Haladras

Eighteen

Skylar raced toward the rocks below with terrifying speed. The cold air rushing by made his eyes water. What had happened? His mind and body were in a state of shock. It took several seconds before he could register it all.

Fly!

Grim's plea reverberated in his brain.

Grim.

Something snapped inside him. He activated the thrusters on his jetwing, pulling upward, straining against the intense force of his falling body.

Still he sped toward the rapidly approaching rocks.

He torqued the throttle.

Come on! He gritted his teeth and pulled harder.

Slowly...slowly...his downward path began arching outward.

He pulled harder.

The rocks grew closer.

Outward...outward.

Closer...closer.

Outward...outward...

Up!

Swooping skywards, he aimed straight from the cliff's edge, straight back to Grim. A sudden explosion split the air. A shower of rocks and sand rained down on him.

"Grim!" he cried out.

Skylar's rapidly beating heart stopped when he reached the brink. Heaps of stone and rocks covered the spot where the fighting had occurred. Among the rubble, three bodies lay half buried, lifeless. Quickly, Skylar alighted, stumbled over the rocks, and clambered his way to where Grim was. He could only distinguish his faithful companion by the tan boots and bronzed arms that protruded unnaturally from the heap of rock. Frantically, he tore at the debris, desperately trying to free his friend.

He hoped beyond hope that beneath the pile Grim would still be alive―only injured, unconscious. When at last he uncovered Grim's face, his tiny flame of hope flickered and went out. Grim was dead.

Dead.

Grim is dead.

The words reverberated endlessly within the empty cavity where once his brain resided.

Dead.

The words had no meaning to him. Nothing did.

Grim is dead.

How could any words make sense? How could anything make sense?

Grim is dead.

How could Grim be dead?

After a time, he forced himself to get up, to do something. Still delirious, he began building an improvised burial mound with the same stones which had crushed Grim's body. Hypnotically, mechanically, he piled the stones, one on top of the other, each time glimpsing Grim's battered face and feeling a jolt of pain. Each stone grew heavier and heavier, as if something didn't want Grim buried, as if each stone buried a part of himself. When at last he set the final stone, covering Grim's face forever, his legs gave way. He collapsed to his knees. All at once, everything flooded upon him. Every moment of his brief friendship with Grim replayed with agonizing clarity in his mind; Grim's loyalty; Grim's kindness; Grim's willingness to give his life to protect him; "My prince....my prince....my prince," he heard Grim's voice as if Grim were speaking to him from the grave. Everything flooded. Haladras; uncle; Rasbus; the docks; Kindor; home; home...home...home.

Tears came streaming down his face.

When Skylar came to, darkness surrounded him. Night had fallen. Whether sleep had overtaken him or his brain had overloaded and slipped out of consciousness he could not tell. He looked up. Grim's grave lay before him, dark and riddled with shadows.