Prologue
“And so it was, that Kal the wise did beseech Ail-Kar, and Ail-Kar did cast from the firmament the heavenly stone.
The stone of constancy and change; of boon and bane; of creation and destruction”
Blessings of the White Sun, Fourth Stanza, Ninth and Tenth Lines
It was early in the afternoon, when Kal first saw the flying rock.
Well, perhaps “flying” was a slight exaggeration; a subtle embellishment that he might have used later when trying to impress his younger brother, or his friends after third-day prayers. It was at least enough to break Kal out of his reverie. Hymarr’s reaction was the last thing he had expected.
He had been rehearsing in his mind for days beforehand how he would ask her to accompany him to the Spring Gratitude Service. That morning, as he lay in his bedchamber, before even Ail-Gan, the yellow sun, had risen over the western horizon, he determined that today was going to be the day.
He found her outside a clothing shop just off the curia. She was taller than he was, with long brown hair which hung loose about her shoulders, and large deep brown eyes. When she smiled, they shined brighter than all three of the suns–or so it seemed to Kal. She wore a simple unembroidered red-brown supertunic, woven from a soft-looking material.
As Kal approached, he saw that she was accompanied by two other girls. She seemed to be involved in an animated conversation. He stopped in mid-stride, locked in mortal combat with his fragile resolve. A voice within screamed at him that this was a bad place and time, but something within him caused his legs to start moving forward once again and a few moments later he was standing in front of Hymarr.
She stopped, seeming to notice him for the first time. “Kal?”
The other girls looked irritated, but he ploughed on. “Hymarr, I was just looking for you.”
Her brows knotted together into a frown. “Excuse me?”
“Are you going to Spring Festival?” It was a stupid question. Everyone would be going. The two girls standing just behind Hymarr suppressed a giggle. “I was wondering if you would care to–”
“No,” she interjected. “No, thank you.”
“But–”
“No!” Her speckled cheeks were flushed as she turned on her heel and strode away down the street away from the curia, her tail swishing behind her. Her friends burst out laughing and followed in her train.
Kal simply stood stupidly for a moment. He had no idea what his expression was, but he drew a couple of curious stares from passersby. Then he turned and began running to get away from the place and time of his humiliation. As he ran, feelings of anguish broke over him in waves, but he only ran faster so as to blot them out. A part of his mind recalled dimly that his father would be expecting him at the smithy, but he did not care.
As he neared the edge of the village, he passed the pen where graylesh were kept. One graceful animal raised its pointed snout from its manger and regarded him. On impulse, Kal vaulted the fence, swung himself on the back of the nearest beast and kicked hard. He was nearly thrown as the creature lurched forward. It cleared the barrier and suddenly Kal was in open countryside. He had a sudden image of the animal’s imagined owner and how angry they would be…and then how angry his father would be. But he pressed his mount’s striped flanks and urged it forward.
After a while he looked back and saw that there were no signs of pursuit. He caused his mount to slow a little, and as he did so, the valley and its environment began to insinuate themselves on Kal`s senses. It was early spring in the Taskar valley. On either side of the track Kal could see tilled fields, planted with kalash or perhaps moba root. There was no wind, but the air rushed past his face. The graylesh had settled into a rhythmic loping stride, which Kal found almost relaxing.
By now, Ail-Kar, the white sun, had risen in the west, a brilliant point of light, chasing the larger yellow sun across the sky. The latter had already reversed its course in the sky, moving westward briefly, before resuming its eastward course. Dominating both of these in size but not in brightness was Ail-Mazzoth, a huge ball ten times larger than the yellow, its dull red colour looking pale and washed out, due to the brightness of the pale blue sky. Ail-Mazzoth was the Mother figure in Kelanni faith. The ever constant one, who never moved in the sky; who ever cast a benevolent eye over her children. By the grace of the Three, he was starting to sound like an acolyte! The very thought made him laugh inwardly, which lifted his mood a little more.
Soon he had left behind signs of cultivation and was travelling through a land of brown dirt and purple scrub. Although it was early in the year, Ail-Gan had enough power in it that he was starting to feel a little thirsty, although of course, he had no water with him. He felt a twinge of conscience, wondering if his father had discovered his disappearance, and would be worried about him, but he quickly thrust the thought aside. He was not ready to go back and face the music, not just yet.
The path began to rise slowly towards the foothills, which rolled onward and upward in rising waves. In the distance, half hidden by haze, were the jagged peaks of the Tragar Mountains. Kal slowed his mount to a walk. On the right, not far from the path, were the ruins. They lay in a tumbled mélange of long-forgotten stones. Kal had explored them as a child and once found markings which he thought to be writing, but it was in no form he recognized. His curiosity piqued, he had sought out the acolyte in his anteroom after instruction the very next day.
“May I ask you a question, sir?”
The small chubby man in a grey robe looked up from his desk, and sighed. Many of the acolytes Kal remembered as patient and kind, with a good sense of humour. Golon was not one of those.
“Yes, Kal.”
“I wanted to ask about the ruins northeast of here. Is anything known about them?”
Golon blinked. “They are ruins.”
If it had been anyone else, Kal would have thought this was a joke. Kal soldiered on. “Is it known who built them?”
“Does it tell you in the sacred texts?”
Kal was far from Golon`s best student. It occurred to him that he was unwittingly setting himself up for a lecture. “I found some writing on one of the stones there.”
“What did it say?”
“I don’t know; I did not recognize the letters.”
“Then how do you know it was writing?” Kal had to admit that Golon had him there. The portly acolyte leaned back in his chair. “Well, I would say if it was not writing, then you are wasting your time, and if it was and those who did the writing suffered destruction, then what they said is of no consequence, wouldn’t you?” Golon smiled weakly.
Kal had withdrawn, defeated, like the ruins themselves. They lay there now somnolent, lit by the afternoon suns, offering no more answers than they had back then. Kal set his face, kicked his mount and rode onward, leaving his many defeats behind him.
A little while later, his eyes were following the slow glide of a distant perridon, its wings outspread seeking thermals in the thick air, when Kal suddenly caught sight of a dark shape. It floated in the air some twenty meters from the path to his left. A few moments of observation showed that it was not a hovering bird, nor was it a lap-moth. This thing, whatever it was, appeared motionless, suspended about four times his height above the ground. He tugged on the neck of the graylesh, and the animal obediently slowed to a walk, shaking its narrow head and giving a snort as it did so.
Kal directed the creature towards the object and neatly dismounted. The graylesh, spying a lush patch of purple moss, headed on over and began to nibble at it with an air of complete disinterest.
Kal`s first instinct was to ride back to the village as hard as he could and tell his father what he’d found. However, if he did that, he doubted anyone would believe him. He scarcely believed it himself. Besides, it sounded far too much like the kind of ridiculous story that a young person would invent with the aim of trying to deflect attention from his own wrongdoing and avoiding punishment. And there was something else. Whatever this was, it was he who had discovered it. If he hurriedly left the scene, it might be happened on by another person who would take the credit. So it was that Kal resolved to try and retrieve the strange floating object. But how?
Several possibilities sprang to mind, most of them comic in their lack of practicality. He briefly pictured himself trying to stand on the graylesh`s back, while jumping up to snatch the rock, but there was no way that the animal would stay still for that one. He walked beneath the stone and jumped as high as he could. The gravity allowed him to jump over twice his own height, but it was evident that he was not going to reach it that way.
He cast his eye about the immediate area. It was an area of rough heath land and small hillocks–wild, but unremarkable. He walked a short distance, looking on the ground for something he might use. Stones, but they were all too small. Then, suddenly he spied something. He pulled it loose from the sandy soil–an irregular fist-sized flint. He hefted it in the palm of his hand. Perfect.
He walked up, stretched back his arm and aimed at the airborne enigma. On the sixth attempt, he heard a “clack”, as the missile made contact. To his surprise, the floating rock was knocked sideways and fell to the ground, tumbling end over end until it rolled to a stop.
Kal walked over to where it lay, lowering himself to his haunches. It was almost jet black in colour, about twice the length of his hand. He touched it cautiously. It was slightly warm and smooth, with deep imprints into which he could have fit two of his slim fingers. He lifted it, half expecting it to go flying off on its own again, but it had apparently grown tired of its aerial activities, and sat obediently in his hands like a….rock.
Ail-Gan was moving towards the eastern horizon, signalling the onset of late afternoon. It was time to return. Kal carefully re-mounted the graylesh and stuffed the flying rock inside his tunic. It felt warm against his leathery olive skin. Whatever the thing was, he hoped it might get his father’s attention–maybe even deflect some of his wrath. He directed his mount towards the path and then right toward the village of Halceron, all thoughts of Hymarr gone.
Overhead, Ail-Kar, the white sun, gleamed mischievously.
Chapter 1
“He comes!”
A knot of a dozen or so Kelanni villagers stood in the market courtyard, eyes raised skyward. Dark clouds roiled overhead, and the rain was persistent, running down their faces and into their eyes, making it difficult to see. At the edges of the courtyard, almost melted into the shadows, were many others, pulled by curiosity and repelled by apprehension. In the centre, four downcast youths stood at either side of two laden wooden carts.
As they watched, a shadow moved across the expanse, growing silently, rapidly. It resolved into the shape of a Kelanni, dark cloak flared outwards like a bird with a single great wing. He dropped from the sky with a terrible grace and landed in the space before the knot of villagers, with the cart to his back, the cloak settling about his shoulders. He stood erect, raindrops trickling down his dark olive cheeks like false tears. Close cropped dark hair bristled on his scalp and down the back of his neck. His right hand grasped a dark wooden staff, diamond blades at each of its ends. His tail flicked from side to side.
He walked forward and cast the fold of his cloak to one side, lifting his left hand. The first three fingers were raised; the other two were bent downwards.
“Fealty and service to the Three,” he announced. His voice was hard, confident.
“Fealty and service,” chorused the group, raggedly.
“Which of you is headman?”
A middle-aged villager dressed in plain tan jerkin and breeches stepped forward. He was balding, with a thin, lean face and a thin, lean voice. “I am called Boran. May I know the name of Prophet’s Keltar?”
The dark man ignored him, and turned to the carts. “Why are these not harnessed to graylesh? Were you expecting my soldiers to drag them all the way to Chalimar? Or perhaps you had that privilege in mind for these children of yours? They look to me as if they could scarcely lift a plate of food.”
The man called Boran broke in solicitously. “Forgive me, Lord. Your presence was not expected for another half hour. The animals are being led here as we speak.”
There was a rhythmic tramping from the entrance to the market place. A dozen soldiers entered in ranked pairs, causing villagers to push against one another in their efforts to scatter. The fact that the Keltar had been willing to descend from the sky alone and ahead of his escort seemed only to reinforce his contempt for the villagers.
Following them were two men, each leading a graylesh. They proceeded to harness the animals to the carts, while the Captain of the escort barked orders and the soldiers took up position at the front and van. The rain began to ease a little and with it, the drumming of raindrops against the packed earth. As the clouds parted slightly, the dull reddish glow of Ail-Mazzoth began to seep through like a wound.
Boran took a nervous step forward. “May I offer my Lord some refreshment at my home? I would be honoured indeed–”
The Keltar turned without a word and struck Boran with the back of his left hand. The headman went down, sprawling in the dirt. No-one moved to help him.
The Keltar turned back to the carts. “Get these things out of here,” he bellowed.
“Hold!” cried a voice from above.
Perched on the rooftop, a hooded figure could be seen, limned against Ail-Mazzoth`s reddish glow. The figure leaped from the gable, dark cloak flaring behind him, and landed in a crouch in front of the Keltar. He straightened and pushed back his hood. The stranger was tall, with hard-set blue eyes and a mouth that quirked slightly, as if ready to smile at any moment. His speckled olive face was topped by waves of sandy hair. His right hand gripped a diamond tipped staff, like the Keltar`s.
The soldiers went for their weapons but were stopped in their tracks by the Keltar, who raised his left hand without taking his eyes from the stranger. “Who are you?” he barked. “What is your business here?”
The stranger nodded at the carts and the dejected looking youths. “May I ask where you are taking these?”
“I am the Prophet’s Keltar. His word is not to be questioned by anyone. I will know who you are and how you bear the trappings of Keltar. Answer me!”
The ensuing silence was filled only by the light drumming of raindrops, and the impatient snorting of the graylesh. The townspeople stood like statues in the deep crimson and black shadows of the courtyard. Puddles were forming surreptitiously in small depressions in the earth.
“Who I am is…unimportant. I would ask that you release these young people.” The stranger’s tone was firm and even.
“Impossible! This is the Prophet’s tribute.” The Keltar pointed his staff at the stranger. You will surrender that cloak immediately, and accompany us to the keep at Chalimar for questioning.” The Keltar had moved his hands either side of the balancing point of his weapon.
“I regret that I must decline the Prophet’s kind invitation.” The stranger gave a slight bow, giving his reply a mocking edge. “I must also insist that the young people remain here. I am sure the Prophet will not miss them.”
“You will come with us. Now,” the Keltar bellowed, propelling himself forward and swinging his staff at the other’s head. The stranger took a step back and brought up his staff with both hands to parry the force of the blow. The two staffs collided with a crack and they stood, locked together in a strained tableau, as if preparing to decide the fate of their world.
~
Filthy barrog-swine! Shann`s pale olive cheeks flushed, and her intense hazel eyes blazed like twin suns. She stood beneath the overhang of a fruit vendor’s, dressed in her slate grey kitchen hand’s garb. Small, even for her age, she had a delicate chin and a delicate mouth that would have seemed pretty if she smiled, which she seldom did.
She watched as the Keltar fell from the sky and began shouting demands. She saw the cloaked figure knock Boltan to the ground and felt the force of the blow. Her hand moved involuntarily to her face, as she recalled the day the Prophet’s soldiers had come for her parents.
She was no more than eight turns of the season. A small round face, eyes streaked with tears, she had clung desperately to her mother’s tresses, howling in confusion, until a soldier lost patience and pried her loose, knocking her to the ground with the back of his leather gauntlet. She never saw her parents again.
Not long after that, her life at the Inn began. Poltann and Gallar, who were distantly related to her, had decided to take her in, for which she was expected to work. The kitchens were hot and stifling and the work was hard, but she had not been treated unkindly. She had asked about her parents, of course, but had never received a direct answer. It bothered her that she could not recall their faces clearly. Some nights she lay in her cot desperately trying to remember, as if the mental effort would somehow bring them back, and they would stand before her and take her home and all would be as it was. She rubbed her cheek.
She heard a cry from a rooftop east of the courtyard. Her eyes followed the other bystanders, as another Keltar descended through the falling rain and alighted in front of the first. She strained to listen to the interchange, but the newcomer was more softly spoken and hard to make out above the drumming of the rain. She thought she heard him demanding that the tributes be set free. Suddenly the first Keltar leaped towards the second, their staffs clashing furiously. Her eyes widened in disbelief, transfixed by the scene, as the two men strained together.
Suddenly, the tall stranger shoved with all his strength, causing the other to stumble backwards, and then flared his cloak, leaping into the air. The other Keltar recovered his balance and followed suit. They met in mid-air and the courtyard rang with blow and counterblow, as their staffs repeatedly made contact.
By now, the crowd in the courtyard had woken as if from a dream. There were screams. Most were backing away, or trying to escape through the nearest street or alleyway. The graylesh were shifting nervously. The soldiers’ hands were at the hilts of their weapons, but they seemed unsure whether they should disobey their previous instructions and try to intervene somehow. Shann stood her ground, following every motion, as if her life were wagered on the outcome.
The first Keltar grasped one end of his staff and viciously thrust the diamond pointed tip towards the stranger. The stranger avoided the thrust, tumbling through the air as he did so. He landed awkwardly, falling to his side on the rain soaked ground. Shann heard herself gasp as the first Keltar descended rapidly. As he did so, he reached into a hidden recess and drew out a small silver coloured globe, hurling it to the ground. The silver ball bounced once and rolled to a halt in front of the stranger. It was emitting a whine, which steadily rose in pitch. It exploded in a blinding white flash. The stranger raised his left arm against the blast. He shook his head, scrambled to get his legs under him and rapidly backed away to Shann`s right. She could see that the side of his face was smeared with mud. He pressed his eyes shut and shook his head once again. The first Keltar landed gracefully and began whirling his staff hand over hand in front of him, like a spinning shield. “Surrender now, or die!” Shann heard him cry. He brought the spinning staff to a halt, grasping it with both hands in front of him, and then rushed at the stranger again.
The stranger had planted his legs and held out his staff, so as to meet the blow head on. However, the first Keltar reversed one hand on the staff, and met the stranger’s weapon with an upward, twisting motion, which tore it out of his grasp. Shann watched as the staff sailed through the air and landed with a splat a few steps from where she was standing. Without thinking, she ran forward, bent down and grabbed the staff.
The stranger was stumbling towards her; behind him the first Keltar was advancing in their direction in an unhurried fashion. Shann sprinted towards the stranger, holding out the staff and as he took it, their eyes met. His were blue and sharp as sapphires. One side of his face was smeared with dirt and the other cheek was scratched. His sandy hair was plastered to his head by the rain. He smiled at her in a quizzical fashion; then spun round to face his opponent once more. Shann backed away. The combatants briefly circled one another in silence as the rain gently fell.
The first Keltar launched another frontal assault, but this time the stranger was ready. He feinted to the man’s left. The first Keltar brought his staff down on empty space, whilst the stranger ducked low to the man’s right and behind him, slashing with his staff. The diamond blade connected with the upper part of his cloak, raking across it and tearing it to ribbons. The first Keltar howled with rage and spun on his attacker. The stranger sprang away but was a fraction of a second too late. The first Keltar swung his weapon from one end, gaining maximum reach, the blade slicing through the stranger’s side as he turned. The side of his mouth twisted in triumph.
Clutching his side, the stranger, ran toward Shann. He reached inside a pocket and grabbed Shann`s wrist, pressing something into the palm of her hand. The object was cold and sticky. As she closed her fingers around it, he breathed one word into her ear. “Run!”
The stranger took a step back and jumped, pressing something at his left shoulder. His cloak flared outwards and he rose up, landing on a rooftop behind her. He leaped once more and was gone. The first Keltar jumped and touched his shoulder, but his ruined cloak stayed flat. He fell to the ground, stumbling forward and uttering a curse.
The Keltar turned his face to the rooftop where the stranger had disappeared, and then towards Shann. There was a flash of lightning, followed by a clap of thunder, which seemed to rouse Shann from her stupor. She turned on her heel, and bolted down the nearest alley.
The Keltar pointed his staff and yelled at the soldiers. “After her!”
~
Shann pelted down the narrow alleyway, her heart pounding like a smith’s hammer. She could hear the cries and curses of the pursuing soldiers, but resisted the urge to turn and look. She concentrated instead on avoiding the boxes, barrels, bits of wood and other detritus that littered the passageway. There was a crash and a splintering sound behind her, followed by more cursing.
Shann’s mind began to race. Corte was her town, the town she had been born in, lost her parents in, made friends in, lived and worked in. She knew every building, every street, every stone in the place, or so it seemed. Her internal map kicked in. Two thirds of the way down the alley, the way was transected by another passage, which ran along the rear of the properties facing Arian Street. Narrow twisting routes were likely to give her an advantage. Fortunately, Corte had more than its fair share of those.
She ducked left and sprinted on past the backs of the squat houses with their stone roofs. The Inn where she worked was three streets over. Can’t lead them there.
Suddenly, she heard the sound of tramping boots from a connecting passageway up ahead. She froze in panic. You fool, she thought to herself angrily. Some of the soldiers had obviously made for Arian Street, and then cut back through the next alleyway to head her off. They had her trapped.
Shann cast about wildly. To her left was a sheer stone wall; to her right, a fence leading to a back yard–her only option. She jumped, grabbing the rough wooden panel with both hands, hauling herself up, scrambling over and dropping to the other side without pause. She landed awkwardly, pain lancing through her right ankle. She grimaced, cursing her own stupidity again, and hobbled towards the building, her teeth clenched.
She could already hear a commotion in the alley. The rain had all but stopped, and the sky was starting to clear. By Ail-Mazzoth`s dim red light, she saw double doors low to the ground. She pulled at a handle and a door creaked open to reveal the top of a ladder descending into darkness. Shann lowered herself into the gap and quickly pulled the door shut over her. Using two hands and her one good leg, she descended until her foot felt level ground.
The air smelt musty. Her Kelanni eyes adjusted quickly to the lower light and she spied what looked like a pile of wood in one corner. Shann hopped over to it and dropped down, behind the pile. Her pounding heart began to slow a little. Her ankle yelled for attention, but she ignored it. She pulled some pieces of wood over her and lay still.
Voices. “…climb …are you sure? Captain, over here!” A scuffing of boots against earth. The door to the basement creaked open. “Berin, bring a tinderbox, quickly.” The sound of a match flaring. Shann tried to make herself smaller, pressing herself into the earth.
Then another voice. “What are you doing there?”
It must be the owner, Shann thought, none too happy at the invasion of his property. The cellar door banged shut. Muffled voices continued outside. I have to get out of here, now. Next to the wood pile, steps led up, no doubt to the main part of the property. There was a risk that she might run into someone who would raise the alarm, but she had no other choice. She shucked off her wood covering, and struggled up the steps. Lifting the latch, she opened the door as slowly as she dared and then slipped through into a dim unlit room. The door at the other end led to a narrow hallway. She limped down the hallway, opened the door at the end and she was in Arian Street.
She looked rapidly this way and that, but the street was deserted. Must get to the Inn, she thought determinedly. Hobbling as fast as she could and breathing hard against the pain, Shann headed for the only place she knew as home.
~
Shann slipped into the Inn’s back entrance, closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment. Her kitchen garb was wet through and heavy and stuck to her skin. Her short black hair was soaked and matted. Exhausted, she closed her eyes. Have to keep moving. She bent down and massaged her ankle. It felt swollen, but the pain didn’t seem as bad. She moved through the kitchen and climbed the stairwell at the side. Her small sleeping room was at the end of the hallway. Inside, she lit the tiny lamp and grabbed a cloth bag, throwing it on her cot. Then she moved about quickly, locating a change of clothes and her few meagre possessions.
The door to her room opened. Gallar was standing at the entrance. She was short and slight like Shann, her face lined with age but kindly. Her white hair was tied straight back. She wore a tan nightgown and bore a handheld lamp. As the flickering light fell on Shann, Gallar`s face fell in concern. “What happened? You look terrible.”
Shann felt a lump rise in her throat, but she didn’t look up. Instead, she continued shoving things into the bag. “I have to go away for a while, Gall.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have to go away. I will be back as soon as I can.”
“Where are you going?”
“Lind.”
“Lind, why Lind?”
“It’s just…something happened tonight and I have to leave.”
“Why? What happened?” Gallar stepped into the room. Shann turned to face her, putting pressure on her bad ankle and wincing as she did so.
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.” Shann turned away again, but Gallar grabbed her by both shoulders, forcing Shann to face her. Her visage was etched in concern.
“What happened to you?” she insisted.
Shann swallowed. “I tried to help a man, and now there are soldiers chasing me.”
“Man–what man?”
“I don’t know. Look Gall, I don’t have much time.”
Gallar looked at the girl intently, seeming to come to an inward decision. She released the girl’s shoulders. “Wait here,” she said, and ducked out through the door.
Released, Shann`s muscles seemed to give way. She sat down hard on her cot, her head bowed. She shut her eyes, and her mind replayed the events in the courtyard, but they were like shards; the shattered pieces of a dream that made no sense. Who was the stranger? Why would Keltar, the eyes and ears of the Prophet himself, fight one another? But in truth, it was her own actions that confused her the most. She had moved without hesitation to come to the aid of a man whose life and motives she did not know. Only that he seemed to be willing to fight for people who were powerless to help themselves. People like Shann herself.
With a start, she suddenly recalled the object he had pressed into her hand. She opened her eyes. I must have dropped it in the confusion, she thought. Her hand went to the pocket at the front of her dress and she felt a hard shape. She had not even remembered putting it there. She reached in and pulled it out. It seemed to pull away slightly as if it had some built-in resistance. A disk, less than half the size of her palm, it was stained with a hardened, milky white substance. Blood. She recalled that stranger had been injured before his escape.
A basin lay near her cot, with a little water in it. She rinsed the blood off, clouding the water, and dried the disk on her dress. The disk was ebony black; featureless, with no markings of any kind. It seemed too smooth to the touch–her finger appeared almost to slide off it. And there was something else. As she viewed it from different angles, it seemed to have a depth that her eye could not quite grasp. Dark curves and whorls appeared to move over its surface…
There was a sound at the door, and Shann hastily thrust the strange object back into her pocket. It was Gallar, bearing a basin filled with fresh water and what looked like towels. Without saying a word, she began to help Shann clean off the excesses of dirt and grime. Shann changed her clothing, and then Gallar turned her attention to the girl’s bruised ankle. She produced some white bandage material.
As she wrapped the bandage carefully around the affected limb, Shann suddenly felt like a little girl again. It was not much more than a turn of the season after Gallar and Poltann had taken her in that she had fallen headlong while playing. She grazed both knees, and arrived at the kitchen door howling. The woman named Gallar had bathed her cuts and then, without a word, had rocked the little girl in her lap until she fell silent.
She sat silent once more as the older woman worked. “This may hurt a bit.” She tightened it and tied it off. Shann did not wince.
Gallar stood up, brushing down the front of her dress. “The soldiers are searching house by house from Arian Street. Take this.” Shann glanced inside the small sack, and saw bread and fruit. Gallar continued hurriedly, “Go down to the stables. Take the graylesh that is already harnessed. Go south to Fiveway Point, then head for the western gate.” Shann looked down and nodded. Her eyes started to well up with tears. This woman, though not her mother, had been a mother to her in every way that mattered. Gallar took the girl into her arms, and the two held each other fast and wept silently for a long moment.
They parted, and Shann wiped away the tears with the back of one hand.
“Promise me you will come back.” Gallar’s voice was pleading.
Shann had no idea when or how she might be able to fulfil it, but she gave her answer without hesitation. “I promise.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 2
Keris sat straight in the saddle and checked her bearings. Ail-Gan, the yellow sun, was already climbing high in the sky. The huge ball that was Ail-Mazzoth loomed motionless as ever, a dull crimson, transected by dark bands. Ail-Kar, the white sun, lay beneath the western horizon, but would be rising ere long.
She gazed off to the left, searching for Dagmar Tower. She spotted it, jutting up through the morning haze, and noted its position relative to the road on which she was travelling. She pursed her lips. This won’t do at all.
Kicking the graylesh`s striped sides, she urged the animal into a loping stride, and caught up with the van of a small convoy, consisting of two loaded wooden carts pulled by graylesh and four dejected looking “tribute” captives, two male and two female. The captives were flanked by two soldiers in leather armour, augmented by iron studs. Four more soldiers were posted to the front and rear.
Keris rode to the front of the line, and shouted, “Rodann!”
One of the soldiers turned to face her, his armour dusty from the road. He had shoulder length dark hair, a hawkish face, and eyes that squinted against the suns as he looked up at Keris. “My Lady?”
“Rodann, pick up the pace. At this rate, we won’t gain Chalimar Keep until dusk.”
“Yes, my Lady.” He turned to the others and began barking orders. Animals and people were urged forward roughly. Keris cast her eyes over those who had been designated “tribute,” honoured with the privilege of entering into the service of the Prophet. They did not look very privileged. They shuffled along with heads and eyes downcast, half-blinded by the dust from their passage. They appeared dirty, dishevelled and uncaring. Keris wondered what their lives had been before. Farm workers, artisans, herdsfolk–it hardly mattered. All of that was gone now. Some might be engaged as servants at the keep. More likely they would end up at the ore camps in the Southern Desert or one of the processing facilities. She noted in passing that each of them wore a harness, tied at the back, with a breastplate at the front. She had not seen tributes arrayed that way before, but keeping them in order was the province of the soldier Captain, and she did not feel inclined to inquire into such minutiae.
Keris turned away from the convoy, and urged her mount forward, riding ahead a short distance. Pulling up, she scanned the road ahead. A cloud of dust was approaching from the other direction. Gradually, it resolved into a slow moving cart.
She heard Rodann`s voice behind her. “A wagon, my Lady.”
“I can see that, thank you.”
Rodann caught up to her position and stood by her mount’s flank. “The silver, my Lady. We have standing orders to search all transports leaving Chalimar.”
Keris did not respond. Her face was expressionless as she watched the cart’s languid approach. It was pulled by a scrawny looking graylesh and seemed to have three… no, four occupants.
Rodann pressed on. “Should I apprehend them and have my men conduct the search?”
If these are silver thieves, then they have surely fallen on hard times, thought Keris wryly. About a week ago, an official convoy bearing silver astrias to Chalimar had turned up one strongbox short. In Keris` opinion, it was far more likely to have been a bookkeeping error than an organised theft, but the order had gone out to conduct random stop and search nonetheless.
Keris turned to face Rodann. “No, we have lost too much time already. You will take charge of the escort and make best speed towards the Keep. I will conduct the search and catch up with you in due course.”
Rodann nodded and made to rejoin the caravan. The track ahead carried on straight for a distance, and then bore to the left and came back on itself as it started to rise through a canyon to the higher ground on which Chalimar stood. If she forsook the road, she could cut across country, and meet up with the convoy farther ahead, but there were gullies and ravines in that direction–too difficult a terrain to ride a graylesh over.
She dismounted and started to rummage through one of the saddle packs, retrieving her flying cloak. It was neatly folded, of a close woven material and black as pitch. To the Kelanni it was a symbol of the Prophet’s authority–something to be feared. She was sure it was for that reason that many Keltar seemed to wear their cloaks constantly, even when eating or performing routine duties at the keep. To Keris it was a tool, nothing more. Besides, she found the harness and shoulder mechanism heavy and restricting.
She swept the cloak free, and draped it over her shoulders, making the necessary shoulder and harness attachments. The soldiers marching by regarded her as if she were a curiosity–a stranger in their midst. Which is exactly what I am. She salvaged another small canvas bag and briefly checked the contents before tying it about her waist. Preparations complete, she handed the reins of the graylesh to one of the soldiers.
Waving the convoy on, she stepped in front of the oncoming cart, with one hand raised.
“Hold!”
The cart pulled to a halt. Keris moved to the side. The cart was drawn by a graylesh, but the animal looked half starved. Its normally graceful snout seemed unnaturally thin and sunken, and Keris could see its ribs poking through. The Kelanni seated in the cart did not seem to have fared much better. The driver had a young face, made to seem prematurely aged by lines born of work and worry. He wore a rough shirt and shabby trousers. Behind him were a woman–his wife, it seemed, and two girls. It was the girls who caught Keris` eye. They were both barefoot and had long, untidy fair hair. One, the younger, was clutching her mother as if it meant her very life. The older sat by herself and eyed Keris with what looked like pure defiance. That could so easily have been me, Keris couldn’t help thinking.
“Name and destination.”
“Amion.” The man`s voice was a thin rasp. “We are headed for Saria. We were hoping to find field work on one of the estates.” Amion`s wife shifted uncomfortably, but the older daughter was unmoving, not taking her eyes off the Keltar.
“You are from Chalimar?”
“Yes, Keltar.”
“There has been a theft at Chalimar. I will be conducting a search of your goods.”
“But Keltar,” his pitch rose to a thin pleading. “We have nothing of value!”
“Get down, please.”
The man climbed down resignedly and helped his family to disembark. The younger daughter still clung to her mother and looked as if she were about to burst into tears. Why am I doing this, thought Keris? Words about duty and appearances being deceptive came to mind, but sounded hollow and unconvincing in her head. Nevertheless, she was thorough and methodical. The family stood by, not daring to make a sound. Their possessions were meagre indeed; mainly worn-out bedding and worn-out clothes. She found no money and certainly no silver. She stepped back and motioned for the family to climb back into their cart. “On your way!”
Keris made to turn away but caught the eye of the eldest daughter once more. It felt as if she were looking at her younger self through a long, dark tunnel. She would have been not much older than this girl when her parents, with too many mouths to feed, had placed her in service to a local landowner. There, with sharp wits and determination her only assets, she had earned a grudging respect and ultimately come to the attention of Mordal, the man who had changed her life and ultimately become her mentor. What will be the future for this one, she reflected, this “other me”?
She reached into the canvas sack at her waist and tossed the mother a flatbread and a skin of water, registering the surprised look on the woman’s face. Without waiting for response, Keris turned away from the image of her past and began running to meet the escort where the path to her future lay. Behind her she heard a woman’s voice.
“Blessings of the Three to you, Lady! May Ail-Gan guide your steps…”
Keris resisted the temptation to laugh.
~
Running into open country, Keris leaped upward and flared her cloak, feeling for the pressure from any latent lodestone in the rocky landscape. A deposit to her left. She pivoted in the air, fully retracting the bronze shield in her cloak and exposing the upper layer of tempered lodestone. The repulsive force pushed Keris higher and to the right. As she flew, she sought to feel pressure from any other naturally occurring source. Finding none, she allowed her flight to bring her down to earth in a low trajectory arc. She hit the ground and continued at a loping pace.
Sensing a deposit ahead of her, she angled towards it until she felt it passing under her, and then leaped and flared once more.
The landscape was rough and uneven, as if a giant hand had grasped it at one end and shaken it like a sheet. Boulders were strewn about beneath her like the giant’s discarded playthings. Here and there, a stunted tree or a tangled bush clung stubbornly to a patch of miserly soil. The sky was bright, with all three suns shining forth, broken only by a few wisps of cloud. Keris began to feel hot from her exertions. She landed gracefully on a shelf of red-brown sandstone and reached for a sip of water.
The ground was starting to rise upward to meet the plateau on which Chalimar stood. Far behind her now, the road she had left disappeared into the narrow rift which would convey the tributes and their escort to higher ground. She only needed to bear a little to the right, and negotiate the escarpment to reach the place where the road widened out onto flat terrain. She moved off again, blipping her neck control and scanning for the nearest deposit that would allow her to take to the air once more.
A short while later she stood atop the escarpment. A sudden breeze had sprung up, causing her flying cloak to flutter restlessly, and stirring her long raven hair. She brushed her hair back from her eyes. There seemed to be no sign of the escort. A pair of mylar birds wheeled lazily overhead, searching out rising thermals. Ail-Gan was near to Ail-Mazzoth, washing out its colour to a pale red. Ail-Kar was well above the western horizon.
Running forward once again, she leaped, adjusting her shoulder control until she felt the familiar repulsive push of a lodestone deposit, and then opened up her cloak, as she sailed through the light gravity on a wide arc. She angled toward a low rise in the barren terrain, letting herself descend to the ground gracefully, and walked the few steps to the crest.
Keris could see the road now, only a few hundred feet away, but there was still no sign of the escort. Finally, after looking around, she glimpsed them some distance ahead. But there was something very wrong. The escort was not moving, the soldiers standing in a knot before it. Then all of a sudden, Keris saw a movement out of the corner of her eye to her right–a darker shape moving erratically away across the landscape. One of the tributes had made a break for it. Why were the soldiers not in pursuit? Then, another movement from near where the carts stood. A small shape arced up and through the air towards the running figure. She watched, transfixed, as the projectile followed its trajectory and then impacted noiselessly. The figure dropped and lay motionless.
Keris was running now, down the other slope and towards where the fallen figure lay. She flared her cloak impatiently, leaped, ran on and leapt again, finally detecting a deposit and pushing against it to gain impetus.
Three of the soldiers were trotting over to where the prone figure lay. As she arrived, one of them, Rodann, was retrieving his weapon, whilst the others were chatting animatedly and clapping him on the back. Keris landed in front of them, and the conversation tailed off. She regarded the victim. It was one of the men; the younger of the two, she remembered. He was laying face down, the wound made by the shuriken clearly visible in his back. His sandy hair moved lightly in the breeze. Keris suddenly felt weak, bile rising up into her throat. Her stomach was knotting. Why did this happen? Closing her eyes with her jaw clenched, she fought to regain control. Finally, she opened her eyes again and turned to face Rodann. His face was unreadable.
“What happened here?” she demanded.
Rodann spoke up, “Escaped tribute, my Lady.”
“He is dead! You did not think to chase him down?” The two soldiers with Rodann shifted uneasily, contaminated with his guilt.
“Apologies my lady, I should have explained to you that we are testing a new method of restraint for the tributes. They have been fitted with lodestone breastplates.”
To impede their progress, she realised. The act of running would cause the lodestone to push the man backwards, the harder he tried to run. He probably panicked, not realising what was happening to him and only pushed the harder. But why kill him? So he could not tell others.
All of a sudden she was struck by a horrific thought. Rodann planned this all along. He had been looking for a way to test his asinine devices. Now a man is dead, and I am responsible. Perhaps someone had put him up to it? The keep had a complex political structure, and her rapid advancement in the ranks of Keltar had made her her fair share of enemies. She thrust the thought to the back of her mind. There was nothing to do now except take charge of the situation. She rounded on Rodann.
“Get back to the others now and remove those breastplates. You will watch the tributes closely, and if they flee, you will chase them down and bring them back. I do not intend to lose another. Do you understand?”
“As you command.” Rodann pursed his lips; then motioned to the other soldiers and they began walking back to where the carts stood.
Keris stood, looking down at the fallen man for a moment. Then she turned and followed the soldiers, her flying cloak flaccid about her shoulders like a useless appendage.
~
The wheels of the carts clattered across cobbled stone as the tribute convoy passed under massive wooden gates and into the great city of Chalimar. Keris had packed away her cloak and was riding the graylesh once more. Following the incident on the road, the remainder of the journey had been conducted without incident and in near silence. Her first instinct had been to report the matter to Mordal, but she was certain it would be a waste of time. There was also the fact that it was likely that she would have to work with Rodann again and it was never good to have an enemy as your Captain. Nevertheless, she resolved that she would have to watch the man more closely in future.
