After several long minutes, he finally reached the puddle to Tormalin without finding a trace of his fellow companion. It was definitely the right hole, surrounded by their footprints embedded in the mud. Where could he be, then? Perhaps in his running, he had passed a crossroad and didn’t see some other path. He decided to search one more time, so he turned back and began walking on the trail, this time checking any opening in the bushes or any smell that could reveal a different path.
Gill had already passed two broader trees on the right side when he figured out that the light-colored spot between them could be a footprint. He turned to smell it. Undoubtedly, here Urdun had left his treacherous trail embedded in the muddy ground. His hearts pounding fiercely in his chest, he pushed aside the fleshy arkane bushes and saw a forest path, narrower than the one he just left and completely camouflaged by the vegetation. He could barely squeeze under the thick branches that formed a compact canopy over his head. Without hesitation, he began to creep slowly into the dark, careful to avoid the smallest rustle, to find out what the old Antyran was up to.
He didn’t have to crawl for long; after he pushed a knotty branch blocking his view, he almost stumbled into the small glade where Urdun was hiding. He instantly froze, trying to avoid the slightest sound that would betray his presence. Fortunately, his companion—or, better to say, ex-companion—was too absorbed to notice him. Urdun was looking at a spot between two broad trees fused at the base, like a giant V. Behind them, a ten-foot-tall basaltic eruption rose from the bog, its columns titled to the right or collapsed under the weight of the passing eons.
Around the glade, the forest was darker and more impenetrable than anywhere else. The icy wind blowing from the rocks gave him a good clue of who—or what—Urdun’s companion was, in case he still had any doubts…
“I delayed him as much as I could. I kept my side of the deal. I hope you don’t fail this time, or else he’ll disconnect me!”
“Still a coward,” mocked a familiar voice from the basalt pile.
The ice creature that had attacked him earlier in the prison meadow was the jure himself, Gill realized, not at all surprised. His first attack had failed, so they prepared the second. The architect’s weird nature revealed yet another face, one of many he could surely morph into.
He thought of turning back, convinced that Ugo would find him if he lingered any longer, but their little chat was far too interesting to miss…
“What’s the bother if you’re disconnected? Your shell will die in a few days anyway,” the shadow kept taunting him.
“I know, I know. I’d rather you didn’t remind me of that little detail. I’d hate to die and promised myself to stretch it as much as possible!”
“You squirm needlessly and hoard miasmas in your kyi.”
“Of course, how easy for you to say! You’re here in the light, and I’ll end up down in the amnesic smog. After you wake me up, I want to be brought to Rabinda. I want to be the first. Do you hear me?”
“Don’t worry. Ugo always keeps his promise!”
“You do that! I’m fed up with the council’s foolishness and their stupid restrictions. How much we could have progressed if dear Forbat and the other cowards wouldn’t have betrayed the kaura dead!”
“Very soon, the council won’t mean anything. But for that, I have to smell Gillabrian’s glands…”
His self-preservation instinct whispered that it was about time to leave the place. Deciding to follow it for a change, Gill started to walk backward, his hearts shrunk like a fluff of licant at the thought that he would make a noise and betray his presence. As soon as he reached the path, he stepped quietly in the opposite direction than the one indicated by Urdun, hoping to buy some time.
He instinctively felt that he was slipping again into a temporal knot, sensing that the following minutes would become essential for the bracelet’s survival. The safest thing to do now was to employ the smell-kyi acuity to reveal the path: Should he disconnect to evade through the skylight, or search a way out of the dark forest?
He was smelling a web of possibilities, most of them ending with him ripped apart by metallic licants or paralyzed by an inductor hidden in a mirage, yet the riskiest roads were in the virtual world, where Ugo was making the rules, and the surprises couldn’t be possibly anticipated by a newcomer. Still, he decided to stay in the simulation as long as he wasn’t in obvious danger. At least he wouldn’t have to kill anyone…
When he reached the waterhole leading to Tormalin, he decided to keep running away from the jure—it made no sense to travel back to the prison glade. Suddenly, a gust of cold wind hissing with the screams of a thousand guvals came from behind, twisting the branches and shaking their needle leaves in his head. Could it be that the jure finally discovered his little ruse?
Forgetting all caution, he started to run as fast as his feet could carry him.
The dark forest was colluding with the enemy to prevent his escape; the heavy branches were hurting his face with their needle leaves while his feet were stumbling on the unidentifiable scraps of rotten vegetation or sinking in the mud up to the ankles. And all this time, he had to follow an ephemeral path that didn’t allow itself to be followed.
Due to his haste, he was hit pretty badly by a tree trunk he didn’t notice, yet he pushed his body to run even faster, with all the risk of sinking in the stinking mud hidden under the putrid, unstable platform he was running on.
Covered in mud and frozen to the bones, he felt that his feet couldn’t carry his weight any longer. Whoever designed this world has outdone himself—and perhaps even exaggerated a bit with the realism of the details, he thought. It would have been quite useful—since he was in a virtual world—to be able to run without getting tired, but that didn’t happen at all.
Suddenly, his left leg sank deep into a pit hidden under rotten debris. Afraid that he might sink in the mud, he flung himself onto his belly, rolling over the decayed stumps. He barely got to his feet, gathering the scraps of will he still had to keep playing an absurd game whose aim he didn’t understand.
As he went on the trail, his eyes spotted the hole on which he had stumbled. The water collected inside was crystal clear, an improbable reality in a sea of mud dotted by murky, pestilential puddles that stunk awfully. The resemblance to the other exit immediately struck him. Could it be another gate?
A cold gush of wind came from behind, reminding him that time was running out. He rushed to pull the rotting branches that blocked the entry until the hole became big enough to fit his size. Without hesitating this time, he jumped headfirst into the frozen fountain. From the first mouthful of water, he found, relieved, that it was breathable. He began to swim through a gallery dug in pink granite, stained by blue dots and shimmering mica.
The light at the end of the tunnel was much stronger than the last time. Through the clear water, he could already see trees mirrored in the pit, trees that had nothing of the sinister looks of the black forest. A thin rod landed in the water, making ripples on its surface. After a second, it stretched with a pop and covered almost all of the opening, leaving him in the dark. He didn’t understand what had happened, but when he reached the end of the underwater tunnel and pushed it aside, he realized it was a seed. In the new realm, the tekals were shedding their seeds…
The majestic tekal trees around him were part of a hilltop forest in the middle of stripping its carnivorous seeds under the breath of a fresh breeze. As soon as the rods touched the earth, they popped in a cloud of dust, opening their fleshy pulp, red as the hearts of fire—a bait for the hungry licants. Of course, it was a deadly trap, because the licants glued on them ended up digested, food for the tender plants to grow roots in the juicy earth.