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Chapter 1 - The Skyfall

Trypp hung transfixed as he searched for a path up the rock-face.  He was designed for climbing.  All Sapphyrro were.  Their unflappable dispositions allowed them to make decisions on the rock-face unclouded by fear or doubt. Strong hands allowed them to consider granite purchases invisible to others and their toes could grip the smooth rock like a vice.  Their carapaces lessened the impact of the nearby torrent upon their bodies and their eyes enabled them to see easily through the mists and shadows adorning the Skyfall like a bridal veil. 

        Unusual-looking by most races’ standards, the Sapphyrro stood five foot tall on average, with no significant difference between males and females.  Sympathetic brown eyes as large as soup bowls peered out from benign faces of grey-blue.  Hair as white as foam flowed from the back of the head onto a shell encasing a sinewy body covered in gossamer-thin, velvety fur.  Stout, muscular legs and long arms ending in large, three fingered hands sprung from openings in the shell.

            Trypp was one of the Okku, the name given to the skilled Sapphyrro responsible for taking adventurous visitors up the vertical face of the cliffs that stood as sentinels over Skyfall Town.  No-one knew Skyfall’s perpendicular paths like Trypp who smiled modestly whenever met with the frequent praise of fellow guides.

            However even his climbs ended in discretion.  About two thirds of the way up the precipice loomed Maru Lem – the impossible overhang.

        The waters of the Skyfall did not permit access to a path around Maru Lem.  The impasse of the overhang was compounded by the fact that it signified the point of no return; to go beyond it would mean climbing down in darkness, and this was simply too dangerous, even for the Okku.  If Trypp went beyond the overhang, he had to be prepared to go all the way – to the top of the Skyfall. This decision was the most serious of choices presented to the Okku, as none knew whether the top could be reached in a day.

        Maru Lem had repeatedly thwarted Trypp’s attempts to conquer it, but, despite near falls and predictable defeat, never did he feel frustration.  He accepted obstacles with a sense of equanimity that few Myrrans knew. 

        With his two fingers gripping a narrow arete, Trypp had gazed at the overhang for over an hour, examining its form, sensing its qualities, anticipating its mood. He fell into a trance, unmoving and docile.  As time passed, Trypp seemed to become one with the rock, appearing carved out of the same material despite the blue-grey hue of his fur.  Haaks and kestra perched on the bluff stared quizzically at this strange new formation before them and then shifted their attention elsewhere to objects possessed of greater animation, such as the cirrus clouds above that were slowly being tinged with the amber colours of the western sun.

 

 

A way revealed itself.

        About twenty feet above Trypp’s head, a fracture in the rock not more than an inch wide could be seen, but it stopped right at the point where the vertical face started sloping backwards.  This fissure had occupied the Trypp’s mind for the greater part of an hour, dominating his focus to the exclusion of other options. He had looked too long at the fracture trying to exploit any opportunity it offered him, and in doing so he had missed a less obvious but more accessible route to its right.  Ten feet above his head, a small ledge lay; it was not much, barely a ripple across the surface of the cliff, but it would furnish him with a purchase that would allow access to a corrugated ridge further up Maru Lem. The ridge ran up the centre of the overhang, resembling the bumps and deviations of the spine of a gargantuan beast arching its back.  Its path ran where the overhang’s transition from vertical to horizontal was at its most dramatic and perilous, but it presented Trypp with possibilities, and three leagues above Skyfall Town, such opportunities were not to be squandered.  He humbly accepted the lesson the journey had provided: in trying to seek out the easiest path, he had overlooked opportunities that were right before him. The Skyfall was his teacher, and rarely would a day go past without a lesson being taught.  The Skyfall was subtle and the Skyfall was patient, allowing its students to find their way at their own pace.

        Trypp eyed a handhold above his head just within reach A small, winged arachna crawled out across the rock.  It was a harmless creature and beautiful: eight legs, two pairs of silken wings and a crystalline abdomen. Only discovered by botanists less than a year earlier, the arachna – or shatterbugs as they had become commonly known – had increased in number exponentially over recent months.  If they weren’t so beautiful, their rapid spread over the Myr would have been described as a plague.

