It feels so good to be able to get so much writing done. I wish I didn't have to go back to work next week so that I could spend all my time writing, all day long. That would be the life! Anyhoodle, enjoy!
Back at the precipice, Sarah took another steadying breath as she stared down the sheer wall of the cliff into the seemingly endless black hole below. Her stomach did an unwelcome somersault and swan-dived down to her boots. Thankfully, she was past her sickness so the roller-coaster ride her insides were on did not send her heaving to the ground.
Walking first one direction, then the next along the side of the gorge, Sarah could find no path downward—not that she wanted to go into the chasm, but it might have provided a way out on the other side. Nor could she find a bridge across the void, for even when she attempted to see the opposite side, a hazy cloud of mists obscured her vision. There seemed to be no way across on foot and she had no way of knowing how wide the yawning chasm truly was.
"Gaaah!" she cried out in frustration. She sat down forcibly on the ground, kicking up a loose cloud of dust that she then choked on. She reached for her leather water flask—Nona had been kind enough to refill it for her that morning before she left—and drank deeply to wash the taste of dust and grit out of her mouth. Staring out at the ever-shifting haze hovering over the abyss, Sarah wished briefly that she could simply fly or jump across the whole thing.
"If only I had wings," she sighed. A melancholy groan slipped out as she rested her head against the rock. "That seems to be the only reasonable way to get across the damn thing. Nona couldn't help me, so I'm left to my own devices this time. And of course, as the barrier of air, the only way to get across is to fly."
She placed a hand on her protruding stomach and crooned comfortingly to her baby, "If only you had magic and could help mommy get across. Oh well, we'll just have to find some way to make wings, since we don't have any of our own." Sarah stood up, supporting her back with one hand while reaching the other out to brace herself—and her expanding girth—on the nearby rocks. "Maybe I can find some branches or something around here that could help—"
Before she could finish her sentence, a loud screech rent the air above her head. Sarah looked up to see a large eagle circling the shelter of rocks where she stood. It appeared to see her, for it let out another harsh shriek and began to descend closer.
Fearful that the predatory bird had malicious intent, Sarah immediately backed against the rock wall, covering her abdomen with both her arms to protect her unborn child. Letting out one last shrill cry, the eagle landed a few feet away and cocked its head questioningly in her direction. It seemed harmless enough, its expression more curious than hostile, but Sarah couldn't be sure, so she maintained her defensive posture.
At a stalemate, the two beings stared unmoving across the limited space of Sarah's chosen shelter. The eagle was huge, dominating her limited field of vision and almost filling up half of the surrounding space. It stood far taller than Sarah herself—she guessed it to be roughly eight feet tall when it stood straight. She eyed the sharp talons and wickedly curved beak and shuddered; the thought of being on the receiving end of an attack from the bird almost made her sick to her stomach.
The giant bird cocked its head and let out a low, soothing trill. Bending its neck forward, it leaned a few feet closer to Sarah as if to communicate a desire for friendship rather than harm. Still wary, Sarah did no more than relax her shoulders and readjust her arms around her belly. She wanted so badly for the eagle to be a friend, but she was wary of the misleading nature of creatures in the Underground.
A higher, softer cry echoed above her head and Sarah instinctively looked up. Not far above where she and the eagle sat entrenched a smaller eagle—a near duplicate of the larger—flew in a low, downward spiral toward her. It landed on a rock within a few inches of where she crouched and chirped happily at her, hopping jubilantly on the rock and craning its neck toward her in greeting. It was much smaller than the adult bird—a mere three feet tall Sarah guessed—so Sarah surmised that it was the other bird's baby. When it ceased its joyful dance, Sarah could dimly perceive crisscrossing silver scars on its belly and face.
"Oh!" she cried as a memory from a few months ago forced its way to the forefront of her mind. "You're the eaglet I saved from the thorn bush, aren't you?"
The bird trilled happily and bobbed its head excitedly in affirmation. Now certain that she was not in any danger from the eagles, Sarah took a few steps toward the excited eaglet and ruffled its feathers affectionately. Crooning under her tender ministrations, the eaglet butted its head up against her hand to secure her continued attention. It nipped her fingers gently, the closest it could manage to a kiss.
After a few minutes, the eaglet paused to turn toward its mother, chirruping eagerly and with great force. The mother bent her head over her child and the two whistled and chirped to each other softly, fixing one eye on Sarah every few seconds. She realized that she must be the object of their furtive discussion and she turned her attention elsewhere to give them at least a semblance of privacy, even if she could not understand what they were speaking of. The scene reminded Sarah so much of two friends telling secrets to each other in front of someone else that it made Sarah laugh.
After a prolonged conversation with many a furtive glance in her direction and the sharp clacking of beaks and tongues, the eagles seemed to reach a decision. The eaglet hopped awkwardly to Sarah and began alternately tugging gently on her dress and nudging her with its beak in the direction of the mother.
