A needle dug into the man’s cheek, twisting deeper and deeper and deeper …
He jerked awake with a yell. Light blinded him, flooding his skull with fire. He flinched and threw up a shielding arm.
Something buffeted his face, puffing air over the skin. A hard object, covered in softness. He blinked as shapes coalesced from a grey-white blur. A bobbing head appeared, followed by flapping wings, and then a beak, red and shining. He gasped and twisted aside, and a bird exploded into flight.
His cheek stung. When he touched it, warm wetness coated his fingertips. There was a momentary smell of sour iron. Blood? He squinted upwards. The bird was ascending in a spiral far overhead, seeming to glide between spots that flashed in the sky. It screeched, as if in frustration at a lost meal.
He gritted his teeth. No. He wouldn’t be easy meat.
With a grunt, the man pushed against the ground, half-raising shoulders and head. Soil slid away, as fine and loose as … sand? He twisted to look down, but the awkward position swung his body too far. A supporting arm shook, and then collapsed. He crumpled.
The breath burst from his lungs and fire roared the length of his body. He screamed in silence. Surely a small fall shouldn’t hurt so much. He writhed for an eternal moment, struggling to suck in air. Then his chest unlocked and he breathed in with a shudder.
He lay on his back for a long time, muscles burning, sickness twisting his stomach. Then he clenched a fist and balled up the sensations, shoving them to the back of his mind. They weren’t important. Little by little, his body relaxed and his limbs loosened.
After taking a deep breath, he rolled onto his front and struggled to his feet. At first his legs trembled, making him sway like a drunkard, but he hunched over, arms spread, until the movement stopped.
The man straightened and raised his head. A deserted beach surrounded him. About a dozen paces ahead, the land ended in an expanse of sparkling water that stretched to the horizon. Wavelets washed over the salt-white sand, frothing just short of his toes. Something flat and narrow was floating among the surf. A feather? He stumbled forward, reaching out with a shaking hand, and dizziness pounced on him.
His feet became leaden and distant. Everything spun, and then the ground was rushing up to meet him. Two last shivery thoughts filled his mind before the world faded.
Where am I? Who am I?
*
… At first the man saw nothing. Then a trident of lightning pierced the blackness. Thunder erupted. As if in response to the noise, webs of lightning flared all across the night sky.
A sea appeared, heaving with mountains of dark water. Rain pelted down so heavily that the surface bubbled and spat as if boiling.
A ship floundered between the waves, tiny and fragile against them. Wind screamed and tore at its sails, wrenching them in every direction of the compass. Time and time again, the vessel rocked to within inches of capsizing before righting itself.
Snaps sounded. The mainsail tore loose and a tangle of rigging crashed to the deck. A mast uprooted and toppled.
The ship shuddered and heeled to one side.
A surge of water lifted the vessel and slammed it onto a twisted claw of rock. Gripped in place, the ship groaned as wave after wave hammered against it.
The hull burst open and water breached it in a flood.
As the ship slid off the rock into the sea, screams punctured the roar of the storm. Then everything dissolved into endless, freezing, black water …
*
The man’s eyelids cracked open. Images of a ship and a storm flickered and died like spent candles.
A blanket of darkness lay overhead, lit by a full moon floating in front of a crooked line of hard, bright pinpricks. He squinted at the stars, but didn’t recognise any of them.
His body felt oddly stiff and sluggish. He twisted his neck from side to side and worked to loosen knotted shoulders. How long had he been asleep? He stretched both arms and legs, and then froze. There’d been a dream. Something important. He strained to recall the details, but nothing came back to him.
Cursing, the man sat up. His skin prickled. He felt different from earlier, for some reason. He concentrated inwards, trying to sense what was new about his body. A tendril tugged at his mind, and he felt his eyes widen. The pain. The sickness. The dizziness. They were all gone as if they had never existed. A wooden stiffness remained behind, and a bog of sucking exhaustion. Nothing else.