The late afternoon streets were eerily quiet. The city under the Prophet`s “protection” was a depressing place outside of the keep. The houses were of rough stone, with peaked wooden roofs, closely packed together. There were wooden shutters over most of the windows, despite the fact that it was day. A few people glanced nervously at the soldiers and their three tributes, but most ignored them and hurried on. They were passing through the merchants’ quarter and she saw that most of the stalls were empty. The rest of the sellers were engaged in the act of packing away their wares. It felt as if most of the citizens of this once proud city were cowering inside their homes.
They passed through the narrow streets which eventually widened out into a spacious main square. Buildings flanked the square on three sides. They were taller than those on the outskirts, with stone roofs, and up to three stories high. The fourth side was dominated by the Great Cathedral of Chalimar.
Easily the most impressive building in the city, more so than even the keep itself, the cathedral was dominated by three immense spires– one yellow, one red and one white–symbolising the unity of the Three Suns. The cathedral building itself was constructed of immense stones, with narrow slits which admitted only slivers of outside light. There were wide stone steps, leading to a huge wooden door which was firmly shut. Above the door was the familiar symbol of three concentric rings, above which, someone had more recently carved a flame, the symbol of the Prophet. The Three and The One. The addendum looked distinctly out of place–more like vandalism than devotion. Keris rode past and on to the wide uphill street that led to the keep itself.
The gate of the keep swung open to meet them and the small procession clattered into the mustering courtyard. Keris dismounted the graylesh and handed the reins to a soldier. She turned to see Borian, the Gatemaster, walking over to meet her. He was a large man with close cropped dark hair and an easy smile. His skin was a dark olive, and he swished his tail confidently.
“Greetings, Keris. I trust your trip went well.” He cast his eye briefly over the caravan. Servants of the keep had arrived and were busy unhitching the animals, whilst the soldier escort stood together in a knot, speaking in low tones. The three “tributes” were glancing nervously about them, no doubt fearing the worst. Borian turned back to Keris. “Orders. I have been told to tell you that you are to report to Mordal in his chambers as soon as you arrive.”
Keris sighed slightly. “I see. Thank you, Borian.” The man nodded and headed back to the barbican. What now? She had a number of pressing activities she had in mind to be getting on with, the first and most important of which was going to be to stick her head into a bucket of cold water. Well, it looks as if that particular luxury will have to wait.
She started for the keep’s main door. Passing through the atrium, she ascended the central stairs and made for Mordal`s office. She knocked once and then entered.
Mordal sat on a stool behind his desk, seemingly preoccupied with work. He was bald, with glabrous face and small, dark, piercing eyes. He wore a plain scarlet tunic and red-brown trousers. A flying cloak was draped carelessly over another stool near the door. His office always seemed to exude an air of casual efficiency, much like the man himself. The walls were inlaid with ornate wooden panelling and lined with rows of leatherbound books. More books were stacked on the desk, some of them open. A small window behind his head afforded a view of the refectory and the garden.
Keris spoke up. “Fealty and service to the Three.”
The man looked up from his desk. “And to the One.”
“And to the One,” she added.
“Report.”
“Tariff exacted from Hassun. Two carts of produce. Moba and Kassian mainly. However, harvest last year was poor and their stores are depleted. We could be looking at starvation in the eastern settlements in a half a turn or so. Three tributes delivered. One lost en route through…an accident.” Mordal looked up at that and seemed as if he was about to say something, but checked himself. “Rodann is billeting them prior to induction. I am to leave tomorrow for Sakima before Ail-Gan rises.” Keris finished and waited patiently for Mordal`s response.
“No.”
“I don’t–”
“I have charged Niall with that particular task. I have another mission for you.” He stood up, walked around his desk and stood next to her, placing his hand on the small of her back. “Walk with me.”
She followed as he led her out and down the stairs. They went through a side doorway, and Keris found herself stepping into the garden which lay beneath the window of Mordal`s office.
Bounded by the keep itself, the refectory and a high outer wall, the garden was its own private world. The section adjacent to the refectory was given over to vegetables and herbs. However, this early in the year there was not much to see other than neatly tilled soil. Inside the kitchen area, there was an area where young plants were forced, so as to ensure fresh vegetables for those of eminence within the keep’s administrative structure.
The rest of the garden was given over to low shrubs, flower beds and curving walkways. As she walked with Mordal, however, her mind’s eye saw not the serenity of growing things, but a lean girl in a cart with eyes of hatred, and a man lying face down on the ground, his fair hair stirring in the breeze…
She was shaken out of her reverie as Mordal suddenly broke the silence.
“Do you remember when you first came here?” He paused, and then continued. “It was more than twenty turns ago. You were young then; wary of everyone, but curious.” He laughed lightly. “Your eyes were wide like a young child’s, taking everything in, missing nothing.” Indeed, the city had seemed almost overwhelming, with its massive cathedral and daunting keep. Half the time, she had wanted to cower in the corner like some frightened gundir pup.
“I watched you carefully,” Mordal continued, as if speaking to himself. “You said little but you were sharp and learned quickly. And then you got into a fight with…what was his name?”
“Torinn.” Keris remembered the day as if it were yesterday. Torinn was a loudmouth and a bully. When she saw him roughing up a younger boy, she had thrown caution to the winds and set about him like a wild scaran beast. It was an act of nobility, courage and utter stupidity. “He beat me to a pulp.”
Mordal laughed out loud. “Of course he did! He was a head taller than you and twice your size! But that was only after he recovered from the shock of being pummelled to the ground by a slip of a girl. That was the day I made the decision to recommend your induction for training as Keltar.” He smiled wryly. “I remember I had a long argument with Lorcar over that. You were too young by almost a full turn, but in the end I beat him down. It’s a decision I have never regretted.”
“I am grateful for all you have done for me, my Lord.”
Mordal blew through his lips and waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense, it is we who should thank you. You have worked hard and used your talents in furtherance of the Prophet’s cause.”
“I live to serve.”
“As do we all.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Well then, to the business at hand.” They had reached a small arbour near the centre of the garden. A sweet scent emanated from a profusion of yellow blossoms. There were stools placed conveniently, but Mordal did not sit; rather, he stood facing the young woman.
“There was an incident two days ago in Corte. Garai was collecting tariff and tributes when he was suddenly attacked by a man posing as Keltar.”
“Posing?” inquired Keris.
Mordal shrugged. “He had the trappings of Keltar; the flying cloak and staff. However, he was beaten rather easily by all accounts and fled using the cloak. Garai tried to give chase but his cloak was ‘accidentally damaged.’ Personally I think that the impostor gave Garai rather more trouble than he is willing to admit. At any rate, he seems to have been aided and abetted by a young woman. The soldier escort gave chase but lost her in the town and did not have time to complete a house to house search before they were due to return.”
Keris frowned as she listened to Mordal`s account. It seemed inconceivable that anyone would have the gall to impersonate a Keltar.
“The Prophet is away from the keep, visiting Persillan in the north, where he is due to ascend to the heavens in a few days. We Ringed him of course, to apprise him of the situation, but he is not overly concerned. There has been no organised rebellion since the revolt at Persillan, and that was more than ten turns ago. Nevertheless, two companies of soldiers under Captain Sallidor have been dispatched to Corte to investigate and track down the assailants.”
“Sallidor will no doubt do a thorough job,” Keris offered.
“Sallidor couldn’t find a Utharan Mammoth if you placed it in front of him and tied a sign round its neck reading ‘Utharan Mammoth.’ No, Sallidor will knock a few heads together, but he will turn up nothing of significance…However, this does furnish us with an opportunity.”
“Opportunity?”
“Indeed.” Mordal smiled weakly. “I am getting along in years now, Keris. Soon the time will come to name my successor.” He looked at her steadily. “I would like it to be you.”
Keris was silent for a moment, trying to absorb the import of Mordal`s words. She had never thought of herself in such a role. Indeed she was quite certain that no-one else in the keep had either. In fact there would probably be quite a number, and she could rattle off their names, who would be shocked or even angered by the suggestion. Finally she spoke. “My Lord, there are a great many others with more experience than I–”
“But they do not have your insight. Your instincts. I need to know that after I am gone, the Prophet’s mission will be in good hands.”
Keris found herself lost for words.
“However,” he continued, “I need to convince the Prophet that you are indeed the right person for this task.” Mordal put a hand on her shoulder. “To that end, I want you to go to Corte. You can pose as common traveller or a merchant. Make discreet enquiries and find the conspirators. I do not care what happens to them, whether you take them alive or bring back the bodies, but we need to know exactly how they managed to obtain the cloak and the staff.”
“This is to be your task and yours alone, Keris. You will report directly to me. When you return, I will bring your efforts to the attention of the Prophet and make my recommendation. I have every confidence in your success.”
Keris nodded. “I shall begin preparations immediately, my Lord.” She made to turn away, but something stopped her.
“Mordal?”
“Yes, Keris?”
“Does the Lord Prophet really ascend to the heavens?”
“Indeed,” Mordal replied. “I have seen it with my own eyes.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 3
The clouds had begun to part and were tinged with Ail-Mazzoth`s soft reddish glow as Shann urged her mount towards Lind. There were no lights visible from the town, which lay in somnolent shadow.
The apprehension she had felt during her flight from Corte had slowly been replaced by exhaustion, so that after a while, she no longer checked over her shoulder for signs of pursuit. She simply clung to the sides of her mount and rode on, as if she and the graylesh were the only things left in the world.
As she approached the edge of the town, she eased herself off the graylesh`s back, half falling off in the attempt. Her bad ankle hit the ground, and she went down on one knee, grimacing in pain. Gingerly, she eased herself up and checked her surroundings.
The street she was in seemed to consist mainly of stables, workshops or warehouses; it was hard to tell in the dim light. She did not have anything approaching a plan, but she knew she could not go on much farther and she didn’t know anyone in this town. I need a place to hole up, at least until morning, she decided.
She started towards an adjacent building, when suddenly there was a sound behind her. Footsteps splashing through puddles on the hard packed road. She saw an open crate and hobbled over to it as fast as she could. She climbed in and lay still. A smell assailed her nostrils. Lining the bottom of the crate was a layer of moba root and most of them seemed to have gone bad. She fought down the urge to gag.
As she tried to lie still, a light appeared at the corner of her vision. An oil lamp was casting a gentle radiance. She looked up and saw a freckled round face bending over the crate. The face was smiling disarmingly, and even more bizarrely, was topped off by a jauntily placed cap.
The lips on the face moved. “Good evening!”
I must have fallen asleep or passed out, Shann concluded. But her ankle still hurt, so that didn’t seem right.
All of a sudden, the nose on the face sniffed and its expression screwed up. “Pooooohhhh, what have you gotten yourself into?”
A hand reached down and Shann grasped it without thinking, allowing it to pull her up. The hand and the face belonged to a short man, not much taller than she. He had wavy brown hair, and what seemed like a permanently amused expression. He appeared neat and well dressed, which made Shann wonder if he were a clothier.
The man spoke to her as if he were speaking to a lifelong friend, rather than to a stranger whom he had only just dragged out of a smelly crate. “I have a question to ask you, and I must apologise if it seems strange. Has anyone given you anything tonight?”
Shann had no idea what this odd little man was talking about, but then she suddenly remembered the disc she had been given. She reached into her pocket and grasped it. It pulled slightly against her in that odd fashion she had noticed before. She opened her hand and held it out in her upturned palm.
The man smiled again. “Do you mind if I borrow this? I promise to return it.”
Without waiting for a reply, he grasped the disc and secreted it about his person. His gaze turned back to her and became one of concern. “You look exhausted. Come, there is a meal and a bed awaiting you.”
He started off down the street but she merely stood stupefied, watching the capped figure. He stopped, turned to her, and extended a beckoning hand in her direction. “Don’t worry. You are among friends now!”
~
Shann was seated on a stool in the kitchen. The generously proportioned range was giving off a glowing heat which threatened to lull her to sleep. The man with the cap called out. “Hedda?”
Moments later, a middle aged woman entered, clad in brown work robes and white apron. Her freckled olive face was as round as the man’s, but unlike him, she seemed to bear a permanent frown. She looked at the man, then at Shann, then back at the man again.
“Is this her?” she enquired.
By way of reply, the man reached into his pocket and held the disc out for the older woman to see. She nodded once and turned her attention to the girl.
“Right then, I’m sure you are hungry. I’ll get you a bowl.” She went to the range and began to bustle with pots.
The man stood nearby, watching them both. Despite the fact that they were inside and in a warm kitchen, he still wore that absurd cap perched precariously on his head. Shann wondered idly if he wore it to bed. Her body seemed to be reviving slowly. Her throat was dry, but she found her voice and rasped, “I’m sorry, who are you?”
It was the older woman who answered. “By the grace of the Three, boy, did you not even tell this poor girl who you were before dragging her in here? I’m sorry, child; this is my unworthy son, Alondo. Alas, I have made my hairs grey trying to instil a measure of civil behaviour in him, but he remains as stubbornly boorish as ever.”
Alondo made a deeply wounded expression, and then smiled sheepishly. “Yes mama.” Shann quickly realised that this was a regular banter between two people who used deprecation as a way of expressing their love for one another. She could feel herself starting to relax a little.
Hedda placed a steaming bowl in front of Shann, and then turned to Alondo. “What are you doing standing there idle? Go make up a bed for our guest.”
Alondo gave a mockingly exaggerated bow and left through the door. Shann lifted the bowl to her lips. The stew tasted wonderful and began to warm her stomach. She turned to the older woman. “Thank you.”
Hedda was still bustling. “It’s the least we could do. You did a very brave thing tonight.”
Shann felt confused. No-one had ever called her “brave” in her entire life. What was more, she could not think what she could have done to earn that title now. She decided to change the subject. “How did you know where to find me?”
Hedda smiled. “How many young women do you think have arrived in a bedraggled state on the road from Corte tonight? Alondo was sent to keep watch for you. A good pair of eyes is one of his few attributes. We could not be certain, of course, but the road east from Corte goes towards Chalimar, and it did not seem likely you would head towards the serpent’s nest, with the serpents after you. We also knew you had been given the disc, so there could be no confusion as to who you were.”
Shann`s mind was still a little foggy, but she digested the implication. “You know the man who gave me the disc?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Who is he?”
Hedda pressed her lips together. “Enough for tonight. I can tell you are exhausted and the night is well along. You need to rest. There will be time enough for answers in the morning. And you will have another journey to make then, if you are strong enough. Wait here. I will see if my fool of a son has made up your room yet, or whether he has forgotten the task he was sent to do and is instead composing another one of his airy ballads.”
She got up and swept through the kitchen door, leaving Shann alone for the moment. Shann suddenly felt an all-enveloping sense of weariness. She pushed her bowl away, folded her hands on the table and rested her head. Within minutes, she was sound asleep.
~
Keris, diamond merchant and traveller from the mines of Thalissa, deep in the mountains of Tragar, entered the Inn of the Leaping Dagan just off the market square in Corte.
The atmosphere within the Inn was redolent with the odour of horge, a sweet liquor distilled from kalash. The décor was sparse, a plain wooden floor covered with sawdust and unadorned wooden walls. A shassatan board was laid out on a table in the corner, but no-one was playing. There was a small serving area, fronted by a loose scattering of tables and stools. Behind the serving area stood a tall man with sharp features, wearing an apron. He cast an appraising eye over his patrons as if he were somehow weighing their coin purses.
It was early evening, and there were no more than eight customers. Even so, Keris` limited experience with places like these suggested that they were usually far more raucous, even with a limited clientele. By contrast, this establishment seemed positively subdued. Men and women sat hunched together round tables, murmuring to each other in low tones and sipping like gentlefolk. A few glanced in Keris` direction as she entered and then returned to nursing their drinks, as if disappointed.
Keris strolled to the serving area, pulled up a stool and sat down. She sighed and shook her hair loose, feigning the symptoms of a hard day’s work; then reached inside her surcoat and tossed a collection of small coins in the tall man’s direction.
“Horge.”
The man’s face lit up at the sight of the coin. “How do you like it?” he asked.
“Hot and sweet.”
He swept up the coin with a practiced sleight of hand and produced, as if from nowhere, a steaming mug of horge. Keris cradled the earthenware mug and sipped at the hot dark fluid. It was sweet, with a subtle aftertaste. Horge was served at the Keep, but she was accustomed to taking her meals at the refectory with water. Of course, to walk into a place like this and order water would have only attracted amusement or suspicion or both.
She surfaced from her drink. “Nice,” she lied.
“Only the finest horge you will taste in the whole of the Eastern Provinces,” he declared loudly, as if advertising the fact to everyone within earshot. No-one looked up.
“Would you by any chance have a room for the night?” she inquired.
“You are fortunate,” he declared. “I have but one room left, for the modest rate of one twelfth of an astria, stranger.”
She took a further coin from her pouch and pushed it towards the man firmly. It disappeared in the same manner as the others. “Keris,” she affirmed.
“Welcome to the Dagan, Keris. I am called Morran.” He began to busy himself behind the serving area. “Will you be staying long in Corte?”
“That depends.” She started into the cover story she had carefully rehearsed. “I need to try to establish local contacts.”
Her garb had been chosen judiciously so as to identify her to any casual observer as a merchant, though not too prosperous.
“What is your business?” Morran asked conversationally.
“Diamonds.”
“Well, they are a common enough commodity.” No doubt he was expecting a sales pitch, and Keris was ready.
“Ah yes, but you see with diamonds, it is all about the quality.” She produced a pouch and emptied it out. A dozen raw crystals of assorted shapes tumbled onto the wooden counter. Morran picked one up between his thumb and finger and regarded it closely from all sides. He hasn’t a clue what he’s looking at, she thought, amused
“These are from Tragar,” she continued. “My brother and I recently inherited a mine. Our uncle who owned it died after a long illness and the place has been left sadly neglected. However, it was known for producing top quality stones, and my brother is convinced it can become a going concern once again. He is back there trying to reinstate production and it was left to me to establish contacts with diamond cutters in Chalimar and the lowland towns, possibly even an investor or two.”
She smiled at Morran hopefully. Morran looked at her, and quickly returned the stone he was holding to the others. She shrugged, still smiling, and scooped up the stones into the bag once more.
She had led the conversation skilfully to this point. Now it was time to make her move. Taking another sip from her mug, she added casually, “These really are the finest quality diamonds. Several of the cutters in Chalimar said they were the finest stones they had seen. Good enough even to grace a Keltar`s staff weapon.”
A large man sitting at the table nearest the counter jerked his stool back so that it scraped against the wooden floor, and slammed his mug down on the table. Horge slopped over its sides. Keris glanced back, but the man was looking straight ahead and not at her.
Morran leaned over the counter towards her and lowered his voice. “Careful, friend. The Prophet’s servants are not well regarded here at present.”
“Has something happened here?” Keris asked innocently. However, it was the big man at the table who answered.
“Nothing but the wanton murder of a good man.” The man’s voice was a bass rumble with a hint of menace. Keris` expression of shock was genuine. Sallidor had been sent to investigate, nothing more. What had gone wrong?
She turned to face the man at the table. “Forgive me, friend; I did not mean to give offence. I deal only with the cutters. I am a simple merchant, arrived in your town but late this afternoon. I had no idea something so ill had transpired here.”
Then something quite unexpected happened. The figure sitting next to the man cuffed him squarely on the shoulder. The big man flinched. The figure spoke up, and it was a woman’s voice. “Jadar!” She was easily half his size, which made the scene appear that much more comical. She had delicate features, and her dark hair was combed straight back.
“I apologise for my partner.” She glanced in his direction, but he had assumed a morose silence. “What has taken place here is no excuse to resort to suspicion and bad manners. Please, won’t you join us?”
She gestured to a third stool at their table. Keris took the opening gratefully and sat down. “May I get you a drink?” she offered.
“You are kind,” the woman responded. “But as you can see for yourself, Jadar has had quite enough for one evening.”
The big man was still staring straight ahead. “Poltann was a good man,” he repeated more to himself than anyone else.
“That was the man who died?” Keris asked the other woman.
“Executed,” continued Jadar. “Strung up and left to die by the Prophet’s soldiers.”
“Why? What did he do?”
Keris learned that he was the owner of the Wayfarer, another inn fronting the next street over. It was where the girl who was involved with the incident three days ago had worked. That explained the connection, but not why the man was now dead.
She listened to the parts of the story she already knew, registering shock and concern in the appropriate places. A strange man impersonating a Keltar had tried unsuccessfully to set free the tributes and then fled. She listened closely to the description of the impostor. A few people had caught a glimpse of him, but it seemed he was unknown in these parts. The couple seemed sincere, and Keris had no reason to disbelieve them. That left the girl as her only lead.
The girl had worked in the kitchens there. It seemed unlikely that such a person could be a part of an insurgency movement, but it could be part of a cover, Keris supposed. In any event, her next move was clear.
The woman, who she had learned was named Fallon, had a kind, easy manner. Even Jadar seemed to have shaken himself out of his black mood and smiled slightly. Keris found herself drawn to the two of them and would have liked nothing better than to have whiled away the evening in their company, but she had work to do.
She excused herself on the pretext of retiring for the night and located her room. Once the door was closed behind her, she located her flying cloak, black tunic and black trousers. Moments later, Keris the diamond merchant was no more; in her place stood Keris the Keltar. She opened the window latch, climbed onto the window sill and glided to the street below. Moving between pools of shadow, she headed for the Wayfarer
~
The rear of the Inn was quiet, with no lights showing. That was unusual. Innkeepers normally kept late hours, although the owner of this particular establishment was dead, so perhaps the guests had taken rooms elsewhere. That would make her task rather easier.
She approached the kitchen door silently. A simple catch on the inside. She reached inside the pouch at her belt and felt for an oval shaped lodestone. It resisted her pull on it slightly. Taking it out, she placed it carefully against the door, a little way beneath the catch. Its repulsive force was enough to push the latch up. In a single fluid movement, she slipped inside and closed the door behind her.
The stairway to the left would lead to the staff chambers. She ascended and came to a hallway with three doors set in them. All right, we do this one by one. The first door was unlocked. She entered and shut the door behind her. A brief search turned up nothing of interest. She was about to turn to go when she heard a scraping sound. A split second later, the door to the room flew open and two silhouettes burst in, weapons drawn.
Without taking the time to turn, she jabbed her elbow backward. She heard a satisfying “Ooomph” as she made contact with the intruder’s stomach. As the body doubled up, she jerked her fist upward, feeling her knuckles make contact with the face as it descended. She spun around in time to see her attacker stagger backwards and fall to the floor on his rump. The other was advancing, weapon raised. She crouched down and launched a spinning kick which took out her opponent’s legs from under him.
A light suddenly appeared at the doorway, illuminating the forms of two soldiers sprawled on the floor. One was bleeding profusely from the nose. A man’s voice called out, “What’s going on in there?”
The dark uniformed man stepped into the room, holding an oil lamp. He bore a Captain’s insignia.
Keris faced him squarely. “You are Sallidor.”
The Captain squinted at her by the lamp’s lambent light. “Keltar?”
She glanced at the soldiers, who were by now helping each other up from the floor. One was still clutching his bloody nose. “May I ask why your men do not issue the customary challenge, but attack on sight like scaran beasts?”
It was a moment before Sallidor found his voice. “My apologies, Keltar, but this is a secure area. We did not know you were here.” He seemed to recover his courage somewhat. “May I ask the purpose of your presence here?”
“That should be obvious, even to you. I am conducting an investigation into the events of three days ago.”
“My men and I were sent here to–”
“I know why you are here, Captain. I also know that you executed the proprietor of this establishment. Why?”
“He refused to give any information.”
Keris had a strong urge to shake the man by the throat. “Well, he certainly won’t be giving us any information now, will he?”
Sallidor seemed lost for words. She changed tack. “What have you uncovered about the girl that worked here?”
“Only that she worked in the kitchens. She eluded our soldiers and was seen leaving the town by the West Gate.”
The West Gate… The West Gate… her mind worked rapidly. The road to Lind. That was the girl’s likely destination, then. She would need to head there first thing tomorrow.
She came to another decision. “This investigation is now being conducted by the Keltar. You have new orders, Captain. You and your men are to withdraw from the town first thing tomorrow morning. You will return to Chalimar and report to Mordal on arrival there.”
“Yes, but–”
Keris shut her eyes and raised her voice in an expression of exaggerated patience. “Do you understand the orders you have been given?”
“Yes, Keltar.”
“Then carry out your orders.”
“Yes, Keltar.”
“Now leave…and take these men with you.”
Moments later, she was alone again in the dim chamber. She felt sick to her stomach, again. Another man dead. Another casual murder. Was this really all a part of the Prophet`s grand vision? She felt as if she were being swept up and borne along by forces she could not control. She had to put a stop to all of this somehow. Maybe she could put her concerns to Mordal when she returned to the keep? He did not seem concerned at all by the loss of the “tributes.” What makes you think anyone will listen?
She was struck by another thought. What will happen to the girl if I take her into custody and bring her back to the keep? Keris had no answers. All she could do was to follow her mission’s path and see where it led her.
She climbed out onto the window ledge, and leapt into the caliginous night.
<><><><><>
Chapter 4
Shann rose slowly toward consciousness and opened her eyes. Shafts of light were filtering through closed shutters, playing over the cot where she lay. The room was small, with a single stool next to the bed and a hearth opposite, presently unlit.
She closed her eyes again, recalling her flight the previous night, and how she had been taken in by Alondo and Hedda. They seemed kind, and Hedda reminded her of Gallar. I wonder how she and Poltann are– if they are worrying about me. Perhaps I should try to get word to them somehow to let them know I’m all right?
She sat up in bed and saw that she was wearing a grey nightshirt. With a start, she realised that she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten to bed last night. Someone had apparently carried her here, undressed her and put her in night attire. The bandage on her ankle was gone also. She felt a wave of embarrassment.
There was a light knock at the door, and Hedda entered.
“I see my brave little one is awake.” There was that word again. “How are you feeling this morning?” Hedda crossed the room and opened the shutters, allowing sunlight to wash into the room
“I’m fine, thank you.” Shann replied, squinting at the illumination of day. She ran a hand through her short dark hair.
“How’s the ankle?”
Shann flexed the joint experimentally beneath the sheet. “Better, I think.”
“That’s good. Are you hungry?”
Shann`s stomach informed her that she was in fact famished. She nodded.
“There’s something on the stove for you when you’re ready.” Hedda laid out garments at the end of the bed. “I’m afraid I don’t have any clothes your size. There are some of Alondo`s clothes for now. They will be a bit baggy, I’m afraid, but they should do–at least, until we can get you something more suitable.”
“I don’t know how to thank you for last night,” Shann began.
The older woman smiled. “Nonsense, I’m just glad you made it here, and we found you safe. If you are feeling well enough, I thought we might take a little trip.”
She sounded as if she were proposing a vacation or a sightseeing tour.
“Trip?”
“Yes, the gentleman you assisted last evening would very much like to meet you.”
“Where is he?”
“Not far. Why don’t you hurry up and get dressed?”
~
Later that morning, Shann sat alongside Alondo and Hedda as their cart rumbled out from Lind and onto a winding country road. Wayside flowers unfurled their petals, and small birds pecked at the warming soil, affirming that spring was now well underway. Ail-Gan bathed the landscape in its bright yellow effulgence. In the distance farmers toiled in the fields and domestic animals grazed contentedly. It all seemed so at odds with the happenings of last night, as if those events had taken place on a different world and in a different time.
“If we should be stopped by soldiers,” Hedda had told her at the house, “you should say you are a cousin of mine, visiting from Kinnat.”
Shann nodded. “Hedda, the man I met last night in Corte, the man who gave me the disc. Who is he?
“His name is Lyall. He and Alondo have been friends since they were children. They’ve been getting into trouble together ever since.”
“Why did he attack the Keltar?”
“As to that…it would be better if you asked him yourself. You will be seeing him soon enough.” She placed a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder.
Shann found it remarkable that she felt able to trust these people so completely, despite having known them for less than a day.
She could readily understand why she was drawn to Hedda. The loss of her own mother at so early an age caused her to be naturally drawn to anyone who seemed to fill that void. But she also felt an affinity toward Alondo that was harder to explain.
She had never had a brother. What was more, Alondo was unlike any brother she could have imagined ever having. His absurd hat was still perched precariously. Shann found herself wondering how it managed to stay on his head, what with the cart’s jerky motion.
But there was something that piqued her curiosity even more. He had slung over his shoulder what looked like a musical instrument, although it looked like nothing she had ever seen before.
It was pear-shaped, like a large mandolin, with a fretless fingerboard. The neck and bridge were arrayed with what looked like a mind-numbingly complex arrangement of keys and levers. She could not imagine why he had brought the thing along, unless it was to allay suspicion from them as a group. In her opinion, it was more likely to draw undue attention.
“Are you a musician?” she asked him.
“You noticed,” he replied cheerfully.
“What type of instrument is that?”
“It’s an excuse to avoid work; that’s what it is,” Hedda interjected.
Alondo smiled tolerantly. “It’s based on a sabada, but it’s actually my own design. It has one or two unusual…features. Maybe you would like to hear it?”
Shann`s face brightened. She had always loved music. “Oh, yes, please!”
Alondo handed the reins to his mother as if to prove her point, and then jumped into the back of the cart. Seated comfortably against the backboard, he cradled the instrument gently like a dearly loved pet, and made a few practiced adjustments.
“Do you know this one?” he shouted to those behind him. Without waiting for a reply, he sounded an opening chord and launched into a light baritone.
“Let me tell you now of a girl I knew,
“With lovely eyes of the fairest blue,
“Green skin as fresh as the morning dew,
“With a hi hey diddle diddle hey.
“I met her down on the market square,
“The sunlight danced in her auburn hair,
“Oh ne’r had I seen a maid so fair,
“With a hi hey diddle diddle hey……”
The girls joined in the chorus, as the cart creaked from side to side and rumbled on into the distance.
Insects buzzed and danced together like motes in the warm spring air.
~
“My name is Lyall. I’m very happy to meet you at last.”
Shann was sitting in the kitchen of a generously proportioned farmhouse. Copper pots of all sizes hung from the walls. She sat before a large wooden table with her hands folded in her lap, looking up into the eyes of the stranger she had met in Corte. They were as blue as she remembered, and there was the unruly sandy hair, but he seemed taller somehow. He winced a little as he sat down opposite her. She recalled the wound left by the Keltar`s stabbing thrust.
“Are you all right?”
“Actually, Moina tells me it’s only superficial. I only wish it felt superficial.” He adjusted his seating position again, gritting his teeth as he did so. “It will be a day or so before I’ll be leaping across rooftops again.”
“Longer if you don’t learn to sit still.” An older woman stood at the kitchen door. She had dark hair with silver streaks and wore a workmanlike green dress and white apron. “Hedda and Alondo are going to help me with the animals. Can you keep our guest company for a while?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Moina turned in Shann’s direction, adding with strained patience, “And try to keep him from tearing his wound open again.” She turned on her heel and left.
Lyall shrugged. “My mother’s sister,” he declared, as if that were the only explanation that were necessary.
His bright blue eyes seemed to pierce through to the centre of her being. She felt as if she were glass. “I am told you are called Shann.”
Shann sat looking at her hands still folded in her lap. She nodded.
“Well I’m very grateful to you, Shann. I might not have made it out of there alive if you hadn’t helped me. You did so at the risk of your own life. May I ask why?”
Shann moved her hand to the side of her face, recalling the day the soldiers had taken her parents away. I wanted them to leave my parents alone. She raised her eyes to meet Lyall. “I wanted it to stop–the tributes, all of it. I wanted to fight them.”
Lyall’s voice was quiet. “I can help you do that, if you wish.”
Shann felt confused. She had no idea how she should respond. Eventually, she found her voice again. “Why did you do it? Why did you take on a Keltar and a troop of soldiers?”
Lyall smiled at her. “It was a bit mad, wasn’t it? I surely didn’t plan it that way. It was just that one of the young women in the ‘tribute’ group–she…reminded me of someone.”
He seemed anxious to change the subject. “Did you know any of them?”
“No, not really. I knew who one of the girls was, but I had never spoken to her.”
“I believe I can make it stop, Shann.”
“You cannot fight the Keltar. They are the eyes and ears of the Prophet. There is no way to resist them. What happened to you proves that.”
“I acted without thinking. Besides, I had no way of knowing he would have grenades with him. Otherwise the outcome might have been rather different.” He paused. “The key to defeating a tyrant–any tyrant–is to understand the source of their power. Once you do that, you can manipulate it; even use their own power against them.”
He leaned forward. “Shann, do you know what lodestones are?”
“No.”
“Actually, you do. I gave you one in Corte, so that you could be recognised.” The disc. Alondo had returned it to her that morning, and she pulled it from her pocket. She noted again a slight resistance as she did so. She placed it on the table in front of her. “To be totally accurate, what you have there is what we call refined lodestone. Just as iron is smelted from ore, so this is what you get from lodestone ore.”
“Lodestone ore?”
“Yes, it falls from the sky. You have seen the meteor storms?” She nodded. Scores of fireballs streaking across the heavens and winking out. They were visible most nights.
“Refined lodestone has powerful properties. What you have there is one kind–a kind that is used to power their flying cloaks and some of their other devices. But there is nothing mysterious about it. The Keltar have been taught by the Prophet how to use it, nothing more.”
Shann frowned. “So what you are saying is that anyone can use their power, even me?”
“That’s right.”
“How does it work?” Her voice was eager.
Lyall took another disc out of his pocket. It looked exactly like hers; black but with an oddly undefined surface that seemed to shift as she viewed it from different angles.
“Originally, lodestones were the name given to a type of rock that would naturally attract iron. They can be used to impart a force to the iron that makes it point in only one direction.” Shann had heard of such devices used by travellers to help find their way. “The same word came to be used to describe the stones that fell from the sky, but they are in fact quite different. You have two discs there; try to push them together.”
Shann picked them up and did so. There was a strong repulsive force between them, getting stronger the closer she brought them together. She frowned again. “I can’t do it.”
“That’s right. Now try this.” He reached in his pocket again and brought out another disc, but this one was white. “This is an ordinary metal. It’s coloured white just to distinguish it from the lodestone. Try bringing it and the lodestone together.”
This time, the lodestone felt pulled towards the white disc, but the white disc seemed to be pushed away.
“Lodestones repel everything, including ordinary stones or metal. So they can be used to push things; objects, people, anything really.”
“They sound like the Kal stones.”
“You mean the account of the flying stone, the one in the sacred texts?”
“Yes. How is that possible?”
Lyall reached into his pocket once more. He brought out two more lodestones, one a disc, the other a small sphere like a marble. She watched intently as he carefully arranged the three discs on the table in the shape of a triangle. Then he carefully placed the marble in mid-air over the three stones. It floated, seemingly without support, subtle shades of darkness playing furtively over its smooth surface.
Shann`s eyes were wide. “So it really did happen.”
“Possibly. I’ve never seen a Kal stone myself and I don’t know anyone who has. No doubt that’s because the system is inherently–” He knocked the marble with his finger, and it fell to the table and rolled onto the floor. “–unstable.”
She bent down to retrieve the marble from the floor and handed it back to Lyall. “Thanks.” He placed it back in his pocket and gathered up two of the discs, leaving one on the table. “Let’s try something else, shall we? Have you noticed that lodestone feels a bit funny when you handle it?”
“It seems to pull against you a little,” she noted.
“Right. Try to give it a little push with your finger. Shann did so, but to her utter surprise, instead of moving away, it moved towards her. Lyall registered her puzzled look. “Now pull it towards you slightly.”
She reached out and pulled it back sharply with two of her fingers. It shot forward across the table, hitting Lyall in the midriff and landing in his lap. She put her hand to her mouth.
“I said ‘slightly,’” he chided.
He put the disc back on the table. “They move in the opposite direction to whatever force is applied to them. When you understand how they operate, you can use lodestones in various different ways. The Keltar`s flying cloak is just one example.”
“The flying cloak–tell me how it works.” Her voice was insistent.
“Is he trying to get you up in one of those things?” It was Alondo, cap and all, smiling as ever. He was standing at the kitchen door.
“I gave you the chance.”
“The chance to break my neck. Thanks for that.” He turned towards Shann and covered his mouth conspiratorially, “If I were you, I wouldn’t go near one of those things.”
“Don’t you have anything pressing to do?”
Alondo looked at the backs of his hands, pulled up a spare stool and sat down next to Shann, grinning from ear to ear. “Not right now.”
Lyall raised his eyes heavenward. Then he addressed Shann, doing his best to ignore his friend. “The power of the Keltar, the power of the Prophet himself–it derives from the lodestones. I intend to take that power away.”
Her expression was rapt. “How?”
“Do you know the fortress of Gort?”
Gort. Death and despair. The very name was enough to send a shiver down her spine, even though she had never set eyes on it. Raising itself up like a ravenous beast from the desolate sands of the Southern Desert, it devoured those who passed through its cavernous maw. Travellers spoke of it as being built from the bleached bones of those who had expired from heat and exhaustion.
“I know that most of the ‘tributes’ are sent there.”
“Do you know why?”
Shann shook her head.
“Lodestones.” Registering her look of incomprehension, he continued. “The stones fall all over the world, but how do you find them? If a stone were to fall in the mountains, or even here in the valley, how would you distinguish it from other stones? However, suppose you had a smooth, featureless landscape. Any stone that fell from above would easily show up as a dark shape on the surface.”
“Like in the desert.”
“Exactly. However, the Prophet needs people to scour the desert and collect the stones. That’s what the ‘tributes’ are there for. The fortress has a compound attached to it, where they are kept and sent out, sometimes to die. But the Prophet maintains his supply of the stones. I intend to go there and free the ‘tributes.’ We will need others who are prepared to join us. We will also be cutting off the Prophet’s source of supply, so it will be a double victory.”
“I want to go with you, to help free them. I want to make it stop–the Keltar, the Prophet–” Lyall and Alondo were looking at each other with amused expressions. “You’re making fun of me.”
Lyall’s face straightened. “No, no, we’re not. Look, Shann, what we are proposing to do is highly dangerous. There’s a good chance we won’t succeed.”
“Shann, think about this.” It was Alondo. “We can arrange to look after you, and return you home after the hue and cry has died down. You shouldn’t risk your life any further.”
