Gauntlet Fall (The Gauntlet Book 1) Read online

  “If the president knew how much food was here, I don’t think he’d still live in New Dock,” said Julet proudly.

  “Probably not,” I said.

  “He’ll have to move soon anyway,” my friend continued to muse. “I hear New Dock is becoming too much like a real city, and those are dangerous.”

  I wished he’d talk about something else. My mind was filled with griffins racing through the sky. “Maybe President Jasper will move to Harknell,” I said. “Concentrate all the power in one place.”

  “In front of us is the West,” Julet cried, pointing, ignoring my musings about the president.

  You could see nearly to Swordell from where we were standing, but my heart fluttered just knowing it was there, the place where my brother had gone. Henry was somewhere in that direction, I believed it right down to my bones, with every fiber of my scrawny being.

  Good thing height didn’t have anything to do with conviction.

  The griffins would fly when the sun was highest. They traveled in light, these creatures that painted the sky in bold colors. I watched the cloudless sky, a brilliant, nearly iridescent blue, and my breath caught. For a split second I appreciated the beauty of this place that would never be my home.

  “I’ll get you your acorns now,” I said.

  Julet, who was busy watching the town from far above it, turned to me with surprise.

  “The griffins will be passing soon,” he said. “We climbed all the way up here!”

  “I’ll be down before they come,” I reassured him.

  “What if you get caught in the tree?” My friend sounded fearful.

  He followed me as I made my way to the thick red trunk of Old Ben. My arms weren’t big enough to circle all the way around it. In fact, not even mine and Julet’s together could reach that far.

  “I’ll be fine,” I told him.

  I raced toward the tree, excited to be climbing. Julet said I was like a monkey, always wanting to scrabble up something, but he was wrong. When I had found this tree, I had thought it was a gift just for me, and I had climbed to the very top. From there I could almost see Swordell, but the thick clouds had obscured my view.

  Now my hands grabbed the branches as I hauled myself upward. I smelled oak and old tree trunk and crisp fall air.

  “Are you excited for your leaves to change?” I whispered so that only the tree could hear. I patted it affectionately as I climbed. Of all the trees in the forest, this was the most beautiful in the fall.

  It was as if it was a point of pride that his leaves be the most orange and burgundy and yellow.

  I kept climbing. As I got higher my worries melted away, left behind on the lower branches.

  When I reached the thinner branches I glanced down, then down some more, until I picked out Julet standing far below me. He was still watching the merriment in the village and dancing a little jig. My friend loved a good party, and I knew that soon he’d want to go back, even if the griffins hadn’t passed overhead yet. I didn’t care if I missed the party, and I’d probably just stay up high in Old Ben.

  The branches this high up were light, but there were still a couple that were sturdy enough to sit on. Three acorns lay in my lap as I searched for a few more. A wisp of my brown hair blew into my face and I brushed it away, but just as I saw another acorn it blew back again. I glanced forward and around and realized that not a single tree was rustling. There was no wind to speak of, yet my hair was blowing.

  I went completely still with the sudden and strange creeping feeling that I wasn’t alone.

  Scarcely daring to move, I looked sideways and over my shoulder. Surely there would be a monstrous Spider.

  At first there seemed to be nothing behind me except cheese-colored clouds, but then I saw it, right at my back, a glint of gold.

  Without thinking about where I was, I spun around on my seat.

  In the next instant my breath caught.

  A huge beak opened in front of me and warm air slammed into my face as I smelled what could only be dead fish.

  I was face to face with a real live griffin. Its gold eyes were open in its black and gold face, open and examining me. The creature was massive, bigger even than the horse our village used to tend.

  Then I felt myself falling. Air buffeted my sides and my hair covered my face as blue sky and green and red and orange foliage hurtled past. I tumbled downward, windmilling my arms as if that would slow me down enough to keep the fall from killing me. From the very top of Old Ben I fell, terrified of the moment when I would hit the grass that barely covered the hard earth.

  But even as I fell, my eyes search frantically for the Mythical creature. I wanted to see it if it was the last thing my eyes beheld.

  I slammed into one branch and then into another. The last thing I saw was one great gold wing, spreading.

  Chapter Three

  I woke up on the ground. My eyes flew open and I searched desperately to see the trees passing by as I fell, but I had already fallen, and now I was lying on a bed of grass. The only blight on the perfect blue sky was Julet’s rather large head, peering down at me with fear clouding his kind brown eyes.

  The idea that I had survived the fall was too preposterous to believe, but there was no one for me to accuse of lying but myself.

  “Are you all right?” whispered Julet, water dripping from his chin.

  I tried to feel my body. I ached all over, but nothing felt broken.

  “You fell,” said Julet frantically. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it. You were climbing, and the next thing I knew I heard a thud and . . . I can’t believe you’re alive.”

  I couldn’t either. My mind raced back to the tree and I lifted my left hand. “Have an acorn,” I said, offering him one, and he gave a watery laugh.

  He’d been crying.

  “Did you think I was dead?” I asked, and he nodded. “No wishful thinking for you.”

  “You just . . . it’s so high. No one could survive that,” Julet blubbered.

