my lips to the edge, and drank. I gagged and fell to the ground, crippled by the liquid’s unexpected sourness. A soundless cough flew out of my windpipe, firing a fleet of minuscule pins into my throat. I brought myself back up to my feet and continued to lumber forward, but I could tell that something was wrong. It was as if I was seeing the world through shattered glass. Even despite this I continued to stumble on while unable to see for what felt like hours. I had to go on.
              I tripped over my own two feet and fell to the ground quivering. Terrible flashes of chaotic images were swept into me, creating hallucinations that loudly interrupted reality. I was carried out of the lifeless field and thrown into what seemed like a large cave slapped together with jagged rocks.