"I suppose you want me to go to your mother?" she asked politely.
The eaglet trilled an incomprehensible reply, but Sarah took it as assent. She walked to the mother eagle and bowed reverently in greeting.
"I'm not sure what to say, but it is a pleasure to meet you," Sarah greeted.
The mother eagle bowed her head and nudged Sarah's shoulder. Though the action was gentle, the eagle's touch was powerful enough to force Sarah to take a step backward to avoid falling over.
"I'll take that as a 'you too,' I suppose." Sarah concluded and rubbed the mother eagles' beak softly.
Suddenly, the mother eagle dropped to her belly and spread her wings wide. So large was her wingspan that she barely fit in the space they occupied. Confused, Sarah stood still and waited to see what was happening. From behind her, the eaglet nudged her again, propelling her toward the mother eagle's outstretched wings.
When the baby eagle had successfully maneuvered Sarah to stand next to the mother's sloped back, it began to chirrup wildly, touching Sarah's leg with its beak and then pointing toward its mother. The mother looked back over her shoulder and let out a few encouraging trills but Sarah remained ignorant of their intent.
Exasperated at Sarah's lack of understanding, the eaglet chirped reprovingly and hopped up on its mother's back, shrieking and flapping its wings wildly.
"Oh, I see!" Sarah exclaimed, comprehension finally winning out over ignorance. "How stupid of me not to see it! You want me to climb on her back!"
The eaglet bobbed its head once in assent and hopped down from its mother's back. Laboriously, Sarah clambered her way to a sitting position atop the mother eagle's spacious back. She felt a tap from behind and turned to see the eaglet behind her. Gently but insistently, the eaglet prodded her to a prone position—her legs spread out across the mother eagle's back and her arms wrapped tightly about her neck. Her protruding belly was a bit of a discomfort so she maneuvered her body to a slightly curved position so that she wasn't lying directly atop her baby.
The eaglet chirped a final word of encouragement to the awkwardly splayed Goblin Queen, hopped down from atop its mother and the two birds prepared for take off. With a forceful thrust of wings and a whirlwind of dust, the mother and child took off from their perch atop the mountainous precipice.
Sarah closed her eyes tightly and clung on for dear life. The wind whipped about her face and buffeted her small frame, but no matter how hard it blew, she was never in any danger of falling off. The mother eagle's movements were as gentle and natural as the lapping of waves on a lakeshore. Sarah even dared open her eyes and peek over the eagle's shoulder to spy out the land beneath her. She immediately regretted the decision, for the black chasm sat below them like the gaping maw of a bloodthirsty bear, ready to consume her body should she make one false move in any direction.
The eagle's wings settled into a regular, rhythmic motion that lulled Sarah into drowsiness. She could hear the crystal clear cries of the eaglet as it swooped, dove and soared jubilantly in the wind. Every so often it would fly close enough for Sarah to feel the weight of the wind it churned up with its wings. At those times, it would trill a comforting song to Sarah before zooming off to play again in the sky.
Sarah could not tell how long it took for them to fly across the chasm, but she guessed it was at least an hour, if not two. She wondered at the strength and stamina of her mount that she could soar so gracefully across so wide a gap without tiring—and with a burden on her back.
But before long, Sarah began to feel the pressure difference that signaled their descent to the other side. Shifting her weight to assist in the movement necessary for landing, Sarah braced herself for impact, yet much to her surprise, the landing was far less forceful than she had anticipated. Indeed, she hardly realized they had landed until an excited squawking alerted her to the nearby presence of the baby eagle trying to gain her attention. Opening her eyes, she saw that they had landed on soft, smooth turf a few dozen yards from the ledge opposite the one she came from.
Amazed at her good fortune, Sarah slid down the eagle's back eagerly. However, she misjudged her speed and when her feet hit the ground, she fell back on her bottom with a grunt. The eagles both clucked merrily, obviously enjoying her clumsiness. Rather than being angry at their mirth, Sarah found herself joining in; her own peals of laughter combining with their musical cries in a chorus of good-natured, interspecies laughter.
Taking a quick swig from her water flask, Sarah stood unsteadily to her feet. Her airborne travels had made her a bit wobbly, but a firm, feathered head pressed up against her hand to steady her. Eager for more affection, the eaglet rubbed against her urgently and Sarah acquiesced to its demands willingly.
Though sad to leave her feathered friends, Sarah knew she couldn't linger any longer on the heights but must find her way to Decima's cottage before nightfall else risk another night in an unknown land. "I'm sorry to leave you both," she assured them. "But I am ever so grateful for your help. Without you, I could never have made it across that abysmal canyon. Thank you; a thousand times, thank you."