The muscles in his jaw twitched as if trying to dance, and his teeth chattered together. He shivered. When did it get so damn cold? He glanced down at his body. A filthy grey-brown rag hung in tatters around his torso, leaving large parts of chest and stomach bare, along with one arm up to the shoulder. Fist-sized patches of pallid skin showed through several holes torn in his breeches. Only a thick belt about the waist appeared to hold the material together. He stared at the clothing. What could have caused all this?
He tried to think back, but a feather-soft heaviness seeped into his head. He yawned. Rest. He should rest. Just for a moment. Maybe he could figure things out when he felt a little stronger. His eyelids drooped.
Heat pulsed through his mind. He shook himself hard and slapped his cheek. No. That was the cold speaking. He had to move and find shelter. Now.
The man staggered to his feet, turned his back on the sea and headed inland.
After a few dozen steps, the sand mounded into building-high dunes. He stuttered to a halt, eyeing the barrier. Then he heaved a mental shrug and moved on. He had to keep going, regardless of whatever lay in the way.
At the foot of the first dune, he hunched forwards and half-climbed, half-scrambled up the slope. Sand shifted underfoot, first in a stream, and then in a river, threatening to drag him backwards. He gritted his teeth and drove onwards, legs leaden, head down. Shutting out the hissing noise of sand, he focussed, imagining the dune as but a tiny hump. Not far now. Almost there. He repeated the thoughts in his head, over and over.
Without warning, the slope disappeared. He stumbled, almost overbalancing, before lurching to a stop.
The man looked up. A series of smaller dunes stretched ahead. Beyond, the sand became dark earth, and on the earth stood … a building? No, not a building. A circular tent. A yurt. With a thread of smoke curling from the roof. He stared at the simple structure for a long moment. Shelter. Warmth. Life. A spark ignited in his mind, and he lurched forwards.
Fresh energy filled his legs. Despite an awkward gait, he sped up until his feet seemed to fly over the dunes. Climbing no longer felt like an effort, and he almost ran on the downward slopes.
Sand passed in a pale blur.
Within minutes, his muscles turned to water, leaving him feeling as if he were wading through thickening honey. Each step became slower and harder, until he had to stop, legs burning and shaking. Gasping for breath, he searched for the yurt again, and blinked when he saw the shelter maybe a dozen steps ahead. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d crossed from sand to soil, let alone covered such distance.
He gritted his teeth. Move.
Staggering forwards, the man fixed eyes on the yurt. One step. Two. A band of darkness appeared around the edge of his vision. A third step. The band swelled, contracting inwards. Another step. The yurt shrank and floated away from him. No. Not now. Snarling, he stumbled a few more steps as fast as he could.
As if by magic, the yurt returned, growing until it loomed over him. It drifted to within touching distance. Without thinking, he snatched for a handhold and his fingers closed on what felt like leather. He pulled at the material and it came loose. An entrance gaped ahead. He pushed hard with both legs and tumbled through the opening.
Inside the yurt, he collapsed onto one side, vision trembling and blurring. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, but the darkness made his stomach swirl as if he were falling, so he opened his eyes again, trying to focus and pin the surroundings still.
A fire burned in the centre of the yurt, throwing flickering light onto the curved interior. Smoke was rising through a circular hole in the middle of the roof. All the movement in the dancing flames and writhing smoke made his stomach heave. He gritted his teeth and twisted his head aside. A row of blurred objects were somehow hanging or floating near the yurt’s inner surface. They held still, though, so he latched onto them. The things were light coloured and all different sizes, but there seemed a similarity to the shapes. They looked a little bit like faces, wicked and grinning, with bared teeth. Were they … skulls? Yes, those dark patches did look a lot like eye sockets. He shivered. What was this place?
No answer came. His mind felt stuffed with cotton.
Heat stroked over his skin, thawing the dead stiffness in his limbs, and his body seemed to melt into a puddle. He yawned.
A shadow slid over him. Wrinkled hands appeared, cobwebbed with blue veins. They pressed him onto his back and wrapped something around him.
‘Sleep,’ a hoarse voice said.
He rubbed his eyes. Who said that? Then he yawned again, so wide that his jaw creaked. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
Darkness swallowed him.