  When I lifted my right arm I saw that the jerkin I was wearing was torn. How could a tree tear a jerkin?

  “Come on,” said Julet, “can you sit up? Stand?”

  I could and I did, albeit slowly. I had missed the griffin’s passing, he explained in a relieved rush, but he also wanted me to know that there was no sign of the cars yet. No sooner had he finished explaining all this than the distant sound of an engine met our ears.

  We exchanged shocked glances.

  “Am I hearing what I think I’m hearing?” I said.

  “If you think you’re hearing cars heading to Harknell, then yes,” said Julet, staring wildly around.

  “Let’s go,” I cried, dashing off at a fast wobble. Julet hurried to stuff all the acorns around me into the pouch at his belt. After all that he wasn’t going to leave them behind.

  I gained strength as I made my legs move, and with Julet hobbling behind me and the dogs racing around us we skidded down the mountain. My body was crying out for rest, but I couldn’t stop running along the trail. The blur of trees and the crunch under my feet were familiar, while the promise of excitement drove me forward.

  Before the Great Wipe Out, machines like cars had been plentiful, and pretty much everyone had used them as a means of transportation. The thought of flying down the mountain in a car was amusing, and if we’d had one we’d have been there by now. In the old days there’d been many more towns and villages and places to go than there were now. In modern days, all the metal sat in heaps or at the sides of roads. Sometimes it was foraged for small construction projects, but villages like mine no longer had any use for cars.

  Still, every year I loved to see the real thing, and I spent time wondering what it used to be like, to have cars and electricity, to have a big, loud, moving world. And I wondered why anyone would want to take that away.

  Now, as Julet and I hurried to see the cars, the wolf dogs swirled around us, delighted that we’d broken into a run, even if it was a slow one for them.
For some reason they were extra excited today. They could sense the atmosphere in the village and it gave them even more energy than usual.

  We made it down the mountain right in the middle of the party, just as the men in the silver cars arrived. The mayor’s mouth hung open, and even the goats stopped chewing their hay.

  Julet and I bumped and pushed until we were near the front of the crowd. No one argued with us. They didn’t want to get too close to the machines.

  Several men stood near their silver cars, the motors still running. The men were dressed in black leather that stretched across their shoulders.

  Once Julet and I had made our way through the crowd, one of the men closed the shiny door of his car and walked over to me. No one else in the village moved.

  I had never seen such a man before. His green eyes held mine and took my breath away. He was older than I was, but not by much.

  He stopped and looked me up and down, then squinted at the sun.

  “Did you see the griffins?” he asked. His voice was deep and warm. Were all men in the West like this?

  I shook my head vehemently back and forth, knowing that Mrs. Hufton was standing nearby, watching in shock that would surge to fury. After this, I wouldn’t get any goat’s milk for a month, if I ever got any again. She might just use a hot poker to force me to walk to the falls and jump off. I swallowed hard as the man’s face broke into the slightest hint of amusement.

  He leaned forward until his face was mere inches from mine, his eyes never leaving me.

  “I believe you,” he said in a voice that told me that he didn’t.

  I nodded hard and he turned away.

  Air entered my lungs again. Then another far less pleasant man stepped forward.

  “Does anyone have a feather this year?” he cried out. When no one moved or responded, he shrugged as if to say he’d expected as much. We never did.

  The men didn’t linger.

  The car sped away and the townspeople gave a collective sigh of delight and relief.

  “I’ve never seen a car that close before,” the town clerk whispered behind me.

  “Those sure were fancy men. I wonder if they’re all that handsome in the Swordell,” another whispered.

  Many people were looking at me strangely, as if I’d been touched by a magic power. The griffins were long gone by now, and I felt sad at having missed their stunning flight. Then I cursed myself for my foolishness at falling out of a tree I had climbed a million times. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at my cousin.

  Without another thought I took off, racing after the cars as they sped back toward Swordell. They had checked for trainees for the year, they had made their trade deals and ensured that their supplies were in order, and now they were taking the only safe road that connected the West to the North and beyond. And they were returning to their electricity.

  I heard Julet call out to me as I disappeared into the forest. It was dangerous to leave the safety of the village, but I didn’t care, I wanted to watch the silvery cars gliding along the pavement for as long as I could.

  Soon after Salt Landing there was a bend in the road. When I reached it, I dashed through the brush and jumped over the brambles using a shortcut that would get me to the same place as the cars, only faster.

  My jerkin kept me pretty well protected as I crashed through the underbrush. Once a year I saw the cars, and this year men had actually stepped out of them, terribly good-looking men, not like the boys in the village. These men looked like they had trained in combat, trained like Henry had wanted to train—that was why he had left and taken the Last Road. I had seen him off from this very spot, and I hadn’t been back since.

  I didn’t know what drove me there now, but my heart was beating wildly in my chest. I felt like this moment was my last chance to get out, to see the world, to be something other than a wolf dog trainer in a town that I didn’t belong in with a family that wasn’t my own.

  A noise in the brush made me pause, but when I looked back I saw nothing but trunks and leaves and logs. In stark contrast to the village, the forest was still. Shaking my head at my own fearfulness, I asked myself how long it had been since a large creature had been seen in these parts. The West had the biggest beasts under control, and we had wolf dogs aplenty to stave off any attacks from wolves or coyotes.