        Unfortunately the shatterbug was perched on the only rock within Trypp’s grasp. After an hour frozen in one position, his strength was fading and he could not wait for the shatterbug to flitter off, nor would he risk harming it in the process.  All life was sacred to the Sapphyrro, and the conviction was absolute.  A Sapphyrran could not purposely kill any creature, or even consider the proposition in any circumstance.  It was more than a philosophy; it was innate.  Trypp could no more kill another life form than a fish could walk on land.

        Despite his skill as a climber, Trypp knew he was in trouble.  His breathing had quickened and his focus became somewhat erratic.  His fingers were beginning to cramp and his forearm felt like a solid, heated knot of muscle.  He had to act swiftly.  There was one climbing move he could try.  It would gain him respite from the pain which was now racing through his arm like mercury.  He had only seen the manoeuvre done once before and that was performed by Trypp’s climbing master many years ago.  That was upon a training wall with the security of deep water only twenty feet below – he was in a far more precarious position.  Closing his eyes and inhaling his breath, Trypp curled back, muscles quivering as he positioned himself for the move.

        He kicked off the rock-face, back and up, swinging his head and arms down between his legs as he somersaulted around in the air three leagues above the base of the Skyfall.  At the apogee of his leap, Trypp stretched out with his legs, his toes searching for the lip of granite two feet above the shoulder of rock upon which sat the shatterbug.  For a split second Trypp's confidence faltered; he had misjudged the leap, his toes curled too early and his left leg missed its target. His right foot connected with the lip, and his toes clamped down desperately upon the rock.  He swung heavily through the air but did not fall.

        Trypp slowed his breathing down and slowly brought his left leg to the lip. When all his toes had cemented themselves to the surface of the rock, he curled the rest of his body up to the inch wide ridge. Trypp’s long arms reached out and for a brief moment, he indulged himself in the warmth that the security of stone and rock provided.

        Suddenly, high above Trypp's head, a huge black shape exploded out from the cliff-face, letting loose a terrifying, chilling screech. Startled, Trypp’s focus melted, and he lost all connection with the cliff-face. The world circled in his vision, the sky became the lake and the rock disappeared from view. An unaccustomed feeling of terror enveloped him, a saturating feeling unlike any he had ever experienced. Instinctively he shot out an arm in a vain attempt to avoid the sickening plummet to his death. His fingers brushed the rock and his nails dug into the granite. His body lurched with a jolt and his carapace thudded into the wall of stone. But incredibly, his grip held.

        Trypp's heart was racing so fast he could not separate one beat from another. His body continued to swing for a few seconds and then all movement stopped. In the panic of his freefall, Trypp had clamped his eyes shut. It was not until his breathing had returned to normal that he opened them. Looking above him, he could see no sign of the terrifying black shape. Nothing moved above him except for a few crimson-hued cirrus clouds and the fluttering figure of a small, winged shatterbug which hovered momentarily in the air before gently setting down to rest on Trypp’s forefinger.

 

 

A night’s sleep did not rid Trypp’s body of the aches and bruises he had acquired on Maru Lem, but he felt strong enough to go to work.  This morning he was to lead an eclectic assortment of travelers up the Skyfall. By the time he clambered out of bed, five other groups of ten had already left, many setting off before sunrise.  Unheard by the exhausted Trypp, bells had been pealing all morning, each carillon heralding the departure of a new group of climbers, celebrating their bravery.  At the base of the Skyfall where the crashing torrent of water relentlessly hammered the anvil of the lake, crowds had gathered to watch each string of climbers begin the merciless climb, accompanied by their Sapphyrran guides.

        Trypp arrived at the First Step Café to find his climbing party waiting anxiously for him.  His assistant Harth had readied all the gear and had prepared the party for the climb. Trypp apologised to his group for the minor delay as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His dreams had been filled with black-winged creatures erupting from the Skyfall.  He did not mention the creature or the dreams to his climbing party, nor did he speak to Harth about it.

        His apology was most ungraciously received by three Helyans who voiced their disgruntlement at the sight of other climbing groups already high above the town.  Trypp simply replied, 'It is the way it is.'  This was not really understood by the Helyans, nor by the rest of the group which also included three travelers from the Susanese Archipelago and three Sessymirians.

        The Sessymirians, two men and a woman, were large-framed and inappropriately dressed.  They refused to remove their Keelii furs and half an hour into the climb they smelt terribly of wet fur and pungent body odour.