Her slight frame and delicate face were resolute. “No. I’ve decided; I’m coming with you.”
Lyall’s blue eyes were looking directly into hers, as if locked in a battle of wills. After a moment, his shoulders slumped. “Well…we’ll talk about it.”
That night she dreamed of flying, soaring above Gort. The desert fortress reared up towards her, soaked in Ail-Mazzoth`s crimson light. Far below her parents stood with their backs to her. She cried out and her father turned, but it was no longer her father. It was a tall man with sandy hair and diamond blue eyes. She heard him speak.
“I can make it stop, Shann.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 5
Alondo regarded the morgren in its pen with a dubious expression. Morgren were without doubt the ugliest creatures he knew. Of course, one could almost deal with that–if it were not for the smell. Fudoro, who was in charge of the stables here in Lind, insisted that you got used to it after a while, but Alondo seriously doubted that.
The morgren stamped its splayed feet and snorted from its single hairy nostril as if affronted. A few specks of slobber hit Alondo`s coat, causing him to step back out of range. The creature appraised him with its rheumy eyes and apparently satisfied, resumed munching on a bale of kalash.
Morgren were considerably slower than graylesh and had none of the latter’s grace of movement. They were stubborn and ill-tempered. But they could survive in arid conditions long after a graylesh`s bones would have been picked clean. Morgren had been known to go fifteen days in the desert without water. So there really was no option. He was purchasing this malodorous beast whether either of them liked it or not.
“How much?” he heard himself ask.
Fudoro ran a hand through his thinning hair. “One fourth…each.”
Alondo’s eyes widened. “One fourth of an astria? That seems a lot.”
The stableman shrugged. “Times are hard, friend. Everything is in short supply. The Prophet’s servants cut the fat and leave nothing but bone…Tell you what; I’ll throw in a pack saddle, bells if you need ’em and a full load of kalash for each animal, at no extra cost.”
Alondo nodded agreement grudgingly and doled out payment.
Fudoro`s palm closed around the coins. “Will you wait while I outfit them for you or will you return?”
“We’ll wait.”
Fudoro turned and headed towards the back, casting a glance at the hooded figure in the corner. Shann looked as if she were trying to appear unobtrusive. Still, Alondo was starting to feel glad that she had agreed to come along. He had set out with five silver astrias this morning, and it was going down fast. At least she would be able to testify that he hadn’t frittered it away swigging horge at every inn along the way.
Although he had known her for less than three days, Alondo found himself growing profoundly concerned for the slender, frail looking girl. Driven from her home; pursued by soldiers; taken in by strangers; and now on top of everything else, Lyall claiming they could solve the problems of the entire world, when the poor waif scarcely knew how to cope with her own.
Last night she had once again avowed her determination to join them on their fool’s mission. A mission that will most likely end in all our deaths. What was Lyall thinking? Alondo almost wished he had left her there at the bottom of that crate of stinking moba root. She would likely have lived longer.
Fudoro had returned. The morgren were out of their pens and the stableman was making final adjustments to saddle packs. Alondo thanked him and took the reins of one animal, motioning for Shann to take the other.
Outside, he turned to her. “I have to meet with someone briefly. Would you mind looking after the morgren and the rest of our things for a bit? I won’t be long.”
Shann threw her hood back. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re going to find an inn, aren’t you?”
Alondo smiled enigmatically. “Not this time.”
~
The eastern canton. Home to the poor and destitute of the town of Lind. A place of worn out rags and broken dreams, where squat wooden shacks sat cowering like frightened children. Alondo, maker of music, bringer of joy, felt totally out of place in this blighted neighbourhood. Old and young alike watched his passing from hollow doorways and through hollow eyes. This is what must change. No-one should be forced to live like this.
He came to a ramshackle hut and ducked at the low entranceway. An old man with white bones jutting out beneath desiccated skin sat on a stool next to an unlit fireplace. His eyes were bright but unfocused.
Alondo walked up and placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Hello, Ennas.”
The man raised his own hand, and placed it over the hand of his visitor. His voice shook slightly. “Alondo. It’s you, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s me. How are you keeping?”
“I am just fine. Malan is not back from the fields yet. How is Hedda?”
“Oh, mother is still her cheery self.” Alondo pulled up a crudely fashioned stool. The wooden floor of the shack was swept clean. There was an old chest in one corner and two rough pallets in the back, but it was otherwise bare.
“It’s kind of you to visit an old blind man. Malan will be sad to have missed you. He often speaks of you and Lyall. Are you two still together?”
“We stay in touch, yes.” Alondo looked down at his hands, feeling a mixture of anguish and guilt. Ennas had lost two sons at the revolt in Persillan some ten turns ago. Malan, his third son, had melted away in the ensuing confusion, along with Lyall and himself. When Ennas’ wife died a turn later, his last surviving son had taken him in. It was clear that times had been hard for them in the intervening years.
“Ennas, I have a confession to make. I came to ask if you know anything about what’s happening in Corte.”
“You mean the incident with the Keltar?”
“So Malan told you about it?”
The old man made a harrumphing sound. “The talk among the field workers is of little else. The Prophet’s soldiers left that night, but the following morning two more companies arrived and began shoving people around. Word is that they have a local innkeeper under arrest and are interrogating him for information about a girl that worked there.”
Alondo’s mind was working furiously as he absorbed the news. This is bad. If Shann’s former employer talks, then the troops will be here next. In fact, they may even be on their way right now.
Alondo took the old man’s wrinkled hand in his own. The skin felt leathery. “Ennas I’m sorry, I have to leave. I have someone waiting for me. Will you be all right?”
“Don’t worry about me. Malan will be home soon. Are you sure you can’t stay?”
“Tell Malan I have to go away for a while, but I will see you both when I return.” He paused, then reaching into his coin purse, took out half an astria and placed it firmly in Ennas’ palm, closing the man’s gaunt fingers around it. Whatever Lyall thought of his other purchases, Alondo was certain he would approve of this one.
He stood up and turned to go. As he did so, the old man spoke. “The man in Corte, the man who fought a Keltar and tried to free the ‘tributes’?” Ennas’ blind eyes seemed to see farther than any sighted person. “I’d like to meet him one day.”
~
Lyall sat thoughtfully for a moment in the farmhouse’s comfortable sitting room, weighing consequences. Then he met Alondo’s questioning gaze. “We have to leave, now.”
“You mean, for Gort?”
Lyall nodded.
“Ennas was all fired up by what happened in Corte. I imagine a lot of people are. I wonder what he would say if he knew it was you.” Alondo paused. “You know, Malan would have come with us without hesitation if you had asked him.”
“I know. But if anything were to happen to Ennas` last son, how could I look the old man in the face?” Lyall`s expression was dark.
“What happened at Persillan was not your fault, you know.”
“I know.”
There was a silence between both men, charged with the memory of loss. A complex of oddly shaped white buildings. People in white clothing running in all directions. The discovery of a large bronze coloured globe, with strange protuberances. An incandescent white light. Then death, destruction, the broken and charred bodies of comrades…
It was Alondo who finally broke the mood. “What are we going to do about Shann?”
“She’s coming with us. I had considered trying to persuade her to stay with Hedda or Moina, but that would put everyone at risk. We have no choice.”
“But she’s little more than a child, Lyall. Besides, where we’re going isn’t safe.”
“Safer than here in a little while, I think. You were right not to tell her about the situation at her home. There’s nothing she could do.”
Alondo had a faraway look as he stared out of the window. “I know she suspects something. She asked why I was being so quiet on the way back from Lind.” He smiled. “You know I’ve never been very good at hiding my feelings.”
“She probably thinks you’re just worried about our mission.” He rose from his stool, walked over to Alondo, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Shann is tougher than she looks. Besides, I can teach her to defend herself. We will both look after her. She will be fine.”
Sure. Just like those poor devils at Persillan.
Lyall went to the door and called out, “Shann.”
A moment later, she stood at the doorway dressed in farm worker’s coveralls. Her face was flushed. She had been helping Moina feed and water the animals. “Yes Lyall?”
Lyall smiled. “We’re headed for Gort.”
“When?” She asked.
“Right now.”
She wiped her hands down her front and headed for the stairs. “I’ll get my things.”
~
Shann sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the fire as it tapered and danced, sparks flying upwards to merge with Ail-Mazzoth`s ember glow. The flames made a pleasant crackling sound.
Only a few hours before, they had said their goodbyes at the farmhouse. The little party assembled in the yard as clouds were gathering, partially obscuring the late afternoon suns. The morgren were stamping their feet as if they were impatient to be underway. Hedda and Moina kissed the two men and the girl. Shann was surprised to see Hedda hug Alondo as if she would not let go.
Moina was fussing as usual. Lyall received the lecture patiently. “Mind you take care of that bandage now. I won’t be there to patch you up. And take good care of the girl. I expect to see all of you back here safe.”
Lyall forced himself to smile at his aunt. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back soon enough.”
Shann addressed Hedda. “Please as soon as you can, could you get word to the Wayfarer in Corte? Tell Gallar and Poltann that I am all right, and that they should not worry.”
Hedda stroked Shann’s cheek. “Don’t worry child; I have not forgotten.”
They said final farewells. Then, with Lyall and Alondo leading the two beasts of burden, the little procession headed for the road that would take them south.
Shann took a last look back over her shoulder at the two women who were watching them depart in silence. Will I ever see them again?
A log within the fire made a snapping sound. Lyall was standing next to her, poking the fire with a stick, provoking it. The firelight cast a long shadow from his tall form.
A shape appeared at the edge of the firelight and moved towards them. Alondo dropped lightly to the ground next to Shann and grinned at her, firelight and shadow lending his visage a ghoulish appearance.
“No signs of pursuit,” he declared.
“All right.” Lyall retrieved his stick and began drawing in the sandy soil as the other two watched. “Two days to the edge of the Southern Desert.” He drew a line. “Then five more days across the desert to Gort.” He placed a stone to indicate the position of the fortress. “There are outposts here.” He pointed. “And here, where there are water holes and supplies. However, I think it best that we skirt around them.”
Alondo pursed his lips. “No point in taking on the Prophet’s soldiers before we have to.”
“Actually, I’m more concerned about them raising the alarm. The powers in Chalimar will no doubt have Ringed every town, village and outpost from here to the Aronak Sea.”
“Ringed?” Shann broke in.
“Yes.” Lyall turned to her. “You remember that I mentioned that there were different kinds of lodestone? There is a kind that allows two people to communicate at great distances. I don’t know exactly how they work, but the Keltar use them. It seems unlikely that Keltar would be stationed at a desert outpost, but I would rather not take any chances.
“When we reach the desert we travel by night to conserve water. We rest during the day. Try to stay covered up to avoid sunburn. And keep alert. There are dangerous creatures in the desert.”
“What happens when we get to Gort?” Shann asked.
“Yes, well…I have a plan, but I think it best we discuss the details when we get nearer our destination. If we can free the tributes, I believe many of them will join us. In any event, we will have dealt a serious blow to the Prophet’s supply of the stones. And that is only the beginning.”
He poked the fire with his stick once again. The fire coruscated into the night sky. What will be the Prophet’s reaction when we start poking sticks into his schemes?
“At any rate, it seems we are not followed,” Alondo offered, “That part of the plan seems to have worked, at least.”
~
Keris sat on the bed in her room at the Silver Flagon in Lind. A small closet stood in the corner and there was a table by the bed with a bronze oil lamp. As Keris watched, it flickered slightly.
This investigation was taking its toll. She had arrived at the town in late morning to find that the Spring Gratitude Festival was in progress. Acolytes in red robes herded people into the chapel, relieving them of “offerings” and marking young people for tribute.
She needed information, but with the service in progress, there wasn’t much more she could do but watch the proceedings. It struck her as ironic that the name had been retained; the participants looked anything but grateful. Before the Prophet’s arrival, the festival had been a joyous, pastoral occasion. Now, gratitude for the Three had been replaced by “gratitude” to the Prophet, although for what she wasn’t sure exactly. You’re starting to sound like a heretic.
A burly acolyte stepped up and grabbed a youngster by the arm, yanking him away from his mother. Keris watched as the woman cried out and tried to hold on to the boy. A brief tug of war ensued until a second acolyte strode over and struck the woman in the face. She cried out as the boy was dragged off to have the flame marking of the Prophet branded into his neck. The woman fell to her knees. Hands covered her face as she sobbed uncontrollably.
Keris felt her eyes starting to water. What “grand purpose” of the Prophet could justify this?
“Faith,” Mordal would say. “Faith and Patience.” The words had a hollow ring as she watched the celebrants file silently past the woman, who was still kneeling on the grey stone floor.
There could be no question of her intervening. Keris the diamond merchant was a simple trader, nothing more. Keris the Keltar had no authority to interfere in the selection of tributes. She turned away, feeling as helpless as a flame at the mercy of every draught of air. The lamp by her bed guttered once more.
Keris centred herself on her obligation and her duty. It was time. She raised the back of her hand to her mouth and spoke a word into the Ring on her third finger. The Ring was bronze, set with a single dark stone.
“Keris.” The Ring glowed with a delicate green phosphorescence as she spoke.
A moment later, the Ring glowed once more.
“Report.” It was Mordal. He had never had any time for pleasantries.
Keris spoke directly into the device. “There is no word on the impersonator. He does not appear to be known by anyone I have spoken to. However, I have discovered that his accomplice fled to Lind, so I have journeyed there to pursue the investigation.”
“Captain Sallidor has returned.” The Ring luminesced. “He says you ordered him to return to the Keep.”
His men attacked me! Keris realised that to tell Mordal that, however, would only make her reasons for ordering the withdrawal appear petulant. “He was making no progress in the investigation. He had executed an innkeeper and was only succeeding in antagonising the townspeople.”
There was a pause. “I see…continue.”
“Two people were buying up supplies in town yesterday. The man is a local musician. I don’t yet know how he is connected. However, the girl fits the description of the impostor’s accomplice. Among the items they purchased were two morgren from the stables.”
There was another pause. Then Mordal completed the thought. “They are headed for the Southern Desert, the fortress of Gort.”
“Exactly,” Keris affirmed. “It makes perfect sense. Where would a man who wishes to free tributes go, if not to the compound at Gort?”
“I will Ring the fortress and make sure there is a nice surprise awaiting them at the compound should they make it there. Excellent work, Keris. How do you intend to proceed?”
“Well, I certainly don’t intend to go stumbling about the countryside by Ail-Mazzoth’s light. They have a day’s head start at most, and they have slow moving morgren. It should be a simple matter to overtake them. Right now, I intend to get a decent meal and a good night’s sleep.”
“Very well, Keris. May the Prophet guide your steps.” The Ring fell silent.
Keris extinguished the lamp and sat in the dark for a long moment. Then she got up and left the room, closing the door behind her.
<><><><><>
Chapter 6
Shann looked tiny and distinctly uncomfortable clad in the flying cloak of a Keltar. It felt like she was being made to become the thing she most hated in all the world. This is necessary, she told herself. What was it Lyall had said? Once you understand the source of a tyrant’s power, you can use it against them. She adjusted the fit across her shoulders as best she could.
“It feels a bit heavy,” she commented.
Lyall stood opposite the girl, an identical cloak draped about his shoulders. “That’s the downward pressure from the lodestone layer pushing down on the bronze layer below it. Try retracting the bronze layer a bit.” She adjusted the control at her neck. “Better?”
She nodded.
“All right. The first thing you need to realise is that the flying cloak does not enable you to fly–at least, not in the same way as a mylar or any other bird. It would be more accurate to call it a ‘leaping’ or ‘jumping’ cloak. You remember the discs? Lodestones will push against all materials, but the push is greatest against other lodestones. There are naturally occurring lodestone deposits in the ground from meteorites which have been falling for millennia. We use the refined lodestone in the cloak to push against these deposits to gain lift.”
“How do I do that exactly?”
Lyall gestured with his hands. “You need to ‘feel’ for deposits. It’s something that will come naturally once you get the hang of it. Start by retracting your bronze layer very slowly, bit by bit. Stop the moment you feel anything unusual.”
Shann moved the control slowly with her fingers. She stopped. “There, like a slight pressure.”
“Good, now can you tell which direction it’s coming from?”
“Over there.” Shann pointed to the left.
“Come on.” Lyall set off in that direction. “Tell me when you feel it move under you.”
They set off across the broken savannah. After a little way, Shann held up her hand and they both halted. She turned to look up at him. “So if I can use my cloak to detect deposits, why doesn’t the Prophet mine loadstones that way?”
“Because it just isn’t exact enough. For example, the deposit you are detecting now. Can you tell where it is precisely? How large is it? How deep? Lodestone ore hardly looks any different from normal rock. You would need to dig and sort through tons of dirt by hand, and that would take a small army of Keltar. Can you imagine Keltar doing that?” He was smiling at her, and she forced a smile back.
“Anyhow, it isn’t necessary,” he continued. “In the Southern Desert the ore that falls from the sky is clearly visible on the surface. You don’t need Keltar to find it, just a herd of slaves who don’t mind dying from heat and exhaustion.”
Which is why we are here, she thought. “All right, so what do I do?”
“Try jumping up and at the same time, extending the upper lodestone layer of the cloak. Remember, you won’t travel straight up because there will always be some slight deviation from the vertical. Think of being pushed up by a fountain of water. Go on, give it a go.”
Shann bent her knees and leaped up, flaring the cloak as she did so. She sailed upwards, stifling a cry as she did so. Her legs bicycled in the air and she tipped over, landing a few steps away in a crumpled heap. She got to her hands and knees in time to see Lyall, hands on hips, throwing his head back in laughter. She frowned, angrier at herself than at him. I’m never going to get the hang of this.
Still chuckling, he walked over, offering a hand. She took it and allowed herself to be pulled up. “Don’t feel bad, everyone does that the first time. Actually, that was pretty good for a first try.”
“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Shann adjusted the cloak and brushed off the dust and sand as best she could.
Lyall looked as if he was enjoying himself. “All right, time for lesson two. Remember, the lodestone will always push you in the opposite direction. If you detect it to your left and you flare the cloak, then it will push you to your right. You can angle the cloak by twisting in the air, adjusting your trajectory. Try again, but this time instead of fully flaring the cloak, do a small jump and blip the control until you get used to the feel of it.”
Shann felt the deposit to her right and behind her. She did as Lyall suggested and leapt a short distance to her left. She stumbled a little on landing, but regained her balance.
“Good.” Lyall was clapping. “Very good.”
He walked over and looked into her eyes with intensity. “The real secret to using the cloak is always to be thinking one step ahead.” He flattened his hand to simulate her pattern of flight. “As you leap,” he moved his hand upward, “you should already be looking for another deposit to push against or a safe place to land. If you detect another deposit you can push off it,” he moved his hand in a different direction, “and remain aloft.
“Remember; always be thinking what your next move will be. And be careful not to over commit. Always leave yourself with a safe option.”
Shann nodded thoughtfully.
“Now let me ask you something. What would happen if I leapt, and then at the apex, I extended the lower bronze layer in the cloak?”
Shann furrowed her brow. “The lodestone would push against the bronze and the bronze would pull away from it. You would be forced downwards.”
“Quite right. I would be accelerated toward the ground, which would normally be a very bad idea.” His mouth quirked a little. “However, there are some circumstances where you may wish to slow your leap, perhaps to angle yourself toward another deposit. Blipping the bronze layer can work as a brake, giving you more control.”
“When will you show me how to use the staff?” Shann’s face was eager.
Lyall chuckled again. “Patience, Shann. You have to learn how to run from a fight before you learn how to get into one.” He looked up, shading his eyes from the suns. Ail-Gan was rising through a cloudless sky. Ail-Kar was a dazzling point of light near the western horizon. It was becoming distinctly warm. “Let’s take a short break.”
He headed for a low shelf of rock and sat down with a sigh, his long legs splayed out before him. Shann followed and sat down next to him, cloak still draped about her. He took out a skin bottle of water and offered it to her. She took a swig and handed it back. He quaffed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and replaced the stopper. They both sat in silence, looking out over the flat grassland. Here and there, tufted plants that she could not name broke through the sandy soil or stubbornly clung to rocks. A few even boasted tiny yellow and purple flowers.
She went over Lyall’s training, trying to commit the points to memory, but there was something else–something nagging at the back of her mind. Fragments slowly converged, like a conjunction of the three suns, coalescing into a single inescapable thought.
She spoke the thought. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
“One of them?”
“You’re one of them. You’re a Keltar.”
Lyall’s voice was quiet. “What would make you say that?”
“Well,” Shann began, “you have the same devices that they do: the cloak and the staff. But more than that, you understand them. You know how they work. Only the Keltar have knowledge of such things. And then there is the money…”
“The money?”
“You don’t seem to have any work. Alondo is a musician, but doesn’t seem to have a trade as far as I can tell. Yet you have more money than I have ever seen. The only other person I know who has that kind of wealth is the Prophet himself….”
She glanced at him with guilty expression. I shouldn’t have said that. Lyall didn’t react, however. He continued to gaze out across the rough heath. There was a long pause before he spoke.
“You are a very clever girl, Shann. But you are wrong…although it is true that there was a time when I wanted to be a Keltar more than anything else. And I did train as one. But I decided in the end that it wasn’t the path for me.”
“The cloaks and staffs–believe it or not, I obtained them legitimately, although many in the keep at Chalimar would no doubt be shocked to find out how. The ‘offerings’ he demands have made people short of coin and desperate. The parts can be purchased, if you know the right people; then they can be assembled if you have the right skills.”
“You made them?”
Lyall laughed. “Alas no; that’s Alondo’s department.”
He made that instrument he carries with him, she reminded herself.
“As for the money…let’s just say I thought the Prophet’s servants had a little too much to carry, so I relieved them of some of it.”
“You stole it?”
“Well he extorted it from poor townspeople and farmers, so I suppose it depends on your point of view. We have to use whatever resources we can if we’re going to defeat him, Shann. Besides, I think there’s a certain poetic justice to our using his ill-gotten gains against him, don’t you?” He gave a satisfied smile.
Shann was dubious. “I suppose.”
“Come on.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Shall we see if we can try a few more practice jumps? We will have to catch up to Alondo soon …unless you’re ashamed to be seen with a self-confessed thief?”
She smiled in spite of herself and joined him for another gruelling round of training.
Later that afternoon Alondo the musician watched as two cloaked figures alighted on the roadway just behind their tiny caravan. He gave them a cheery wave. “Impressive. I see the lessons are going well.”
“Indeed, Shann is ten times the student you ever were,” replied Lyall. Shann looked down, embarrassed.
“That’s only because I had enough sense to keep both feet firmly on the ground. Hey Shann, did he do that thing to you where he gets you to stand directly over a lodestone and jump as high as you can?” She looked up, recalling her ungainly landing. There was a moment’s pause. Then all three of them burst out laughing.
Alondo turned to lead the morgren forward and Shann noticed his instrument was slung over his shoulder. She turned to Lyall, speaking in low tones.
“If we meet up with any dangerous beasts what does Alondo intend to do–serenade them to death?”
Lyall cocked his head to one side. “Well, I really don’t know. Let’s ask him, shall we? Hey Alondo?”
“Yes, Lyall?”
“Shann wants to know if we meet any dangerous creatures, whether you were going to serenade them to death.” Shann shot a look of injured betrayal at Lyall, but Alondo merely appeared pensive for a moment before speaking in a cheerful tone.
“Well I’ll certainly do my best!”
~
Keris the Keltar swooped low over the rock shelf, her flying cloak casting a shadow like an immense bird of prey. She landed and assumed a crouched position in one fluid movement. Only a few steps to the edge. She pressed herself to the ground and crawled across the smooth surface to the lip of the outcrop, quickly peeking over the edge as it jutted out over the pass. She had a view of the road a hundred feet below her, as it meandered through a cut in a range of low hills. The sides were steep and there was evidence of rock falls both young and ancient. They would be coming through here in a short while.
She was little more than a day out from Lind before she spotted the little party in the distance, moving slowly across the desiccated landscape, shimmering in an early morning heat haze. She allowed herself to get close enough only to make a positive identification: two morgren, three people, one tall, two shorter. The shorter one in front had strapped to his back what looked like a musical instrument, of all things. A musician, then, just as the stableman in Lind had described. There could be no doubt; it was them. The other short figure had to be the girl, reported to be the impostor’s accomplice. That meant the tall one was the impostor himself.
Keris took a fix on their position, and then fell back, plotting a wide arc across country to re-join the road ahead of them. The route led through a constricted pass with steep sides. One entrance. One exit. Perfect. Their journey ends here.
Lying near the periphery of the shelf overlooking the ravine, she took out three lodestone discs one by one from the pouch at her belt, placing them in a small triangle at the edge of the overhang, on the side facing where the highway approached from the north. Then she reached in once more and took out a transparent globe, placing it carefully over the centre of the three discs. The Vision Sphere floated in mid air, suspended by the pushing force of the discs.
Keris got to her feet and moved back a few steps out of sight, extracting an identical sphere and setting it carefully in a crevice. She turned it until she could see a fish-eye view of the road as it wound through the hills. The two spheres were Linked, but unlike the Rings, the Link was one way. She sat with her legs crossed and her cloak tucked under her, watching the sphere set in the rock surface, planning her next actions.
Three hostiles. Objective; neutralize two, retain one for questioning. Tactical assessment mandates isolation and containment protocol. However, common sense suggested such precautions were hardly necessary. A musician, a slip of a girl and a man who had delusions of being a Keltar. The impostor would have to come with her, of course, and he would have to explain how he obtained the cloak and the staff. But she was inclined to simply let the others go. They appeared to be no threat. At most, they were guilty of allying themselves with a madman. And she had seen more than enough unnecessary death and suffering of late.
A movement on the road below. The sphere showed a distorted image of three figures and two morgren rounding a bend in the gully. She obviously could not leap off a hundred foot drop on the off chance that there would be a deposit of lodestone to break her fall. Her plan was rather to allow them to continue through and to be waiting for them at the other end, where they would have nowhere to run. Time to finish this.
Keris picked up the sphere and returned it to her pouch, then went over to retrieve the other sphere and the discs.
A shadow. She made to turn, but was caught by a vicious blow to the side of the head. She fell heavily on her side. Her ears felt encased in fog, muffling all sound. She tried to open her eyes and had an impression of a huge shape, wings outstretched as if to claim her. Then a crushing pain in her side and in her right leg.
The searing crimson of agony faded to the absolute blackness of oblivion.
<><><><><>
Chapter 7
Keris clawed her way to consciousness, and then wished almost immediately that she hadn’t. Her head felt as if there were someone inside it pounding at her skull, trying to get out. She put her fingers to her temple; it felt tacky and her fingers came away stained in white blood. She tried to focus, but everything was a blur. Screwing her eyes shut, she forced them open again, blinking away a combination of tears and dried blood.
She was lying on a rough weave of branches and brushwood. Close by were four smooth convex shapes half as big as she was. Eggs? Panic rose within her like a gathering storm. She lifted her head a little. She was high on a ledge, the ground far below. A perridon’s nest.
Keris glanced up, scanning the sky. A pair of mylars was circling nearby, but there was no sign of the great bird. There was little doubt that it would be returning soon, however. How did I get myself into this mess? No time to debate that. She had to get away, now.
Her staff was gone, but her cloak was still wrapped around her. She tried activating it, to feel the reassuring push of any nearby lodestones, but there was nothing. Whether that was because the cloak was damaged, or because there were none, she had no way to know. That left just one option. She would have to climb down.
She tried to heave herself upright, and then clenched her teeth in agony, nearly passing out again. There was a searing pain in her right leg. With a sickening jolt, she realised it was broken. She eased herself back, eyes filling with tears of frustration. I’m finished.
She lay back and closed her eyes. Not long, now.
She felt a downdraught of wind, heard a powerful flapping. She slowly opened her eyes. The perridon spread its immense wings, filling her field of vision. She could see its long tooth-filled beak and its yellow eyes like two burning candles.
A commotion from below. Now I’m hearing things. A stick or spear smacked the winged beast in the side. It squawked and turned to face its assailant, as a group of strange creatures appeared over the side of the nest.
They were about half her size, with six legs, or perhaps two legs and four arms; it was hard to tell. Their round heads were set into their bodies, with a layered underbelly and a segmented carapace covering their backs. Chandara. Keris had heard of them, but had never actually seen one. They lived as primitives in remote areas, never approaching Kelanni settlements. It was said that they had the power of speech, but that their speech made no sense. It seems as if someone is determined that I should be their meal today.
The Chandara were leaping and dancing in front of the perridon to attract its attention. Every now and then, one of them would dash forward and thrust a stick at the avian monster before retreating hurriedly. This was a poor tactic, Keris observed detachedly. They stood little chance of defeating the creature that way. Then she realised–they are not trying to defeat it; they are trying to distract it.
Before she could speculate further, she felt her shoulders being lifted under her. Another group of Chandara were supporting and manhandling her out of the nest. The movement caused another wave of agony to burst forth from her broken leg. The wave crashed into her brain and sent her hurtling once more into unconsciousness.
~
Keris felt herself rising gently from a deep sleep. Weariness enveloped her like a shroud. There was an ache in her side and another in her right leg. She shifted her leg in response. It felt whole. But it had been broken–she was sure of it. Had she dreamed the whole thing? Was she still in her room at the Silver Flagon in Lind? She kept her eyes closed and sniffed at the odd scent which reached her nostrils. Wood.
She opened her eyes. The room–no, more of a chamber–that she was in, was nothing like the room at the Inn. She was lying on a collection of furs, piled beneath her on the floor. The floor and curved walls were of smooth wood. There was no other furniture or decoration of any kind. She looked down, realising she was naked. How…?
Too many questions. She had to start finding some answers. She pulled a fur around herself and got to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly, and she swayed a little but managed to stay upright. There was a single small round window. She walked to it slowly, still feeling very fragile, and had to grab the low sill to keep from sinking to her knees. She bent down and viewed the scene.
She was looking down at a forest, from what seemed like several hundred feet up. The chamber she was in was itself set within an immense tree, the lower parts of its trunk swallowed up by the forest below. She looked up. The trunk stretched skyward, disappearing in a profusion of branches and purple foliage.
There was a movement behind her. She turned to see one of the Chandara standing in the low entranceway to the chamber. It was standing upright, holding a wooden bowl loaded with fruits by its middle limbs. She noticed for the first time that their limbs ended in three jointed fingers. The creature waddled over to the pile of furs and set down the bowl. Then it turned to Keris, and spoke in a high, thickly accented voice. Its mouth seemed to ripple from side to side as it spoke. “You Must Lie. Soon After The Healing.”
Not a dream then. Keris pulled the fur tighter around her. “Wh…where am I?” Her voice sounded in her ears like a croak.
“This Is The Great Tree.” Keris moved to the pile of furs, half collapsing on them. The Chandara continued, “There Is No Perridon. You Are Safe Here.” She flexed her right leg again, experimentally. A dull ache, but otherwise it seemed perfectly all right.
She gathered her wits. “My name is Keris. I am Keltar, on an important mission for the Prophet. I require your assistance. If you aid me, I will see to it that you are rewarded.”
The creature looked uncomprehending. Then its mouth rippled in the same peculiar way. “I Am Boxx.”
“I thought Chandara do not have names.”
“Chandara Do Not Have Names.” Keris was not sure whether it was agreeing with her, or merely repeating what she had just said. It added helpfully, “I Am Boxx.”
Keris felt as if she were getting a headache. She tried changing the subject. “I need my things, my clothes that I was wearing when I came here. Do you know where they are?”
“I Know.”
“Can you take me there?”
“I Can Take, But You Cannot. You Must Rest. Then You Must See Before. Then You Will Leave.”
Keris leaned back, feeling exhaustion claim her once again. Too tired to argue.
“Rest Now,” soothed the creature in its odd little voice. “Then You Must See Before.”
~
Keris awoke feeling invigorated. She was still lying on her bed of furs in the hollowed out part of “The Great Tree.” A Chandara was standing next to her, although she could not tell if it was Boxx, from earlier. She sat up.
“You Are Better.” It sounded more like a statement than a question, but she answered anyway.
“Yes, I am, thank you.”
It pointed a mid forearm at the bowl. “Food.”
Keris realised for the first time that she was ravenous. She helped herself to the fruit, keeping an eye on the Chandara, but it merely watched her eat without moving. The fruit was sweet and delicious and soon she was feeling full. She wiped juice from the side of her mouth, feeling like a little girl. The creature pointed to the small entrance to the chamber.
“You Come.”
“I need my clothes,” she pointed out. It seemed not to understand. “My clothes. The things I was dressed in when I came here.”
The Chandara merely indicated the entrance once more.
“You Come.”
With an exasperated sigh, Keris wrapped a fur around herself as best she could and followed.
There was a narrow path which spiralled downward along the inside of the vast trunk. Small windows at irregular intervals looked out onto stunning views of the forest and hills beyond, but Keris did not linger. They descended without exchanging a word.
The path continued down in a seemingly endless curve. Every now and then they passed other Chandara, which scuttled past them on all sixes. They were curious creatures, unlike any she had encountered before. In other circumstances, she might even have found them amusing. However, she was too preoccupied. She reminded herself that she owed these peculiar beasts her life. It might yet be that they would exact a price for that. She was feeling distinctly vulnerable. They already had her clothes and her equipment. They have me right where they want me.
Without warning, the Chandara turned through a narrow doorway. Keris ducked and stepped through after it. She found herself in a much larger chamber, filled with dozens of them. It looked like a disorganised melee. The creatures were pushing and climbing over each other. However, despite the apparent overcrowding, two areas were left clear; the one in which she was standing, and a second in the centre of the chamber where three Chandara stood erect on their hind limbs. The one in the middle was grasping a gnarled wooden staff with its left middle and forelimb. The one to the right carried a device that Keris did not recognise. In front of them, a thick branch extending from the floor was cut off, making a flat table about half the creatures’ height. She walked forward, the creatures clearing a path for her.
The one with the staff spoke. “You Are Kelanni?”
It seemed an obvious and pointless question. However, Keris decided that the best thing would be to follow along and see where this was leading. “My name is Keris.”
“We Were Asked To Bring Kelanni Here. There Is Great Danger To Your People.”
“Danger? From whom?”
“From The Unan-Chinneroth.”
The Unan-Chinneroth. The name given to the Prophet in the ancient tongue. It was used in services, though not generally in casual conversation. How did these primitives know of it? And why did they believe the Prophet to be a danger to the Kelanni?
“I don’t understand.”
The chief motioned with his staff towards the creature on Keris’ right. The Chandara stepped forward and set the device down on the truncated branch in front of her. The machine had a circular flat base, silver in colour, with an intricate mechanism of silver, red and gold. The creature pressed a switch on the side.
A glowing light appeared and grew in the air above the apparatus, finally resolving into the image of a woman dressed in white, in a style Keris did not recognise. The projection shimmered slightly, giving it an air of unreality. The mouth moved, and a voice spoke from the depths of the machine.
“You are Kelanni?” The same question again.
“Yes, my name is Keris. To whom am I speaking?”
“I am called Annata. You must listen carefully, as I do not know how long this link will stay open, Keris. I am speaking to you from what you know as your past–three thousand two hundred and thirty-one turns ago.”
Keris’ mind reeled. “How is such a thing possible?”
“We were able to use the power of the white sun. It can be used to…stretch time, enabling me to speak with you.”
“How–?”
“In my time the Kelanni are a great civilisation. We have advanced to the point where we have found out how to do many things that you cannot. However, a great disaster has befallen us. A plague is sweeping through our race. Whether it is natural or artificial we do not know, but our physicians and scientists have been unable to stop it.
“Some have taken to building ships to take us away from this world, but they can carry no more than a few thousand at most, and we are millions. So others like me have concentrated on trying to ensure the long term survival of our race. To that end, we contacted the Chandara, who agreed to help us. We chose them because they are long lived and because they communicate memory by chemical means, which is more permanent than any oral or written form. We then launched a series of devices like this one, so that they could be recovered by the Chandara at different points in our future, and we could discover what would become of our people.
“We learned that there would be a few survivors, who would start to rebuild. Eventually, through a boy named Kal, they would even re-discover the rudiments of lodestone technology. However, from the last device we were able to send, the one in your time, we found out that Unan-Chinneroth, the one you call ‘The Prophet,’ had taken control.
“The Unan-Chinneroth is not of your world, Keris. Tell me, do you know the meaning of the name Unan-Chinneroth?”
“No, very few people know the ancient tongue.”
“It means, ‘without a tail.’ He is not Kelanni. His skin is white and his blood is red.
“His people arrived on the other side of your world and tried to take it over, but they were defeated. So one of them decided to build a device which would give his people absolute power. That device works through lodestone technology. However, in order to complete it, he needed to refine large amounts of lodestone. So he used his ship to travel to your side and proclaimed himself, ‘Prophet.’ Then he began to enslave the Kelanni there to produce the lodestone and build the weapon.”
“Where is this weapon?”
“It was being built at the processing facility you know as Persillan. Eleven turns ago, there was a revolt at Persillan. The revolt was put down by the premature detonation of a prototype device, which destroyed the rebel force. The apparatus was then moved by ship to the other side of your world. It is being assembled on an island there, although I do not know its exact location.
“The Prophet intends to destroy the Kelanni and claim the world for his own people. You must neutralize the weapon. There is only one safe way to do this, and that is with the use of a special instrument. I do not have time now to explain to you how it works, but we have concealed it at a secret location in our time. It lies on the other side of your world. To gain access you will need a special key. I cannot tell you more, except to say that this key is designed so that it cannot be misappropriated or forged.
You must take Boxx with you. It is the key. And you must find other Kelanni who are willing to help you defeat the Prophet. The process requires four–four who can pass the test.”
The only people I know like that, thought Keris, are the ones that are walking into a trap at Gort. Somehow, I have to get there first.
“You must traverse your world and cross the Great Barrier of Storms to the other side,” Annata continued.
“You mean across the Aronak Sea?” Keris exclaimed. “That is impossible; no-one can survive the storms.”