  With the sun still high overhead, I was starting to sweat under my jerkin. Ignoring the heat, I pushed myself onto the balls of my feet and peered forward. Through the thick brush I could just hear the whirl of the engines as they came around the turns. The change of seasons happened quickly here; one minute it was high summer and the next the leaves had turned and started to drift earthward. But there was still enough foliage to keep me out of sight, or so I hoped.

  I dashed forward again, pushing myself through the brush. I knew the way to the far end of the road by heart, but my chest ached as I remembered my last sight of Henry in that very spot.

  Sweat broke out on my forehead. Just as I reached the edge of the forest and could see the road, my heart stopped. The noise I had heard was coming again, but this time it was clearer, a scrabbling that sounded in my right ear, but from somewhere below.

  Suddenly a tall creature burst into the road. It was the size of the boulder I stood on and had great horns on its head. It snarled, it huffed, and it thrashed its wide shoulders.

  I stumbled backwards, terrified and frozen.

  For a split second my mind went blank, searching to identify a tale I now saw in the flesh. The animal’s great shoulders lowered as if he was about to charge.

  Stunned, I tried to comprehend what I was seeing. My hand half raised up, as if it wanted to touch one of the great legs to confirm that it was real, but the reality was that I had to do something to save myself before the beast gained momentum.

  The creature that had burst upon me so unexpectedly was known as a Horned Horse, and he wasn’t supposed to be here anymore. The West had promised that the wild creatures that roamed the earth had been taken care of, that they were contained or gone, and that villages such as Salt Landing had nothing to worry about from killer beasts as long as we kept supplying Swordell with food and goods.

  Judging by the Mythical’s presence in the road at this very moment, the villages had a bit to worry about after all.

  I looked to the left as the noise from the engines got louder, and determination solidified in my belly.

  The Horned Horse reared up on its hind legs just as the first car whizzed into view, and I could see that the vehicle was going so fast it wouldn’t have time to stop; the Horned Horse’s hooves were directly in front of it.

  Without any conscious thought, I picked up a rock.

  I was known in my village for two things. One was my ability with the dogs. When my cousin had realized that my punishment was really my favorite part of the day, a much better way to spend a couple of hours than with the humans I lived with, she had barely managed to hide her rage and wrath. In fact, she had sent me to collect wildflowers in the field while she banged pots and pans and screamed at her husband about adequate punishments.

  I loved the wolf dogs. They were simple, uncomplicated creatures, and it was much easier to train them once we developed a mutual respect, which basically involved my making it clear how much my cousin disliked me. At that point they had known I was a good human.

  The other thing I was known for was my aim. For my whole life I’d been able to hit targets with anything, from any distance. Whether it was tossing out dinner scraps from across the kitchen or hitting one of my cousins with a rotten apple from across the orchard, I was able to fling anything and hit my target perfectly.

  I had never aimed at a Horned Horse before, but there was a first time for everything.

  Casting about, I chose the biggest rock I could find that I’d still be able to throw. The one I chose was the size of my hand, and I hefted it with difficulty. Then I picked up another, just in case.

  I was left-handed, a rare tr
ait in Salt Landing. In fact, I was the only known left-hander in the North, so said Hamilton Wise, the trader who came and went as he pleased. I used to beg him to tell me stories of his trades, and he would laugh and oblige until my cousin came to shoo me back to work. Hamilton would always watch me go with a wink, and the next time he saw me he’d give me an apple or a piece of candy. I never told my cousin about any of that.

  The rock felt perfect in my hand, and without a thought I loosed it, aiming for the Horse’s head. The projectile landed perfectly and the charging Horse skidded to a halt, shocked by the unforeseen attack.

  I was high up on the large boulder with trees at my back, and I was a fast climber. If the creature came for me, I should be able to get away. Not seeing me, the Horned Horse kept coming on, and when I realized that I hadn’t stopped its forward charge I threw the second rock just as the car ran out of time.

  The rock bounced off the Horse’s head, this time derailing it only slightly, but maybe just enough. I found myself clutching at a near branch, unable to turn away as I watched the accident take place in slow motion.

  The Horse turned slightly to the left as the car swerved just enough to avoid colliding with the great beast.

  The creature was dazed and afraid, and I watched it crash into the woods as the car screeched to a very loud stop within inches of hitting the boulder where I was perched.

  Nothing happened for several seconds, then my chest started to ache and I realized that I’d been holding my breath while I waited for disaster.

  Both doors of the front car sprang open and the men from before stepped out, including the absurdly good-looking one who had asked me if I’d seen the griffin. On the other side was the skeptical one, the one who couldn’t believe his friend, employer, whoever, was speaking to a girl like me.

  This time it was the other man who spoke, the one who was decidedly unimpressed. “It’s the griffin watcher who didn’t watch the griffins,” he said, eyes glinting.

  I jutted out my chin and glared. I wasn’t going to be condescended to by men just because they came from the West. The man shook his head, noting my defiance with disbelief.