        The athletic Helyans were clad in sleeveless tunics that fell just above their knees and were kept close to their muscular bodies by leather belts.  To the Sessymirians' dismay, the Helyans wore no undergarments.  The Sessymirians complained incessantly about the view this offered them.  Soon a long quarrel developed and the banter exchanged between the groups was unceasing and increasingly immature.

        The Susanese were much quieter, customarily talking to one another in hushed tones.  They proved to be superb climbers, their technique putting to shame the boorish Helyans and brutish Sessymirians.  Trypp always enjoyed taking Susanese on climbs; their sense of discipline and focus as comparable to that of the Sapphyrro, and if they were more physically suited to climbing, their progress up the Skyfall would even rival that of the Okku.

        The party’s progress up the lower climbs was extremely swift, largely due to the physical prowess of this particular group. All climbers were tethered to a thin yet highly durable rope, woven from Tuathan hemp. Trypp was naturally at the high end of the rope, deciding the route up the rock face based on the climbing strengths of each particular group.  At the far end of the rope the other Sapphyrran made doubly sure that the climbers were coping with each challenge the Skyfall threw at them.

        The three Susanese, two females and a male climbed directly behind Trypp, emulating his every moved with silent grace and precision. The youngest female, an innocent beauty by the name of Mai, was astonishingly skillful on the rock face.  She quietly talked herself through each manoeuvre and her execution of some of the trickier moves was flawless.  Occasionally, she giggled as she overcame the challenges before her, and her manner was a curious blend of humility and tenacity.

        In stark contrast, below the Susanese the Helyans’ every move was accompanied by loud, smug commentary.  The three Helyan men were really no more than boys, youths carrying scars of a recent battle, seeking new challenges.  They ignored the example given to them by Trypp and the Susanese, preferring to create their own way up the precipice. At times this placed great strain upon the line as Trypp’s quiet but clear directions went largely ignored by the arrogant Helyans.  Their bravado was to be expected.  They were a race lacking in subtlety and humility – in many ways, the antithesis of the Sapphyrro.       

 

        Underneath the Helyans were the boorish Sessymirians, a position noted by each party with respective relish and contempt. The Sessymirians’ climbing technique was incredibly poor in the eyes of the Okku, relying solely on brute strength, but they had managed to keep with the swift pace set by the others in the group. For the greater part of the expedition up the Skyfall, the focus of the northerners’ minds was on the verbal exchange with the Helyans. Fortunately, as the hours passed, fatigue set in – in limbs and larynxes.  By early afternoon the party had attained heights few groups could claim. Trypp forged on and by three o’clock the group was 200 yards beneath Maru Lem.  Trypp would not take them any further as the climb down was just as dangerous as the ascent, and he would not risk completing the expedition in total darkness.

 

 

The expedition sat on a narrow shelf, taking in the view and resting before the gruelling return to Skyfall Town, three leagues below.  The sun had swiftly moved westward and the ghostly glow of Skyfall’s silvery mantle shimmered above.  From their vantage point, the curvature of the Myr reminded them of their smallness and all fell silent.  The great, warm lake spread out before them all the way to the eastern horizon.  It was speckled with fishing boats and distant islands. Far away, as close to the geographical centre of the lake as could be reckoned, was a strange dark stain.  It was called the Worldpool, an incredible sinkhole in Lake Erras.  All the currents of the lake led here – the Worldpool was the lake’s heart, and a cold, cruel one at that.  Few had seen this site first hand and even fewer had seen it from this vantage point.  Most fishermen and traders on Lake Erras hugged the shore, never risking the merciless, icy grasp of the vortex. Some of Erras’ islands had settlements on them but the inner isles were shrouded in mystery as no boats could easily return against the terrible currents.  There was one island far from shore that had maintained communication with the outside world.  Seven leagues from the Worldpool, a leper colony called Sanctuary had been established and there were a small number of mariners on the lake who could navigate the currents to and from the colony.  Trypp could see one such vessel glinting on the horizon and his gaze was so fixed on it, he failed to notice the argument that had broken out among the Helyans and Sessymirians.