“There is a way.” The hologram rippled, and then stabilised once again. “On your side of Kelanni there are two towers. Those towers contain vacuum hole displacement teleporters–machines that can be used to transport you instantly to the other side. You must travel to one of these towers. I will then tell you how to operate it.
“The Prophet must not discover what you are doing, or all will be lost. Nor must he learn of the Chandaras’ involvement. They are taking an enormous risk by helping us. We owe them a great debt.
“When you reach the other side, I will explain more about the key. If anything goes wrong, seek out the Chandara on that side and they will aid you. They can also direct you to where the instrument that you will need to use to disarm the weapon lies. However, there is one thing you must know. The instrument itself is very dangerous. You must not allow–”
The holographic image suddenly fizzled and went out. Keris stared into the now silent machine. Could it be true? Was the Prophet truly trying to destroy the Kelanni? The woman from the past must be dead now, she realised; her bones long since turned to dust. Yet everything she had said made so much sense. She thought of those who had died– who would yet die. He had to be stopped. She needed time to think. First though, she needed to get to Gort. Or there will be more innocent deaths.
The Chandara holding the staff spoke up.
“You Have Seen Before. Now You Must Leave.” He turned to the other Chandara on her left. “This Is Boxx. Boxx Is The Key. Boxx Must Go With Keris. For All Kelanni.”
The Chandara crowded in the chamber were watching her expectantly. She raised her head.
“I am ready.”
The Chandara on the right picked up the little machine and handed it ceremoniously to Boxx. Boxx waddled to a side entrance, Chandara clearing a path either side. Keris followed, ducking once more as she exited the large chamber. Another narrow path led down the inside of the Great Tree.
After a short while, Boxx led her into an anteroom. There was another table rising up from the floor on which her clothes were neatly folded, with her cloak lying on top and her pouch of lodestones beside them. Her clothes appeared to have been cleaned and mended and she was surprised to see her diamond bladed staff propped up in the corner. The Chandara must have retrieved it from the top of the pass, but how had they known she had been there? Had they been watching her?
She dismissed the thought and got dressed. Boxx stowed the contraption in a pack which it fixed to its back. The creature then led her back out into the passage and down a short way until it opened up into another large area. Sunlight was streaming through an archway at one end. They walked through and Keris found herself at the base of the Great Tree.
The gnarled trunk stretched away left and right and upwards to the very heavens. Orange, yellow and purple moss clung to its bark and red leaved vines wound around its lower limbs and spurs, lending it a festive appearance. Massive roots broke though the rich forest loam, before diving beneath it in search of hidden wellsprings. It was ancient; how ancient, Keris could not even guess. She saw Boxx regarding the Great Tree wistfully.
“The Great Tree; My Home.”
Keris turned, heading off across the dappled sunlight of the forest floor.
After a moment, Boxx dropped to all sixes, and trotted off after her.
<><><><><>
Chapter 8
Light was fading from the sky; casting sprays of orange and ruby red to merge with Ail-Mazzoth’s sullen crimson glow. The smouldering hues infused the trees with a lurid radiance, making it seem as if the forest were ablaze. The Chandara did not seem to use names, but she had learned that Kelanni of ancient times had called it Illaryon. The name was vaguely familiar; it lay to the west of Chalimar and its dependent towns.
They were camped at the edge of the trees. Keris was seated on the ground, with her legs tucked under her. She was still wearing her cloak. Boxx was carrying a quantity of fruits in its pack, which Keris had supplemented from what she could find. She had not felt so well fed and rested for a long time. But she had found that there was a price to be paid.
She was used to being alone, to working alone. She had learned to rely on herself ever since her parents had left her at the Dagmar manse. As a worker on the estate, and later at the Keep and during her training as Keltar, she had concluded time and again, that the only person you could truly depend on was yourself. Oh, there were always people who would show an interest in you; who would listen sympathetically; who would even declare their wish to become your friend. But ultimately, it always came down to the fact that they wanted something from you. Everyone has their own agenda.
That is not to say that she was a loner. There were those at the keep that she regarded as friends. But she kept them at a certain arm’s length. When it came to the important things of life, and especially when it came to her work as Keltar, Keris preferred to work alone. That way she could analyse, plan and find solutions without distractions. Distractions like Boxx.
It was like travelling with a small child. She had learned that Boxx was old. It did not even seem to know its age. “I Am More Than One Zero Zero Zero Zero Zero Zero Zero Turns,” it had stated proudly. Keris put it together in her head. That would be more than ten million turns. The woman from the past, Annata, had mentioned that the Chandara were long lived, but even Keris knew that was ridiculous. Nothing could possibly live that long.
“You can’t be ten million turns,” she replied dismissively. “You must have got the number wrong.”
“The Number Is Correct, Keris,” Boxx insisted.
It occurred to her that maybe the creature was senile. Wonderful. I now have a senile companion. However old it was, it was evident that it had never been beyond its tree home.
“How Old Are You?…Where Do You Live?…What Is A Keep?…Why Do You Carry That Branch?”
Keris felt as if she were on a school field trip. She tried to answer as best she could, but she felt her patience was being tested to the limit.
“What Is A Female?” The beast seemed puzzled when she didn’t answer.
However, it was not its incessant curiosity that was the problem, but rather its speed. It was capable of trotting along at a fair pace; it was just that she could travel much faster using the cloak. She was not sure exactly how much time she had lost while recuperating at the Great Tree, but she knew that if she were to make it to Gort in time to intervene, then time was of the essence.
Thus Keris was faced with two difficult decisions. The first was easy to make, but difficult to execute. The second would be difficult to make, but easy to execute.
She began with the first. Raising the back of her hand to her mouth, she spoke into her Ring. “Keris.”
There was a long pause. Finally, the Ring responded with an emerald glow. “Is it you, Keris? You haven’t reported for two days. What happened?”
Well, that answered one question. She had lost two days. Time enough to overtake the other three and make it to Gort first, if she didn’t delay. First though, she needed to conceal her true intentions.
Keris was not comfortable with deception. For one thing, lying had always been contrary to the precepts of the Three. It was quite different to posing as a diamond merchant at the Silver Flagon. That had been no more than play acting. It had even been amusing in its own way. Now she was going to have to play false to Mordal. Whatever else he was, he was also her mentor; the man who had guided and supported her; who had made her the person she was today. In a very real sense, she owed everything to him. And now I am about to betray him.
“My apologies, Mordal, I was…attacked by a perridon.”
“By the Three, are you all right?”
“I…was injured, but I am fine now.”
There was another pause. “I think you should return to the Keep, Keris. The fortress has been alerted to expect an attempt to free the tributes at the compound and the garrison there has been reinforced. There is no need for you to put yourself at further risk. Are you able to make the journey back here unaided?”
She was prepared for this. “Mordal, there is no need to be concerned. I suffered a mishap, but I assure you I am quite well. I ask that I be allowed to complete my assignment.”
It was a critical juncture. If he insisted that she return, then she would be faced with a tough choice: obey the command to return and allow the party of three to fall into the trap Mordal had set, or disobey and show her hand, thereby becoming a fugitive herself. However, she knew that Mordal had come to trust her instincts. She hoped it would be enough to buy her the time she needed.
An eternity passed, before she saw the Ring’s green radiance.
“I should know by now not to underestimate your determination, shouldn’t I? Very well, but I want you to keep in regular contact. I will Ring the garrison commander at Gort and tell him to give you any assistance you require. I want the impostor apprehended and you back at the keep as soon as possible. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“And Keris?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
“I will. Thank you.”
She glanced over at Boxx. It sat opposite, watching her with bead like eyes and an odd quirk at the side of its mouth, but for once it didn’t say anything.
It was time to carry out her second decision. Keris made preparations to bed down for the night, wrapping her cloak around her. Boxx followed suit, rolling up into a ball, so that only its carapace was visible.
She waited a long time. Whooping and chirruping sounds came filtering out of the flaming forest at odd intervals, as nocturnal creatures hunted and fled and ate or were eaten. The round shell that was Boxx did not move. She had no way of knowing whether it was asleep. In truth, she did not even know whether Chandara needed sleep or not.
She rose without a sound, and moved stealthily away from the tree line. Boxx did not stir. A line of hills rose to the east and south, silhouetted against the dark crimson sky. Beyond was the road south to Gort. She touched her cloak control, seeking the familiar push of lodestone. There, to the left and behind.
Keris leaped and flared her cloak and was gone.
~
Doubt. It was not a feeling to which Keris was accustomed. Her decisions were born from a sea of careful planning. Effects were carefully considered; consequences assessed; contingencies met. Thus when action resulted it flowed naturally, unfettered by hesitation.
Thus it was that she knew her decision to desert the Chandara was unquestionably the right one. Objective–deliver the three fugitives from the trap set for them at Gort. To be certain of achieving that objective she would have to arrive before they did. That meant travelling as fast as was possible. The Chandara would only slow her down. It was also a forest dweller, so she had no idea whether it would be able to survive in the desert. She was probably doing it a favour by leaving it behind.
Most likely the beast would return to the Great Tree once it realised it was alone. That was the only home it had ever known. There was a possibility that it might try to follow her, she supposed, but she planned to be far away by morning–farther than it would possibly be able to track. Eventually it would give up and go home.
The woman from the past had said something about it being a “key.” Keris did not know what that meant exactly, but if it proved to be important she could return here. No, there could be no question, no doubt; this decision was the correct one. Why then did it feel so wrong?
Perhaps you still haven’t recovered from that bump on the head? Keris smiled inwardly, but somehow it didn’t make her feel any better. She was sailing up and over a patch of loose scree. She felt herself passing over a strong deposit to her right. Blipping her bronze layer to brake slightly, she twisted in the air to give maximum push to her left. She soared up the hillside and landed in a crouched position. Looking up, she saw she was near the top of the rise. In a moment, she would reach the crest and start down the other side. From there it would be a simple matter to meet up with the road heading south.
A movement caught her eye. A dark shape passed over Ail-Mazzoth’s angry face, like a presage of danger. Perridon. Whether it was the same one that had taken her earlier or another, she couldn’t be sure. She felt the reassuring haft of her diamond bladed staff as her eyes tracked the great bird. She watched as it gained height, heading west. Towards the forest of Illaryon. Towards Boxx.
Keris had a disturbing vision. The monster swept down from the sky, grasping the Chandara in its huge talons, and carrying it off, while the little creature screamed. It was ridiculous. The chances of such a thing happening would have to be pretty remote. In any case, she had no idea whether Chandara could scream, or even if they felt pain for that matter. Nevertheless, she owed her life to this odd little being and its kin. And she had abandoned it.
Cursing her own weakness, she turned and started back towards the forest.
A while later, she approached the camp. Boxx was standing upright, as if it were patiently waiting for her. She moved inside the line of trees, where they would be relatively safe from avian attack. The Chandara watched her for a moment, then followed without a word. She lay down as before, and watched as Boxx curled up into a ball, next to the bole of a tree. To Keris it seemed as if there was a smile playing about its lips.
~
“Remember, keep your staff up. And don’t try shoving against a heavier opponent–which in your case will be almost all of the time.”
Shann chose to ignore the none too subtle jibe against her diminutive size. The jokes in that area were beginning to wear a bit thin, in any case. Instead, she decided to go on the offensive. “Well, it seems to me that I am taking lessons from a person who lost the only battle I ever saw him fight.”
Alondo shot a sideways glance at Lyall. “She’s got you there.”
Lyall adopted an air of injured pride. “I did not lose…technically it was a draw. Anyway, how was I to know that the Keltar was carrying lodestone grenades? That’s hardly fighting fair.”
“Oh, so you expect every servant of the Prophet you meet to ‘fight fair’, do you?” Shann retorted.
“She’s got you again,” Alondo grinned.
“Excuse me, whose side are you on?” Lyall demanded.
“Why, yours, of course. Can’t you tell?”
Lyall was beginning to suspect that he was the victim of a conspiracy. He decided to change the subject. “Anyway, we will be at the fortress in two more days.”
Shann became pensive as she was reminded of their destination. She began to wonder what she would face. Lyall had been somewhat evasive about the plan. However, she had no doubt that it would be dangerous, and she was determined to be as prepared as she could be.
Despite her initial revulsion at handling the trappings of a Keltar, she found that she was actually enjoying her training. She had to admit that Lyall was actually a good teacher: patient, enthusiastic and with a good sense of humour. He challenged her, without making her feel overwhelmed. As a result, her abilities were developing rapidly. She had even had Lyall flat on his back on a couple of occasions, although she was not completely sure whether he had allowed her to gain the advantage deliberately as a way of giving encouragement.
Using the flying cloak was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was exhilarating to soar like a mylar, feeling the air rush past her face and looking down at the tiny figure of Lyall watching her from below. There was a sensation of power.
Lyall brought her back down to earth by reminding her of the danger of overconfidence. “Most Keltar suffer from it. It makes them contemptuous of others, but it also makes them think of themselves as invincible. Don’t make the same mistake, Shann.”
The desert, too, was a place where overconfidence could be fatal. It was tempting to strip off in response to the heat of the day, but Alondo encouraged her to stay as wrapped up as possible during the day, to avoid the effects of sunburn.
When she took a sip of water, Alondo stopped her. “No, Shann. When you take a drink, you have to take a full draught, to sustain your body’s vital organs. You know people have been found dead in the desert with half full water skins, because they allowed themselves to become too dehydrated.” She nodded, and took a full drink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He smiled at her, encouragingly.
The road south was straight as an arrow and virtually devoid of traffic. They travelled by night, making camp a short while after Ail-Gan blazed forth in the western sky. Protected by awnings from the worst effects of the heat, they snatched what sleep they could. Lyall insisted that one person be on watch at all times. “There are dangers in this place; I pray we do not meet up with them.” He ignored her questioning look, declining to elaborate.
Shann was beginning to think he was being overcautious. They were only two days away from the fortress, and had not incurred any mishaps, so far. They had even found that the second outpost along the road had a well outside that was completely unguarded, allowing them to refill their water skins by night, unchallenged. She doubted that the garrison at Gort would manifest such lax security.
Ail-Gan would be appearing soon, heralding the heat of day and another rest from their arduous trek. She decided to ask about the fortress.
“Lyall, I thought a fortress was built to guard something, but there is nothing in this place. Why would someone build a fortress out in the middle of a desert?”
“I am not sure. Some say it was not always a fortress, but was originally something else. Others say that in ancient times, the Southern Desert was a land of lakes and lush forests.”
Shann cast her eye about the desolate sands. Shifting winds sculpted crescent-shaped dunes like the waves of a great ocean, frozen in time. But there was no ocean here. Dry and featureless, it was the very repudiation of life. Some people must have a powerful imagination.
An angry cloud was roiling in from the west. She watched it curiously for a moment. It was growing and advancing rapidly in their direction. Sandstorm? She reached up and touched Lyall on the shoulder. As he looked at her, she pointed at the incoming phenomenon. Lyall halted the caravan and squinted at where she was pointing. Alondo joined them.
The cloud crested the nearest dune and began barrelling down the slip face towards them. There were shapes in the cloud.
“Sand scarags!” Lyall yelled.
Claws clacked and mandibles snapped as the beasts surged forward, sending the morgren into a panic. Waist high, red brown and multi-legged, they moved across the sand at astonishing speed, forward chelipeds raised, eyes waving at the end of stalks.
“Shann.” Lyall sprang forward, flaring his cloak, and lurched into the air in the direction of the oncoming wave. Shann took the hint and followed suit. They landed in front of the creatures and began whirling their respective staffs. “Watch out for their tails,” Lyall warned. Shann saw that each of their tails ended in a bulbous appendage. A stinger.
Diamond blades flashed as they sliced through carapace and thorax alike. Sand scarags slumped to the ground while others scuttled around or over the backs of their fallen companions. Shann thrust her staff downwards, slicing the shell of one, and then pulling the staff free. As she did so, another one grasped her leg with its claw. She was pulled off balance and fell heavily to the ground. Looking up, she saw the sand scarag’s stinger raised, ready to strike.
There was a blur of motion. A diamond blade severed the claw from its cheliped, and she was free. Lyall’s hand grabbed her arm from behind and pulled her to her feet. The creatures were coming at them from the sides now. They were in danger of being surrounded.
“Fall back,” Lyall called, and the two of them began retreating towards the caravan. The swell, which had been halted momentarily, began moving forward again. Dozens. Hundreds.
How are we going to get out of this alive? They were almost backed up to where Alondo was desperately trying to bring the morgren under control. The beasts of burden broke free and bolted. Alondo swore.
“Alondo, forget the morgren,” Lyall shouted behind him.
Shann was thinking rapidly. If it were just her and Lyall, then they could leap away; outpace the sand scarags. But Alondo did not have a cloak. He was stuck firmly on the ground, and if they made their escape, he would be overwhelmed in moments. She cursed his obduracy.
Lyall called out, “Shann, get to the side.”
What? She was standing squarely in front of Alondo, in an effort to protect him. The creatures were already snapping their claws at the end of her staff which she held outstretched like a pike. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Lyall had moved around to Alondo’s flank.
“Shann, get to the side, now.”
Bewildered, she quickly backed around to Alondo’s other flank. Glancing at him, she saw that he had swung his instrument forward and had its tubular neck pointed toward the advancing line. He adjusted a control and hammered the strings. Shann felt a backwash of air, like a pressure wave, as a vortex of air and sound struck the oncoming swarm and knocked the creatures backwards.
He adjusted another control and attacked the strings again, this time with a rhythmic motion. A new vortex formed and began to resonate with the sand scarags’ body parts. The line broke, and the animals scuttled to either side to escape the blast.
“Come on,” Lyall shouted to Shann. “Just don’t get in the path of the sound weapon.”
The cloaked figures ran forward on either side of the vortex, wielding their staffs against the attackers. The sand scarags’ numbers thinned as more of them fell and others scuttled off towards the open desert. Lyall and Shann backed off as Alondo swept the sound weapon in a wide arc. The air shimmered as the stragglers were knocked back by an invisible wall. They fled, kicking up puffs of sand as they went.
Lyall and Shann both stood, feet planted firmly in the sand, staffs held out in front of them, scanning the dunes for any sign of the creatures. A score of sand scarag bodies lay scattered about where they had fallen, but there were no further signs of movement.
“Is everyone all right?” Lyall shouted.
Alondo and Shann both called out, “Yes.”
“Shann?”
“It just grabbed me; I’m fine.”
Lyall seemed satisfied and adopted a more relaxed stance. Shann followed his lead and walked over to where he was standing. “I thought sand scarags were just travellers’ stories.”
“Yes, well, we very nearly fell victim to one of those ‘stories.’” Lyall was still gazing at the horizon. Ail-Gan was lighting up the western horizon, heralding the onset of dawn.
She continued, looking up at him. “Do you think we are safe now?”
“For the moment.” He turned. “Alondo, we need to get moving. Let’s round up those morgren. Shann, see if you can help him.”
Shann joined Alondo, who was straining his ears. They both heard a distant tinkling sound. Alondo grinned. “That’s why they wear bells. Come on.” He headed off in the direction the sound was coming from.
She trotted to catch up with him. “That instrument…armament…whatever it was you used. That was amazing.”
“Well, it’s nice of you to say so. Lyall may fly around waving his stick, but you notice it’s always me he comes to, when he needs some real work done.”
Shann laughed out loud.
<><><><><>
Chapter 9
The desert outpost was a collection of rough stone buildings straddling the road to Gort. It was a depressing stop on the way to an even more depressing place. An outside well stood near the road, offering respite from the effects of sun and sand.
They were making good time. This was the second of the two outposts on the desert highway. Keris reckoned they should be at the fortress in less than a day. Boxx appeared to be adapting well to desert conditions. More importantly it seemed able to keep up with her. She realised that its pace had increased when she had taken the time to explain the purpose of their journey across the desert.
“If We Are After, Your Friends Will Die?” it asked.
“Well they’re not exactly…yes, they will die.”
“Then We Must Arrive Before.”
Keris travelled as fast as she could, using the flying cloak. Boxx was a dark figure, loping along the highway below.
She landed a hundred feet or so from the outpost and walked up to the guardhouse. Boxx trotted up beside her. She hammered on the door. It opened, and a soldier with dishevelled hair and open tunic stood in the doorway. He looked annoyed; then his face changed to surprise as he saw the cloaked figure standing before him.
“Keltar?”
Keris concluded that the man must be dim-witted. “Your name, soldier.”
“I am Geole.” The man was rearranging his clothing into a semblance of order. “My apologies, Keltar, we did not know there was to be another one.”
“Another one?”
“Another Keltar.” She stepped into the guardhouse, and Geole noticed for the first time the Chandara behind her, standing on its hind legs. His expression changed again, to one of pure distaste. “What is that?”
“That is none of your concern, soldier.” The creature dropped to all sixes and waddled inside. “Who was it who was here before?”
The man looked confused as if she were asking a question she should know the answer to. “Five Keltar were here yesterday from the keep at Chalimar, headed for Gort. They are expecting some sort of disturbance there.” He added, “You were not aware of this, Keltar?”
“Of course I am aware. That is why I am journeying there now. I will rest here during the midday period. I require re-supply.”
“Of course, Keltar. I will see to it at once.” The soldier’s gaze took in the figure of Boxx next to her. His brow furrowed, and he seemed about to say something, then thought better of it and left.
Five Keltar. If I don’t get there first, they won’t stand a chance.
~
The fortress of Gort rose above the desert sands, exuding an air of pure malevolence. Its walls were constructed of huge stones, with dark gaps like eye sockets. Battlements and pointed iron stakes were a crown of sharp horns. Massive doors of wood and iron stood open like a mouth stretched wide, its appetite insatiable.
It was a chained beast, devoid of all mercy and compassion, a symbol of tyranny and oppression.
Shann looked up at it, and a shiver ran down her spine. Lyall was silent. Even Alondo seemed to have been robbed of his usual ready humour.
Finally, Lyall broke the mood. “Come on.” He turned and walked back to their makeshift camp. The others followed in sombre moods. Light from Ail-Gan was waning in the east.
The camp lay in a sand hollow, out of sight of the road. The two morgren stood patiently in the gathering gloom. Lyall rummaged in a pack and started building a small fire, talking as he did so.
“All right, let’s discuss the plan. The tributes are sequestered in a compound outside the fortress to the south. There are no more than half a dozen soldiers on guard there at any one time. I suppose they conclude that the desert is an effective deterrent against escape.”
“How do you know all of that?” Shann interjected.
“I…was there once before. Anyway, in order to set them free, we are going to need their help. It will be a coordinated assault from within and without. Timing will be vital. That is where you come in, Shann.”
“Me?”
“That’s right. We need someone on the inside, someone to tell the tributes about the plan to free them, but above all, to convince them to do their part.”
The import of what Lyall was saying was slowly penetrating her consciousness. She frowned. “You want me to go in there?”
Lyall fixed her with his intense blue eyes. “I realise that what I am asking you to do is difficult. You will have to become one of them.”
“You mean become a tribute?”
“That’s right, Shann. And you will be on your own. But if the plan works, then it will be for no more than a day.”
Alondo’s face was drawn with concern. This is the first he’s hearing about it, she realised. “Lyall, are you sure about this?” he asked.
Lyall was still looking into Shann’s eyes as he replied to his friend. “You and I will be occupied with neutralizing the guards at the front. No-one else knows how to use that infernal contraption of yours. Besides,” he grinned, “you look too well fed to pass as a tribute.
“Shann, you are the only one who can pull this off. If we manage it, the tributes will be free, and we will have cut off the Prophet’s supply of lodestones. It will be the beginning of the end of the tyranny.”
Shaan thought of the tributes, wrested from their homes and families and condemned to toil and die in this terrible place. She could help set them free. And all it would cost would be to live as they were forced to, for a single day. It was a small enough price to pay. This is why I am here. To free my father and mother and bring them home.
She raised her chin and met Lyall’s steady gaze. “What do you need me to do?”
Lyall relaxed slightly. “First of all, you will need to pass as tribute. That means you will need to bear the mark.”
Alondo’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”
Lyall’s voice was low and firm. “She has to be capable of passing inspection. If she is found to be an interloper, then they will kill her and the plan will be lost.”
“By the Three, Lyall, you are talking about branding the girl. She will bear the mark for life.”
“It’s all right, Alondo,” Shann interjected, “I want to do it.” Alondo looked visibly upset, but he said nothing.
Lyall got up. “Shann, take a seat here by the fire. I will try and make this as quick and pain free as possible.” He went to one of the morgren and retrieved tools from one of the packs. He returned to the fire, and knelt beside it. The firelight gave his face a ruddy appearance. He fanned the core of the fire until it glowed hot. Then he placed an iron at its heart, until it glowed with the same radiance. He extracted the iron and pressed it to the olive skin at her neck. There was a brief hissing sound. She winced and Alondo looked away. Lyall pulled the iron away immediately and pressed a damp cloth to the wound. She knew that she was now marked forever with the flame; the symbol of the Prophet.
It’s a small enough price to pay.
~
Shann dumped the lodestone into the ore cart, sinking to her knees as she did so. The three suns blazed down with unremitting brutality. She was already almost swooning with heat and exertion.
Inducting her into the tribute gang had proved to be simple enough. There was only a single guard overseeing the ore gang, no doubt due to his having lost a bet the previous evening. Lyall located a surface lodestone, and had Shann walk to the ore cart from behind the cover of a dune, as if she had just found it. She was clad in the same rough brown smock as the other tributes. The bored guard was only interested in counting stones, not people.
As she got to her feet, a thin young man with sandy hair came up behind her. Checking that the guard was looking the other way, he breathed into her ear, “Who are you?”
Shann turned to look at him and was immediately struck by the fact that he looked like a younger version of Lyall. His mouth was straighter and his cheeks were hollowed out, but there were the same piercing blue eyes.
“My name is Shann,” she whispered. “There are others with me. We have a plan to free the tributes. Will you help us?”
“Are you out of your mind?” he hissed. “This is Gort, in the middle of the desert. There’s no escape from here.”
“We have a plan to get you out,” Shann insisted, “but you have to help. Will you listen to what I have to say?”
The boy checked that the guard was still looking the other way and bent his head again. “All right. You see the dune over there?” Shann nodded imperceptibly. “Head for the dip side. I will follow in a few moments.”
Without a word, she headed off in the direction he indicated. Soon she was out of sight of the guard. She turned and saw the boy she had talked to accompanied by an older man. The man had thinning grey hair and looked little more than a skeleton, skin stretched taut over his bony frame. It was he who spoke. He sounded terse. “What’s this all about?”
“I need to speak to Leskin. Do you know if he’s here?”
The skeleton man looked confused. “I am Leskin; who are you?”
“I have a message for you from Lyall. He says old man Ennas is well. He would like to see you again, but his sight isn’t too good since Persillan.”
“By the Three,” the old man gasped. “Lyall? He’s here? You must tell him to leave at once. It’s too dangerous.”
“He said you would say that,” Shann observed. “I am to ask why you think he would do that, when he didn’t have the sense to leave eleven turns ago?”
“It is Lyall.” The older man turned to the youth. “It is the one I told you of.” His brow furrowed as he addressed Shann. “But who are you? How–”
“There is no time now,” she broke in. “Can you spread the word among the others? They need to be ready tomorrow, just before dawn.”
“Very well.” He gave a single nod, like a small bow. “I will do as you ask.” He turned to leave, but she called over his shoulder.
“One more thing. Lyall asked whether you had seen Aune.”
“I’m sorry,” Leskin said. “She is not here. I don’t know where she is.”
“I see. Thank you. I will meet you at the compound later.” She walked off in the opposite direction. As she rounded the side of the dune she reached into her pocket and took out a red bandanna, tying it about her head. It was the prearranged signal to Lyall and Alondo that the plan had been agreed to.
Wherever they were, she hoped that they would be cheered by the sight.
Everything was in place. Shann dared to hope.
We can actually do this.
~
Keris strode through Gort’s massive wood and iron gates, long dark hair and ebon cloak stirring in the breeze. Beside her trotted Boxx. The guard acknowledged the Keltar, and then gave the Chandara an odd look. This is going to be a problem, she thought.
“I would speak with your commander,” she declared. The soldier pointed out the casemate, his eyes straying towards Boxx as he did so. However, he was apparently discreet enough not to begin asking a Keltar awkward questions. She doubted whether others would be so circumspect.
She could not leave the creature out in the desert to fend for itself. Yet she had vital business to take care of here in the fortress. That left only one alternative. She headed across the mustering yard in the direction of the stables.
Individuals pointed and whispered, viewing the strange beast with a mixture of curiosity and repugnance.
“Keris?” The Chandara addressed her.
“Quiet!” She hissed.
The stables were a rough wooden construction adjacent to the outer wall. The pens were mostly occupied by morgren. Keris asked the stableman to point out a vacant pen and led Boxx there.
She got down on her haunches to be on its level. “Wait here till I return.”
“Yes, Keris.” It lay down on the straw, its legs tucked beneath its body. Keris got up and turned to leave.
“Keris?” it asked again in its odd accent.
“What is it?”
“Your People. Kelanni. They Do Not Like Me.”
“It’s not that exactly…” She struggled to find the words. “People are sometimes afraid of things that are unfamiliar, things that they do not understand.”
There was a pause as if Boxx were digesting this. He added, “Does Keris Like Me?”
She found herself unexpectedly flustered. “I will be back as soon as I can.” For the first time in as long as she could remember, Keris retreated.
~
Ferenek, the garrison commander, was reviewing a set of plans tossed casually across a large wooden table, as Keris entered the casemate. Soldiers came and went, and there seemed little privacy. He looked up as the Keltar entered. “Thank you, Virdin, that will be all for now.”
The soldier standing next to him nodded. “Commander.” Then he strode away.
“Keris, isn’t it?” Ferenek began. “We were told you were coming. Mordal has instructed me to give you every assistance in the matter of tracking down the impostor and his accomplices…interesting creature you brought with you. I would like to hear about it some time.”
The man obviously had an efficient network of informants at the fortress. There seemed to be very little that went on here that escaped his notice, although it was probably difficult to keep anything secret for long in a place this size.
Keris got to the point. “I would like to review the defensive measures that have been taken at the compound.”
“Certainly, although I am sure you will find them adequate.” He shuffled the papers on the table and selected a ground plan. “Security has been stepped up on Mordal’s order.” He pointed a slender index finger at the relevant parts of the plan. “We have one detachment of soldiers, headed by a Keltar, at the guardhouse here, with a further four detachments and four more Keltar inside the compound, here. I am told that there are only a few hostiles, perhaps three. In any case, the compound has been put on high alert. I am confident that we can deal with any problems.”
Keris pretended to study the plan in detail. “Yes, I see… Very good, Commander. I shall see to it that Mordal hears of your diligence.”
“You are too kind, Keltar,” Ferenek bowed slightly. “Shall I arrange accommodations for you here at the fortress?”
“Yes, please do,” she replied. That is one bed I will not be sleeping in. “Now please excuse me; I have preparations to make.”
“Of course, Keltar.” Ferenek bowed once more.
Keris headed out of the casemate and crossed the courtyard towards the stables. The impostor and his party would make their move soon. She would have to be ready. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a disturbance. It was coming from the direction of the pens. She quickened her pace, and as she turned the corner, she saw a small group of youths yelping and throwing stones. Keris looked between them and abruptly saw the object of their assault. A shell, rolled up into a ball. Boxx.
“Hey there!” Keris shouted, and began running towards them. The youngsters looked up at the sight of a Keltar in a black cape bearing down on them. Panic was etched on their faces. They bolted in all directions.
Keris reached the Chandara. It was not moving. She dropped to her knees and touched its shell. “Boxx,” she cried. “Boxx, answer me.”
The shell unfurled, and a round head with small dark eyes popped out. The creature was shivering slightly. “Yes, Keris?”
“Boxx, are you all right?”
“I Am All Right.”
Keris felt a surge of relief, followed by another of deep shame. The words of Annata, the woman from the past were ringing in her mind. “They are taking an enormous risk by helping us. We owe them a great debt.”
She got to her feet. “We need to get out of here now. Can you move?”
“Yes, Keris.”
They headed together for the fortress gates. A few people watched them, but did not approach.
As they walked, she heard herself say, “Boxx, I’m so sorry.”
“I Too Am Sorry, Keris.” Boxx replied. Then as if to reassure her, it added, “Kelanni Fear Things That They Do Not Understand.”
~
Dawn was fast approaching. Overhead, a large meteor shower sent scintillating streaks arcing across the sky. Beside the compound, the forbidding walls of Gort rose up like a gigantic sentry. Lyall and Alondo lay flat against the sand, watching the enclosure. A collection of low wooden buildings, bounded by a rectangular wooden palisade, its single gate was dominated by a guardhouse. There were lights in the guardhouse, but the other blocks were dark, casting rhomboid shadows over the scarlet-tinged earth.
“All right,” Lyall whispered. “Once we get to the guardhouse, I kick the door open, then you let fly with the vortex arm. I will take care of anyone who isn’t immediately stunned by the blast. The tributes should deal with any remaining opposition within the compound. We distribute their weapons, take out the guards on the fortress gate as quietly as possible and then make for the armoury. Clear?”
“Sounds too easy.” Alondo smiled in the darkness. “Shouldn’t we give them more of a sporting chance?”
“Very funny,” Lyall responded dryly. “Are you ready?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then let’s go.”
Both men rose up from the sand and started down the dune’s windward side. Crouching low, they moved rapidly toward the guardhouse. They reached the foot of the dune and crossed the short distance to the gate. Lyall was already adjusting the cloak’s control to feel for the push of lodestone. He leapt and cleared the palisade, landing inside the compound. As he turned toward the guardhouse, Lyall thought he saw a dark shape move at the side of the building. He looked directly at the place but there was nothing. Was it just my imagination? No matter. They were committed now.
Lyall went to the gate, and unbolted it. He pulled one side open just enough to admit Alondo. The gate creaked slightly and he winced, looking round but the silence descended once again. He motioned Alondo forward and they crept over to the guardhouse door.
Alondo had the vortex arm in the ready position. Lyall prepared to charge the door. Before he could do so, he heard a succession of muffled thuds and muted cries coming from inside. He held up his hand and listened. After a few moments, the sounds died and silence descended once again like a blanket. Lyall waited for long moments, straining his ears, but there was nothing. Finally, he reached back and kicked in the door. The door flew back on its hinges with a thump.
Bodies lay slumped on the floor, against walls and over tables. Unmoving. Lyall counted six…no, seven, including one cloaked figure, a Keltar. A lone figure stood over them in a terrible tableau. Another Keltar–a woman with sharp features and long dark hair. He could see white blood staining the diamond blades of the staff she held. Lyall stepped forward, raising his own staff on impulse.
The stranger raised a hand. “Hold.” Lyall stopped in his tracks. The woman continued, “I know who you are and why you have come. You must get out of here.”
Lyall was still holding his staff in a defensive posture. “If you know why we are here, then you know we are not going to leave. The tributes must be freed.”
“You do not understand.” The woman’s eyes blazed. “They know of your plan. They are ready for you. There are another two dozen soldiers and four Keltar within the compound. They do not intend for you to leave here alive.”
“But how–?” Lyall stammered.
“It doesn’t matter how. You cannot free them. If you want to live, you must leave. Now.”
“Who are you?” Alondo demanded.
“I am…I was a Keltar. You must go. Collect your morgren and take the road east. I will catch up with you.”
Lyall looked around at the scattered bodies. “You are not coming?”
“No, I…have some things to take care of first.”
Lyall felt as if he were in shock. There was nothing he could do. He turned to leave through the door. Behind him, he heard Alondo’s voice.
“We owe you our lives, stranger. May I know your name?”
“Keris,” the woman replied. “I am called Keris.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 10
Lyall marched across the yielding sand without looking back. Alondo had to jog to catch up with him. “Lyall, listen to me. We can’t just leave. Shann is still in there…. Lyall!” He grabbed Lyall by the arm and pulled his friend around to face him. He saw with shock that the tall man’s eyes were filled with tears.
He watched as Lyall seemed to collect himself. “I know. I will get you to a safe place. Then I’m going back there for her.”
“You’re not going alone, surely?”
Lyall turned and strode away. Ail-Gan was an incandescent yellow lamp, low in the west. Already, the temperature was moving from warm to hot. Pretty soon it would be oppressive, like a heavy hand over everything that moved.
Alondo hurried in Lyall’s wake. “At least let me help,” he pleaded.
“No.” Lyall’s voice was firm. “I won’t put anyone else at risk over my mistakes.”
“This is about Persillan, isn’t it?” Alondo persisted. “What happened back then wasn’t your fault, and neither is this.”
“It has nothing to do with that. I…I just have to make it right.”
Alondo was speaking to Lyall’s back. “I understand. We will get her out. But let’s come up with a plan first. We are no good to Shann if we’re dead.”
Lyall stopped and whirled around. “I was the one who sent her in there, Alondo. I am responsible. Me. I have to get her back.”
“And just how do you propose to do that? Think, Lyall. Two dozen soldiers and four Keltar. Wasn’t that what that woman said? You can’t do this without help.”
Lyall let out a sigh. “Look, I appreciate the offer, really I do. And I know you want to get her back as much as I do. But in this instance, one person on their own stands the best chance.”
“All right, all right, but you can’t go there now. The moment someone goes to inspect the guardhouse, the place will be in an uproar. At least wait a while.”
Lyall paused, deep in thought. “Very well, we wait till Ail-Kar, the white sun rises. Then I will go in. You stay with the morgren. Wait till the white sun sets. If I am not back by then, take the road east. I will catch up to you.”
They crested the windward side of the dune. Their tiny encampment sat in the slack; white awnings undulating in a gentle breeze; the morgren, standing stoically off to one side. Lyall and Alondo scrambled down the dip side, kicking up sand as they went. Lyall sat down in the shade. Reaching for a water skin, he took a long draught, and offered it to Alondo, who accepted it gratefully.
The two sat in silence for a while. Alondo wanted to ask what he should do if his friend didn’t catch up to him–if he never returned. But he could not bring himself to frame the question. Instead he asked, “Lyall, how is it that they knew of our plan?”