Though they shared no common language, Sarah had the distinct feeling that the birds comprehended her profuse gratitude. Understanding glimmered in their golden eyes and both bowed their heads deeply in response, as if to say, "you're welcome." And with one final trill from their glorious beaks, the two eagles soared into the air and back over the ravine, leaving Sarah to traverse the rambling plains and hillocks of her new environment.
By late afternoon, Sarah arrived at a strange cottage she assumed to belong to the second of the three sisters—Decima by name, from whom she sought to retrieve her lifethread. There were no other structures in sight, so despite the odd appearance, Sarah had no other choice but to conclude that this home was her intended goal. It looked very little like the home she had so recently departed from. Nona's cottage had been set back amid a cluster of boulders whereas this cottage was located on a broad plain near a riverbank. Furthermore, rather than sitting on the floodplain directly, it had been built up on stilts to keep the water from flooding it during heavy rains.
Nona's cottage was quaint, having about it the air of a mountain retreat to which one would go to escape the world. Decima's home was more imposing, unreachable—the ivory tower of an incurable recluse. Nona had left her front door flung wide, inviting visitors to stay, rest and enjoy the warmth and comfort of her companionship. Try as she might, Sarah could not locate a door of any kind on Decima's cottage, leading her to believe that this sister was disinclined to receive uninvited guests.
She walked around the structure ten times, investigating any and every piece of word from a distance to discover a means of entry. None presented itself. The stilted home appeared to lack an entrance of any sort; for, not only did it lack a door, there were no windows either.
Moreover, even if there had been a window, Sarah would never have been able to reach it. The structure stood at least fifteen, if not twenty feet off the ground and there was neither stairway nor ladder leading up to it. It looked to all intents and purposes as if there were no way to get in.
Frustrated, she decided to take a break from examining the house up close in order to survey it from a distance. Perhaps a new perspective might open her eyes to what she was obviously missing. Sarah chose a spot atop a small hill roughly a hundred feet away. In a flash of inspiration, she recalled Hoggle's instructions to her when she had difficulty getting into the Labyrinth.
"Perhaps I just need to ask the right questions," Sarah murmured hopefully. Moving a bit closer to her target, Sarah set about following Hoggle's advice. "Ok. How do I get into Decima's house?"
A small breeze rustled through the tall grasses at her feet and teased a few strands of her ebony hair. The house remained unchanged.
"Hmmm, that's not it then," she mused. "How about this: where is the door to Decima's house?"
Nothing.
"Where do I get in?" Nothing.
"How am I supposed to speak with Decima?" Still nothing.
"Decima? Are you there? I need to get in and talk to you!" Not even a whisper of sound or movement came from the entry-less house.
"Dammit! What am I supposed to do to get in?" Sarah screamed in frustration. She kicked angrily at the grass and succeeded in uprooting a delicate plant with blue and purple flowers, but she received no response from the desolate house.
By now, it was growing dark and Sarah realized that unless she found shelter soon, she would be forced to stay the night in the grass beneath the house. Not relishing the idea of sleeping nearby or under a house propped so precariously on stilts (no matter how sturdy it appeared to be) Sarah hiked downriver a ways to a small stand of trees overhanging the riverbank. They were similar in form and color to weeping willows and their trailing, leafy branches provided more than adequate protection from the wind. A second advantage to her chosen shelter was that it was near enough to the river that she could both bathe and retrieve drinking water should either be necessary.
Unexpectedly tired, Sarah prepared and ate a hasty meal of food provided by Nona, unrolled her bedroll and settled in for the night.
Late that night—Sarah could not be certain of the time—a soft scratching sound coming from nearby woke her from sleep. It doesn't sound like anything dangerous—like a bear or wolf or something else predatory. It must be some critter rattling around in the tree. Nothing to worry about, I can disregard it and go back to bed.
Determined to ignore the interruption, Sarah rolled over and closed her eyes tightly against the world. The scratching sound came again, this time louder, more insistent. Try as she might, she could not ignore the noise. No matter which way she turned, she could still hear it. Annoyed, she sat up and looked about by the light of the banked coals from her cook-fire. She saw nothing in her immediate vicinity and the noise had stopped, so she lay back down in her bedroll, hoping she had heard the last of her nightly visitor.
Something heavy landed on her bedroll with a soft whumph and Sarah sat bolt upright in bed. In the dim light, she could barely make out the pointed tufts and triangular shape of a feline crouched low on her lap. A long tail flicked ominously in the angry glow of the coals. She reached stealthily for her pack, searching blindly for anything that might ward off her unknown assailant, but a familiar purr coming from the dark shape arrested her attention.
"Sphinx?" She guessed aloud, voicing the hunch that had begun to form in her mind.
"Yes, dear Sarah," the unique hiss Sarah had noted on her previous conversation with the cat verified the speaker's self-identification. "I'm sorry to have to startle you in this way, but you are a very difficult person to wake. You seemed bent on ignoring me."
