Read Online Starfinder: A Novel of the Skylords by John Marco - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Marco
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swiveling. “I can’t see anything at all.”
Moth searched the landscape, unable to see even a few yards ahead. Already he felt lost. “Just keep going,” he said, trying to sound confident. “As long as we keep heading straight we’ll make it through.”
He pictured the Reach as it looked from Calio, stretching on forever and ever, all the way to the horizon. But the Reach was a trickster, Leroux had told him.
“You just keep on walking,” he whispered, “right into another world.”
“I can’t even tell where I’m going,” said Fiona.
Moth summoned a picture of Leroux in his mind. Just keep walking . . .
Lady Esme was silent on his shoulder, ruffling her feathers against the dewy fog. Her sharp eyes strayed upward, searching for the sky. Fiona was right—it was hard to walk even a straight line. Moth’s heart began to pound. Already he felt lost.
“Moth?” said Fiona. “What about that star-thingy?”
Moth tried to remember exactly what Leroux had told him. “Leroux said it would help me find the wizard.”
“Take it out,” said Fiona. “Let’s try.”
They paused while Moth fished the strange gift from his pocket. He had wrapped the instrument carefully in a soft, brown cloth he’d found in the hangar, the kind used for polishing aircraft. Gingerly he unwrapped it, pleased to see it intact. There were no scratches, no fingerprints, not even a smudge on its flawless mirror.
“What now?” asked Fiona. She looked at Moth as if she actually expected an answer.
Just as he had done back in Calio, Moth held the instrument to his eye and peered through the scope. Through the lens he saw the fog and the bright, mysterious lights, but nothing more. He lowered the instrument and saw Fiona’s disappointed face in its mirror.
“Nothing.”
Fiona reached out. “Let me try.” She held the object high above her head and loudly commanded, “Show us Merceron!”
“Fiona, that’s not going to work.”
“Why not? If it’s really magical it should work that way.”
Moth snatched the thing back from her. “C’mon! This isn’t a fairy tale. We have to figure out how it really works. No magic words, no three wishes, none of that applesauce.”
“How do you know? I mean, Leroux didn’t tell you how to use it, right?”
Moth grimaced, toying with the thing’s mysterious levers.
“Right?”
“Okay, right. But I’m not gonna talk to it. Maybe we just have to get out of here, wait for the stars to come back. Then maybe it’ll work.”
Fiona glanced around. “Moth?”
“Yeah?”
“Which way were we heading?”
“Huh? This way . . .” Moth spun about, realizing that everything looked the same. “I think.”
“Oh . . .”
“No, don’t panic,” said Moth. His chest tightened, but he refused to look afraid. He looked down at his feet and the way his boots had disturbed the ground. “That way,” he pointed.
“You sure?”
Moth wasn’t sure. “No,” he admitted, but when he looked at Esme he noticed her sharp eyes looking straight ahead. “Look at her,” he said. “Esme knows the way!”
The kestrel’s gaze was full of certainty. Moth wrapped the instrument carefully in its cloth and settled it back in his pocket.
“Go on, Esme,” he told the bird. “Lead us through.”
Without a moment’s hesitation Esme started out, hopping confidently through the fog.
“Stay close,” Moth warned Fiona. He put out his hand for her. “Let’s keep together.”
Fiona took his hand. “Just don’t let go, okay?”
They continued for an hour, hand in hand, neither of them speaking. Moth held faithfully to what Leroux had told him—the Reach simply didn’t go on forever. All they had to do was keep on walking.
Soon , he told himself. In ten more steps we’ll see the end.
But ten steps later, the fog only seemed thicker. Moth expected Fiona to start complaining, but she didn’t. Instead, she began whispering to herself, her voice so low Moth could barely hear it.
Moth searched the landscape, unable to see even a few yards ahead. Already he felt lost. “Just keep going,” he said, trying to sound confident. “As long as we keep heading straight we’ll make it through.”
He pictured the Reach as it looked from Calio, stretching on forever and ever, all the way to the horizon. But the Reach was a trickster, Leroux had told him.
“You just keep on walking,” he whispered, “right into another world.”
“I can’t even tell where I’m going,” said Fiona.
Moth summoned a picture of Leroux in his mind. Just keep walking . . .
Lady Esme was silent on his shoulder, ruffling her feathers against the dewy fog. Her sharp eyes strayed upward, searching for the sky. Fiona was right—it was hard to walk even a straight line. Moth’s heart began to pound. Already he felt lost.
“Moth?” said Fiona. “What about that star-thingy?”
Moth tried to remember exactly what Leroux had told him. “Leroux said it would help me find the wizard.”
“Take it out,” said Fiona. “Let’s try.”
They paused while Moth fished the strange gift from his pocket. He had wrapped the instrument carefully in a soft, brown cloth he’d found in the hangar, the kind used for polishing aircraft. Gingerly he unwrapped it, pleased to see it intact. There were no scratches, no fingerprints, not even a smudge on its flawless mirror.
“What now?” asked Fiona. She looked at Moth as if she actually expected an answer.
Just as he had done back in Calio, Moth held the instrument to his eye and peered through the scope. Through the lens he saw the fog and the bright, mysterious lights, but nothing more. He lowered the instrument and saw Fiona’s disappointed face in its mirror.
“Nothing.”
Fiona reached out. “Let me try.” She held the object high above her head and loudly commanded, “Show us Merceron!”
“Fiona, that’s not going to work.”
“Why not? If it’s really magical it should work that way.”
Moth snatched the thing back from her. “C’mon! This isn’t a fairy tale. We have to figure out how it really works. No magic words, no three wishes, none of that applesauce.”
“How do you know? I mean, Leroux didn’t tell you how to use it, right?”
Moth grimaced, toying with the thing’s mysterious levers.
“Right?”
“Okay, right. But I’m not gonna talk to it. Maybe we just have to get out of here, wait for the stars to come back. Then maybe it’ll work.”
Fiona glanced around. “Moth?”
“Yeah?”
“Which way were we heading?”
“Huh? This way . . .” Moth spun about, realizing that everything looked the same. “I think.”
“Oh . . .”
“No, don’t panic,” said Moth. His chest tightened, but he refused to look afraid. He looked down at his feet and the way his boots had disturbed the ground. “That way,” he pointed.
“You sure?”
Moth wasn’t sure. “No,” he admitted, but when he looked at Esme he noticed her sharp eyes looking straight ahead. “Look at her,” he said. “Esme knows the way!”
The kestrel’s gaze was full of certainty. Moth wrapped the instrument carefully in its cloth and settled it back in his pocket.
“Go on, Esme,” he told the bird. “Lead us through.”
Without a moment’s hesitation Esme started out, hopping confidently through the fog.
“Stay close,” Moth warned Fiona. He put out his hand for her. “Let’s keep together.”
Fiona took his hand. “Just don’t let go, okay?”
They continued for an hour, hand in hand, neither of them speaking. Moth held faithfully to what Leroux had told him—the Reach simply didn’t go on forever. All they had to do was keep on walking.
Soon , he told himself. In ten more steps we’ll see the end.
But ten steps later, the fog only seemed thicker. Moth expected Fiona to start complaining, but she didn’t. Instead, she began whispering to herself, her voice so low Moth could barely hear it.
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