Lyall was staring at the lightly shifting sands. “I wish I knew. Neither Hedda nor Moina knew of our destination. Even if they had, they would have died rather than betray us. Shann was with us the whole time until…”
“Until we sent her into the compound.” Alondo completed the thought. “Could she have tipped them off?”
Lyall was shaking his head. “No, it’s impossible. I know the girl. I’ve lived with her these past few days, worked with her. I know how she feels about the Prophet and everything he stands for. Besides, there is no way that they could have gathered six Keltar at the compound in that time. They must have known what we were up to long before that.”
Alondo felt a surge of relief. Shann had an innocence and a vulnerability about her, coupled with bravery and determination in a way that was very endearing. In the last several days it felt as if the three of them had knitted together into a close family. He did not want to believe that she could have betrayed them. He quickly changed the subject. “There’s another thing. Why would one of the Keltar turn on their own?”
“Why indeed?” Lyall mused.
“I know of only one other person who tried that. And he wasn’t nearly as successful. He only had one Keltar to deal with, and he could still only manage a draw.” Alondo smiled to himself.
“Are you ever going to stop bringing that up?” Lyall’s annoyance quickly subsided. “Still, she took out half a dozen soldiers and another Keltar. I never saw or heard anything like it.”
“And she saved our lives into the bargain,” Alondo reminded him.
“True and I never even thanked her.”
“Maybe you will get your chance?” Alondo speculated.
“I hope so.” Lyall leaned back on his elbows. “I have a feeling we are missing a big piece of the puzzle. I also have a feeling that that woman Keris is the key.
“Anyway, I have an important job to do, so for now I need to get some rest. Can you stand watch?
“Certainly,” Alondo confirmed.
Lyall lay down under the awning. Alondo watched as his breathing became slow and even.
I hope this is one battle you win. For Shann’s sake.
~
As soon as Shann returned to the enclosure, it was evident that something was wrong.
A group of four tributes, one of whom was the boy who had first approached her, pulled the ore cart across the sand like beasts of burden,. The cart had sleds, but was still apt to get bogged down on occasion, causing them to have to strain every muscle. The haul was poor, which made their task a little easier but also put the guard in a foul mood. As soon as any one of the four stumbled, they found themselves on the receiving end of a swift kick.
Shann trailed behind with the group of two dozen others. Two other ore carts stood out of the way, beyond the gate, signalling that two identical parties had already returned. As they passed the guardhouse, Shann saw a group of four soldiers in iron studded leather armour crossing the yard. Then two more. Then coming round the corner of a building, a dark cloaked figure. No, it couldn’t be. A Keltar. What were they doing here?
She continued with the group of tributes as they walked towards the hut where they were sequestered. There was a sound from behind her. She turned to see two more Keltar coming out of the guardhouse, accompanied by more soldiers. Shann felt a rising sense of panic. Lyall had assured her that there were only ever a few soldiers on guard at the compound at any one time. What was going on?
She caught Leskin’s eye. The old man looked at her but said nothing. They were herded inside their hut, and the guard bolted the door from the outside. A rough wooden construct, it was lined with pallets. Tributes sat or collapsed, exhausted. There were no windows. The last light of evening was filtering through a small iron grille set in the door.
The boy, who Shann had learned was called Roanol, came up and offered her an earthenware cup of water. “Lock down,” he explained. “They must suspect that something’s up.”
But how was that possible, she puzzled? It had to be some sort of coincidence. Then a horrible thought struck her. Lyall and Alondo–maybe they have been caught? No, they wouldn’t have revealed everything in that short a time. And why would there be a need for extra precautions if they knew the plan had been foiled? Besides, where had all of these Keltar suddenly sprung from? There was clearly something very odd going on.
Whatever it was, it was obvious that the plan Lyall had so carefully formulated was now dead in the water. There was no way the tributes could stage a break out; it would be suicide. And with the increased presence, any frontal assault would similarly be doomed to failure. She had to warn them somehow. “Roanol, I have to get out of here.”
His eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“I have to get out of here. If Lyall and Alondo go through with the plan, it will be a disaster.”
Roanol had kind face, despite his starved appearance. His sandy forelock had a habit of falling over his eyes in a way that was at once amusing and endearing. In different circumstances, she would have been thinking of ways to get to know him better.
He shook his head. “That’s impossible. We are shut in and there are guards outside the door.”
Shann bit her lower lip. “I have to find a way, or they will be dead.”
“Shann, I just don’t know–”
Leskin walked up to the pair. The olive skin covering his face was like old leather. He addressed Shann. “The plan is off,” he informed her.
“What’s going on? What are all these soldiers and Keltar doing here?” she demanded.
“I have no idea, but it doesn’t matter. Even assuming we could somehow get out of here, we couldn’t possibly take on that many guards in the enclosure, let alone Keltar as well. I’m sorry, Shann.”
“I realise that.” Shann’s hazel eyes blazed with determination, “but Lyall and Alondo are going to come charging through the front gate at first light tomorrow. I have to get word to them somehow.”
Leskin met her gaze firmly. “I want to help them too, but not if it puts the lives of everyone here at risk.”
“What if,” Roanol interposed, “we were to watch for an opening to try and get Shann out? This emergency, whatever it is, can’t last forever. There might be a way for her to slip away unnoticed.”
Leskin considered this. “All right, we’ll try it. But for now, the place is crawling with Keltar. All we can do is get some rest and see what happens.”
“But–” Shann began.
“I’m sorry, but that’s the best we can do,” The old man’s voice was final. He turned around and walked away. Shann stared after him.
“Don’t blame Leskin.” Roanol’s fringe fell over his eyes once again. He brushed it back. “He’s just trying to watch out for us all.”
“I know that.” Shann exhaled. “But I still need to get away.” Then a thought occurred to her. She looked up at him and heard herself say, “Come with me.”
Roanol regarded her for a moment. “You mean, escape?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I am known, Shann. If I disappeared, it would be noticed. Others would be interrogated–tortured, to find out how it happened and who had assisted me. No, Leskin was right about one thing. The fates of all of us here are linked. If we are to escape, it can only be together.”
Shann bowed her head; then looked up into his eyes again. “I don’t know what’s gone wrong, but I…we will get you out of this place.”
He smiled, reminding her strongly of Lyall once again. “Yes, Shann, I believe that you will.”
~
That night Shann tossed and turned as she lay on the hard wooden pallet. Her uncontrolled imagination explored every possible scenario of what might happen to Lyall and Alondo. Nearly all of them ended badly. I have to find a way out of here, with or without Leskin’s help. She went over in her mind what she had seen of the enclosure. If she had the flying cloak, she could have leaped over the palisade easily. However, there was still a chance–if the two guards were out of the way.
She was wide awake when she heard a loud commotion. Dawn had broken. She rose quietly. Several of the others were up. She recognised Leskin and Roanol in the half-light. Roanol peered through the grille in the door, looking to left and right. “The guards–they’re gone,” he reported. “It looks like some sort of disturbance at the guardhouse.”
It’s begun. She thrust away the anxieties of the past few hours and started to think. There were no guards in evidence. This was her chance. She went to the pallet, and started pulling at the wooden slats. They were old and worn, and it was not long before one of them came away from its crosspiece. She broke it off, quickly bundling it up into the thin blanket. Then she returned to where the knot of people was crowded around the door.
She moved forward, touching Roanol lightly on the arm. “Excuse me.”
He moved to let her through and she placed her bundle down on the floor. She had to stand on tiptoe to see clearly through the grille. She checked the position of the sliding bolt on the outside of the door. Then she reached inside her tunic and brought out a smooth black stone. The others standing around, registered surprise. She pressed the stone against the wall to the right of the door and moved it slowly towards the bolt. It seemed to slide over the surface without making contact. She heard a sound–iron scraping against iron. She moved the stone back and towards the bolt again, and then a third time. Finally the bolt was pushed far enough back and the door cracked open.
She opened the door another fraction and scanned the yard. It seemed clear. She picked up her bundle and turned back to see the group of despairing, half starved people. Leskin was looking at her with a strange expression. Pride? Roanol stood behind him. He looked like a lost gundir pup. “Stay alive,” she urged. “We will be back for you all.”
Reluctantly, she closed the door and bolted it from the outside. She could hear raised voices coming from the direction of the gate. Two soldiers appeared from the side of an adjacent building. Shann swiftly moved around to the opposite side of the hut and pressed herself flat against the wall. The wall faced east, and Ail-Gan was still low on the western horizon, placing her in dark shadow. The soldiers seemed preoccupied in conversation. They walked past without looking in her direction. Shann allowed herself to breathe once more.
She heard a shout and the sound of running boots on hard packed sand. She had to find somewhere to lay low until the ruckus calmed down. The enclosure consisted of a collection of low, featureless wooden huts. There were no convenient crates or cubby-holes to provide cover. She could feel a sense of desperation welling up. Then the idea hit like a slap in the face. The ore carts.
If the tributes were locked down, then the carts would not be in use. No-one would have a reason to look in them. She should be safe there, at least for a while.
She could not see them from her current position, but she had noticed them on her way in. She edged around to the back of the hut, which was still in shadow. There was a hut adjacent to this one and then another farther on. They all held tributes and were presumably locked down in the same way hers had been. The adjacent gaps lay in open sunlight but if she dashed between them, she could get to the other side of the enclosure, near where the ore carts were parked. She glanced around the first corner. There was no-one in sight. Clutching her bundle, she darted across the sunlit yard. Ail-Gan hung in the sky as if it were looking for an opportunity to betray her. She reached the back of the next hut, and pressed herself against the wall as before, breathing hard in the shadows.
So far, so good. She crept along the wall and spied round the next corner. Again the view was clear. She tensed and began her charge across the open space. At that moment, two soldiers, a man and a woman, came into view. Shann careened to a halt and scurried back into the shadows.
“What was that?” It was a male voice. Shann’s heart sank. She had been seen.
“What was what?” the female responded.
“Something moved over there.”
“Where?”
“There, near the tributes’ hut.”
The woman snorted. “You’re seeing things.” Then she added, “Still, I suppose I can’t blame you, after the business at the guardhouse this morning.”
The man sounded distracted. “Six of our troops and a Keltar, all taken out. How could it happen?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll tell you this; when Ferenek finds those responsible, he’ll have them strung up by their boot heels.”
Shann’s heart quickened as the news sank in. The guardhouse had been attacked, but no-one knew by whom. That meant that Lyall and Alondo were…alive. Maybe they had halted the attack and escaped when they realised there were too many soldiers at the compound? Or maybe someone else had tipped them off? Right now, she didn’t care. Somehow they were alive. She was going to escape to join them, come what may. And then we come back here and free Roanol and the others. Renewed hope surged through her.
The man spoke again. “I’m going to take a look.”
Shann moved like a flash around to the side of the building and hunkered down in the shade. The crunch of two sets of boots in the sand. Coming closer. She drew back further and shut her eyes as if the act would somehow render her invisible.
“Satisfied?” It was the woman’s voice. “Come on.”
“I suppose.” The man let out a sigh. “This place is making me jumpy. What I wouldn’t give for a mug of horge back at the fort.”
“You drink too much of that stuff as it is…”
The voices faded off into the distance. Shann said a brief thank you to the Three.
She moved back and crossed to the rear of the third hut without incident. From there she could see the ore carts–her immediate goal. Checking that the coast was clear once more, she covered the intervening ground and reached the carts. Two were half full; one was empty. She clambered into the empty one, curling up and pulling the blanket over her, so that it covered her slight form.
Shann figured that the lockdown would have to last at least long enough for Ferenek’s soldiers to do an extensive daylight search for those who had attacked the guardhouse. She could only hope that Lyall and Alondo were well away from here by now. Anyway, if the soldiers were busy chasing down the perpetrators, then they couldn’t supervise ore collection at the same time. Still, I can’t lie here indefinitely.
She recalled layout of the enclosure. The gate faced south, away from Gort’s massive stone walls. The ore carts were not far off from the eastern edge of the compound. If she waited until they widened the search, there would be fewer soldiers here and she would stand the best chance of effecting an escape. She lay in the cart and waited.
Time passed. The suns grew hotter. The noises in the compound grew quieter. Shann decided. Time to move.
She peeked from under the blanket, over the rim of the ore cart. All clear. She rolled out onto the hard-packed sand, and reached back into the cart to retrieve the blanket and the wooden slat. As quickly as she could, she tied the end of the blanket to the wood. Then she made a low dash to the palisade.
The upright stakes were set close together, more than twice her height, and cut to a point at the apex, like a row of sharp teeth. She swung the blanket like a rope. The end weighted by wood sailed up and caught the top of the stake on its spike. Shann tugged on the blanket, and then climbed up. As she neared the top, she felt the blanket starting to rip. With a swift movement, she grabbed on to the rough wooden spike, hauling herself up.
From the top of the palisade, she looked over the outside edge. There was someone there, near the palisade. A black cloaked figure with their back to her. A Keltar. Then a noise from inside the enclosure. She looked back over her shoulder. The sound of a group of soldiers coming from the direction of the guardhouse. Any moment now, they would come into sight and would spot her on top of the palisade and it would be over. There was no choice. She was committed.
She pulled the end of the blanket up and tossed it over the outside of the enclosure. Then, swinging around, she yanked the piece of wood from the blanket, and dropped as swiftly and silently as she could to the sand, landing just behind the cloaked figure. She raised the makeshift club, and brought it down on the back of the Keltar’s neck. At the last moment, a distant part of her mind registered something naggingly familiar about the unruly shock of sandy hair, causing her to pull back slightly. Crack! The Keltar staggered forward from the impact nonetheless. He turned, his left hand clutching the nape of his neck, and her eyes widened in disbelief. “Lyall! What are you doing here?”
His face was screwed up in pain. “Trying to rescue you. Although right now, it feels more like I need to be rescued from you.” As if to emphasise the point, he massaged his neck. “Owww!”
“I’m sorry, I thought you were…” She shook her head. Then she stepped forward and supported him by the arm. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
~
Alondo rose to his feet as he saw two figures crest the edge of the dune above the tiny encampment. They were an odd pairing, one tall, with a black cape, topped with a mop of fair hair; the other short, clad in the tan coverall of a tribute. He grinned from ear to ear and began running towards them.
He grabbed the petite girl by the shoulders at arm’s length, and regarded her, as if checking the evidence of his own eyes. “You actually did it; you got her out.”
“I appreciate your faith in me, Alondo, but I didn’t do anything. She escaped on her own.”
”You escaped on your own?” Alondo asked in disbelief. “How–?”
“Just be glad she’s on our side.” Lyall rubbed the back of his head.
“I told you, that was an accident,” she protested. “I just–” she stopped in mid-sentence. Lyall was smiling. She hit him playfully on the arm.
“Owww.”
Alondo’s grin widened again. “So…what now?”
“Time to pack up and leave.” He headed for the encampment. Shann and Alondo tagged along behind.
“What about Roanol and the others?” Shann called after Lyall.
“Who?” Alondo probed.
“Roan–I mean the tributes at the compound,” she corrected.
“Don’t worry Shann, I haven’t forgotten them,” Lyall assured her.
“Roanol, eh?” Alondo whispered in her ear.
“Shhh!” Shann’s look was threatening.
They began taking down the awnings and packing away the other gear. “Where are we headed?” Shann asked Lyall.
“The road east.”
“What’s our destination?”
Lyall paused. “Well to be honest, I’m not completely certain. But there’s someone I’m hoping to meet along the way.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 11
Keris swept over the smooth sands of the Southern Desert and entered the forbidding gates of Gort. The guards on duty barely had time to acknowledge her passing. I must be swift. Any moment now, word would spread of the attack on the compound, and the fortress would be on high alert. She needed to buy some time, and for that she needed a diversion. She hurried in the direction of the barracks.
It was shortly after dawn, but most of the fortress’ inhabitants were up and about. More importantly, the garrison would have mustered for the day’s activity; hence the barracks should be all but deserted. She entered one of the low wooden buildings, and poked her head inside the sleeping quarters. As expected, they were deserted.
She stepped inside, and calmly reached into the pouch at her belt, bringing out a lodestone grenade. Placing her other hand over it, she gave it one half twist, and tossed it toward the bunks at the far end. There was a low whine, increasing in pitch, followed by an explosion of white light and heat. Flames and then smoke rapidly took hold of the bunks and the wooden floor. She stepped back, twisting the top half of another silver coloured sphere and threw it toward the other end of the barracks. Another blossoming of light and flame.
There was something strangely satisfying, even cathartic about her actions. During the violence of the events at the guardhouse, she had been detached, professional. Her body and her staff had moved automatically in response to the need to remove the hostile threat–without emotion, without thought. Afterward, though, as she surveyed the carnage she had wrought, the lives she had taken, she felt physically sick. She had acted to save the lives of others, but she still felt sullied by all that she had been forced to do up to this point.
Now, as she watched the flames lick upward, consuming the barracks, it felt as if she were purging herself, expunging forever her old life of service to a creature who was determined to destroy everything she held dear, to achieve his own ends.
What her new life would hold for her she did not know but for the first time in a long while, she felt clean. For now, that was enough.
She turned and exited the burning barracks, heading for the armoury.
The armoury building was a short distance away, near the casemate. Keris waited near the stone wall of the fortified structure, feigning a preoccupation with her equipment. All too soon, there were frenzied shouts from the direction of the barracks. Soldiers began running towards the source of the disturbance, and moments later were joined by the two guards from the armoury itself. Keris waited until they were out of sight, and then slipped inside.
The inner room was poorly lit. Wooden shelves set into the rough stone walls were packed with equipment and boxes. A few crates were stacked against the far wall. Keris found a small sack and began rapidly poring over the items on display, locating what she needed. She worked quickly, replacing anything that she disturbed. Then, tying the sack to her belt, she left the armoury, checking that no-one saw her.
She needed just one more thing. Hurrying across the worn stone cobbles, she made for the Commander’s office.
The office was inside the casemate, at the far end. She entered and saw no-one around. They were all at the barracks no doubt, trying to bring the inexplicable fire under control. The office door was not locked. Her eye scanned the interior and settled on a loose collection of books and scrolls on a table off to one side. She rifled through them, selecting the scroll she needed and stuffing it into her sack.
She turned to leave and stopped. A figure stood in the doorway clad in a rich russet surcoat over leather armour, barring her exit. He was shorter than she was, but still carried an imposing air. His thin features transformed into a visage of pure contempt. His tail twitched in agitation. “You!”
Keris reached behind her and grasped her staff. “Get out of my way, Ferenek.”
Ferenek did not move. “I should have known when you turned up with that…that thing, that you were up to no good.” Keris felt her ire kindle at the description of Boxx. “Why would a Keltar, a sworn servant of the Prophet, turn against their own? Answer me!”
“The Prophet is not who he claims to be.” Keris met his piercing gaze. “He is not Kelanni. He wants to bring about our destruction as a people.”
“You’re mad!” he exclaimed.
“No,” her voice was calm. “We are being deceived. Ask yourself, why would the Prophet enslave so many? Why does he need so much of the lodestone? Why has he never revealed his true purpose?”
Ferenek looked a little less sure of himself. “I am a soldier,” he declared. “It is not my place to question doctrine.”
“You are not a new born dagan,” she countered, “that you should run with the herd over a cliff. Use your head. Ask questions. See whether what I say is true or not.”
Ferenek shook his head, as if trying to free himself from the disquieting thoughts she had planted there. “You must be returned to Chalimar to answer for what you have done. I will not let you pass.” He drew his short bladed weapon.
In a single movement, Keris knocked the blade away with one end of her staff and brought the other end down against his temple. The man crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She stepped over the unconscious form.
Yes, you will.
~
It was not a killing blow. Ferenek would wake up with a bad mood and a splitting headache, but no more. She reflected on her short discussion with the man. Ferenek might be overly attached to form and discipline, but he was not a bad man. If she had had more time, she might have been able to get through to him. She could rely on the fact that he would be making a full report to Mordal of her actions. It hardly mattered; she had no intention of returning to the keep.
Keris hurried out of the casemate and made her way towards the main gate. Clouds of smoke were billowing up from the direction of the barracks. The few people who saw her hurried past, paying her no attention.
She tried to imagine what Mordal’s reaction would be. She was convinced that she was doing the right thing; all the same, she did not enjoy the thought of disappointing him. She was in a very real sense his protégé, the person he had nurtured to be his successor. He believed that the Prophet’s way was right, but he had also instilled in her a love for the Kelanni people and a desire to protect them.
“The people need us,” he would insist, “to keep them on the path, and to prevent them being manipulated by others. We must not let them down.” You trained me too well.
A thought occurred to her. If she could convince Mordal of the Prophet’s true intentions, then she would have a powerful ally. Mordal had said that he trusted her instincts. Maybe it was time to put that trust to the test? She looked at the back of her hand. The lodestone ring was dark, but it was still Linked to one held by Mordal. She had considered throwing it away, but now she thought better of it. She did not know if he would listen, but if he didn’t, then she would not have lost anything. I have to try to explain–I owe him that much.
She passed through the gate and turned right, trudging through the sand beneath Gort’s imposing walls. Passing out of sight of the gate, she came to the eastern side of the massive bulwark. There, propped up against the outer wall, were a haphazard collection of loose timbers, as if left there by a work crew. Keris pulled the timbers apart and located a sack. As she loosened the neck, the sack moved, and a round head with beadlike eyes popped out. The mouth rippled. “Is It Time To Leave, Keris?” Boxx asked in its high, childlike voice.
She helped untangle it from the sack. “Yes, it is time to leave.”
~
They’ve caught up to us. Shann saw the dark-robed Keltar slice through the air and alight on the road in front of them, like a thrown down challenge. I’m ready for you.
She pulled her staff free of the saddle pack, and ran to meet the tall woman with dark flowing hair. She stopped a few steps away and planted both feet in the sand, holding the staff in front of her with both hands, daring the foul servant of the Prophet to take one more step. Shann was still dressed in the tan coverall of a tribute.
The tall woman stood in the road calmly, not reacting to the other’s provocative gesture.
From behind her, she heard Lyall call her name, “Shann.” His tone of voice was not one of encouragement. It sounded sharp, more like a rebuke. Confused, she turned her head to see him walk past, coming between her and the imposing woman. He stopped before the Keltar and bowed. “Welcome–Keris, isn’t it? I am honoured to make your acquaintance at last. I am Lyall. The other man over there by the morgren, who also owes you his life, is Alondo. And our overly zealous companion here,” he indicated the girl behind him, who was still poised to do battle, “is called Shann.” He turned to face the girl. “Put the staff away, please, Shann.”
Shann complied, feeling a detached sense of unreality, as if she had somehow fallen asleep and was trapped within her own fevered imaginings. What’s going on?
“Forgive me,” Lyall was saying, “the girl’s reaction is my fault. I had not explained the nature of our escape from the compound or your part in it…” His voice trailed off as he saw a creature with jointed legs and a segmented shell scamper across the sand and come to a halt next to the Keltar. It stood up on its rear legs, appraising them. “That is a Chandara, is it not?” His voice was filled with wonder.
“Indeed,” Keris spoke up. “It is part of the reason I am here. I am sure you must have many questions. Ail-Gan will be rising soon. If you would like to make camp, then I would be pleased to tell you of the events that have led me here.
Lyall nodded. “Alondo,” he called out, “we make camp here. Break out the awnings and see what rations we have left. We have a guest for dinner.”
~
The wind dropped and the air fell to stillness as Keris began her story. She told of her meeting with Mordal, and her orders to find the one who had attacked a Keltar, bearing the cloak and staff. Her investigation in Corte that had led her to the Inn where Shann worked, and her discovery that the Innkeeper had been executed.
Shann, who had been looking distinctly uncomfortable listening to the words of a Keltar, suddenly rounded on the woman. “Poltann is dead? You…you killed him?”
“By the time I arrived, the execution had already taken place,” Keris explained.
“What about Gallar? What happened to her?”
“Gallar?” Keris inquired.
“She…worked at the Wayfarer.”
“I’m sorry; I don’t know what happened to anyone else. The Captain acted beyond his orders. I did the only thing I could, which was to order the soldiers to return to Chalimar to ensure that there were no further executions. The innkeeper was the only person who died, of that I am sure.”
Alondo broke in; his voice charged with empathy. “I’m sorry, Shann. There was nothing you could have done.”
“You knew about this?” She exclaimed. Alondo lowered his head.
“It was too dangerous for you to return to Corte.” Lyall was firm. “We arranged for Hedda to travel there to see what had become of Gallar, your guardian. If she is alive, then Hedda will see to it that she is safe.”
Shann fell silent, seemingly mollified for the present.
Keris went on to describe how she had trailed them from Corte to Lind, and had caught up with them at the pass.
“I was preparing to intercept you, when I was…taken by a perridon.” She saw Lyall raise his eyebrows. “I was preoccupied at the time. Anyway, it knocked me unconscious and carried me to its nest. The Chandara rescued me.”
Lyall looked over at the strange little beast. It lay perfectly still next to Keris. It was not clear whether it was even listening. “I have never heard of Chandara leaving their forest.”
“They were seeking a Kelanni. I am not sure, but I think it was just coincidence that I was the one they found. They saved me from the perridon and brought me back to their Great Tree. I think they even healed my broken leg somehow. I don’t remember much, except that when I woke up in the Tree, I was whole.”
“Incredible.” Lyall seemed lost in thought.
“They waited for me to recover. Then I was taken to an audience chamber, where they activated this…” Keris reached into the pack on the creature’s back. It did not react. She drew out the silver machine with its multicoloured workings.
Alondo reached a hand out. “May I?” She handed him the device and he inspected it closely, turning it over in his hands. “Fascinating,” he breathed.
“What is it?” Lyall asked.
Alondo’s voice sounded far away. “I have absolutely no idea. But it’s beautiful…very sophisticated. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” He looked at Keris enquiringly. “Who made it?”
“It comes from more than three thousand turns ago.”
Alondo regarded her with an expression of disbelief. “How could you possibly know that?”
“It spoke to me,” she maintained. “There was the image of a woman from the past, who called herself ‘Annata’. Somehow, she sent the machine to us, to warn us about the Prophet. He is building a device to destroy the Kelanni.”
Lyall leaned forward. “Did she say where this device is?
“Not precisely. She said that it was being constructed at Persillan, but that after the revolt there eleven turns ago, it was moved to an island that lies somewhere beyond the Great Barrier of Storms.”
Lyall looked at Alondo. “The bronze coloured globe,” he offered. Alondo nodded slightly.
Keris looked from one to the other. “The what?”
Lyall turned back to Keris. “We…heard that there was a device found at Persillan at the time of the revolt. Also that the revolt was ended by an explosion of great power.”
“Really?” Keris was intrigued. “The revolt happened before I was appointed as Keltar. We were never told any details, other than that the Prophet had been victorious.” I wonder if Mordal knows about this; it might make it easier to convince him.
Shann appeared to rouse from her self-absorbed state. “You’re saying there’s a woman in that thing? She must be no higher than my hand.”
“Keris said it was the image of a woman, Shann,” Lyall reminded her.
“All right, prove it. Show her to us,” Shann demanded.
Lyall considered this. “Can you activate the device, Keris?”
Keris shook her head. “I’m sorry; I don’t know how it works. It was the Chandara who operated it last time.”
Their eyes turned to the creature. It lay with its head on the sand, unconcerned.
“Chandara–” Lyall addressed it.
“Its name is Boxx,” Keris put in.
“Your Chandara has a name?” Alondo registered surprise.
Lyall’s forehead creased, as if he were trying to remember a half forgotten song. “That’s very interesting.”
“How so?” Keris asked.
“Well in the Ancient tongue, ‘Boxx’ means ‘Key.’”
You must take Boxx with you. It is the key. That was what the woman Annata had said.
Keris was curious. “How is it you know Ancient?”
“It…used to be a hobby of mine.” Lyall gave a half smile. “Boxx, can you operate this machine?”
The Chandara raised its head “Yes.”
“Then please, would you do so?” Lyall motioned to Alondo, who placed the machine in the sand, directly in front of Boxx. The creature reached out a foreleg and touched a control on the side. A series of lights appeared on the base of the machine. They all glowed red, except for the one on the far left, which was a steady yellow. The party watched expectantly, but nothing else happened.
“I don’t see any ‘woman,’” Shann said flatly.
Lyall ignored her. “Boxx, where is the woman that appeared to Keris?”
“She Cannot Speak Until The Time.”
“What time?” Lyall enquired.
“The Time Of Her Speaking.”
Keris smiled ruefully. “I should have warned you, having a conversation with one of these is a unique experience. I usually feel a headache coming on about now.”
Lyall was not one to give up easily. “Boxx, when is the time of her speaking?”
“In Two Zero One Turns.”
Alondo figured it up. “That’s more than a whole turn of the season.”
Lyall threw up his hands. “Well, we can’t wait that long for answers.”
“I wouldn’t put too much store by what it says,” Keris cautioned. “I asked it its age before, and it replied that it was more than ten million turns old. Annata said that it was the key to an instrument that could be used to disarm the Prophet’s weapon safely. The instrument too lies beyond the Great Barrier.”
Lyall appeared to be deep in thought. Then he addressed the Chandara. “Boxx, what is the key?”
“I Am The Key,” it affirmed, in its strange lilting voice.
“How does the key work?”
“You Are The Key,” it stressed.
“I thought you said you were the key,” Shann pointed out.
“I Am,” it stated proudly.
Keris laughed, shaking her head. “I warned you.”
Lyall sat back, temporarily admitting defeat. Then the Chandara spoke up. “Does Keris Wish Me To Speak The Key?” There was a pause. “I Can Speak The Key Only To Keris.”
All eyes turned to look at the Keltar. Keris made a ‘how should I know,’ expression. Then she turned to the Chandara. “Boxx, please speak the key.”
It sat up on its hind legs and began to chant, “One Two One Zero Two Zero Two One One Zero One Two One Two Zero Zero Two One–”
“Boxx,” Keris interrupted.
“Yes, Keris.”
“What are you doing?”
“I Speak The Key,” it confirmed. Then it added, “The Key Is Not Complete.”
“That’s all right, never mind.”
“You Are The Key,” it insisted.
“Yes, thank you,” Keris dismissed the creature.
There was another pause. Finally it was Alondo who spoke up. “Well, what does anyone think?”
“I think I have a headache,” Lyall commented wryly.
“Aren’t we forgetting something?” Shann pointed out. “The Great Barrier of Storms.”
“Keris,” Lyall asked, “did Annata say anything about how we were to cross the barrier?”
“Yes she did, and I’ve been thinking about that. She said that on our side of the world there were two towers that could somehow send us to the other side, without having to pass through the storms. She said she would explain how, when she next contacted us.
“I think one of them must be the Dagmar Tower, situated on the estate where I grew up. The tower is ancient–no-one knows who built it and it has lain abandoned for as long as I am aware. However, its proximity to Chalimar means that the country around it will be thick with soldiers and Keltar. Given our current standing with the authorities, I don’t think we stand a chance of getting anywhere near it. So I ‘borrowed’ something from Ferenek, the commander at Gort, that I believe will help us to find the other tower.”
“But…what about the tributes at Gort?” Shann sounded agitated.
“It seems we have a bigger problem now,” Lyall declared. “If the Prophet manages to complete this weapon, then all Kelanni will be threatened, not just the tributes. We have to stop him. It is up to us.”
“But the tributes will be executed after the incident at the compound,” Shann protested.
“I seriously doubt that,” Keris reassured her. “The tributes were not involved in what happened. Ferenek is a ruthless man, but he is also ambitious. Execution of tributes would lead to a drop in lodestone ore production, and Ferenek would not want to be in the position of having to explain that to the authorities at Chalimar.”
Shann clammed up but still looked distinctly unhappy.
“Well, I am sure there will be a lot more to discuss, but for now, I think we could all do with some rest. I will take first watch. Then Keris, Alondo and Shann. All right?”
There was a murmur of agreement. Alondo and Shann made preparations to bed down in the shade of the awnings. Keris lingered. In a few moments, she was alone with Lyall. She had not known what to expect of this lanky, fair-haired man who had posed as a Keltar and tried to free tributes all on his own. She had wondered whether he was madman or saint, and was relieved that he seemed to be neither. He had a way of taking charge of a situation and of inspiring those around him. She could see why Alondo and Shann had attached themselves to him. He was regarding her curiously.
She decided to come straight to the point. “There was one more thing that the woman from the past said that I didn’t mention, because it didn’t seem relevant and to be honest, I’m not sure what it means. You have heard the Prophet referred to as the ‘Unan-Chinneroth’?”
Lyall was nodding, “Yes. It’s Ancient once again, I believe.”
“Annata said that it means ‘without a tail.’ She said that the Prophet’s skin is white and his blood is red, and that he is not Kelanni.
Lyall frowned in consternation. “But if he is not Kelanni, then what is he?”
<><><><><>
Chapter 12
Shann had had just about as much as she could stand.
She had left the farmhouse near Lind with a clear mind and a strong purpose. They were going to free the tributes and break the power of the Prophet to oppress the Kelanni people. Now, an arrogant woman, a Keltar with a story that beggared belief, had dropped in out of the sky and somehow hijacked their mission. How could Lyall and Alondo simply go along with it? Could they not see what she was?
It had started from the moment they roused themselves to begin the night’s journey across the desert, away from the fortress of Gort and the tributes she had pledged herself to free. Keris had gathered them all together as if she were somehow now in charge. Shann felt dismay as she watched Lyall meekly fall into line. Someone had to put a stop to this.
Keris had unfurled a large scroll of paper on the sand. “I took this from Ferenek’s office. It is called a map,” she explained. Shann was intrigued, in spite of herself. It was like being a perridon, looking down on the ground from high up, only it showed far more than a perridon could ever see. There was Chalimar and Corte, Lind and the road south through the Southern Desert to Gort.
“All right, we are here.” Keris’ index finger pointed to a point northeast of the fortress. If we make reasonable time, we should pass beyond the edge of the desert in less than two days. Beyond the desert lie the Eastern Plains. There are few settlements. The Kelanni who live there are…different. They are mostly hunters, nomadic. And some of them are little more than rogues. If we should meet any, watch out for yourselves.” She looked at them one at a time, before returning her attention to the map.
“I believe our destination lies here.” She indicated a point on the southeastern edge of the plains. There was a representation of a tower on the map, but there was no name next to it. “I calculate that we should be able to make the journey in about twenty days. We will need to exchange your morgren for graylesh. There is a trading post there, near the edge of the desert.”
“What about Boxx?” Alondo asked. “I don’t think it could ride one of those.”
“You have a point,” she acknowledged. “I suggest that we attempt to procure a wagon for supplies, and for Boxx to ride in.
“I did manage to acquire some other items at Gort that we might find useful in a pinch.” Keris got up, went to her saddle pack and returned with two boxes, one a lot smaller than the other. She opened the larger container first. Set in ten velour recesses were ten silver globes. Shann had glimpsed such a globe only once before, during Lyall’s battle with the Keltar in Corte, but she recognised them instantly–lodestone grenades. Keris handed five of them to Lyall and put the remaining five in her own pouch. “Use them only in an emergency,” she counselled. “I do not think it likely that we will be able to get replacements any time soon.”
Shann’s brow knotted. “What about me; don’t I get any?”
Keris’ expression was one of strained patience. “Have you ever used one of these, child?”
Shann felt her hackles rise. No-one had called her “child” since she was little. It was demeaning. Her eyes blazed at the older woman. She forced herself to answer. “No.”
“Then you are more likely to blow a hand or an arm off–or somebody else’s. Just…try and stay out of the way.”
Shann looked at Lyall for support, but his head was down, stowing the grenades in his pouch. She felt alone, isolated, powerless. She lapsed into a morose silence.
Keris selected the smaller receptacle and opened it. Within it were two Rings; bronze in colour, each set with a stone, the colour of midnight. “These are Speaking Rings,” she explained. “When you speak into them, they can reproduce your voice at great distances. However, they need to be Linked with each other, so that they resonate. One Ring can only be used to communicate with one other Ring to which it has been Linked. And the Link cannot be undone; it is permanent. I could only find the one pair, so we need to use them wisely.” She snapped the container shut and placed it in her pouch. Making sure that you keep control, Shann brooded.
Keris stood up and began making preparations to leave. Lyall and Alondo meekly followed her cue as if she was a queen and they were a part of her retinue. The two men packed away the awnings and then began coaxing the morgren forward. Boxx fell in behind the two beasts of burden. Keris addressed Lyall and Alondo directly, ignoring Shann as if she were beneath contempt.
“Follow the road east,” she commanded. “I will head back and check for signs of pursuit and then catch up with you.”
“Be safe.” Alondo called out.
Sure, don’t fall down any holes or anything.
Keris adjusted her cloak and trotted back the way they had come. In a few moments, she flared her cloak and leapt into the ferruginous twilight.
Shann waited until she was sure the Keltar had gone. Then she caught up to the other two. They were side by side leading the animals and engaged in quiet conversation. Whatever it was they were discussing, Shann didn’t care to know. There was an issue that was far more pressing.
“Lyall,” she interrupted him in mid-sentence. “What are we doing?”
He turned from Alondo to her. “Excuse me?”
“What are we doing?” She repeated.
“How do you mean?”
“That woman is a Keltar, and we are taking her orders.”
“We have to know if the Prophet’s men are tracking us, Shann.”
“That’s not what I mean. Ever since she arrived, you two do exactly what she says, and it’s like I don’t exist.”
Lyall brought his animal to a stop and turned to look at her directly. She saw the same clear blue eyes; the same unruly fair hair and felt oddly reassured. “Shann, I brought you into our group because I believed you were courageous and sincere. Since that time you have demonstrated integrity and resourcefulness far beyond anything I might have expected. I regard you as a full member and an equal partner in this enterprise, and I value your opinion. If you have something to say, then I would gladly hear it.”
Shann felt her confidence growing. “All right then. Why are we following the orders of a Keltar?”
“I am not following her orders. And she is not a Keltar; not anymore.”
“Yes she is. Keltar are the sworn servants of the Prophet. They don’t change.”
“I did,” Lyall observed.
