TKC 31
The torrential rain drums out sound, but I am yet amazed by
the silence behind me. I hear nothing, not even a child crying out in fear or wonder.
Not daring to look around, in the event the action loses me the forward path, I
begin to question whether anyone follows.
Damin, are they with
me, I think. My answer comes when an image of a blue flower appears in my
mind’s eye. Well. That is a different talent to seeing and hearing, but now is
not the time to question Damin.
I go on.
The path is ankle deep water amid curving walls of swaying
liquid. It is the strangest sight. It is also beyond frightening, for those shifting
barriers are almost at head height. If I falter but once, we are doomed.
I cannot tell how many hours pass, but eventually I realise I
am climbing. By slow degrees my shoulders emerge into the open night air, then
my waist, thighs, and soon I am splashing in genuine ankle swirls. I am on high
ground.
Something warns me to stand there without glancing back to
see how the others fare. I must maintain the path until the last has crossed
also. For what feels like eternity I simply stand, looking ahead.
People swirl around me as they pass, and no one says a word.
I think Damin warned them to be silent until all are safe. Finally I feel him
at my back and his hands settle onto my shoulders.
“Lyra, it is done,” he whispers.
I focus.
Before me is a host of survivors, every one with a hand over
a heart. It is homage, and it stirs me as little else has. My tears emerge
then, of gratefulness and utter exhaustion.
I turn into Damin’s arms. I weep as they enclose me.
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