"That was you making the scratching noises, then." Sarah averred.
"Indeed," the Sphinx replied with a faint twitch of her tail. "Though they did nothing to gain your attention."
"Sorry." The Sphinx flinched in what Sarah surmised was the feline equivalent to a shrug.
"Um, do you mind if I try to relight the fire? It's difficult talking to someone you can't see very well," Sarah stated matter-of-factly. "I know cats are supposed to have very good night vision and all that, but I'm afraid humans don't share that particular gift. I'd rather not talk to a shapeless blur if I can help it."
The Sphinx leapt gracefully from Sarah's lap and took up a perch across from her on a half-buried root from the willow tree. In almost no time at all, Sarah and the Sphinx were staring at each other across a cheery fire that crackled and snapped merrily in the silence.
"So," Sarah began. "How did you get across the abyss?"
The Sphinx made no reply other than to swish her tail nonchalantly. Sarah detected the ghost of a smile on her furry face but could not comprehend the secrets that lay behind it.
"Having trouble getting into Decima's house?" The Sphinx queried after another long silence in which they both stared fixedly at the fire.
Sarah exhaled a discouraged sigh, "No matter what I do or ask, I can't see any way to get into that house."
"You're just not looking right, Sarah Williams," the Sphinx retorted lazily, swatting at a wayward spark with one of her forepaws.
"I am looking! I'm looking harder at that house than I've looked at anything in my entire life!" Sarah insisted.
"Maybe that's the problem," answered the Sphinx, her face enigmatic.
"What do you mean, 'that's the problem'? The problem isn't that I'm looking; it's that there isn't anything to see!"
"That, Goblin Queen, is your opinion and one that doesn't seem to be getting you anywhere. Perhaps you should consider revising it."
"Revising it to what, might I ask?" Sarah flung back. "You're no help to me at all with your enigmatic questions and even more complicated answers that really don't answer anything. No wonder the ancients used to find you so frustrating! You never give a straight answer to the questions that most need answering!"
The Sphinx made no reply other than to fix Sarah with another inscrutable feline smile.
"Oh, I can't think this late at night!" Sarah groaned as she fell back onto her bedroll.
"Perhaps you are right, Sarah Williams," the Sphinx concurred. "Perhaps what you need is a good rest. Things will look different to you in the morning, I think. Do not worry about intruders; I shall keep watch over your camp tonight. Sleep, Goblin Queen; rest your overactive mind."
As if on command, Sarah fell into a deep sleep; the last thing she remembered was the soft purr of the Sphinx and the warm weight of her body as it settled onto Sarah's feet, her tail twitching in the cool night air.
Sarah dreamt of Decima's cottage. In her dream, she walked around the house but to her surprise, rather than being bereft of entry, it had numerous windows of all shapes, a door, and a rough-hewn wooden ladder leading up to it. Though the windows covered all four sides of the house, the door was set on the side closest the river and at the base of the ladder, a series of stepping-stones set in the ground led from the house to the riverbank. In her dream, Sarah approached the ladder with confidence and climbed it. When she reached the top, she knocked on the door and when the muffled cry of "come in!" greeted the ears of her dream-self, she awoke.
The first thing Sarah realized when she woke up was that her feet were cold. The Sphinx was nowhere to be found that morning and the fire from her midnight conversation with the cat had long since died. However, adrenaline flowed hotly through her veins, so Sarah took little notice of the chill morning. Fueled with hope and renewed zeal, Sarah hastily consumed a cold breakfast, half-heartedly splashed her face with water and hurriedly packed her gear and buried the last remnants of her fire. She wanted to get to Decima's cottage as soon as possible, for—as the Sphinx had predicted—her dream had sparked her imagination into providing a solution.
When she reached the cottage, she walked around it to reach the side nearest the river. Having approached a spot approximating where she'd stood in her dream, Sarah closed her eyes and re-envisioned her dreamscape. She saw the flagstones leading from the river to the house. She tilted her head upward and envisioned a single, round window set near the peak of the roof and below it, a sturdy door of dark wood with a polished metal knocker set right in the middle of it.
Below the door, she imagined the rough-hewn ladder made from the same wood as the door; seemingly untrustworthy but in reality as solid as the ground she stood upon. Instinctively, she reached out her hands to grab hold of the ladder and climb up to the door she pictured in her mind. Much to her surprise, her fists closed about the hard, coarse surface of wood rather than the empty air she knew to be in front of her physical body.
A cry of surprise and delight sprung involuntarily from her lips, but she was even more surprised when, raising a foot to further test the reality of what she imagined, her boot struck something solid. She'd found the way into Decima's house.
Heading to bed for the night! Boy am I sleepy. If you are awake and alert, please leave a review; I've been delighted to hear what you all think and to get some ideas as to what should come next. You guys are awesome!