“You were never actually a Keltar–you told me as much. Look at what has happened so far. We came to Gort to rescue the tributes and to cut off the Prophet’s supply of lodestones. Now we are headed in the opposite direction. She has already succeeded in diverting us from our purpose. She will destroy us the first chance she gets.”
“I don’t think so, Shann. If she had wanted to destroy us, she could have done so very easily by simply doing nothing. When Alondo and I entered the compound, we had no idea that a trap had been set for us. She saved our lives.”
He glanced at Alondo. Alondo looked down at his feet; then raised his eyes to meet Shann’s. He had become accustomed to siding with Shann against Lyall during their banter on the journey to Gort. It was a source of humour and it had helped to cement them together as a group. Now he looked most uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, Shann; I have to agree with Lyall. We would be lying dead in that guardhouse if it wasn’t for her.”
“How do you know she isn’t manipulating you somehow?” Shann pressed on. “And what about that crazy story of hers about being spoken to by someone from the past? You’re not telling me you believe all of that.”
“I don’t know, Shann,” Lyall mused. “I think that if I had to make up a story to deceive someone, I could come up with a hundred better ones than that one. The fact that it is so fantastic makes it more believable, in a way. And there are other things. That machine, for example.
“I don’t know much about machines, but Alondo does. He’s a virtual genius when it comes to mechanics. If he says it is something unique, then I believe him. Finally, there’s the presence of the Chandara.”
“It might be lying.” Shann protested. “She could have influenced it somehow.”
Lyall looked at her askance. “Shann, I don’t think you really believe that.”
She felt as if the sands were shifting beneath her. “…All right, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean what it says is right, either.”
Lyall glanced over at Boxx. It was lying with its head resting on the sand, as if patiently waiting for the debate concerning it to end. “Chandara are odd creatures,” he began, “but I have never heard of one of them leaving their forest, let alone attaching themselves to a Kelanni. People say that they are primitive and dull-witted but I believe that they simply have thought patterns that are different than ours. One thing I am fairly convinced of ,though, after a single conversation with one of them, is that there is no way you could persuade it to lie for you, or even get it to do something it did not want to do.
There was a silence as Lyall’s words sunk in. Finally, it was broken by Lyall himself. “If the warning from the past is genuine, then we cannot ignore it. If it is some sort of deception, then that fact will become clear over time. I suggest that for the moment we should remain watchful. Are we all agreed?”
Alondo and Shann both nodded. Lyall put a hand on each of their shoulders, in silent symbol of unity. After a moment of reflection, he released them, and they resumed their journey in contemplative silence. Shann felt calmer. She felt as if she had the old Lyall back, the man she had come to trust. And the bond the three of them had forged together had been reaffirmed and strengthened. Yet despite all of Lyall’s good and fine arguments, there was still something about the Keltar she did not trust.
I will be watching you.
~
“As soon as we are judged to be safe, I would like to conduct hariath-sharana.”
Keris looked at Lyall in disbelief. “Who for?”
“For those that died at the compound.”
“You’re joking,” she accused.
“Not at all.”
Keris was tall, but the sandy haired man still had half a head on her. He was dressed in a light loose fitting desert coverall. Keris still wore her cloak, dark tunic and dark breeches, the garb of a Keltar.
She had alighted on the road surface behind the party and announced that there was no evidence of their being trailed. Even as she delivered the news, she sensed that there was a different air about the three of them. The young girl was still quiet, but her air of open hostility seemed to have dissipated. The musician with the odd hat seemed to have a twinkle in his eye and the tall man seemed to have grown in stature. But it was more than that. They seemed to share an unspoken unity which expressed itself in the form of half glances and surreptitious gestures, as if they were part of a cabal from which she was excluded.
They were an odd group, to be sure. The fair man seemed to have had some training as Keltar. That at least made him partially useful. However, the other two appeared to serve no purpose whatsoever, so why he had selected them as confederates was a genuine mystery. The girl had been a kitchen hand before she had embroiled herself in this business. She was probably quite handy with a bread knife, but Keris didn’t give much for her chances if the Prophet’s men caught up to them. She had managed to escape from the compound all on her own, in spite of the increased security, which suggested that she might be more resourceful than she looked. Keris hoped so.
As for the musician–well she could only hope that he would have the sense to run and hide when the time came.
An odd group indeed. A view that seemed only confirmed, when Lyall suddenly suggested the memorial gathering.
“Did you know any of the people in the guardhouse?” She enquired.
“No.”
“Then why–?”
“Because we are Kelanni, and those who died were Kelanni.” He paused. “We must not forget who and what we are. If we do, then the Prophet will have destroyed us without the need for a device.”
“Are you going to do this every time?”
“How do you mean?”
“Every time someone dies in this conflict. Are you going to conduct hariath-sharana for them all?”
“I do not intend for anyone else to die.”
Keris was flummoxed for a moment. The man seemed to have lost his grip on reality. “Look,” she began. “This is war. There are probably going to be a lot more deaths before we are finished.”
Lyall had a look of quiet determination. “I am not at war with my own people. There is only one person who is responsible for all of this. If we stop him, then the oppression will end.”
Keris laughed without mirth. “You’re really not very good at this, are you? Being a revolutionary.”
Lyall looked as if he were remembering an event long past. He gave a thin smile. “Perhaps not. But the greatest battle we have to fight is for hearts and minds, Keris. That is a battle we dare not lose.”
~
Lyall, Alondo and Shann stood with hands linked in a circle, while Keris watched from a distance. She could hear them speaking the memorial in low tones. Boxx stood next to her on its haunches. It seemed intensely interested in the strange ceremony.
It turned its round head to look up at her. “What Is The Purpose?”
Keris’ gaze was fixed on the three. “They are remembering those who died at the compound.”
“They Are Healing.”
“In a way…I suppose.”
“You Are Kelanni.” Keris did not turn or answer. Boxx persisted. “You Are Kelanni. Those Are Kelanni. Kelanni Should Join. Help One Another. It Is The Key.”
“You don’t understand,” she murmured, still looking straight ahead. “I can’t.”
“Why?” it asked.
Keris was feeling an unsettling mix of emotions: sadness, worry, guilt most of all. The last thing she felt like doing was having a conversation with the enigmatic creature. She could see out of the corner of her eye that it was looking at her expectantly.
Broken limbs…contorted faces…the stain of white blood. “I killed them,” she confessed. “The people they are mourning; I am responsible for their deaths.”
Boxx rocked itself from side to side, although she had no idea what that meant. Finally it spoke. “Keris Did This To Save Those?”
“I suppose so.” Her eyes were starting to water involuntarily. She wiped them with her palm, angry at her own weakness.
“Saving Those Has Injured You,” Boxx piped shrilly. “So… You Need To Heal Most Of All.”
Keris tried to push the thought away, but it welled up, forcing itself thorough the defensive barriers she had carefully constructed. The only person you can truly rely on is yourself. Suddenly, it was as if a dam had burst inside her. She felt herself walking forward. As she reached the others, Lyall and Alondo opened up to admit her and she joined the circle, taking each of their hands. Shann gave her an odd look, but said nothing.
As the four of them stood in silent meditation, a lone pink flower bloomed in the sandy soil nearby. It was a sentinel, announcing that they were nearing the end of the Southern Desert and approaching the Eastern Plains at long last, passing over from death to life.
<><><><><>
Chapter 13
“Look there!” Shann pointed across the swathes of golden grass to a place where taller, purple reeds grew. A pair of dagan stood near the edge of the reeds, their long limbs and sleek bodies a symbol of grace and power. Lyall watched them for a moment; then he saw what she saw. Something sparkling in the bright sunlight. Water.
Shann kicked her heels and began running to where the pond glistened, cool and inviting. Come on!” She called over her shoulder. In a moment, Alondo began running after her, followed by Lyall. Alondo was whooping and hollering. The dagan turned tail and fled, bounding through the waving prairie in great leaps. There was a double splash as Shann and Alondo reached the water together. They had taken the time only to pull their boots off. Lyall followed suit, jumping and cannon-balling so as to swamp the other two. Shann screamed in annoyance and delight.
Children. Keris was standing beside the morgren. She still wore the dark tunic and trousers of a Keltar, although her flying cloak was safely stowed away in a saddle pack. She watched the others laughing and splashing and felt a tinge of jealousy. The water did look inviting. Still, someone had to stand watch. She settled down cross-legged in the long grass, pulled out a flask of water and took a long draught. She shook her head, and her long dark hair settled about her shoulders. Boxx waddled up and lay down next to her in silence. When they had left the Great Tree together, she had regarded the creature’s presence as an annoyance. Over the days that followed however, she had become accustomed to its strange ways. She even found its presence oddly comforting.
She looked up at the wide open sky. Out here on the plains, the light was clearer somehow. Colours seemed that much more vibrant. Night was a chiaroscuro of dark reds, dominated by Ail-Mazzoth’s brooding presence. Dawn brought Ail-Gan’s bright yellow orb, washing out the reds and painting the clouds orange and the sky azure blue. Soon, Ail-Kar, the white sun, would flash across the horizon, bringing everything into renewed focus. It was as if the plains themselves were alive.
She looked down at a large blue flower near her boot. Her fingers reached out and brushed against the petals. She watched as the flower unfurled its petals slowly and a horde of tiny yellow insects scuttled out and dispersed across the ground. The flower gradually closed up once again.
She raised her head and her eyes took in the vista before her. Across the golden prairie, she could see a large herd on the move–dagan or raleketh, or maybe even wild graylesh; it was hard to tell from this distance. There was game aplenty here; whatever else, they would not starve. Travelling through the desert had meant short rations; not because there was any shortage in the food they were carrying, but because food increased thirst. Now there was no need for such restrictions. Keris’ mouth salivated at the thought of fresh raleketh steaks with moba root. She would have to speak to Lyall about getting their group together to do a little hunting.
Aside from the fact that they needed the energy, it would also be an excellent way for them to hone their skills for whatever lay ahead. Lyall had told her that he had been training Shann, and that she showed exceptional aptitude in both the cloak and the staff. He seemed in earnest, but Keris was sceptical. It took many months of instruction and practice to become proficient in Keltar arts.
It was apparent that the girl did not like her. However, that was to be expected. She recalled the fair-haired girl in the cart on the road from Chalimar. Keltar had a reputation for enforcing the will of the Prophet, which was increasingly being accompanied by brutality. Keris was no longer Keltar. However, some were not going to be appeased with a mere loaf of flatbread.
Still, the girl did not have to like her in order for them to work together. And in the end, that was all that mattered.
Keris looked back at the pond, debating whether she ought to walk over and demand that someone relieve her so that she could take a turn to bathe. A movement in the reeds to the left of the pond. Then another on the far side. Dagan? No, there was a glimpse of shirt. A russet coloured hat. Keris got slowly to her feet, reaching up to the morgren’s flank. Her fingers closed around her staff, feeling the smoothness of the wood. Another faint rustle, again from the other side of the pool. Three of them, then.
She moved away from the morgren, crouching low. Boxx remained there quietly in the grass. Perhaps it had read the situation; she could not tell. In any event, it did not speak or try to follow. Circling around behind the figure to the left, she could see his back clearly now at the edge of the reeds. He had a dark coat and wavy hair. She stole up and brought the side of her staff down smartly on the back of his head. He made an oomph sound, and then fell forward, face first. He did not move.
Keris crept around the pond, to where she had noted the position of the other two. She could hear the trickle of conversation from those in the pond. Then she spotted the remaining two intruders. She still had the advantage of surprise, but they were too close together to be taken separately. Nothing for it, then. They were both squatted down near the edge of the water. She readied herself, and then charged the one on her left, impacting the woman’s back. Her victim lurched forward, falling headlong into the pond. There was an almighty splash, followed by a scream from Shann. Before the man with the hat could react, Keris was behind him, her staff constricting his throat.
He held up a hand. “Hold, friend.”
Keris did not loosen her grip. “What is your business here?”
“We are travellers, friend…a hunting party,” he rasped.
“You seek strange game today…friend.” Her last word had a menacing edge to it.
Lyall had hauled himself up onto the bank near them. His hair was matted to his head and he was dripping. He saw Keris with the overweight intruder in a vise-like hold. “What is going on?”
“We have visitors. I did not catch your name?” Keris jerked the staff against the man’s neck, as a way of exacting a response.
“Keris, let him go.”
“Excuse me?” She did not take her eyes off her captive.
“Let him go, please,” Lyall requested. Keris loosened her grip reluctantly and stood back. The portly man began rubbing his neck. Lyall continued, his voice even. “My companion asked you your name.”
“Zamir.” His voice was still hoarse.
The woman who had been knocked into the water was climbing out. She tried to squeeze some of the water out of her clothes. Alondo was already on the bank, offering a helping hand to Shann.
“What were you doing?” Lyall asked.
“We are hunting fresh game.” It was the soaked woman who answered. “We were curious, that’s all. We heard a noise.”
“Forgive us, friend,” Zamir appeared to have regained his composure somewhat, “but there are all manner of folks on the plains. Your morgren testify that you have come out of the desert, from the direction of Gort. There are many a tale of the things that go on in that terrible place.”
“She is Keltar,” the wet woman declared. “I recognise her clothing. And she wields the staff. She is a servant of the Prophet.”
“She used to be,” Lyall affirmed, “but no longer. She has turned her back on the Prophet and his ways. And she saved our lives.” The woman from the pond was regarding Keris as if she were a foul spectre. “It is the truth, I swear it,” Lyall added.
Zamir regarded Keris warily; then looked back at Lyall. “Where are you headed?”
“East, across the plains.” Lyall had a story rehearsed. “I hear there are communities there where the Prophet’s arm does not reach.”
Zamir nodded thoughtfully. Just then, Boxx waddled up, taking its accustomed place next to Keris. “What is that?” Zamir inquired.
“That,” replied Shann, “is Boxx.
The round faced man screwed up his nose. “It looks like a Chandara.”
“It is,” Lyall confirmed.
“It’s an odd kind of a pet,” Zamir observed.
Lyall bit his lower lip. “It…isn’t exactly a pet.”
Zamir shook his head. “Well, no matter. You have a long journey ahead of you, friend. And those morgren are far too slow. You will need to exchange them.”
“We know,” Lyall confirmed. “We were intending to visit the trading post, which I believe is a little way north of here.
Zamir put his hands on his thick hips, threw back his head and roared with laughter. “A fine idea, fine indeed. If you want to get skinned and hung out to dry, that is.”
Shann frowned. “Are you saying the owner is dishonest?”
Zamir’s laugh was disconcerting. “Of course he is. That’s why he’s such a good friend of mine.” He registered the looks on their faces and laughed again. “Balbor can smell innocent gundir like you from the other side of the plains. But fear not, I have a herd of graylesh, newly broken. I am sure we can arrive at a fair price. You have coin, friend?” His face registered a momentary flash of concern.
“We do,” Lyall assured.
Zamir beamed. “Then you shall visit my camp and we will deal. After which we will celebrate with a feast.”
“We will need a wagon,” Shann put in.
“I am sure we can fix something up for you… for a small premium.” The chubby man walked over to Lyall and reached up to place a hand on Lyall’s shoulder, leading him away from the pond. “A fine thing for you, friend that you ran across us this day, fine indeed.”
~
Shann crouched down low in the long grass and waited. A way off to her right, Lyall. Beyond him, Keris. All three wore the dark cloak. Shann’s senses were heightened by anticipation. She felt the tension in her muscles and the touch of the staff at her side; smelt the rich loam and the scent of growing things; tasted the dryness in her mouth and the salt on her lips; saw the waving stalks and the dark shapes of her waiting companions; heard…a low, distant drumming against the ground.
They were coming.
A moment later she heard the shouts of the riders. She kept her eye on Lyall, waiting for the signal. The drumming sound became louder…louder. Lyall raised a hand. All three cloaked figures rose up together like black sailed ships amid a sea of gold. They ran forward as one, leaped skywards, and then bore down on the advancing herd of raleketh. The animals were gangly, ranging from yellow to red-brown in colour, with dark mottling. They made a half grunting, half squealing sound as they ran. Beaters rode behind the herd on graylesh, urging them forward. The lead animals saw the dark shapes falling toward them and turned back in a panic, only to be pushed forward by the oncoming surge. Shann landed lightly at the edge of the herd, together with Lyall and Keris.
“Careful,” Keris called out to her, “don’t get trapped in the stampede.”
Shann ignored her. I’m not a child.
Diamond blades flashed as the three of them set about dispatching the quota needed for food supplies. The beaters parted their mounts so as to allow the bulk of the herd to escape. They thundered off, leaving behind their slain companions as a silent offering.
The two groups had been travelling together for seven days now, as their routes coincided. They had been following the course of a river upstream. Soon, however, the river would be flowing from the north. The plains nomads would follow it, accompanying the herds in their summer migration. Tonight would be the last night they would camp together.
Zamir rode up to them, pulling on the graylesh to bring it to a halt. Despite his portly frame, he seemed surprisingly agile as a rider. “Well done, everyone. Our teams work well together. Are you sure you wouldn’t consider a more permanent partnership?”
Lyall planted his staff and met the other man’s eyes. “I’m sorry; we must get as far away as we can from the Prophet’s men. We must continue heading east.”
Zamir nodded. “I understand. Very well, then, tonight we celebrate. And tomorrow, we part as friends.” Three more nomads arrived with a cart, and Zamir supervised the loading of the fresh meat. As far as Shann could see, the nomads seemed to spend most of their time celebrating. Zamir would seize any excuse to hold a feast. She had never been to so many parties in her life. A part of her secretly wished that she could just stay with them, and enjoy their carefree lifestyle. But at night she still lay awake, haunted by thoughts of Gallar, her home and the tributes at Gort. It felt like a great weight, as if everyone were dependent on her. I have to keep moving forward.
She turned to follow the others back to the nomads’ camp, and her last few hours of freedom.
~
By the time Shann arrived back at the camp with Lyall and Keris, it felt as if the celebrations were already in full swing. There was an air of excitement and preparation and good humour. Children ran around in circles yelping at one another, while gundir snapped at their heels playfully. From the direction of the covered wagons came the wonderful smells of cooking.
The wagon which sat at the rear of the caravan had been purchased by Lyall, along with four graylesh, freshly outfitted for travel. Shann walked over to one of the animals and stroked its striped flank. It turned towards her. Bright eyes regarded her from either side of a slender snout. They were indeed graceful and intelligent creatures.
Lyall had sat down and struck the deal with Zamir that first evening, during an animated conference in Zamir’s wagon. Shann had not been invited, and Alondo declined to sit in. “Money–that’s Lyall’s department,” he maintained, with a smile. Keris had not been invited either, but she insisted on attending, nevertheless.
Later, as she was by the fire, chatting with one of the nomad hunters, Shann spotted Lyall and Keris exit the wagon and cross to the rear of another wagon farther down the line. She could discern raised voices, and a sharp exchange of words between the two. Excusing herself, she got up from her position by the fire and walked over to their position. As she got near, the vocal sounds coalesced into words.
It was Keris’ voice. “You never give any thought to the consequences of your actions, do you?”
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” Lyall was trying to pacify her. “After all, it was only money the Prophet had exacted from poor and honest people.”
“And that justifies theft?
“In this case, yes. That money was intended to be used to free the Kelanni from oppression. Now it is being used to save our entire race. And you are quibbling about a few silver astrias that the Prophet does not need and will never miss?”
“That is not true,” Keris remonstrated. “It was missed. And people suffered as a result: houses ransacked, on the spot searches, random arrests and since I’ve been gone, who knows what else?”
Shann was not comfortable with eavesdropping. She walked around the wagon to where the two of them were. Lyall was saying, “I think if we were to ask them–” They both caught sight of Shann and the conversation came to an abrupt halt.
“Is everything all right?” Shann asked. Keris shot a glare at her and stalked off. Shann looked up at Lyall.
“She doesn’t like the thought of being associated with a thief,” Lyall’s voice had a tinge of regret.
That woman seemed to be determined to do everything she could to criticize and undermine their efforts. Shann felt like going up to her and telling her to take her stupid machine and her stupid story about a message from the past, and go off on whatever stupid journey she wanted. What stopped her was Lyall. He clearly thought there was something to this wild tale, so she had no choice but to go along with it for now. Until she could convince him otherwise. Shann patted the graylesh and cooed to it in a soothing voice. At that moment, Alondo walked up to her. “Are you going to come hear me play?”
She beamed at him. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
~
Alondo was fast acquiring a bevy of devoted fans among the nomad community. One fair-haired girl in particular always seemed to claim the seat directly opposite him when he played, smiling enigmatically. Shann couldn’t help but notice that they had both been missing on certain occasions. Now Alondo was sitting on his customary stool away from the fire, tuning his custom-built sabada. The fair-haired girl was already sitting on the grass in front of him, legs tucked beneath her. A growing crowd of nomads were settling themselves in anticipation of what was to come. Boxx stood off to one side on its hind legs, eyeing the Kelanni with curiosity. Alondo was joined by three other nomad players, one with a smaller stringed instrument, one with pipes, and one with a set of percussive wood blocks. At a signal from Alondo, the music began. The assembled crowd applauded enthusiastically as Alondo broke into song.
“There was a merry, merry maid,
“Who danced o’er fair Kallar.
“She twisted through the Tragar hills,
“’cross vale near and far.”
Some of the audience were tapping; others were getting to their feet and pulling up others, ready for dancing. Shann looked up to see Lyall standing in front of her, proffering a hand. She took it joyfully and rose up. He put a hand lightly around her waist, and they joined the nomads who were already laughing and moving to the rhythm.
“She skipped along from morn to eve,
“And on into the night.
“Twirling round and round she went,
“By Ail-Mazzoth’s light.
“She spun her way towards Alvar,
“Beside its banks did hop.
“She capered as its waters grew;
“Her feet she could not stop.
“She tripped on down the western coast,
“Through the streets of Gan-Dathlie,
“Leaping now from wave to wave,
“Across the Borgoth Sea…”
Lyall was spinning Shann around. She was becoming breathless. “I never heard this song before. It’s like a tour of Kelanni. How long does it go on for?”
“I’m not sure,” Lyall shrugged. “Every time I hear it, he seems to have added more verses.”
The song did indeed last a while, with partners joining and leaving as they willed. As the final chords were sounded, Shann thanked Lyall and excused herself so she could seek out a cup of narrian wine, the light refreshing liquor brewed by the nomads. Shann had developed a real taste for it. She had a theory that the wine was a principal reason for the nomad’s perpetual good humour. It certainly seemed to have a comparable effect on her. She found a trestle on which a small barrel had been set up, and helped herself to a full cup. The light was starting to fade, making the bonfire a focal point of the celebration. She sipped her drink, looking round at the revellers and allowing the fresh sweet flavours to refresh and invigorate her. The music was already starting up again, and couples were forming. A nagging thought tugged at the back of her mind like a persistent gundir, threatening to shatter her growing bonhomie. She thrust it away, but it came back snapping at her, finally breaking through her consciousness. Keris. Where is she?
Shann heightened her perception as she scanned the gathering of nomads, trying to pick out the tall, dark-haired woman. She was nowhere to be seen. Leaving her cup on the table, she headed away from the circle of firelight, towards their newly acquired wagon at the rear of the train. She looked around it; then went to the back. Pulling aside the flap, she poked her head inside. She allowed her eyes to get accustomed to the dimness, and raked every corner with her eyes. Nothing.
She made her way back towards the fire where food and drink were being passed around and the party was once again in full swing. Lyall was chatting amiably to the rotund figure of Zamir and his partner, who was called Anka. Shann started towards them. Then from between two wagons, she saw a tall dark figure approaching the edge of the gathering. Keris glided forward and sat on the ground by herself, unnoticed by the others. Shann stopped in her tracks.
Her first instinct was to tell Lyall, and for them both to then go to the woman and confront her. However, Keris was far too clever for that. Shann was certain that she would be able to come up with a lying but perfectly plausible reason for her absence. Or she might deny it utterly, claiming it was nothing more than Shann’s fevered imagination. In any case, leaving a festive occasion was not a crime. She was up to something; Shann was convinced of that. But her gut feeling was not evidence and would only sound to Lyall like unfounded suspicion or petulance. Worse than that, she would have tipped her hand to the Keltar, letting her know she was being watched. Shann needed more information–more evidence–before she could approach Lyall.
Watch and wait. You are crafty. But sooner or later you will make a mistake.
Shann started forward once more, towards the music and laughter, forsaking deceitful shadows for the unalloyed probity of the light.
<><><><><>
Chapter 14
The covered wagon, flanked by three riders, swept across the Eastern Plains like a stone flung across a golden pond. Alondo drove the wagon, urging the graylesh on, so that the wagon’s wheels bounced and spun over the rough track. Keris rode on one side; Shann and Lyall on the other. Shann was dressed in a loose fitting brown tunic and trousers that Lyall had procured for her at the nomad’s camp. She had ditched the tribute’s coverall, as well as her old set of clothes that she had had with her since Corte. It felt satisfying, like dispensing with two unwanted personas, the kitchen hand and the slave. She was glad to see the backs of them both.
Other than during her flight from Corte, Shann had never ridden a graylesh before and was a little nervous of the skittish creatures at first. Alondo, who seemed to have assumed responsibility for the animals’ welfare, selected the one that seemed most placid and gave her a quick lesson. It had not taken her long to get the hang of it, and she found that she was able to keep pace with the others easily. She loved the feel of the wind caressing her hair, the steady loping rhythm of the animal’s stride and the constantly changing landscape.
Slow moving herds of raleketh crossed their path, heading north on their seasonal migration, juveniles who had yet to develop spots trotting beside their speckled parents. Mylar birds wheeled far overhead, as if tracking their progress. She spotted other creatures she could not name. A flock of birds with iridescent wings of green and blue rose as one from a nearby lake, their flapping like a round of applause. Cute creatures with large ears and pointed snouts scampered away into the long grass. “Jarka,” Lyall told her. “Good eating.” He smiled at her look of disgust.
The sight of the helpless creatures brought back to her mind the tributes at Gort, and she felt a pang of guilt. We will be back for you all. That was what she had promised them. Now she was headed farther and farther away. But the truth was she could not free them on her own. She had to have Lyall and Alondo’s help, which meant convincing them that this woman was a liar.
Keris pulled back to the wagon’s rear and crossed to Lyall and Shann’s side, catching up to Lyall’s mount and riding alongside. “There is a stream off to the left. I suggest we stop and rest the graylesh for a while. According to the map, we will soon be at the fork where the trail splits. One way continues east, the other southeast. Taking the southeast route will bring us close by the tower.”
“Very well… Alondo,” Lyall called out, raising a hand.
“Yes?”
“We’re taking a break.”
Alondo pulled firmly on the reins. “Whoa.” Slowly he brought the wagon to a halt. “My graylesh thanks you and my buttocks thank you.” He rubbed them, as if to illustrate the point. “Couldn’t someone put in proper roads? Or at least invent a cushioned buckboard?”
“If we run across a town or a trading post out here, I’ll buy one for you.” Lyall promised.
Alondo jumped down and bowed expansively. When he drew himself erect, there was a twinkle in his eye beneath his ever-present cap. “Why, thank you. That is why you are such a good leader. You always put the comfort of your troops first.”
Keris pulled her mount away, wordlessly. Lyall swung himself down from the graylesh, and Shann followed suit. She patted its striped sides, talking to it gently as she had gotten into the habit of doing. Then she addressed Lyall. “How far are we across the plains?”
“Why don’t you ask the one with the map?” he asked innocently. Without waiting for her reply he answered, “A little less than half way, I think. Why, are you getting aches and pains, too?”
She smiled at him. “Not me. I could ride the plains for the rest of my life.” They led the sleek animals in the direction of the stream that Keris had indicated. They had only got a short way, when they heard Keris’ voice behind them.
“It’s gone.”
They turned around. Keris was rifling through her saddle pack. She looked agitated. “What’s the matter?” Lyall called after her.
“My pack with my cloak and the other lodestone devices; it’s been taken.”
Lyall was frowning. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” she snapped back impatiently. “They were there this morning, just before we…the nomads. They stole them.” Keris muttered a curse. “We have to turn back, now.”
Boxx was standing next to Alondo, who was quietly watching the exchange. Without warning Alondo bent over and reached into the wagon, producing something with a flourish. “Is this it?”
Keris’ eyes were wide and her nostrils flared. “What are you doing with my stuff?” She sounded dangerous.
“Well, I saw one of the nomads going to your pack and ‘acquiring’ some of your things, so I sort of ‘acquired’ them back… Oh, and you’re quite welcome.”
Keris walked up and took the pack he offered. “Thank you.”
Lyall and Shann were both trying to suppress a giggle. “Actually, I do seem to remember someone saying we should watch ourselves with those people,” Alondo recalled.
Keris grinned in spite of herself. Lyall and Shann turned and resumed their course to the stream, breaking out into paroxysms of laughter as they went. Keris shook her head. “You do know you’re nothing but a great big child, don’t you?”
“Guilty as charged,” Alondo replied happily.
~
Saccath drew his arm back and struck Zamir with the back of his hand. The force of the blow snapped the caravan chief’s head to the side. White blood and spittle flew from the side of his mouth, and the heavy man sagged to his knees. The dark-robed Keltar loomed over him like a presage of doom. Then he turned on his heel and strode over to where two more Keltar waited. A couple of soldiers moved in and picked Zamir up from under his arms, dragging him backwards. They deposited him in a heap beside one of the wagons, where Anka and three small children were cowering.
Saccath took a cloth from his pocket and wiped his hands with a look of distaste, as if he were cleaning off excrement. The other two Keltar watched as he performed the small ceremony. One was young and thin, with straight fair hair, tied back. His mouth was angled wickedly and his eyes were set too close together. The other was shorter than both of them, slightly stooped, face hidden by a hood. “Well?” The hooded figure inquired.
Saccath tossed the cloth away. “The chief admits to aiding and abetting the fugitives who attacked the compound at Gort. He sold them fresh animals and supplies. He claims he didn’t know who they were, and that he wouldn’t have traded with them if he had known. Personally, I think his kind would do anything to line their pockets.”
“Are you certain it was them?” the one with the hood probed.
“There can be no doubt of it,” Saccath affirmed. “Two men and two women: the impostor and the girl who was his accomplice in Corte, the woman Keris and another man whose description I did not recognise; a musician, of all things. The first three bore the cloak and wielded the staff of Keltar. They even hunted with these people as Keltar.”
The thin young man’s expression turned to disgust. “They must be stopped.”
“Patience, Nikome,” Saccath soothed. “What I want to know is why would a genuine Keltar join up with the likes of them?”
“That is not your concern.” The mouth moved beneath the hood. “Did you learn which way they were headed?”
Saccath nodded once. “They parted company where the river Talar turns north. The fugitives continued due east from that point.”
“How long ago?”
“Just this morning,” Saccath reported. “It should be a simple matter to overtake them. Should we eliminate them or take them into custody?”
The hooded face remained half in gloom. “For now your orders are to track their progress but maintain a distance. Do not attempt to engage them.”
Saccath’s brow furrowed. “May I ask why?”
“It is the Prophet’s orders.” The stooped figure raised a hand slightly, as if to display the speaking Ring which encircled an index finger. The other two caught the significance of the gesture, and bowed their heads in deference.
The last rays of Ail-Gan were clinging desperately to the eastern horizon; soon the bright white point that was Ail-Kar would share its fate, leaving Ail-Mazzoth’s dull red orb in sole possession of the sky.
The hooded Keltar turned from the caravan and walked away. Saccath called after the retreating form. “What shall we do with these?”
The dark outline stopped and half turned towards the other two, so that a face could be seen, a profile deep in shadow.
“Burn them!”
~
Lyall stood with Shann at his side, their eyes transfixed on the distant horizon.
“Keris,” Lyall called over his shoulder. Shann felt a surge of irritation at the woman’s inclusion, but said nothing. Keris came and stood on Lyall’s other side.
Lyall pointed out across the golden veldt. “What do you make of that? A prairie fire?”
Keris shielded her eyes and looked intently at where Lyall was indicating. “I don’t think so; the smoke rises thin and straight.”
“A camp fire then?”
“I think so…it seems that we are being followed.” Keris lowered her hand, turning to Lyall. “I will scout back and find out who it is.”
“What if it is the Prophet’s soldiers?”
“Then I will fight a rearguard action if necessary.”
Lyall was shaking his head. “Too risky. If it is the Prophet’s men, then we have no idea how many there are. Even you have your limits, Keris.”
“I can take care of myself,” Keris assured him.
Lyall gave her a wry smile. “I have no doubt of that, but I was thinking we might set up a monitor instead.”
Keris looked thoughtful. “You mean a Vision Sphere?”
“What’s that?” Shann broke in.
“They are devices used by Keltar to spy on people.” Lyall replied. Keris shot him a look. “…Among other things,” he added.
Keris continued to stare at him. Then she seemed to relax. “Well, I only have one Linked pair with me. If we set up the transmit sphere along the trail then it seems unlikely we will be able to go back, so we will lose it. The other sphere will then be useless.”
Lyall considered this. “We have to know who it is that is trailing us. I think it’s worth it, don’t you?”
Keris drew herself erect. “Very well, I shall make preparations.” She turned and walked over to retrieve the necessary items from her pack.
Shann turned to Lyall, her face etched with concern. “What if it is the Prophet’s men?”
Lyall’s eyes were fixed once more on the distant plume of smoke. “Then we run.”
~
Keris pulled the flap aside and shouted to Lyall and Shann, who were riding behind the wagon. “I have a contact.”
Lyall ordered the wagon to halt. He and Shann tied up their mounts hurriedly and climbed into the back of the wagon, followed by Alondo. They joined Keris and Boxx, crowding around them in the cramped space. Keris sat cross-legged with the sphere suspended in the air before her. It shone with an inner glow, which illuminated the faces of those watching. Shann shifted closer. She could see an image, distorted by the convex surface of the sphere. A rough trail parted the waving yellow fronds on either side. Objects were moving in, growing larger. As the party watched, they resolved into the shapes of men on graylesh, soldiers in leather armour riding high in the saddle. At their head sat three figures in black. Keltar
Shann glanced at the others. Keris sat impassive, concentrating on the image. Lyall’s face was grim. Alondo looked shocked. Boxx’ mouth was quirked, although she had no idea what that signified or even if the creature knew what it was looking at.
The image shimmered slightly and showed the mounted soldiers approaching. Shann attempted to count them: four, eight, ten…about two dozen. One of the Keltar stopped and dismounted as the soldiers filed past. Slowly and deliberately, he pulled the staff from behind his back and walked up to the sphere. Shann could see the sharp eyes set in an angular face with a straight mouth and pointed chin. Sunlight glinted briefly on the diamond blade as it fell. The light died and the sphere went dark.
Shann felt numb as she watched Keris reach out and retrieve the sphere and then gather up the trio of lodestones that had supported it. It was Lyall who finally broke the silence. “Keris, do you know who that was?”
“Yes. His name is Saccath.”
“What do you know about him?”
All eyes were on Keris, who was looking down at the now empty floor. “Only that if he catches up to us, he will show no mercy.”
~
For the next few days, their routine was unchanging: run…snatch food… run…snatch sleep…run. They seemed to be maintaining their distance from their pursuers, although Shann was not sure how, since the riders following them should have been able to overtake their wagon eventually. She could not shake the feeling that Keris was involved somehow, and that they were being toyed with. However she did not feel that she could talk to Lyall about it, since all she had were her vague suspicions.
There had been a lengthy argument between Keris and Lyall over tactics, which Keris had ultimately won, as her logic was unassailable.
“We can’t keep going and going,” she insisted. “We have to rest ourselves and our animals some time. The same applies to them. That means we can only camp when we know they have camped. If I act as a rearguard scout, I can ride forward and tell you when it’s safe to stop for the night. Then we post a watch to guard against a surprise attack.”
Lyall had reluctantly agreed to her plan, but with strict conditions. “First of all, you are not doing this alone. You and I will take turns. Second, under no circumstances are you to engage them. Is that understood?”
Keris had maintained that she was the better scout, which was probably true. She also argued that if she could eliminate the odd soldier or even one of the Keltar by isolating them from the main group, she would improve their chances, which was also probably true. Lyall, however, made it clear that he was not going to be swayed on either of these points and so Keris had finally acquiesced.
Each evening Keris or Lyall would catch up to the party and declare that it was safe to stop for the night. Then, early in the morning before Ail-Gan rose, they would be on the move again. The journey across the Eastern Plains, which had begun as an exhilarating ride, affording new experiences every day, had now become a desperate race for life.
Thus it was that the most astonishing new discovery remained unnoticed by Shann until their goal was nearly in sight.
~
“The sun–it’s moved.”
Shann was gazing up at the heavens with a puzzled look on her face.
Keris had just returned from her scouting exercise and pronounced it safe to camp. She ignored Shann’s comment and carried on checking her equipment.
Lyall walked over and stood beside her. It was true. Ail-Mazzoth now took up a position in the sky part way off towards the western horizon. He pointed up at the dark crimson circle, smiling. “The sun hasn’t moved, Shann; you have.” Shann looked questioningly at him. “We are a long way from Corte,” he continued. “Ail-Mazzoth doesn’t change position,” he made a fist to represent the sun, “but as we move around our world,” his other hand moved beneath it as if to illustrate their progress, “then it appears to move in the sky.”
Shann nodded. “I see.” She was pensive for a moment. “What if I were to continue walking around the world in one direction? Would that mean that Ail-Mazzoth would disappear completely below the horizon?”
“Perhaps,” Lyall replied, “but in order to do that, you would have to pass through the Great Barrier of Storms. No-one has ever managed that. So none can say for certain what might lie on the other side.”
There was a pause as Shann absorbed the enormity of what Lyall was saying. Then another thought occurred to her. “If the woman Annata is right, then the tower will take us beyond the Great Barrier. We will be the first Kelanni to see what is there.”
“Yes Shann, we will.”
“Do you think that we will be able to live there, if Ail-Mazzoth is gone?”
