THE VOYAGE OF FLYNN

In Thetis Springs the central sun was slowly turning to its dark side. Hunched over the cook pit in the polyroom of her Villadobe, Old Doris was becoming worried; Twilight only enhanced the concern that was germinating for her two youngest girl-children. She could not concentrate properly on dinner preparations; the burning Heta bread soon filled her nostrils with an acrid coil of black smoke. Though her daughters had proven trustworthy and prudent in the past, lately Old Doris had sensed a certain reckless attitude in Thera, her youngest. It was the age, she'd reasoned. All quasi-teens were difficult to control, the unsullied spirit of independence compelling them to experiment, to explore every last possibility. Yet she feared more for her older child, Derilia. A slower learner than most, Deri was a follower plain and simple; she would always follow her beloved little sister. She could be so easily led down the wrong path.
Abandoning dinner, Old Doris slowly pulled back the door-curtain and stepped onto the stone porch where she and Nessopter had spent so many breezy nights. Her face was freckled by specks of dirt as a gust of wind exploded across what remained of her fields. It drew her attention above to where the item she sought hung clattering. Only then did she allow her mirrored eyes to scan the dreary mud flats, to pierce the steamy mist of its many vital springs. She was seeing just what she had feared, the scene emergent in her mind. Old Doris had to stretch as tall as she could to reach the Jutaro horn. Its iridescent patina felt in some way comforting within her grip until at last she placed it over her quivering lips and blew as hard and as long as she could.

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Derilia and Thera were in fact not so hopelessly lost. After an hour of navigating the rough-hewn terrain of the Himinnine tunnels, they rested on a heartbreakingly familiar teardrop shaped rock with the annoying realization that they had circled back upon themselves. The sisters faced each other now in silent acknowledgment.
They had been on a simple errand to Grotonel in the Lower Himinnines, delivering food to Oli DeArq, an Anciente Q’awta, who stubbornly insisted on living there still. It was a dangerous place, Grotonel, even for any common Neriad, much less one of the Ancients of the Inner Sea; their generation was a suffering one, thriving in martyrdom as a result of the many Crust Wars.
Thera had first noticed the collapsed ruins of the passageway that they usually took to Oli’s cavern. It had been partially blocked by what seemed to be a slowly decaying wall. Now it was completely impassable.
“Look Deri, this was bound to happen sooner or later, I'm just glad we weren't traveling through here when it did” she'd been sincere in her attempt to comfort her sister.
"What do we do now, Thera. This is the only road to Grotonel. I don't..."
“Listen, I think I know another way. Yeah, follow me, I'll get us to Oli's.” Thera'd spun in place and started confidently toward what was to be their brilliant detour, calling Deri along with a mute wave.

Though, if she was to be honest with herself, Thera would have to admit that she wasn’t really sure at all of this alternate route.
It was a tunnel she had found months ago while hiking with Kefft. They had explored it for a half mile or so till they reached a large foyer-like room with many branching corridors, some seeming to go on forever deep into the crust. She had had an odd feeling about the place, like it could lead them anywhere. She had stopped Kefft just before the light in the chamber began to wane. There was warmth, a calm that enveloped the friends, a force drawing them close. She had never before felt this way about him or any boy-child. A persuasive breeze blew all around, softly pushing and pulling them, teasing.
As they kissed he did not tense or draw away like she would have expected, but instead relaxed, flowed with her. Thera had not ever experienced, what Elosia would call, such bliss, and from quite a simple action: the joining of mouths. The experience seemed to obliterate any idea of time, it just was; it went on forever yet never happened. Though, as they finally did part, an abrupt sense of reality rushed through them, concussing the young couple like the awesome trumpet of a mammoth, and propelled them breathlessly back from the hub; back toward the dying light of the day. She had returned to the tunnel only a few times since, but by herself, and never going any farther than the extraordinarily alluring Grand Foyer, as she had dubbed it.
Since, Thera had been unsure of the tunnels, but still she’d felt the urge, an almost physical magnetism. Besides, they were at a dead end, it would be a timely opportunity she’d reasoned.
Just what was beyond the Grand Foyer?

