seymoure

Chapter 35

Do What?

Sandor turned to Hawk. “What should we do? That little guy might have been insane and leading us to his suicide, right?”

Hawk looked down and said, “Doubtful, but not impossible.”

Slip turned to Cela, “Could you insure that we don’t become smashed eggs on the ground down there?”

Cela admitted, “I could offer some protection, but to maintain it for a drop that we cannot measure, I am not sure.”

Hawk spoke out, “People like Smiga cling to their life, however hard it seems; they don’t commit suicide. At least they don’t throw their lives away without some sort of religious aspect.”

“So. . .” Slip mused, without much conviction.

“So, this,” said Hawk as he leapt.

“Now,” said Cela as she joined him.

“This is a bad idea,” said Slip, and then he went over.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Sandor said. Then something really strange happened.

For the first time, the bundle in his arms seemed to stretch. It was pulling him. It pulled him in the direction of the cliff. He fought it, but that only made it increase its pull.

“You want to go?” he asked the blue lump.

The burden he had been carrying vibrated in what could only be taken as agreement.

“If all your friends jumped off a cliff, would you do so also?”

The vibration returned.

Sandor drew a large breath.

He turned and looked back at the land they had already trekked across. They wouldn’t be going back over that land again. He couldn’t get back, not without the magician.

He bit his lip and turned back to the drop-off ahead.

“If we die, I will not forgive you,” he muttered under his breath.

Holding the bundle tight to his body, he ran and jumped off the cliff.

He was the only one who screamed as he fell.

On the ledge from which he came, it was soon impossible to hear his voice.

Only the whistling wind was detectable.