Lyall placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I do not think that the woman from the past would go to all this trouble only to send us to our deaths. I’m sure it will be fine. Although,” he looked as if he were considering something for the first time, “it might well be a very strange place.”
A place where the mother sun did not exist; what could it possibly be like?
~
Shann hastily stuffed her blanket into the saddle pack and grasped the reins of her graylesh, waiting for the signal from Lyall for them to be off. The coolness of night would soon give way to the shimmering heat of a summer’s day. She was starting to feel weary from exertion and lack of sleep. Nevertheless she was determined to keep going. I can’t let Lyall and Alondo down.
Keris had her map spread out on the ground. She had a two-pronged instrument and appeared to be making computations that only she understood. Finally she folded the map neatly and stood up. “Less than two days to the tower,” she announced.
Alondo was already seated on the buckboard. “And what do we do when we get there?”
“I’m not sure,” Lyall confessed.
“Well we’d better decide quickly when we get there, before the Prophet’s men fall on us.” Alondo sounded grim.
Boxx was observing the exchange. He drew himself up on his hind legs in a vain attempt to gain the height of the Kelanni. He spoke in his sing-song voice. “The Woman From Before–She Will Guide You. Do Not Be In Fear.”
Alondo twisted around so that he was facing the Chandara. “And do you have any idea when that will be?”
“Yes,” the creature replied.
“Well…when? Alondo prompted.
“At The Time Of Her Speaking.”
Alondo put his head in his hands.
Lyall put up both his hands in a placating gesture. “It does not matter. If Annata’s warning is genuine and,” he cast his eye around the four of them, “I believe that it is, then all Kelanni is under threat. The men following us are nothing more than a distraction. We have to follow this thing through to the end.”
All three Kelanni nodded their assent. Boxx dropped to all sixes and waddled over to the wagon. In moments, the wagon and its escort were underway once more.
Late that evening, just as Ail-Gan was beginning to dip below the horizon, they had their first sight of the tower.
<><><><><>
Chapter 15
Shann woke to the smell of fresh earth and the susurration of the nocturnal life of the plains. She opened her eyes as slits, registering three sleeping forms; two lay beneath blankets, the third was a rolled up ball of segmented chitin. A fourth figure sat with her back to Shann, staff held ready, long dark hair about her shoulders. Keris.
Shann had the last watch after Keris. Tomorrow they would reach the tower and whatever destiny awaited them there. She felt like going back to sleep, but something, a nagging suspicion, kept her awake.
As she continued to watch, she saw Keris check the sleeping forms behind her and then rise to her feet. The tall woman walked silently to the edge of the camp and off through the grassland. What is she up to?
Shann shrugged off her blanket and set off in a low run in the direction she had seen Keris disappear. She slowed down when she reached the grass perimeter, casting her eye over the tops of the waving stalks. A dark shape receding off to her left. Shann followed at a discreet distance. After a while, the grass thinned. A mostly bare patch of ground rose to form a small knoll. Shann watched as Keris sat down on the knoll and then raised her hand to her mouth and spoke. A moment later, a dull green light luminesced. Her Speaker Ring.
Shann hunkered down in the tall grass and strained her ears to hear, but could not make out distinct words. She dared not approach any closer, for fear of being discovered. Her mind worked furiously. The woman had told them that Rings had to be Linked and that a Ring could only resonate with the Ring that it had been Linked to. The Ring she carried as Keltar had been for one purpose only–to communicate with her master at the keep in Chalimar. There was only one explanation. You are a spy. And I have caught you red-handed.
As Shann continued to observe Keris, she debated what to do now. She should tell Lyall. However, it would still be this woman’s word against hers. There was also a danger that if she found out she had been discovered, she might bring the three Keltar and the soldiers down on them. Or the woman might try and kill her, Lyall and Alondo. Shann would have to be very careful how she played this.
The Chandara’s involvement was still a real mystery. Keris must have duped it or influenced it or threatened it somehow. In any case, none of that was important now. She had her first real evidence of the woman’s betrayal.
Feeling a sense of grim satisfaction, she backed up through the cover of the long grass and made her way back to camp.
~
By the time they were ready to break camp, Shann had decided what to do. She would take Lyall to one side and tell him in secret about the events of last night. Maybe they could even put together a way of trapping the Keltar as a way of exposing her. Then with her out of the way, the three of them could get back to the real task of rescuing the tributes from Gort. She could see the look on that woman’s face when she realised she’d been outwitted by a mere child. Then Shann imagined the joy on the faces of Roanol and the others when she came back to free them.
The sight of Keris jolted her out of her reverie. The woman came around the wagon and headed straight for her. Had she found out somehow that she had been followed last night? Shann steeled herself.
Keris strode up and stood right in front of her. Shann found the tall woman’s looming presence intimidating. “Give me your equipment.”
“Wh–what?”
Keris held out her hand. “Give me your equipment,” she repeated.
Shann scrabbled around, gathering up the broken shards of her courage. “No!”
Keris let out a massive sigh and closed her eyes. She opened them again and Shann flinched inwardly. “When was the last time you checked the condition of your cloak–or the staff, for that matter?”
“I…well, er…”
“I thought so. What do you think will happen when the Prophet’s men catch up to us? These are not dumb raleketh. There are trained Keltar among them. If your cloak fails or your staff breaks, they will not hesitate to kill you. Now let me have your equipment.” Shann felt numb as she went to her pack and meekly handed the items over.
As she did so, Keris’ severe manner seemed to dissipate. She softened her tone. “I will let you have these back as soon as I can. Try not to worry. When the time comes, just remember your training. I will do my best to watch your back.”
Shann watched her retreating form and felt a pang of guilt. Quickly, she shoved it aside, recalling the image of the woman speaking into her Ring, communing with her superior in Chalimar. She had to tell Lyall.
He was standing near the front of the wagon, talking to Alondo. Shann started towards him. She would have to get him alone. He would no doubt be sceptical at first, but he would know what to do. She was just a few steps away when Boxx suddenly appeared ahead of her. It was carrying the strange machine in its upper forelimbs. It stopped and carefully set the device down in front of Lyall. Lyall and Alondo had stopped their conversation and were regarding the creature curiously. It straightened up and addressed them in its thin high voice.
“It Is Time.”
~
Boxx touched a tiny switch set into a recess in the base of the device, and the line of lights came on, all glowing red. A light began to form in the air above the intricate mechanism–the image of a woman dressed in a kind of white coverall. Shann gasped in spite of herself. The woman turned to look behind her, and voice emanated from the machine.
“Is it working?…Keris…Keris, can you hear me?”
Keris, who was standing behind Shann’s left shoulder, stepped forward. Bewildered, Shann moved to let her past. “Yes, I am here,” Keris spoke in a strong, clear voice.
“Thank goodness. I’m sorry, but I do not have much time. Things are becoming chaotic here and power is erratic.”
Lyall spoke up. “Pardon me, my name is Lyall. We did not know whether we would hear from you. The Chandara said that it would be more than a whole turn before your next contact.”
“I see you have found friends willing to aid you. That is good. I am sorry for the confusion. I ought to have mentioned that the Chandara do not count in the same way that we do. Have you located one of the towers I spoke of?”
“I believe so,” Keris declared. “We should arrive there later today. However, we are now being pursued by soldiers loyal to the Prophet. They are hard on our heels.”
“Then you will need to make haste. I will tell you how to use the vacuum displacement transporter. Once you have transferred to the tower on the opposite side of the world, then you should be safe. Boxx?”
The creature lifted its head. “Yes?”
“Please, would you remove the access module?”
Boxx reached out with its front foreleg and found another small recess in the rear of the machine. There was a light hum, as a small panel slid out. Boxx reached inside with the three fingers of its front foreleg and extracted a flat object in the shape of a scalene triangle. It was made of a translucent substance. Encased within it were multicoloured workings, the significance of which Shann could only guess at.
“The module Boxx will give you will enable you to travel between any of the four towers situated on our world. Enter the base of the tower and make your way to the top. You may notice that the tower has some…peculiar properties, but don’t let that worry you. At the top you will find a large globe. Look around it and you will find a hole in the wall, the same size and shape as the module. Insert the module and wait a few moments. The module has its own internal power source and a door will appear. Retrieve the module again and enter the globe. Once inside, you will see a raised platform with four prominent levers. They correspond to the four towers of Kelanni; two on your side, coloured red, and two situated on the other side of the world, coloured blue. Pull the blue one on the left to the down position; then wait. You will know when the transport is complete. Then exit the globe. You will find yourself atop an identical looking tower, but you will be on the other side, not far from where the instrument that will neutralize the Prophet’s weapon is concealed.”
“Will this module give us access to the instrument as well?” Keris asked.
“No, the instrument is too dangerous for us to risk it falling into the wrong hands. For that you will need a different kind of key. Boxx is a crucial part of that. When you get to the other side, I will–”
The image fizzed and the light was extinguished. The red indicator lights at the base of the unit winked out. The four Kelanni stood speechless. Finally Alondo asked, “What happened?”
Keris frowned. “The message was shorter than last time. She said something about the power failing. I don’t know…”
They were all thinking the same thing, but no-one wanted to vocalise it. Would they ever hear from her again?
Lyall stood erect. “Well, we have our instructions. Let’s pack up everyone. We need to stay ahead of the Prophet’s soldiers.”
Boxx picked up the apparatus ceremoniously, and waddled off towards the wagon. Keris followed Shann to where the graylesh were grazing and when Shann turned, she saw that the woman was holding out her cloak and staff. “Here, you’ll be needing these.”
Shann accepted them. “Thank you.” Her eyes met those of the Keltar. She did not know what to think. She had been so sure that the woman’s story had been a pack of lies. All she had to do was to uncover enough evidence to convince Lyall of that, and all would be well. Now it looked as if Lyall’s faith in her had been justified. She was certain that the sight they had just witnessed was beyond anything even a Keltar could manufacture. If the tower contained similar wonders, then the woman’s credibility would be enhanced even further. Yet Shann knew that the woman did intend to betray them. She was secretly communicating with her overseer in Chalimar–Shann had seen it with her own eyes. What are you up to? She needed more information, more evidence of the woman’s true intent, before she could confront her.
Far off on the eastern horizon the tower beckoned, eager now to reveal its innermost secrets.
~
The unnamed tower lifted itself up over the Eastern Plain, a definitive statement in stone. Keris, clad in full Keltar gear, inspected the entranceway at the tower’s base; a sliding metal door left carelessly half open by its final occupants, as if in hopes that someone might one day take up residence there again.
It was an odd experience. The deserted tower was identical to the one that dominated the Dagmar manse, where Keris had spent her youth. As a little girl, she had been told not to play anywhere near there. This was a different tower, in a different part of the world. Yet it still felt as if going inside would be an act of disobedience to her parents, that she would be punished when they found out.
Boxx was standing on its hind legs, waiting patiently. Shann was just behind it, wearing the dark cloak, and holding the staff in both hands. Keris noticed that the girl’s knuckles were white with tension. Alondo had brought his odd musical instrument with him, although Keris couldn’t imagine why. She was going to make some acerbic comment, but then thought better of it. There were more important things to worry about.
Keris took point, checking the interior briefly and then moving inside. Motes danced in the sunlight which streamed through the opening. There were no windows; the space beyond was swathed in gloom. Keris allowed a moment for her eyes to grow accustomed to the reduced light and checked for signs of life; nothing, no movement nor any signs of recent occupation. She squatted down, tracing a finger in the undisturbed layer of dust. Finally, she drew herself up, signalling for the others to follow.
Boxx, Shann and Alondo entered the structure, casting their eyes about them.
“It Is A Vacuum Hole Tower. Tall, Like The Great Tree,” Boxx stated in reverent tones.
“Cosy,” Alondo observed.
Keris ignored both of them, moving beyond the pool of light. There was a rapid clicking sound. Keris whirled around to see Shann’s hand on the wall. An instant later, light flooded forth from somewhere above her. There were rectangular glowing panels, the likes of which she had never seen before, set into the ceiling at regular intervals. A number of the panels remained dark.
“What did you do?” Keris demanded.
Shann stammered, “I…I just touched this thing on the wall here.”
“Well, don’t touch anything else,” Keris warned.
Shann glared at her resentfully.
Off to one side, a set of stairs spiralled upwards. Keris headed towards it. There was a noise and movement from the direction of the entrance. Keris turned again to see the silhouette of a cloaked figure standing at the opening. The figure swept inside, and Lyall’s features became visible in the dim artificial light. “They’re coming,” he announced. “One of the Keltar, and about half a dozen soldiers; they will be here shortly.”
Why only one? The thought flashed up and Keris dismissed it immediately. No time to speculate now. “Well there seems to be no-one here. Let’s get to the top.” She turned and led the way up the spiral stairs.
The first flight led to a floor with various rooms and cubicles. Some doors were closed; others were carelessly left open as if the last residents had left in a hurry. The doors that were open afforded strange views of oddly shaped chairs and banks of instrumentation that reminded Keris of the mechanism that the woman from the past used, to communicate with them. She was starting up the second flight of stairs when she saw Alondo entering one of the chambers. She stopped and snapped at him, “What are you doing?”
Alondo was wide eyed like a little child. “Look at this stuff.”
“Forget it. This isn’t a sightseeing trip. The Prophet’s men will be on us if we don’t hurry. Now get a move on!”
Lyall came up behind him and put an arm around his shoulder. “Sorry, old friend. There’s no time.”
Alondo looked as if someone had just confiscated his favourite toy. He followed Lyall dejectedly. Keris resumed her passage up the stairs, holding her diamond tipped staff at the ready. She led them up a second set of spiral stairs and then a third. Part way up the fourth, Shann spoke up. “Lyall?”
“What is it?” he called from behind her.
“This tower, there’s…something peculiar about it.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Just blip the bronze layer in your cloak once.”
Lyall reached up to his neck control and did as he was bidden. He winced, “Curious.”
“What’s the matter?” Keris inquired behind her.
“Shann has detected a large source of what can only be refined lodestone.” Lyall wore a puzzled expression. “Oddly though, it seems to lie above us.”
Keris adjusted her control experimentally. “Curious indeed,” she commented. “Let’s get to the top, quickly.” Keris increased the pace. Five floors…six…seven. Alondo was starting to pant.
You need to rest?” Lyall looked at him with concern.
“No, no…,” Alondo puffed, “I’m fine.” He added, “How many more floors to this thing?”
“Keris?” Lyall directed the question to her.
“I’m not sure; ten maybe?”
“Will you be all right?” Lyall asked.
“Of course,” Alondo wheezed with his hands on his knees. “I can do ten…ten is good…eleven might be a problem, but ten…ten, I could do.”
Lyall smiled. He put his friend’s arm about his shoulders and started up once more.
The rest of the climb was conducted in silence, their entire concentration expended on the effort of putting one foot in front of another. Thus Keris was unprepared for the sudden feel of wind and the light from an open doorway which expelled them onto a stone platform, exposed to the elements. They were at the top. Dominating the centre of the platform was a huge silver globe, secured by clamps. They walked over to it and Keris put up her hand and touched its surface. It was perfectly smooth.
“It’s changed,” Shann was looking down at the grey stone. “The lodestone is beneath us now.”
“It’s this platform,” Lyall confirmed. “The whole thing must be virtually all lodestone… Remarkable.”
Keris was starting to walk around the massive orb. A quarter of the way round she stopped. “Over here.”
The others joined her. Keris pointed to a triangular indentation in the otherwise flawless surface. “This has to be it,” she declared. She stepped up and took out the access module she had stored in her pouch, inserting it carefully into the hole. The workings inside the transparent casing lit up with a yellow light, and a low humming sound emanated from the globe itself. The module turned red, and a door began to open on the globe’s curved exterior…and stopped. The gap was no more than a hand’s breadth.
Another sound intruded into the ensuing silence. Lyall ran to the entrance to the tower’s roof. “I hear voices,” he called out, “they’re coming.” He raced back and wrapped his hands around the gap in the door, pulling with all his might. Keris and Alondo both joined him. Strain showed on their faces and the tendons in their hands, but the door refused to budge. Then suddenly it was free. They pulled it open, and Lyall, Shann and Alondo scrambled inside. Shann reached out and pulled Boxx up and over the threshold. Keris grabbed the module and pulled it out of its slot. It went dark. Then she followed the others, ducking her head to enter.
She glanced around quickly, taking in the sphere’s interior. There was light emanating from somewhere, but she could not discern its source. The concave walls were the same silver colour, but otherwise featureless. At the centre of the floor was a raised dais with four levers, two red and two blue, just as the woman from the past had described. The dais was encircled by a handrail. There was no other furniture.
Keris went to the controls. They looked simple enough. She looked up. Lyall was struggling to try and close the door, which had jammed again. “Leave it,” she cried out, “there’s no time.” He pulled back and joined the rest. Keris placed both hands on the blue lever to her left. “Better hold onto something, I have no idea what will happen when I pull this.”
The others grabbed the handrail. Boxx curled neatly up into a ball.
Keris shut her eyes, clenched her teeth and pulled down on the lever with all her might.
<><><><><>
Chapter 16
As the lever reached the down position, Keris felt a low rumble, followed by a faint downward pressure. She opened her eyes. Released from its mountings, the sphere was now rising into the air above the tower, under the influence of the lodestone platform. Keris moved to the handrail next to Lyall and held on. It was a thrilling experience and she could feel her heart beating faster. She was filled with awe at a people who could have fashioned such wonders–her ancestors.
The sphere reached its maximum height. Through the jammed open door, she could see blue lightning playing about the exterior surface of the great globe. It was spectacular. A low whine started up and rose in pitch. A massive concussion. They were all hurled to one side. Keris and Lyall held on to the handrail, but Shann and Alondo lost their grip and tumbled over and over inside the globe. The ball that was Boxx rolled around but seemed otherwise unaffected. Another huge bang. A sense of falling. The impact of the sphere against the stone platform. Keris was bounced around and fell with the others in a disoriented heap.
Her head felt muzzy. She put her hand to her temple. It felt wet. White blood stained the tips of her fingers. She forced her mind to analyse what had happened. The Prophet’s men had caught up to them. A petard. A larger version of the lodestone grenade. They had used petards to bring down the sphere somehow, maybe by destroying the mechanism that controlled it. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the sphere was not going to rise again, and with only one exit, it would soon become a trap if they did not move. She looked over to one side. The globe had rolled slightly on impact, so that the doorway was lower down, but still exposed to the open air.
The tall figure of Lyall was suddenly looming over her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes.” She waved a hand. “Get out of here, go, go!” Her voice sounded muffled, as if she were trying to talk with blankets stuffed in her ears. She shook her head with annoyance. As she got her elbows under her and struggled to a sitting position, she saw the backs of two cloaked figures and one gaily clad musician clambering through the threshold one by one. A distant voice in the back of her mind suggested mildly that she would feel so much better if she simply lay back down and closed her eyes. She thrust the thought away savagely.
There were sounds coming from outside; coarse shouts, animalistic grunts, the clash of weapons. I must get out there. She went to get up and felt a warm tingling contact at the side of her face. She turned her head instinctively. The Chandara was sitting on its hind legs next to her, three fingers of one limb touching the sticky smear of blood at her temple. Its mouth rippled in a peculiar fashion, but no words came out. “Boxx, what are you doing?” Her voice still sounded odd in her ears.
“I Heal Keris,” it announced. Then its mouth reverted to the same rippling motion.
“Sorry, no time for that now.” She pulled away and got to her feet. Her legs swayed under her but she fought to regain control, forcing them to carry her towards the opening. Although it made no sense, she could still feel the Chandara’s touch. It was as if the whole side of her face were alive.
Framed in the entrance to the sphere, she could see Lyall sparring with four soldiers in iron studded leather breastplates. He was using the superior reach of his staff to fend them off, whilst they circled, weapons drawn, trying to outflank him. He flared his cloak and leaped out of their midst, the soldiers giving chase.
Keris clambered out of the silver globe, and from the corner of her eye she spotted Alondo to her right, crouched down. Bizarrely, he seemed to be adjusting the settings on that musical instrument he carried. At least he seemed to have the good sense to stay out of the fighting.
Her mind was starting to clear, and her tactical sense kicked in. In an instant, she registered the relative positions of friend and foe alike, as if they were pieces on a shassatan board. Alondo would correspond to “The Fool,” with no offensive role. Lyall was “The Wheel,” around which the other pieces revolved. She would be “The Dagger,” punishing each of the opponent’s moves with a counter-move. “The Dagger,” for the opposition would be the lone Keltar. She glanced around anxiously, but he did not seem to be within her field of vision.
She moved out onto the tower’s roof. The sound of clashing staffs, above and behind her. She wheeled around to see the Keltar battling another cloaked figure in mid-air above the ruined globe. Shann. The tiny girl was twisting and turning, parrying and dodging a furious array of blows. As Keris registered the scene, she could not help but be impressed by the girl’s tenacity. Wisely, she was not making it a contest of strength but was using her superior speed and agility to good effect. However, she was fighting a trained Keltar, and there was no way for her to avoid every blow. Already her arm bore what looked like a flesh wound. Sooner or later, a single vicious thrust or slash would fully connect, and she would go down.
Keris bent her legs, retracted the bronze layer of her cloak fully and shot into the air. The lodestone platform was a perfect base, affording almost infinite possibilities of movement in the air. However, the enemy had the same advantage. Overconfidence would be fatal. Twisting in the air, she altered her trajectory so as to land on the outer shell of the sphere near the top. She landed and pressed herself flat against the curved surface. Shann had landed on the platform and immediately taken off again in a different direction. Good girl. Don’t let yourself get caught on the ground. The Keltar gave chase. He was trying to anticipate the girl’s next move and trap her. He had not spotted Keris; she had the element of surprise. Just keep him occupied for a few moments more, girl.
Shann reached the apex of her leap. The Keltar was rising to meet her in the air, readying his staff once more to probe her defences, waiting for her to make a fatal error. His back was turned. Keris saw the opening. She flared her cloak and launched herself skyward. Reaching the top of her leap, she angled her body towards the Keltar, and slammed open her bronze layer. Instantly, she felt the downward pressure of the upper lodestone layer on bronze. She hurtled downwards, feet first. Air rushed past as the pair of cloaked combatants rose to meet her. Keris twisted at the last, feeling resistance, as her boots impacted the Keltar’s side. She heard an “oomph” as air was forcibly expelled from the man’s lungs. The massive blow sent him tumbling towards the platform out of control, and he landed hard. Keris partially retracted her bronze and slowed her descent, alighting directly in front of the sprawling figure. From the corner of her eye she could see that Shann had landed safely some way off. The girl was breathing hard, but watching the confrontation, intently.
The man turned his face towards Keris. He was young and wiry looking, with fair hair combed straight back. Keris had a flash of recognition. She had seen him at the keep, but could not remember ever speaking to him. He rose to his feet, clutching his side. “You–you are Keris, the traitor.”
The word stung Keris in a way she had not expected. It felt like he had somehow turned the tables on her and gained the advantage. She scrambled to maintain her moral footing. “You do not understand what is going on here.”
“I understand well enough,” the man sneered. “You have sided with these impostors against the Prophet.”
“The Prophet is out to destroy all Kelanni,” she countered. “You are being used.”
“Ridiculous!” the young man spat.
Keris was about to respond, when she felt a pressure wave pass over her. She whirled around just in time to see two soldiers come cartwheeling through the air. They landed on the stone roof in a tumble of arms and legs.
She looked back along the line of their trajectory. Alondo stood with his boots firmly planted, the open neck of his musical instrument pointed forward. He turned to face two more soldiers who were advancing on him from the side. He adjusted a control and then struck the strings. Keris watched with disbelief as a shimmering ring rippled through the atmosphere and struck with a force that knocked them backwards. He tweaked the control once more, and commenced a rhythmic strumming. An aerial vortex emanated from the device, twisting in the air like a coiled serpent. The soldiers raised their hands in a vain attempt to resist the force now washing over them. Faces contorted, they turned tail and ran for the roof exit. The other soldiers got to their feet and stumbled after their companions. Lyall chased after them with his staff, completing the rout.
Keris was almost as shocked as the soldiers. She had never seen anything like the weapon that Alondo wielded. She gathered her wits, pointing the tip of her staff at the still prone Keltar. “Your men are defeated. Yield!”
“Never!” The young man got to his feet and rushed Keris. She sidestepped neatly, swinging her staff and striking him in the back with the darkwood. Shann was walking towards them. Keris held up her hand. “Leave him to me.”
Dark clouds were rolling in, obscuring the suns and casting the tower in a premature evenfall. The cloaked youth turned again to face her. He laughed mirthlessly “Others are coming after you. You will not escape.” He raised his hand to his neck and leapt away. Keris bent her knees, flared her cloak and jumped into the air after him. He twisted around to face her and she caught the look of pure hatred in his eyes as their staffs clashed.
As Keris parried a low strike, she heard Lyall shouting from below. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but she detected a note of urgency in his voice. Glancing to one side, she saw smoke billowing from the roof’s exit. I have to end this.
She blipped her bronze layer, dropping below her adversary and then pushing off again, to try and come up behind him. If she could damage his cloak’s mechanism and give herself a decisive advantage, then maybe he would be more inclined to reason. He appeared to read her intentions and swivelled in the air, holding out his staff in a defensive posture. Her staff met his with a crack that reverberated across the rooftop. Before he could respond, she shifted her grip and followed up with a succession of strikes. The Keltar was driven backwards and descended, landing on the platform with a slight stumble.
He backed up and as he did so, Keris could see that he was getting near the parapet. She touched down and advanced towards him. There was an acrid tinge of smoke in the air. “Don’t be a fool,” she cried out. “Come with us and let us explain what we have found.”
She saw the side of his mouth quirk into a half smile. He feinted to her left and then shifted position, coming at her from the right. The diamond blade moved in a vicious arc, aimed at her head. Keris pulled back as the staff sliced through the air in front of her face. Swinging low with her own staff, she took the man’s legs out from under him. The youth went down again, sprawling on the hard stone.
He rose to a crouch, opened his cloak and sprang upwards. A massive detonation. The ancient tower rocked and the platform beneath Keris’ feet swayed slightly. The young Keltar instinctively shifted the direction of his flight away from the blast. Too late, the expression on his face registered his fatal mistake. He snapped open the bronze layer of his flying cloak in an effort to brake, but his forward momentum carried him out over the edge of the parapet.
Keris was running towards the youth across the stone roof . “Nooo!” She threw herself down at the parapet, hand outstretched, fingers extended into empty space in a futile attempt to grab him. The only lodestone this high up was the roof itself, which at the angle he was at, would only serve to push him further away. She could only watch in horror as he began to fall backwards, down the face of the tower, cloak fluttering uselessly in the wind. The image shrank rapidly, and in a moment was gone.
Keris sagged against the parapet in defeat. As she did so, the first large raindrops splashed against her head and against the stone. Lyall walked up to her as she lay there, with Alondo and Shann behind him and Boxx behind them, bobbing up and down like a child that was trying to get a better view.
Lyall looked down at her, his blue eyes seeming to acknowledge the depth of her pain and frustration. He extended a hand to help her up. “Let’s get out of here.”
~
The rain was falling in parallel streaks, pattering against the stone. Lyall stood at the roof exit, ripping up pieces of cloth and handing them around. He offered one to Boxx, but the Chandara only looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Soak these with rainwater and hold them over your mouth. Breathe through them.” He looked at each of them in turn.. “As we descend, keep close to the outer wall and try to keep low to the ground. Stay close together and above all, whatever happens, don’t panic.”
He led the way back into the tower’s interior, followed by Shann, Alondo and Boxx, with Keris bringing up the rear. The atmosphere inside the tower was heavy with smoke. Lyall was acutely aware that there might be another explosion at any moment, but there was nothing he could do about that. They had to escape the tower as quickly as possible, and this was the only way.
Smoke curled around them and the heat increased. Fire was taking hold in the upper part of the tower. The petards had done more than destroy the transporter mechanism; whether by accident or design, they now threatened to raze the tower itself. Patches of red and orange were visible through open doorways, and there was a rushing sound, as the flames greedily tried to suck in more oxygen.
He heard a loud coughing. It was Alondo. Motioning Shann to carry on the descent, he turned back to his friend. “Are you all right?” he shouted. There was another round of coughing, but Alondo nodded. Lyall put one arm around Alondo’s shoulders, urging him on. He glanced back at Boxx and behind it, the outline of Keris. Both appeared to be coping. They descended through two more floors, and the smoke began to thin noticeably. Alondo signalled that he was able to continue unaided. Lyall released him and moved back to point, quickening the pace.
Lyall had no idea what had happened to the soldiers but right now, a possible ambush was the least of his worries. In any case, he seriously doubted whether they would want to face Alondo’s vortex arm again. His weapon had that effect on people and animals alike.
He was proud of his team, Shann especially so. She had faced a trained Keltar and held him at bay long enough for Keris to deal with him. The girl’s bravery was beyond question. The rest would just be a matter of training and practice. In a way, Keris concerned him more.
First the incident at the compound, and now this. It was as if, having turned on her former friends, she was now being forced to witness their destruction, one by one. It was clear that it was all taking a toll on her and that sooner or later there would be a price to pay for that. Lyall was not sure what he could do to help her, other than to be there for her, and to remind her from time to time of the importance of what they were trying to accomplish.
Regarding that, there was now the question of what they were going to do next. The device that was intended to transport them beyond the Great Barrier was destroyed, gone forever. Assuming they all made it out of here alive, then the others would be looking for an answer to that question. And they would be looking to him. Right now, he didn’t have an answer for them, but he was determined that he would find one. Lyall glanced back and saw them following him as they descended through the ruined tower. I can’t let them down.
They finally broke through to the ground floor and rushed out through the entrance, pausing to take great lungfuls of fresh air. The welcoming rain began to drench their clothes and their bodies, washing away the smell of stale smoke. Lyall scanned the area around the base of the tower. There was no sign of the soldiers or anyone else. Silently, he led the others in single file back towards the wagon and the waiting graylesh.
Behind them the tower burned, flames lighting up the darkening sky.
<><><><><>
Chapter 17
The rain had ameliorated to a gentle teasing drizzle. Three Kelanni and one Chandara sat around a small fire near the edge of the Eastern Plains. The Kelanni had blankets pulled over their heads in an effort to try and keep dry. The blankets steamed slightly in the heat of the campfire.
Despite their victory at the tower, the air smelled of defeat. Even Alondo appeared subdued. Earlier, he had broken out rations of dried raleketh meat and handed them around. Shann had done little more than pick at hers.
The injury on her arm no longer hurt, but her mind still seemed conscious of it somehow. Boxx had done something to the wound. At the time, she thought that the creature was just performing some peculiar ceremony and she did not have the inclination or the strength to object. In a few moments, an odd sensation suffused her arm, like hot needles, yet strangely, not unpleasant. Instinct told her she should pull away, but her body did not want to. After a while, she realised that the pain was gone. She probed the area of skin experimentally and to her great surprise, it appeared to be whole. The Chandara sat up on its hind legs, eyeing her curiously. She rubbed her arm. “Thank you.” Satisfied, the odd little beast dropped to all sixes, waddled off and lay down, its head resting on the ground.
The conversation was subdued, mainly because none of them wanted to talk about the only subject on everyone’s minds–what were they going to do now. Back across the open plains, smoke could still be seen rising from the tower, commingling with the dark clouds overhead, barring passage to the other side of their world. They had been guided there by Annata, the woman from the past, yet the device she had used to communicate with them was silent now and she herself was long dead, bones turned to dust and washed away by centuries of rain. They were on their own, burdened with the knowledge of impending disaster, yet powerless to prevent it.
A dark shape moved across the brooding sky and descended to the ground near the campfire. It moved into their midst, the lambent firelight casting its visage in flame and shadow. The face grinned. “Greetings, people.” Keris looked up at Lyall, and then looked back at the fire. No-one spoke. “I have good news,” he began. “There does not seem to be any sign of the Prophet’s men. If the soldiers who confronted us at the tower have returned to their masters, then they have no doubt reported that we gave them a sound thrashing. I think it will make them think twice about attacking us again.”
There was still no answer from anyone. Lyall carried on, “I’m very proud of you all. Everyone was magnificent today. You all did a terrific job.” Keris made an odd snorting noise. Lyall looked at her with an inquiring expression. “Keris?”
“…A terrific job,” she repeated. Lyall allowed her to marshal her thoughts. She continued staring into the depths of the fire as she spoke. “Well let’s see…we… sustained injuries, failed to prevent the destruction of the tower, our only means of travel to the other side of the world and almost got ourselves killed in the process.” She picked up a stick and threw it savagely into the fire as if to punctuate her final word. “Terrific.”
Shann found herself reluctantly agreeing with Keris’ assessment. She wondered what she might do now. Go back and try to free the tributes at Gort again, maybe? If she were killed in the attempt it would hardly matter, as they were all facing destruction anyway. Or she could simply go back to Corte, find Gallar if she was still alive and wait for the end. She found neither prospect very appealing.
Lyall did not seem at all flustered by Keris’ outburst. “Did they teach to give up so easily in Keltar School?” Keris looked away from the fire for the first time and stared at him. Lyall stood his ground. “Look, none of that matters…all right, it’s a setback, to be sure. But we are alive and well. And the fundamentals have not changed. We know that the Prophet is out to destroy the Kelanni and we have to get to the other side of our world to stop him.”
“How are we going to do that, Lyall?” Alondo asked in a quiet voice.
“We have to cross the Barrier.”
“Do you know someone who knows a way through?” Keris challenged.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” The rain had stopped, and the clouds were breaking up, allowing Ail-Mazzoth’s massive orb to dominate the western sky. “Boxx, is the machine you are carrying still operational?”
The Chandara rose to its hind legs at the mention of its name. “Yes, Lyall.”
“Do you know when Annata will appear next?”
“Yes, Lyall.”
“Can she show us how to continue to the other side of this world?”
“You Must Continue. It Is The Key.”
Lyall smiled. “Well, that’s one vote in favour.” He looked at the others one by one. “We know that Annata has machines and knowledge far beyond ours. We all glimpsed the wonders at the tower. Her people built a machine and sent it through time to warn us. In doing so, they have placed a great responsibility on Keris, and now on us, as well. I do not believe that they would give up and neither should we. If we work together, past and future, then I believe we will find a way.
“I say that nothing has changed. We have a task to complete, on which the very future of the Kelanni depends. Are you with me?” Shann was grateful that his eye fell on her first. She nodded firmly, followed by Alondo and finally after a long pause, Keris gave her assent. “Then it is decided. We continue.”
“Where are we headed?” Alondo asked.
Lyall turned to Keris. “The map you acquired–how far does it extend?”
“All the way to the sea.”
Lyall nodded. “Good. The Great Barrier of Storms lies across the Aronak Sea. I believe we should make for the port city of Sakara.”
“That’s a long way if we take the usual road,” Keris observed.
“I’m aware of that.”
“There may be a short cut,” Keris suggested.
“You mean the Fire Pits of Kharthrun? Is that wise?”
“What are ‘the Fire Pits’?” Shann cut in.
Lyall tried and failed to look non-committal. “They are…nothing to worry about for now.”
~
Slowly, the Eastern Plains came to life, rising to meet the cold light of dawn. Two cloaked figures stood near the base of the tower, looking down at a crumpled heap on the ground. It was unmoving. Nikome.
A soldier in crimson surcoat over leather armour strode over and stood before them. He glanced down at the body before Saccath commanded his attention. “Report, Commander.”
“The tower is clear, my Lord. No sign of the fugitives.”
“What of the device that they were reported to be using?” Saccath demanded.
“Destroyed. The upper floors have been gutted by fire–the soldiers claim they were ordered by Lord Nikome to set petards to prevent the fugitive’s escape.”
“Then where are the fugitives now?”
“They…proved to be too strong for the men, my Lord. There were Keltar among them. The men also spoke of another man with a weapon, the likes of which they had never seen. They claim they could not stand before it.”
“Fetch the men here. I will question them myself.”
The Commander grasped the hilt of his weapon and gave a short bow. “At once, my Lord.” He turned on his heel and swept away.
Saccath’s face contorted. “Fools!”
The figure in the hood turned towards him, one eyebrow raised.
“They ran,” Saccath spat, “left Nikome to face the rebels alone.”
“Nikome disobeyed orders,” the hood pointed out.
Saccath was determined to defend the young man, even in death. “He was trying to stop the rebels from escaping.”
“Escaping where? They had trapped themselves at the top of a tower. Where were they going to go?” The face in the hood shook its head. “No. I know you liked the boy, but the evidence is clear. He was told to maintain distance and not engage the enemy. Yet he decided to go in on his own with four soldiers.”
Saccath felt anger and frustration welling up within him “What were the rebels doing here?”
“We may never know,” the hood’s voice sounded distant. “I suspect that somehow, they discovered a rumour about an artefact at the tower and thought that they might use it to aid their cause. Thanks to Nikome, any indication of the true nature of that artefact was destroyed with the tower.”
The hooded form sighed. “Well at least we have the satisfaction of knowing that whatever they were after was lost to them.”
Saccath was still staring at the body. “We cannot allow this outrage to go unpunished. We have been snapping at these rebels’ heels like gundir when we could have chased them down and eliminated them long ago. Now they have murdered a Keltar. They must pay.” He faced the other squarely. “If you will not go after them, then give me the responsibility.”
“No. The orders stand. The Prophet has his reasons. We will move against them, but only when I say and not before. Is that understood?”
Saccath bowed; his face a dark mask. “As you wish, Excellency.”
“You are right about one thing,” the hood mused. “The soldiers on the spot deserted their Keltar. We cannot allow that. An example must be set.”
The Commander returned, bowing once more before the two cloaked figures. “I have the soldiers from the tower here. Do you wish to question them in private?”
The dark outline beneath the black hood thought for a moment. “No. Assemble the rest of the men, Commander.”
“Right away, Excellency.”
As the soldiers gathered, the four escapees from the tower were brought. They stood before the two Keltar, eyes filled with fear.
The hooded shape turned towards them, its face obscured. “What did you see at the tower?”
