Keon had just finished the outline of what he assumed were mint leaves when Shem re-emerged from the bushes looking quite pleased with himself. Whistling as he walked, he unslung his foraging pouch from over his shoulder and dropped it in front of Keon.
“How we getting on, mate? Bloody hell, you not done yet?”
“Sorry. I uh—kinda got distracted…”
Shem glanced at the sky.
“Listen, that’s all well and good yeah, but we need to move if we wanna cross the Narrow Strait this afternoon.”
Keon held the page aloft for them both to see, Shem’s Codex open on his lap.
“Think I’m about done,” he beamed.
Shem’s eyes darted back and forth between the books as he checked and re-double checked. A smile spread across his face and he slapped Keon on the back.
“Nice one! Now, keep this little hack between me and you, yeah? Avana thinks it’s ‘unwise’” he said, rolling his eyes. “Not that I give a crap what she thinks…”
Keon rose as he chuckled, forgetting that Shem’s Codex was perched on his lap. The book tumbled onto the grass.
“Oh! Yo! My bad…”
The pages flapped in the wind, opening up onto ‘Hopes.’
Keon stopped, pointing.
“What’s that?”
Shem scooped up the Codex and slammed it shut. Keon eyed him with a cheeky smirk.
“Was that?…”
“Leave it, yeah?” he said, tugging at the collar of his shawl.
“But didn’t you…?”
Shem holstered the Codex, staring straight ahead, “I said leave it. We gotta get you foraging.”
Before Keon could protest, Shem started walking.
He moved to follow, then stopped; pointing at a bush of bright green, pointed leaves.
“Hey! Peppermint!”
* * *
The sparkling white walls of the crystal canyon could have been carved from giant blocks of granulised salt. Rising some four hundred feet above the floor of the valley, the opposite walls of the shimmering Narrow Strait could be seen looming ahead about three miles away; not quite so steep but no less perilous. The Millionth and Fifth were perched on the edge of a spoon-like slope that broke through the middle of the rock face.
Keon leaned precariously over the edge to see if it really was as high as he thought. A sudden imbalance threatened to throw him over. He was saved only by Shem grabbing the hem of his shawl and yanking him back, cracking a quick wink.
Keon was relieved to be back in his good books. The return journey to the rendezvous point had been tense. Clearly, Shem had a sensitive spot he didn’t like getting poked. Meeting up with the others seemed to only sour his mood further. They’d lost more than an hour dealing with the Codex and a further half-hour foraging. Now, there was a chance that sundown would catch them in the midst of the Narrow Strait. Apparently, that was bad.
“So, are we abseiling? ‘Cause I’ve abseiled before,” said Keon, wide-eyed with enthusiasm.
“Way too easy and nowhere near as fun bro,” said Kai.
He unsheathed his Codex. The hefty scroll could have been a weapon all on its own, being about three inches thick and about fourteen long. God knows how he managed to find what he wanted without tearing off half the scroll in the process.
Kai swiped the edge like he was flicking a deck of cards, sending the sheet sailing straight out in front of him. Tearing off a narrow strip, he began to fold. Shem, Jonas, Zahara and Dawit withdrew their books. Avana unrolled her palm-leaf manuscript.
Keon tentatively reached for his Codex, “Should I do the same, or…?”
“Don’t worry about that brother, we got you covered,” said Dawit.
As Keon watched, their bends and folds grew more elaborate as the paper contraptions formed. It was like a game, trying to figure out what they were Forging before they could finish. The more things started to take shape, the further Keon’s jaw gaped.
“Yo…”
Digging the contraptions into the dirt, the Millionth and Fifth stood beside seven towering gliders. Dawit held two, one in either hand. Keon guessed that the other one was meant for him.
“Still wanna abseil bro?” said Kai.
“Are we riding these the whole way?”
“Less than a third, unfortunately,” said Dawit. “That’s their limit. We’ll need a good run from the top of the slope to gain lift, then it should be smooth sailing for about a kilometre.”
“We can reach the other wall in under an hour once we land. The problem is the climb. It’s not safe in the dark; hence why time is of the essence,” said Avana, cutting her eyes at Keon and Shem.
“We’ll make the descent then jog the rest of the way. That should buy us the time we need to scale the wall,” said Dawit.
There were nods of agreement, then they began making their way back up the slope. Dawit handed Keon his glider. It was shaped like a flattened arrowhead with a wingspan of roughly three metres. Instinctively, Keon held it aloft like a banner.
“Better to carry it under your arm, brother. We don’t want you catching the wind yet.”
Keon swung his head around, confused, “I don’t feel any wind.”
“You will,” said Dawit with that same confident grin.
Keon wrinkled his nose, recalling Dawit’s ridiculous petition from earlier that afternoon.
The yelp barely escaped his mouth as a violent blast of air rolled down the slope like an avalanche, barrelling into the glider. The impact lifted him several feet off the ground, spinning him into a half-turning somersault. Landing heavily on his side, he slid down the slope, gripping the glider tightly. He debated whether he should let go or hang on for dear life, but panic wouldn’t let him decide.
He just about heard Zahara screaming his name, muffled by the roar of the wind stampeding past his ears. The ground disappeared for a split second before rolling again into his side. He felt his grip slip from the glider—found two handles—and then wished he hadn’t. The wind caught the surface of the glider, spinning him high into the air and over the edge of the cliff.
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