Less than one hundred yards from the bridge, I suck my particles in from the beams. With the sting of a hurricane-force wind hitting my skin, they reassemble into my body. A split-second later and slightly in front of me, Tela transitions from her blend to a sprint. The last rays of light seep into our bodies just fifteen yards from the end of the road. In our unspoken game of chicken, Tela wins again.
She coasts to a stop on the upslope of the bridge while I jog towards her from behind. When I stop by her side, I’m panting from a combination of excitement and overexertion. With her spear dangling from one hand, she rests her other hand on her hip. As she looks up at the sky, she inhales a few deep breaths, a definite clue that she was pushing her speed just as much as I was.
“You’re becoming much more efficient at coming out of your blend,” she says, still studying the clouds.
“I’m working on it,” I reply through gulps of air. “No matter how many times I do it, I don’t think it’ll ever get old.”
Tela looks at me. “Traveling?”
“Traveling,” I reply with a nod.
The slightest smile curls the corners of her lips, a response from her that’s becoming more and more common. “It never will,” she says. “I promise you that.”
Tela just confirmed what I’ve already come to realize. Travelers relish in our ability to blend our light. It’s a stupendous gift that only a handful of people from each generation experience. We never take it for granted and immerse ourselves in the sensation as often as possible.
Even with the precautions that Larn put into place after the Murkovin blockade killed Beck, on a morrow off, a Traveler will almost always end up alone in the Barrens. The Murkovin lack the focus to keep up with us, and if we travel in an unpredictable route, they can never set a trap. With tens of thousands of miles of open space, we can unleash our mind-blowing speed. To paraphrase what Larn once told me, it becomes meditative when our bodies transfuse with the light of the world around us.
After Tela and I catch our breath, we both look at the road. Much farther from the edge of the bridge than where Tela and I exited the light, Velt and Jeni have already come out of their blends. Muscular like a heavyweight boxer, Velt effortlessly pulls his transport along the road. His short, spiky hair radiates the same cobalt blue that all of us Travelers have in our hair.
Walking beside Velt with her transport handles in her grip, Jeni has a natural bounce in her step. She’s curvy and athletic, not heavy, not lean, with long, wavy hair tied in a ponytail behind her head. Other than Jeni being about three inches taller than Tela, the two are built almost exactly the same.
Nuar streaks in from behind Jeni and Velt and then transitions to a run. Her sleek stride is always calculated and graceful in its motion. With a pixie-like hairstyle that seems to match the delicate features of her face, she looks more like a tall, thin ballerina than someone who would be traveling across the badlands with a spear in her hand.
Finally, the beams of Larn and Kale recede into bodies. They jog past the others before slowing to a walk. At six foot six, trim and athletic, Larn towers over Kale. He immediately begins offering his Apprentice a few words of traveling critique.
Only about eighteen, Kale still has a boyish quality to his chiseled good looks. He’s not as lean as I am, but not nearly as stocky as Velt. His long, straight hair hangs over his eyebrows, covers his ears, and falls past his neck in the back. As they all walk towards us, I look past them to admire the colossal Mount of Krymzyn in the distance.
“There’s a very long flat space in the Barrens to the southwest,” Tela says to me. “It’s several thousand miles west of the Stone Crossing.”
“What’s the Stone Crossing?” I ask, turning my head to her.
“The only natural river crossing in Krymzyn,” she answers. “It’s about two-thirds of the way to the Great Falls. At some point, you should go there to test your speed in the flat area.”
“Is that allowed?”
“We all do it,” Tela says. “We rarely speak of it, but every Traveler does it sooner or later. Even Larn.”
The others walk up the slight slope of the bridge to Tela and me and stop in front of us. After Larn finishes imparting whatever advice he’s been giving Kale, he looks back and forth between Tela and me.
“Did either of you see anything?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I answer.
“Not a thing,” Tela replies.
“That’s good,” Larn says. “If this continues, perhaps we’ll be able to reduce the number of Travelers needed for trips to the Mount.”
“It seems weird to me,” I comment.
“What do you mean?” Larn asks.
“We haven’t seen any Murkovin since the blockade that killed Beck.”
In the six weeks since Beck died, no one has seen a single Murkovin. It seems to me that they’ve purposely vanished from our sight. The Watchers haven’t spotted any near the river during Darkness, and the Travelers haven’t caught a glimpse of even a lone Murkovin when we’re crossing the Barrens.
“It’s not out of the ordinary at all,” Larn says. “We can go hundreds of morrows without seeing a Murkovin. What is strange is how many encounters you’ve had with them during your short time here. You’ve already had more direct contact with Murkovin than most people have in their entire lives.”
“But we saw so many for a while,” I say. “It seems like they’re trying to avoid us now.”
“They normally avoid us,” Larn explains. “They’re solitary creatures for the most part. A few might band together, usually a male and female who create a child, or a small group that will try to work together. They occasionally attack us for clothing,