        One of the Sessymirians, a veteran soldier by the name of Loka was getting quite irate and was trying to make his way across the shelf to throttle a bronzed Helyan who was taking great delight in ridiculing the older man. The argument had started earlier in the climb when the flaxen-haired Sessymirian had voiced his concern about all the disappearances over recent weeks. The young Helyan took it upon himself to turn this apprehension into a sign of cowardice and had proceeded to bait the older man at every given opportunity.  They had been sitting on the shelf in silence when Loka startled, claiming to have seen a shadow darting above, apparently disappearing in the blue haze beneath the crown of the Skyfall.

        The man’s concern was understandable considering the night before three more people had gone missing, including a Sessymirian known to Loka.  However, to the warrior race of Helyas, voicing one’s fears in public was a sign of weakness, and on the cliffs above Skyfall Town, the Sessymirian had shown himself to be less than a man. And then it struck.

 

 

The beast’s arrival was as soundless as it was violent. It burst through the torrent of water with such ferocity that none had a chance to react. A black wave of beak and claws broke over the climbers.  The dark shape had dived down the waterfall having spied its prey minutes before.  The resulting carnage was sickening. Screams floated into the air, but were drowned out by the gleeful clucking of the shadowy, avian beast. Talons as long as ten feet pierced bodies and broke bones, yet strangely no-one was fatally wounded. Pieces of cartilage and strips of flesh were splattered across the rock face, shreds of skin flayed from the sinews and muscles they once covered, but all lives were spared.

        Then in one violent and elegant movement, the creature headed skyward, up past Maru Lem, to the crest of the waterfall, to the halo of the Skyfall, where the feathered beast let loose a triumphant shriek. The climbers dangled heavily from its claws, like a bloody string of pearls in the claws of a thieving bird.

 

 

But it was no bird. Its name was the Morrigu and it had somehow risen from centuries of imprisonment beneath the mountains. The fiend was a terrible sight. Long, black oily feathers covered a body over fifty feet from head to tail.  Its face was a mockery of a man’s, expressive, cunning and cruel.  A dark serrated beak was fixed in a maniacal grin above which eyes as dark as a starless night flickered and twitched ceaselessly.  The Morrigu’s huge wings ended in viciously sharp leathery claws.  These claws released the climbers and they fell unceremoniously into a massive nest that was covered with countless bodies stolen from the town below.

        The young Susanese woman Mai was slowly gaining consciousness, but the other members of the party were still out cold, battered senseless by the Morrigu’s initial attack. Its talons were sifting through the inanimate bodies at the far end of the climbing rope.  The Morrigu picked up the older Sessymirian Loka, held the battered head up to its quizzical gaze, tilting its own head this way and that, as if trying to recognize something familiar in the face of the unconscious man.  Then after a decision had been reached, a claw flashed up and darted forward to spear Loka through the heart.

 

 

But the talon did not hit its mark. Having quickly detached herself from the climber’s line, Mai jumped between the claw and its intended fleshy target, striking out with her hands clenched together.  Although she had succeeded in throwing the Morrigu’s aim out, it was at a great cost. The creature’s brutally sharp claw had sheared through her wrists cutting both hands clean off.

        Mai fell back to the cadaver-filled floor of the nest, howling in pain. The Morrigu’s great beak floated menacingly above her head.  Then, in a movement that was so fast, not even Mai’s reflexes could evade it, the beast stabbed downward. Its beak pinioned Mai and Loka together in a gruesome embrace of death. Without delay, their bodies were carelessly flung aside. The creature moved to its next victim, the Sessymirian woman, and repeated its strange and murderous behaviour.

 

 

Trypp’s shell had protected him from the brunt of the beast’s onslaught.  He was battered, his carapace had been cracked and his velvety skin was soaked in blood, but he was now conscious and able to lift his head which was pulsing with searing pain.

        Twenty yards above, he could see a vast overhang over which the first waters of the Skyfall began their headlong descent to Lake Erras leagues below.  He was just below the crest of the Skyfall.  The fading light of day shimmered through the curtain of the waterfall surrounding him.

