The Windfall Light Chapter 1 - Logos

“And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns”
Dylan Thomas
Fern Hill

The man was no more than a moving shadow in the deep purple gloom. It was cold, much colder than it should have been, and a thick sweet stench drifted through the air on tattered ribbons of smoke.

He moved towards the pink glow edging the rise just ahead of him. His silhouette cut a dark form in the paler light. He turned back, looked intently into the shadows behind him. Tense lines tracked his forehead as he searched the darkness.
Two ice green eyes came towards him.

“Here girl!” he hissed, the muscles on his face relaxing. “Stay with me!”

A large cat like form slithered past him and settled without a sound beside his leather booted feet. Without bending the man reached out a hand and stroked the soft feathers that covered the animal’s head. They felt warm, comforting.

“We’ve got a problem here, Saffron my girl. It should be daylight by now.” He spoke as much to himself as he did to the animal beside him. She seemed to sense his meaning and mimicked his careful search of the surrounding trees.

He fingered a small blue disc attached to the right side of his head, level with his eyes. He began to rotate a dial at its centre. A humming sound grew in intensity as he moved it. He listened for a few moments then with a sigh of frustration he moved the dial back and the sound receded.

“Nothing!”

A deep rumble rippled the earth beneath his feet. The animal beside him shot forward, eyes filled with panic.

“Saffron! Here!”

Reluctantly she trotted back to his side but she did not sit. The spines along her back had fanned upward like a peacock’s tail– now they settled slowly down to lie flat once more. He placed his hand on her neck, felt her muscles slacken against his palm.

“Stay here – I need to see what’s beyond that hill.” He pushed her down into a sitting position and stepped forward, turning back to make sure she didn’t follow.

He edged forward, staying low, emerging from the shelter of the trees just as he reached the highest point of the hill. Now he could see into the valley beyond.

The purple darkness had lightened, was now tinged with bright umber. Thick clouds poured across the violet sky, cloaking everything in shadows of varying intensity.

Shattered buildings glowed dimly in the strange light, wisps of idle smoke drifting upward from the ruins. He saw bodies lying on the hillside; some burnt and blackened, some broken apart like the thoughtless scatterings of vandals on a rampage.

A multitude of burning fires peppered the landscape. All was quiet except for the crackle of their dancing flames.

A sharp wind fingered the edges of his jacket. A colder wind stirred within him. What awful thing had happened here?

He became aware of a faint sound in the distance that was growing progressively nearer and louder. It came through the air towards him, faster and faster. The man ducked swiftly back under the trees.

A large shadow slid across the landscape, but in a second it was gone and along with it the noise of its passing.

He glanced overhead. He was standing in a grove of Minlan trees, the twisted branches weaving a dark web across the violet sky above. Had he made a wrong calculation? He checked his Shifter – no, the settings showed Logos, early morning.

The iridescent Minlan flowers were out already. They were early - They usually came out a few weeks after Prime. Now they hung from the dark branches above like weary debutantes at the end of a Ball.

Only twelve hours ago he had been here talking to Pelanso, the familiar golden sky hanging above them as it had done on the eve of Prime Festival for centuries past. There had been manors and domes peacefully nestling among the green hills of Logos, a busy flow of activity, of minds and hearts interacting, of things breathing and life growing. Now there was only this dark unholy wasteland, and a graveyard stillness.

Where was everyone? The thought clouded his confidence, drew a scent of fear into his mind. He pushed it aside, focused instead on what to do. Pelanso was the one who had first sensed danger, had sent him off level yesterday to Corrallen to find the Quest Ball.

He put his hand into his pocket and fingered the small sphere he had so recently retrieved. Could it hold some answers?

The man turned to where Saffron had retreated to the deeper shadows of the Minlan grove. Only her large eyes glowed with a luminous green light in the blackness. He could sense her anxiety. Years of close companionship had made it easy for him to read her emotions.

“Here, girl!” he hissed softly. She moved towards him, her catlike shape a fluid mass. He stroked her back gently. “It’s OK, girl.” He felt her tension fade beneath his palm.

He squatted beside her. “I need you to find Faran!” he put his head close to hers, sent his thought pictures into her mind. Faran was Pelanso’s Kulon and Saffron’s mate. If Saffron could find Faran, then if Pelanso were alive or dead he would not be far away. Kulons could sense their own kind instinctively across a fair distance so she might be able to track him.
”But be very careful” he spoke softly, “there could be danger! Go!”

He sensed her understanding, quick and sharp, and watched her disappear into the distant gloom of the Minlan grove. “Run silently, my lovely, and keep to the shadows!” he whispered his prayer into the empty air.

He crept back further under the tree and removed the dark green leather bag that was slung across his chest. It was a heavily tooled travel bag worn at the corners, and embossed with a number of gold symbols. Reaching into it he took out the apple he had plucked from his orchard the day before. It was alight with a soft rosy sheen dappled with darker purple. From the same bag he took a small knife, the brown iridescent handle intricately decorated with strange carvings.

He began to cut into the apple, the knife making sharp crisp slashes into the firm flesh. As he sliced each new wedge from the apple and stuck it in his mouth he delighted in the feel of the firm flesh as his teeth sank into it, and the sweetness of the juice that ran to the back of his throat.
When he had finished the apple he took his Blueye from his pocket and fitted it to his head again. Might as well have another go.

The Blueye was a small silver disc about 2” in diameter with a tiny blue light on one side and a rolling ball in its centre. It was a communication device that only the most powerful of minds was capable of operating.Wavemaster technology needed strong mental interaction to function correctly.

The man connected with the device and spun the ball. Nothing but static. He spun it again, then again. There was still no live connection. Each Blueye was programmed to recognise its owner, and to de-activate if anything went wrong. The combination of that knowledge and the memory of what he had just seen over the hill was ominous.

He had no choice now but to wait for Saffron’s return.