Deep in the tunnel, the sisters were forced to make a decision now. They sat facing each other in a dank, high-ceilinged chamber with four paths leading in as many directions. The path, narrow and cramped, they had just come from and the one they had taken a half an hour before obviously were connected, circling back to their current chamber.
Another path was yet untried by the pair, leading to who-knew-where. The final way was the way they had come; the way back to the Grand Foyer.
“It’s getting late Thera,” Said Deri. “There’s no way we can get Oli’s supplies to him before sun-turn even if we did know where we were going. Let’s just get out of here. Old Doris will be worried”
This was bold of Deri, thought Thera. She must either sense something, some trouble vibrating nearby or she’s just really hungry. She offered her a ripe pommeshade, which Deri waved off.
“Let’s just try that last path, Deri c’mon. Oli needs his medicine, remember, he’s an Ancient. If he doesn’t have his bonshaqk curd his thrum could rupture.”
Oli? Please. What about Old Doris? She'll be expecting us. She'll worry. Oli will survive thought Deri.
(Many Ancients were vulnerable to a parasite called the Thrum-wurm as their bodies shrank during the changeover time. This busy little bug would burrow with great speed to the center of the host body searching for the all-important source of throbbing life: the thrum. Once it reached its goal, this glutton wurm would slowly suck all the thrumic fluid it possibly could, (which in many cases turned out to be too much for its ever expanding yet finite body) and inevitably burst, taking most of the host thrum right along with it.
Though, it was discovered eons ago by Prak Mattik D'vegg that the common bonshaqk curd when taken orally could fight off this parasite quite efficiently. So from then till now it had been the normal practice for all Ancients in the time of changeover to begin a regimen of the curd whether they suffered or not. The girls did not know if Oli had suffered, only that he was in the changeover period.)
“Well, actually…,” said Deri.
“Alright? OK? Let’s just go then,” Thera said. She jumped up, grabbed the heavy backpack filled with Oli’s supplies and started down the path to who-knew-where.
“Wait” called Deri. “Listen, what is that?”
A faint echoing gallop could be heard coming from the direction of the Great Foyer.
“Don’t know, but it sounds like it's coming right at us. Just get out of sight, quick.”
Thera pulled Deri and all the supplies behind a low shelf of black rock that barely hid them both. There they huddled, compressing themselves toward invisibility. Thera peeked through an inch wide fissure in the slab.
"Niad protect us, Niad protect us..." Deri whispered.
“Quiet, just listen.” Thera, her eyes unblinking, could hear it much louder now, approaching… what?
Men?
Feral Onyax?
Mudgore?
There were two sets of sounds now: one a light and quick thumping, the other a heavy clop of clumsy hooves. Thera gripped Deri even tighter. She held her breath.
A figure -- a boy -- erupted through the opening and with a fit of adrenaline began immediately to wheel a circular stone monolith across the threshold through which he just appeared. He had hold of handle, Thera thought and the stone seemed to slot into some enormous groove so that it began to close the opening. The clopping grew thunderous; Thera could feel the vibration through her already quivering knees. As the boy struggled to finally close the remaining gap, there was a tremendous crack which shook the monolith and lifted the boy entirely off his feet, leaving him gasping for air on the sodden ground of the chamber.
Thera sat agape, silent. But Deri allowed a short moan to escape.
The boy briefly turned toward the sound. Just as he stood up, a hand -- not a human hand, but something grossly larger shaped like a hand with four thick snaky fingers moving as if each had their own eye -- thrust through the gap. One of the fingers found its way to the boy, curling slowly around the ankle, to the calf and up…
The boy was snapped back to the ground as the finger drew him slowly toward the opening. He reached his hand to his far hip, unsheathing what appeared to be a large dagger. The finger squeezed tighter and, all at once, attempted to jerk the boy through the too-small gap. He braced his free leg against the round stone door, pushed with all the effort left to him, and was able to move his serpentine captor back just enough. He raised the dagger, and in one great butcher stroke, lopped the finger cleanly from his limb. He scrambled to his feet as the hand with its twisted digits retreated through the remaining space. He rotated the stone one final click to seal the opening. Then the boy fell back, exhausted. Looking down at his leg he was stunned to see the severed extremity still clinging there, throbbing. He ripped it from his body as one would rid a bloodsucker, and flung it away. Finally he allowed his head to rest on the stone floor.
Only then, as the girls ventured from their cover could Thera make out his features: ruddy with sweat, yet handsome, suddenly familiar...
“Kefft,” she whispered. "Kefft."
Soon she was screaming the name. Over and over. The single syllable echoed off the high ceiling until all she could hear were her own hushed sobs.