        Trypp’s olfactory sense was assaulted with the smell of rotting meat.  He was lying on an uneven wet and spongy surface.  His hands felt around him and then pulled back into his body as he realized he lay on a bloody carpet of flesh.  Corpses were underneath him and beside him.  Trypp lifted his head and was appalled.  Hundreds upon hundreds of bodies were piled in the Morrigu’s nest. All races were represented in this fleshy cairn of death, but none were recognizable.  Body parts were strewn all around, an obscene mosaic of violence. It was clear that the beast did not consume the meat of its prey, if indeed prey was the right word.  Collection seemed more apt.  The Morrigu was a hoarder, a crazed gatherer of bodies and upon the pile, it hopped and danced with lunatic joy.

        But there was method to its madness.  The bodies were brought to the nest for a reason.  The Morrigu was looking for something.  Or someone.  Trypp watched it as it picked up the groaning body of Harth, his apprentice.  It sneered disapprovingly at the body.  It was not what he was looking for.  The creature did not spear him.  It had tried this once before on another Sapphyrran and had broken one of the needle-like nails on the end of its claws.  The shells of the Sapphyrro were difficult to penetrate.  The Morrigu raised Harth to its beak and tentatively bit down on the shell, testing its strength. It cackled and squawked with growing frustration.  Then with frightening speed the creature swung its barely-alive victim in a circular motion, finally thrusting the body into the rock wall of the cliff. Harth’s skull was crushed instantly and his body, a broken puppet in the hands of a petulant child, was thrown across the nest.

        'Harth!'  Trypp cried and his hands went out to the limp body of his apprentice.

        The Morrigu shrieked with malice and one of its razor-sharp talons kicked out, clutching at the Sapphyrran.  Fortunately for Trypp, his shell, now drenched in the decay of the Morrigu’s morbid collection, was not easy to hold and he managed to free himself of the creature’s grasp.  Trypp tried to leap away but he was still tethered to the others.  He pulled back on the rope towards the edge of the gargantuan nest, and the Morrigu gave a crazed howl.  The creature then lurched haphazardly at him.  It would not allow any of its quarry to escape.  The nest shook frightfully, the Morrigu’s movement threatening to break it from its moorings to the cliff face. 

        Sensing the danger, the Morrigu paused for a moment, looking maliciously at Trypp who could retreat no further.  Behind the Sapphyrran, the Skyfall hurtled into the great space above Skyfall Town.  The rope was taut and the Morrigu, realizing Trypp had nowhere to go, edged carefully – talon by talon – towards him.

        Then something flashed between the monster and its prey.  It was a thin piece of bone wielded by the young Helyan who had earlier taunted the now-dead Loka.  The Helyan was barely alive, but summoned enough strength to find something sharp, the femur of one of the Morrigu’s first victims, and bring it down on the rope, splitting it with surgical precision.  Trypp’s body fell back to the edge of the nest and the Morrigu catapulted towards him.  The nest pitched forward.  Trypp had no choice.  He hurled himself over the edge and into the Skyfall.

 

 

There was no way Trypp should have survived the fall.  He had plummeted over three leagues, bounced off rocks and slammed into the surface of the lake at a frightening velocity.  But miraculously, he had survived.  He had retreated into his shell and thrown himself upon the mercy of the Skyfall.  And impossibly, mercy he was given.

        Trypp was alive – scarcely breathing and in a state of shock – but alive.  He bobbed in the wake of the waterfall’s base.  Within seconds of landing at the base of the Skyfall, he had been pulled out by Sapphyrro fishing in the twilight under North Cathedral.

        And then the full horror struck.  The strangest sound could be heard from above; the sound of things falling and hitting the bridges, buildings and streets like hail. The waters of Lake Erras popped and splashed as hundreds of corpses rained down on Skyfall Town.  Many were caught in the bridges and pulleys, and were left dangling, a gory mobile of all the Myr's races hanging above its most peaceful town.  The nest itself shattered across the roof of North Cathedral.  A muffled thump sounded above Trypp who lay unconscious in a fishing boat surrounded by death. Had he been able to open his eyes, he would have been met with the grotesque sight of his climbing party dangling from the rope bridge above.  Only a few feet above Trypp, a Helyan youth swung lifelessly at the end of the climbing rope he had broken to save the Sapphyrran's life.

 

 

Above the tragic scene the Skyfall ran red. In the dim light of dusk, a deeper shadow fell upon the quiet hamlet of Skyfall Town.  The unseen fear that had gripped the town now had a face.  The Morrigu perched itself upon the broken roof of the nearby cathedral, cackling with glee.