The plain I stood upon was littered with huge boulders, most of them taller than me. They looked like they had been dumped here by glaciers a long time ago. Far to the north I saw a massive mountain range with snowy peaks. It was hard to tell, but they might be a good fifty or a hundred klicks away.
I turned in a slow circle, trying to find the valley I had seen from the ship. I ended up having to climb on top of one of the boulders in order to catch a glimpse of a swathe of green to the southeast. The valley was definitely closer than the mountains and if I was going to find food, water, and shelter, that was my best bet.
It was fairly easy hiking across the plain, especially since the gravity here was less than I was used to. The air seemed rich with oxygen, as well, and I could smell a dampness in the air, very much like the smell of a summer rain back on Anglad.
A few times I caught a glimpse of some small mammals hiding near the boulders, but even after three hours of hiking I didn’t see a single bird.
The sun was high overhead by the time I made it to the edge of the plain. A sloped cliff overlooked a valley filled with lush vegetation.
I worked my way down the cliff fairly easily, switchbacking along game trails. This lesser gravity thing was definitely working in my favor. I had covered at least twenty klicks so far and wasn’t even really tired.
The air grew warmer and thicker as I descended towards the jungle. In the distance, maybe a dozen kilometers away, I could see a serpentine break in the treetops that indicated a river. That was good news—for two reasons. I might not die of thirst, and if I followed the river, it might eventually lead to civilization. That is, if there was any civilization to be found on this planet. So far, I hadn’t seen any evidence of aircraft, satellites, drones, skimmers, or even any terrestrial vehicles.
Still, why would the Levirion dump me out on an uninhabited planet? If it was a four-way jump gate, you’d think that all four of its connections would be significant.
Towards the bottom of the cliff, vegetation was sparse, with a few low bushes dotting the landscape. But less than a kilometer away, everything changed. The edge of a dense jungle rose up, like some massive green curtain of tropical-looking trees. Some had leaves bigger than my body. And, judging from the sounds emanating from the jungle, this was where this planet’s birds all dwelt.
As I drew closer to the jungle’s edge, I searched for a natural entrance, but the vegetation looked uniformly thick for as far as I could see. This valley reminded me a little of Castareen, but less swampy—thankfully.
It was still slow going, as I pushed my way through the vine-choked trees and broad-leafed bushes. But the shade of the jungle felt good after trudging through the bright open landscape of the plains.
As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I saw all kinds of creatures—flying, scurrying, climbing, and slithering their way through the jungle.
Shafts of light that had managed to penetrate the canopy acted like waypoints and provided enough illumination for me to navigate through the jungle. And some of the broad leaves acted like basins which provided me with water to drink and splash my face with.
As I pressed on, I kept my eyes open for signs of large predators—footprints, droppings, bones. So far, I hadn’t seen anything like that, but I wanted to be prepared. Based on the travel of the sun, I guessed that I might have five or six more hours of light remaining. That meant that I’d probably be spending the night in this jungle.
After a few hours, I began to pick up the faint sound of the river and I knew I was heading in the right direction. If I could make it there before nightfall, I might be able to find a tree to climb up on the river’s edge. That very well could be the safest place for me to spend the night.
Eventually I made it to the river’s edge, but it wasn’t what I had expected.
I stood on the edge of a rocky gorge. Thirty meters below a fast-moving river flowed. The gorge itself was only a few dozen meters wide and it looked like the jungle continued on the other side.
Then my heart jumped.
There, in the distance to the south, a bridge spanned the gorge.
When I finally arrived at the bridge, I saw that it was made of immense stone blocks encircled by a shaggy mat of vines. The narrow span arched over the river and was supported by several stone pillars. Unfortunately, the bridge wasn’t completely intact. A collapsed section eight or nine meters wide made it impossible to cross.
Leading away from the bridge was the remnants of a primitive road. I tried to follow it into the jungle, but a few meters in the vegetation had completely obscured any trace of the road. Still, it was an encouraging sign. This planet must have some sort of civilization on it. Unless, of course, the builders of the bridge had died out. The structure did appear to be a few centuries old. Who knew?
I carefully ventured out onto the span, cautiously checking for any sign that the bridge might collapse under my weight.
So far, so good. The wind whipped at my body as I moved farther out. Cautiously, I chanced a look over the edge and saw that the river had etched a deep groove between the cliffs. It was wild and beautiful as it churned and foamed through the narrow canyon.
Still moving carefully, I inched out as far as I dared. I wanted to inspect the broken section and