The four appeared to have deferred to one of their number, who served as spokesman, a tall man with short dark hair and craggy features. He blinked and his eyes moved rapidly as he spoke. “We saw a great globe rise into the air above the roof of the tower, surrounded by blue lightning. The rebels were inside. We were ordered to bring it down with petards.”
“And when you brought it down, what then?”
“They came from the sphere and attacked us, Keltar. They used a weapon…I do not know what it was, but we could not stand before it.”
“And so you retreated.”
“Yes, Excellency.”
“Abandoning your Keltar.”
“I…we had no choice. We fought against it, but the weapon drove us back.”
“So you wish that you could have stayed to defend your master?”
“Of course.”
The voice from the shadowed cowl rose in volume so that all could hear. “Then you will have your wish. Captain, take these four men into custody.” After a brief struggle, the four stood bound. “Take them to the roof of the tower. Let them join their Keltar.”
A short while later the soldier band rode off into the distance, leaving behind the blackened tower and five broken forms at its base, abandoned like discarded marionettes.
~
Shann spun rapidly in the air, and brought down her darkwood staff with all her strength. She sliced through empty air. As she began to descend towards the ground, she cast about wildly. A breath on her cheek and a staff constricting her throat. How did she get behind me? They touched down together and Keris released the girl.
Shann felt annoyed at her adversary and frustrated with herself. Training with Lyall had been joyous and instructive. Training with this woman felt like a cross between drudgery and ritual humiliation. It was as if the Keltar enjoyed showing up her failings.
“Don’t take your eye off your opponent,” Keris warned. “Follow and anticipate his actions. He won’t be intimidated by your trying to pull off a fancy move.”
“I was not …,” she protested as Keris turned on her heel and walked away.
“We’re done for today,” Keris called from behind her back. Shann followed, scowling.
It had been Lyall’s idea for her to begin training with Keris. “You can learn a lot from her,” he had urged, “and it might help you to get to know each other a little better.” Shann knew that that was code for ‘getting on better.’ The tension between the two of them had become increasingly obvious since the tower. This was Lyall’s way of trying to smooth things over. If they were going to be a team, they would have to learn to work together. Of course, Lyall did not know what she knew. She had thought again about revealing the woman’s secret communication to him. However, it would still be only be her word against the Keltar’s. She had to have enough proof to convince him. However, the woman had obviously been careful since the night on the plains, when Shann had seen her speaking into her Ring, away from the camp. Shann had done her best to keep watch, but she had been unable to catch the woman out again.
The way back to camp led through a narrow cut in the hillside. It had been two days since they had left the plains and entered the line of hills that bordered its eastern edge. They were labelled on the map Keris carried as Gilah. The vegetation here was sparse, as was the animal life. A small creature with large round eyes and a long prehensile tail had approached their camp, sniffing with curiosity, but when Shann approached to try and make friends with it, it scooted off. She had kept her eye out for it since but hadn’t seen it again.
She, Lyall and Keris had taken turns scouting for signs of pursuit. It was a surprise to her that Keris considered her competent enough to take a turn, but when Lyall had suggested that Shann be included, the woman had not objected. Maybe she was hoping that Shann would fall into the hands of the enemy and she would be rid of the girl. One thing was certain; if the woman were to learn that her treachery had been observed, then Shann would find herself lying with a Keltar’s diamond blade in her back.
Shann followed Keris into the camp. The wagon had been parked just off the hillside track. The woman headed for the graylesh and her saddle pack. Shann spied Alondo seated next to the wagon, his back leaning against a wheel. She walked over, and he gave a broad smile as soon as he saw her. “Hello there, Shann.” He gestured for her to sit down beside him and she gratefully accepted. “Training going well?”
She made a face at him. “She hates me. She does everything she can to make me look inferior.”
Alondo laughed. “I doubt that. Our resident Keltar is a little…stern. But she does have a lot of skill and experience. Lyall is right; you can learn a lot from her. In spite of her demeanour, I’m sure she means well.”
Shann would have loved nothing better than to have confided in Alondo right there and then; to tell him everything about the woman’s secret communications with Chalimar. But she could not do it; she could not place him in that kind of danger. It was one thing to risk her own life in exposing the woman’s duplicity, but if anything were to happen to him, she would never forgive herself.
She decided to gloss over the matter. “Maybe you’re right. Hey, I don’t have to like her to learn from her, right?” Alondo looked at her sceptically, but said nothing. Shann changed the subject. “Alondo?”
“Yes?”
“Do you miss Hedda?”
Alondo smiled painfully and looked down at his boots. “Every day. Only don’t tell her I told you so.” He reached inside his russet coloured jerkin and pulled something out, holding it in his hand. It sparkled green in the late afternoon sunlight, an emerald set in a silver chain. “This is hers. I keep it with me always.”
Shann’s face lit up. “It’s beautiful.”
Alondo shrugged. “Well, the stone is common enough, but it reminds me of home.” He tucked the gem away again.
“Do you think we will return home one day?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
“Well it’s just that I’m no longer sure I have a home. Poltann is dead and Gallar–well I don’t know. If anything has happened to her, then I’m alone.”
Alondo put an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “You are not alone, Shann.” They sat silently for a moment, Shann enjoying the unaccustomed feeling of security. Then he spoke up again. “What about your real mother and father?”
“They were taken by the Prophet’s soldiers. I was very young at the time.” Shann’s eyebrows knotted together. “I don’t even remember my parent’s faces clearly.”
“Well, when all of this is over I will help you find them.”
“Really? You mean it?”
“Of course,” Alondo assured her. “And in the meantime, you and Gallar can come live with me and Hedda. That is, if you don’t mind putting up with Hedda’s nagging and my late night playing sessions.”
Shann leaned back against Alondo’s shoulder, feeling happier than she could remember. Eventually Alondo stretched and got to his feet. “Well how about helping me get a fire going?”
He held out a hand and pulled her up. She set off with him to gather wood. As they started towards a copse on their right, there was a disturbance behind them. They both turned to look back at the camp. A tall figure was standing in a dark robe, topped by a mass of fair hair. Lyall had returned. Shann ran back to meet him, slowing only as she saw the troubled look on his face. Alondo came up behind her. Keris walked over from the direction of the graylesh. Boxx hopped down from the back of the wagon, scuttled over the rough soil and raised itself up on its hind legs, head cocked to one side.
Lyall looked around at each of them in turn before delivering the news. “They are on our trail again.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 18
It was late the following morning when they happened on the vale of floating stones. The track had been rising steeply, causing the graylesh to move into low gear. All of a sudden, it levelled off and dropped towards a narrow ravine. Lyall who was riding out in front, raised a hand, signalling the wagon to stop.
Keris rode around the wagon to join him. “What’s the problem?” Lyall pointed above the ravine. Rocks of varying sizes and at different heights were hanging over the pass, like a rock fall, frozen in an instant of time.
Shann pulled up to Lyall’s other flank, eyes filled with wonder. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure… Keris?”
Keris patted her mount’s striped sides. “Lodestones, obviously, although I’ve never seen them floating like that.”
“They’re ‘Kal’ stones,” Shann blurted out. The other two looked at her. “You know, from the sacred texts.”
Lyall extended his lower lip. “You may be right… I think it must be a naturally occurring phenomenon.” He pointed again, his finger moving from the steep incline to the narrow floor of the gorge. “The ravine must act like a funnel, so that when lodestones fall they are collected at the bottom. Then other stones tumble down the sides and occasionally become suspended like that. Of course, that leaves us with a problem…”
Shann turned towards him. “What do you mean?”
“Recall the lesson I gave you at the farmhouse, Shann.”
“Kal stones are unstable,” she recalled. “So that means…”
“Precisely. If we are not very careful, we could easily end up bringing an avalanche down on our heads.”
“But don’t other people use this path?”
It was Keris who answered. “Not for many years, I think. It isn’t even marked on the map. The main road east lies well to the north of here. We only ran across this trail by accident.” She pulled her mount back and urged it over to one side of the path and then the other. “I don’t see any other way around, not for the wagon at any rate.”
Lyall was deep in thought. “I think we can make it through, if we are careful. I don’t want to take any chances, though. “Alondo!”
“Yes, my liege?” Alondo called in a tone of mocking respect.
Lyall smiled wryly. “Get down from the wagon, would you? We have some preparations to make.”
Alondo swung himself down and walked over to the three mounted figures. “I assume it has something to do with that?” He indicated the pass with its silent stone sentinels.
“That’s right. We are going to need to muffle the wheels of the cart.” He glanced at Shann and Keris. “Let’s see if we can lend him a hand, shall we?”
They all dismounted and followed Alondo. In a short while, they had broken out the blankets and had them tied to the wheel rims. Boxx had climbed down from the rear of the wagon and was eyeing them curiously.
Lyall assembled the group. “All right, when we enter the pass, it’s important that we maintain silence. Any sound might set off a rock fall. If you need to communicate, then signal to each other. We will travel on foot. Avoid the temptation to move too quickly. Any questions?”
“We could all travel in the covered wagon,” Shann suggested.
Lyall shook his head. “If a large enough stone falls, it will rip right through that canvas and we’d never even see it coming. Out in the open, we at least have a chance of moving out of the way.”
“What about Boxx?” Alondo asked.
“Boxx can travel in the wagon. Rolled up in that tough shell of his, he’s probably safer than any of us. Right now, I wish we were all Chandara.”
Boxx seemed pleased. “You Would Make Good Chandara,” it declared. There was a ripple of laughter, which seemed to puzzle the creature.
The party prepared for departure. Then, at a signal from Lyall, they began their slow progression. Lyall walked in front, leading his graylesh by the reins, followed by Alondo, driving the wagon gingerly. Boxx was curled up somewhere in the back. Behind the covered wagon came Shann and Keris, leading their graylesh in single file.
As they entered the ravine, Shann realised that she was holding her breath. She exhaled slowly. Every sound appeared to be magnified in her ears: the grating of her boots on the rough scree, the step of her animal dislodging a pebble, the rhythmic creak of the wagon’s axle. She could not resist the temptation to look up. Rocks of varying sizes floated motionless overhead. The sight was terrifying, yet fascinating at the same time, like watching an accident in slow motion.
There was a hissing from behind her. She turned her head to see Keris frowning and firmly pointing to her eye and then to the ground. Embarrassed, Shann snapped out of her hypnotic state, forcing herself to concentrate on the effort of putting one step in front of the other.
They were a little more than half way through when Shann heard the ominous sound of clattering rocks. Lyall raised his hand and the column came to a halt. Shann did not dare to breathe. After long moments, the sound died away. The party continued to stand frozen in mid-step. Eventually, Lyall motioned them forward once more.
Just when Shann was thinking that there was no end to it, she looked and saw that the cut opened out a short way ahead onto the wider hillside. They were almost through. Crash! A large stone dropped to their left, bouncing and striking against the side of the wagon. Crunch! Another fell behind them, kicking up shards of loose shale. She heard Lyall shout, “Run!”
Shann pulled at the reins, urging her graylesh to a canter. Keris was yelling at her rear, “Shann, get moving.” Rocks continued to rain down as Shann broke into a run. Suddenly they were clear. Dust billowed up behind them as the aerial avalanche eased and finally died back to a low rumble.
Alondo looked back at the pass, mopping his brow. “That was close.”
“Is everyone all right?” Lyall called.
Keris, fulfilling her role as rearguard answered, “We’re all here.”
Lyall relaxed. “Well done, everyone. Let’s take a rest.”
Shann tied her graylesh to the wagon and walked over to where Lyall was standing. She smiled at him. “Well, there’s one good thing. The Prophet’s men will have to face the same obstacle. It may slow them up a bit.”
Lyall looked back at the ravine as the clouds of dirt settled back, obscuring all signs of their passing. “I don’t know, Shann. They don’t have a wagon to worry about. They will find a way around. Or they may set lodestone charges to bring down the rest of the floating stones. In any case, I have the distinct feeling that they are not going to be so easily put off.”
~
Shann dropped out of the sky and alighted on a rocky outcrop. The flying cloak settled about her shoulders in a soft embrace. She shielded her eyes from the midday suns and squinted at the trail as it twisted back and forth through the Hills of Gilah. The landscape was sparse, copses of stunted trees and scraggy brush clinging to the sandy slopes. She glanced around at the stone slab on which she was standing. It was a perfect vantage point from which to view the soldier column as they approached. Satisfied, she sat down on the stone with her cloak tucked under her and took a swig of water from her canteen. It tasted cool and sweet.
A small creature rolled across the rock in front of her. It was round like an orange-yellow ball, with various protuberances, but no limbs that Shann could discern. It stopped in front of her, extending what looked like eye stalks in her direction. A hole opened in the side of the strange being–a mouth? Gas expelled from the hole, and the ball shot away in the opposite direction. The gas was fetid; Shann screwed her nose up.
She had already journeyed farther than she could ever have imagined and had encountered many strange sights. Not all of them had been pleasant, however. Some, like the vale of floating stones that they had encountered three days ago, had been positively dangerous. They had come through that incident relatively unscathed, but Lyall’s prediction had been correct. The Prophet’s men were still trailing them.
Her task, as ever, was to report back when she saw them stop in order to make camp. Lyall’s instructions had been very clear: observe their position, but keep well away. “I don’t want to have to come rescue you again.”
“If I recall correctly, I rescued myself last time,” she countered.
Lyall chuckled and rubbed the back of his head theatrically. “I remember.”
Keris had been given the same injunction but with her, it was little more than a charade. Shann was not fooled for a moment. Keris was acting for them as their agent, so she was in no danger. Still, she seemed to be doing a good job of keeping up the pretence as far as the others were concerned.
It was evident that Keris did not fit in. The woman was like refined lodestone, repelling everyone she came into contact with. She spent much of her time on her own and did not tend to talk beyond the limits of operational necessity. Lyall did his best to include her, but Shann sensed that his only interest was in trying to mould them all into a cohesive team. She was convinced that he didn’t actually like the woman. Alondo, on the other hand, liked everybody. That was part of his charm. Often he would make a comment to her with a twinkle in his eye, using humour to test her vulnerable spots. This would confuse and irritate her, which only added to the joke. But he did not seek out her company in the way that he would seek out the company of Lyall and of Shann herself. The only one in the group that seemed to gravitate towards her was Boxx.
In the evening, when they settled round the campfire, Boxx would scuttle over and lay beside her. Keris seemed strangely comfortable with its presence; in fact, she seemed more comfortable with it than with any others of her own race. When it spoke, it would choose to address her first, more often than not. Shann found its preference for Keris impossible to fathom, but perhaps that was not so surprising. Everything about the Chandara was near impossible to fathom.
As Shann contemplated the enigma that was Boxx, her eyes registered a movement on the winding trail far ahead. She ducked down instinctively and leaned forward. It was the contingent of mounted soldiers moving inexorably through the hills. Shann could not discern individuals clearly, but the banner they carried was clearly visible; a rectangular black cloth mounted lengthwise on a pole, bearing three concentric circles, one red, one yellow and one white, and above the three rings, like an abomination, an orange flame–the symbol of the Prophet. She tore her eyes from the banner and forced herself to concentrate on the approaching column. It seemed to her that she could only make out one dark cloaked figure at the front. Maybe the other was bringing up the rear, she speculated. However, as the column swung fully into view, there was still no sign. Where is he?
A nagging insistence at the back of her mind told her that she could not hang around too long. Shann drew herself erect and turned to head back the way she had come, when she sensed a movement, a subtle displacement of air. She wheeled around. A figure clad in a black cloak that mirrored hers rose up into the air and dropped lightly onto the outcrop in front of her. He was close enough for her to make out the cruel line of his mouth set into craggy features, the keen eyes watching her. She stood, rooted to the stone in shock. Her hand reached for her staff. Then, without a word, the Keltar turned, stepped over the edge of the rock platform and was gone.
Shann’s mind felt as if it were swimming upstream, fighting the flow, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. Maybe the Keltar had not seen her? No, that was impossible–he had looked directly at her. So why was she still here? A realisation began to dawn in her, a confluence of the events of these many days. It was like a strong current, sweeping her towards a conclusion. And with the conclusion came something else, something that would finally expose Keris for who and what she was. At last, Shann had a plan.
~
Shann sprinted and leaped to catch up to Lyall and the others as if the Keltar she had encountered were breathing down her neck the whole way. Finally, she spotted the covered wagon, and touched down just behind the party, breathing hard. Keris, who was bringing up the rear, regarded her with an odd expression but said nothing. Shann ignored her and went to the front of the wagon. Alondo greeted her with a warm welcome and she bade him stop for a moment, so that she could untie her graylesh. She jumped onto the beast’s back and squeezed its striped flanks, waving her thanks to Alondo and then riding to catch up with Lyall.
Lyall nodded to her as she drew alongside. “You’re back early. Are our ‘friends’ up to something?” he asked.
Shann ignored the question. “Lyall, I want us to make camp.”
He checked the position of the suns overhead. “What…you mean now?”
“That’s right.”
“Why? Did the others camp early?”
“No, not exactly.”
Lyall looked at her uncomprehendingly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Shann. We have a fair amount of daylight left. If we camp now, it will give the Prophet’s men a chance to gain on us considerably. It could be dangerous.”
Shann’s voice was insistent. “Please, Lyall, this is important. I want us to make camp here and now. Then you and I will both go back and check on the soldiers. If they are still pursuing us, then we will return and get moving again.”
“But why–?”
“Let’s just say that I’m testing a theory. If I’m wrong, you and Alondo can make fun of me all the way to the Aronak Sea, if you like. But I have to do this. Please.”
Lyall looked into her eyes for a long moment. Then he called out behind him, “Alondo, pull over. We’re making camp.”
He turned back to face her and she smiled. “Thank you,” she mouthed. They dismounted together and as they both patted their animals reassuringly, Shann touched Lyall’s arm. “One more thing,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything to Keris.”
~
Shann was hiding in the shadow of a boulder, peeking out from time to time for any signs of movement along the trail. She was relieved at last to see the tall form of Lyall bounding towards her. He reached her position and she got to her feet.
Well?” she prompted.
Lyall urged her back along the way they had come. “Come on, let’s go.” She followed him down the track, jogging to match his long stride. He seemed lost in thought. Finally, he opened up. “You were right, Shann, they are camped just as we are, burning daylight. Would you like to tell me what’s going on?”
She paused to organise her thoughts. “I don’t think the Prophet’s soldiers want to catch up to us. Back on the plains, they were pursuing us for days. We were travelling as rapidly as we could, but we could only move as fast as the wagon. Didn’t you ever wonder why we were never overtaken?”
Lyall extended his cloak and leaped up the hillside to his right. Shann followed suit, her boots kicking up dust as she landed beside him. They started to cut across country. “You’re forgetting the incident at the tower,” he countered. “They attacked us, remember?”
Shann studied the ground as she walked beside him. “I’m not sure about that. Maybe that was a mistake. Or maybe they got wind of what we were trying to do, somehow. But everything else points to the same conclusion: the fact that they didn’t catch us on the plains, the fact that they camp when we do–and then there is what happened earlier today.”
Lyall stopped and turned to face her. “What do you mean?”
“One of their Keltar surprised me.”
“What?”
“He just…dropped out of the sky in front of me. I think it was an accident. At any rate, he immediately turned tail and disappeared out of sight.”
Lyall’s face was creased with anxiety. For a moment she thought he was going to berate her for her carelessness. “He said nothing?”
“No.”
“Maybe he didn’t see you?”
She faced him squarely. “Lyall, he was standing not much farther away than you are now and he was looking straight in my direction. There is no way he could have missed me.”
“So, you think they are avoiding contact? But why?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I think it is reasonable to assume that our Keltar friend has something to do with it, which brings me to another point. Have you noticed that she is still wearing that Ring of hers?”
“The Speaker Ring?”
Shann nodded. “She herself said that Speaker Rings are Linked. Hers is Linked to her master at the keep in Chalimar. Why would she hang onto the thing if she has cut her ties to the Prophet? You would have thought she would have tossed it away by now.”
“It’s just a ring, Shann.”
“I thought so, too, until I saw her use it out on the plains.”
“You saw her use it? Are you sure?”
“She sneaked out of the camp during her watch period. She doesn’t know it, but I followed her. I saw her speaking into the Ring.”
“What did she say?”
Shann shook her head. “I was too far away to hear. But the Ring lights up a green colour when it’s being used. She was using it to communicate with them.” Lyall looked sceptical. “You don’t believe me,” she challenged.
“No…no, I believe you. It’s just…why didn’t you tell me before now?”
Shann sighed. “I was going to. But Boxx got there ahead of me and activated that device he carries. When I saw and heard the image of the woman from the past, I didn’t know what to think. It seemed to corroborate her story. I didn’t think you would believe me. I felt I had to get more evidence of Keris’ true intentions before I could approach you. When the Keltar suddenly appeared in front of me and then took off, I realised there might be a way to convince you of what was going on. How do you suppose the others knew that we had camped prematurely? The one Keltar I saw did not follow me, I’m sure of that. There’s only one way they could have known. She told them.”
She could see Lyall digesting the implications of what she was saying. “If you are right, that would mean that we are not fleeing the Prophet’s men, we are being led by them. But where? I mean, what is the purpose behind it all?”
Shann looked up into his questing blue eyes. “Well, I know one woman who has the answer to that question and if we work together, I believe we can get it out of her. We will have to catch her in the act and then confront her.”
“That sounds dangerous, Shann. If she is exposed, then she might turn on us. You have seen what she’s capable of. I’m not sure that the two of us together could resist her.”
“She doesn’t scare me,” Shann declared. “Besides, the alternative is for us to continue to be led blindly towards whatever these Keltar have in store for us. I think we have to know what they are planning.”
Lyall seemed to debate with himself. After a few moments he reached a decision. “All right, we’ll try it. But when the moment comes, I will question her. Are we agreed?”
“Fine,” Shann concurred.
They both resumed their journey back to camp. By now, the yellow sun was close to setting and the nocturnal creatures of the Gilah Hills were beginning to buzz and stir. Shann felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. At last she had been able to share the troubling secret she had kept to herself for so long. Whatever happened now, she and Lyall would face it together. As she trotted beside him, there was something akin to a spring in her step.
<><><><><>
Chapter 19
High in the Hills of Gilah, next to a bubbling rill, the camp sat bathed in Ail-Mazzoth’s soft red light. Three sleeping forms lay, covered by blankets and coddled in the arms of a warm summer night. In the midst of the camp, the dark form that was Keris kept watch. All was still; even the faint rustling and chirruping of nocturnal creation appeared to have subsided, as if it were holding its breath in anticipation.
The tall woman rose silently and glided towards the tiny stream as it trickled over smooth stones. She took a last look behind her, then turned and stepped through the shallow water into the belly of night shadow.
At the camp, two of the blankets were cast aside and two figures arose; one tall and thin, the other short and slight. Lyall signalled to Shann for them to split up; he circling around to the left, she to the right. Shann nodded and set out in a low run for the bubbling brook. The swirling water played about her boots as she crossed to the other side and crept upstream. She felt an odd mix of calm and exhilaration. Ever since Gort, when the Keltar had joined them, it had seemed to Shann as if she were being surreptitiously controlled; propelled in a direction she did not want to go, yet powerless to prevent it. No longer.
Lyall had warned that catching Keris in the act of duplicity could be perilous. She might decide she would be better off eliminating him and Shann together. Shann had witnessed the woman in action at the tower. Lyall had also described the scene at the guardhouse, where Keris had taken on a Keltar and half a dozen soldiers single-handedly. Shann was not entirely convinced that that particular event had not been staged for their benefit somehow. It didn’t matter. The showdown had to occur at some time or other; better it should be at a time and place of their choosing.
They were high up in the Gilah range now. Beyond the camp, the landscape climbed ever more steeply to what looked like a series of ridges or peaks farther up. Shann moved upstream a little way, lightly fingering the control at her collar to scan for the familiar push of raw lodestone. There was a small deposit in front of her and one off to her left. She put on a spurt, until she felt the front one pass just under her; then leaped and retracted the bronze layer of her flying cloak, pushing her up into the air. As soon as her momentum slowed, she angled herself to push against the deposit to her left and her trajectory shifted her up and to her right. Flying in a low arc away from the stream, she landed in a crouched position farther up the slope. She peered up the rocky incline, but there was no sign of the woman. Shann cursed inwardly. Perhaps Lyall was having better luck.
Sensing no more deposits in the immediate area, she began to climb towards the nearest ridge, seeking a suitable vantage point. As she crested the rise, she quickly scanned the area around her. Frustration was starting to take hold when she suddenly caught a movement way off to her left. A dark shape was scaling the hillside. Its movement was deliberate, purposeful. Shann dashed along the ridge and then swept silently down the slope at an angle calculated to bring her up behind the moving figure. Her quarry was continuing to climb in a straight line. Shann followed at a discreet distance, staying low and using cover wherever possible, but the shadowy outline did not look back. As she got closer she spotted the shock of sandy hair. Lyall. Her face adopted a rueful expression as she sprinted up the hillside and hissed his name. Lyall turned, registering her presence with a nod.
“Where is she?” Shann’s voice was hoarse.
Lyall frowned. “I’m not sure. I was trailing her for a while, but then I lost her somehow.”
Shann looked aghast. “You lost her?”
“I’m sorry,” Lyall’s expression was apologetic. “She’s been trained in escape and evasion tactics; I haven’t.”
“Do you think she saw you?”
Lyall shook his head. “I was careful… No, I don’t think so.”
“So which way do we go now?” Shann demanded.
Lyall looked up at the rising slope and the jagged peaks beyond. “I don’t know, Shann. There is an awful lot of hillside to search. She could be anywhere.”
“Surely you’re not going to just give up?”
“I don’t think we have a choice. If she returns to camp before us and we are not there, then we are going to have a hard time explaining our absence. She will figure that we are onto her, and that will take away our only real advantage.” Shann stared at him, bright green eyes flashing, but she knew he was right. She turned away, exhaling through her teeth. He placed a conciliatory hand on her shoulder. “There will be other times, Shann. This night’s exercise has been valuable. We have proved that there is something suspicious going on with our Keltar friend. If we are patient and work together, we will uncover the truth.”
Shann was no longer listening. She was rehearsing how she would finally confront the Keltar, how she would call her to account for her crimes and the crimes of all her ilk. You will pay for what you did to my parents. You will pay.
~
In the midst of a corrie rimmed by the silent peaks of the Gilah stood a lone figure, face hidden by the covering of a dark hood. Its presence was dwarfed by the scale of the ancient rocks which towered around it, yet somehow it exuded an air of authority which seemed to dominate even the stones themselves. Another black shape dropped through the air, alighting two dozen paces or so in front of the first. Keris’ flying cloak settled about her shoulders, enrobed in long black tresses. She crossed the short stretch of ground between them, coming to a halt in front of the other. Their respective forms cast long shadows on the uneven stone.
“It’s good to see you, Keris.” The dark presence raised its left hand and pulled back the hood. Small intense eyes burned in a round face; a mouth with sides turned upwards in a half smile. Mordal.
Keris felt a pang of guilt at the sight of her former mentor but thrust it away. She recalled their fateful discussion on a spring afternoon in the keep garden a lifetime ago, or so it seemed. That discussion had taken her on a journey neither of them could have imagined. She had travelled farther and farther from Mordal and all that he represented. Yet now here he was, standing before her. Full circle. “I have come as you asked,” she began.
Mordal’s eyes twinkled. “Thank you. I am pleased to see you looking well, Keris.”
She looked downcast. “I’m sorry about the boy, Nikome. I tried to talk to him, convince him to stand down. He wouldn’t listen. There was an explosion and he…fell from the tower.” She swallowed.
Mordal raised a hand in a conciliatory gesture. “Do not concern yourself with that. It was unfortunate, but he disobeyed a direct order. I am gratified that you were not hurt.”
Keris felt off balance. Of all the reactions she could have expected from him, kindness was the last. She allowed some small part of her to hope that her plan might actually work out. She gathered her courage about her. “Have you considered my proposal?”
“Yes indeed,” Mordal responded. He added lightly, “I would like to hear more about those devices you found.”
“There’s not much more I can tell you about them. The mechanism at the tower was destroyed, as you know. The communication device is in our possession, but it does not operate on demand. The woman from the past appears only at certain intervals. She mentioned a power generation problem. That’s all I know.”
Keris had been very careful about how much she revealed to him through the Speaker Ring. She had told him about the holographic machine and the messages sent by the woman from the past, but she had deliberately not mentioned the Chandaras’ involvement. She had informed him that they were travelling to the tower to investigate another device but had not admitted to knowing its purpose. It was all very much a calculated risk on her part. She knew she would need to limit the damage in the event that it all blew up in her face.
To begin with, her idea had been simply to convince Mordal of the threat to the Kelanni. She would use the tower to transfer to the other side of the world with Lyall and the others, while he would remain here as a powerful friend and ally, working to undermine the Prophet’s schemes. With the destruction of the tower, things had changed. It seemed to Keris that the best way to proceed now would be for them to join forces and find a way to cross the Great Barrier together. However, achieving that objective would be a much harder task. It would involve a great deal of trust on both sides. Right now, they had many more reasons to distrust one another. If this plan was going to stand any chance of working, it would have to be handled very carefully indeed. She and Mordal were the key. She had to convince him of the danger that the Prophet posed to them all.
She studied the ageing Keltar. He appeared thoughtful. Keris decided to press home her advantage. “You should come with me to our camp. Alone. I will go in first and explain what is going on. The leader, Lyall, is a reasonable man and he will listen. The girl will be a problem, but I can handle her. Once I have their agreement, you can meet with them and we will arrange a truce. I will also show you the mechanism we are carrying so that you can see it for yourself.”
“I don’t think that will be possible.” Mordal’s quiet voice seemed to fill up the night.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m afraid I have a confession to make,” Mordal continued. “I did not come here to discuss your proposal.”
“Then what–?”
His smile vanished. “I want you to return with me to the keep, to claim your rightful place as my successor.”
Keris looked confused. “Have you not heard what I have been saying? All Kelanni is under threat. Besides, you must know that after what happened at Gort, there is no way I could return even if I wanted to.”
“Do not worry. I have taken care of everything.”
“Taken care…how?”
“No-one will know about the incident at the compound.” Mordal’s tone assumed an edge of pride. “Remember Ferenek? You spoke to him of your suspicions before you knocked him unconscious in his office. When he came to, he started asking awkward questions. A short while later he…met with an unfortunate accident.”
“But why?”
“He knew of your involvement,” Mordal stated simply. “Then there were the nomads you travelled with over the plains. I could not be sure exactly what you had told them, so I felt it safest to make sure they could not talk.”
Keris felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. All those people – dead. The shock of it was too much to bear. He was killing indiscriminately–for her.
“Nikome is gone,” Mordal continued. “The soldiers know nothing. The only other person who is aware of your involvement is Saccath. Once he is silenced, we can return to Chalimar together and you can assume your rightful place. As far as anyone is concerned, you have been engaged on an extended mission under my orders. No-one will be any the wiser. Do you see? I have covered for you. All you need to do is decide to come with me now, and all will be well.”
Keris was still reeling from the enormity of the revelations. No…it can’t be…it has to stop. I…I cannot allow this to continue.
“I only did all of this for you, Keris. For you. You have to come with me now.” Mordal advanced toward her and grabbed her by the arm. She pulled away in horror. His voice assumed a hard edge. “You will come with me now, or you will not leave this place.” In one swift movement, his staff was balanced in his thick fingers, brooking no argument. She backed away. He began to circle her, a smile playing on his lips once more. “Unfortunately, I cannot allow my actions to become known. What will it be, Keris? Shall we leave and embrace our future together. Or shall we ‘dance’ one last time?”
Madness? Obsession? Keris knew little of such things. It was impossible to believe that this was the same man who had taken her in and nurtured her, who had impressed on her the conviction that the Kelanni needed to be protected and cared for. Yet somehow he had turned into a monster.
His hands slipped to one end of his staff and he swung it towards her in a wide arc. She jumped back instinctively, the diamond blade passing inches from her midriff. “I’m gratified to see that your reflexes are as keen as ever, Keris.” He spun around and then leapt into the air a short distance, aiming the staff at her head. She sidestepped neatly, and the blade flashed past her harmlessly. “Good, very good,” he approved. “Now, are you going to obey my wishes or are you going to defend yourself?”
He was advancing on her again. Keris felt as if she were in a waking dream. One hand moved involuntarily to her own staff, gripping the smooth darkwood. It felt solid, reassuring. Her other hand moved to her neck control and she adjusted the bronze layer of her cloak, seeking the pressure of natural lodestone. As she registered the strengths and directions of the familiar push of the ore, it was bizarrely the words of Mordal himself that came back to her, spoken in a different place and at a different time.
“Battling another Keltar is unlike any other battle you will ever fight. When encountering anyone else, the lodestone will furnish you with a decisive advantage in height and momentum. However, when you are facing another Keltar, those advantages are cancelled out. Instead, the field of battle and the configuration of lodestone deposits become all-important. A clash between Keltar is primarily a battle of tactics. Even superior strength and agility can be overcome by superior positioning and spatial orientation. You must immediately determine the location and strength of any deposits and then ‘own’ them, denying your opponent any advantage.”
Keris tested the push on her lodestone layer from different directions, mapping out the floor of the corrie in her head. One directly behind her–weak. Two behind Mordal, one to the left–medium strength, and one he was almost standing on–the strongest of the three. His was the clear advantage. No doubt he had planned for this eventuality when arranging to meet her. The spot he had selected, even the place he had chosen to stand, were far from random. Keris cursed her own lack of foresight. She would have to go on the defensive and stall for time, hoping to reposition herself so as to challenge his dominant stance.
Start with what you have. She backed off rapidly and activated her cloak, leaping and pushing off against the deposit behind her. It was more to see what Mordal would do than anything else. The next move was clearly his. The aged Keltar flared his own cloak and pushed off the big deposit, soaring over her. She descended, holding out her staff with both hands defensively. He dived, his staff meeting hers with a loud crack, then let loose with a flurry of blows as they both descended. He drove her down, finishing off with a powerful slicing move as her boots hit stone, forcing her to her knees. He locked staffs with her, eyes wild with elation.
Keris gritted her teeth and strained for a moment before shoving him back. Mordal swung his blade and slashed her arm as she rolled away. Keris felt the flash of pain. She embraced it, allowing it to keen her senses. Getting her feet under her, she rose to face Mordal once again. He was still positioned between her and the main deposits of lodestone in the ground. In spite of his age, his reactions seemed unimpaired. If I don’t come up with something soon, I’m finished.
Grenades. She was loath to use her limited supply, but they would be of little use to her if she were dead. She reached into her pouch, fingers closing on a round metallic shape. Pulling it out, she quickly twisted one hemisphere. A low whine emanated from the lodestone grenade, rising rapidly in volume and pitch. She tossed it in Mordal’s direction. It bounced once on the stone and exploded in a burst of light and flame. Mordal, however, had already leapt beyond the blast. As he settled back to the ground, cloak fully extended behind him, he was laughing and shaking his head. “Keris, Keris. Why not just accept the inevitable? Leave those other fools and come back with me, now.”
Keris was not listening. She had used the interlude to scan the field once more for lodestone and she detected something she had missed before, something that gave her a faint glimmer of hope. If Mordal had missed it too… She raced to her left, using the small and medium deposits to give her a combined lift, so that she rose up the steep wall of the semicircular basin.
Mordal had an amused expression as he extended his cloak once more and thrust upwards, using the momentum of the strong deposit. She saw him hurtling towards her, staff at the ready, in anticipation of the imminent clash. Hers was a risky manoeuvre. It required precise timing and there were too many ways it could go wrong, but she was desperate. As she flew up the side of the cwm, she felt the pressure from her objective, a lodestone deposit embedded halfway up the rock wall. As she drew level, she slammed open her bronze layer, arresting her upward rise, then pivoted feet-first toward the rock wall, withdrawing the bronze and exposing the lodestone layer. She shot forward on a horizontal trajectory away from the wall. Mordal could not react in time, and she careened into him, impacting his lower abdomen. Pain lanced through her shoulder as they were both sent into an uncontrolled spin. The ground whirled crazily as Keris fought to right herself by using her cloak to brake her descent. She was only partially successful, landing in a heap on the stone floor.
The various cuts and bruises on her body screamed for attention but she dismissed them, casting her eyes about for Mordal. There was no sign. Then she saw it–a dark shape near the rear of the dimly lit basin. It was not moving. Keris got to her feet with a grimace, holding the cut on her right arm with her left hand in order to staunch the flow of blood. She made her way over to the latent form and dropped to one knee, extending her bloodstained fingers to touch his shoulder. Mordal’s eyes were open, expressionless–his neck broken. She got to her feet, tears forming rivulets in the grime clinging to her olive cheeks. Why…why did you make me do it? She ripped the Speaker Ring from her finger and hurled it at the body, excising her final connection to her mentor. The Ring bounced off and plinked on the rough stone before coming to a dead stop.
Keris, Keltar that was, turned on her heel and strode away. She did not look back.
~
Keris stopped at the bank of the stream and dropped to her knees. Without warning, she felt overcome by a wave of nausea. She began retching uncontrollably. The swirling waters enveloped the contents of her stomach and mercifully swept them away. When it was over, she washed her face, and bathed her wound, ripping off a part of her tunic to form a makeshift bandage. She rose up again, her legs feeling unnaturally weak, and made her way back to camp.
Lyall and Shann were waiting for her standing side by side in the rosy half light. Keris noted that they were both clad in their flying cloaks. “You left your watch,” Lyall declared. It was almost an accusation, but not quite.
Keris felt wracked by pain and exhaustion, but her expression betrayed nothing of her true state. “I…thought I heard a noise. I went to investigate.”
“And what did you find?” Lyall enquired.
“Nothing,” Keris replied, her heart heavy and dead as stone. “Nothing at all.” She turned and headed for her blanket to catch whatever fitful moments of sleep she could before morning came.
~
Saccath stood silently over the body of Mordal, allowing a cold rage to consume him. His hand opened, revealing the Ring that had been left next to the body, as distinctive as a calling card. Keris.
Somehow the woman had convinced him to leave their camp at night without an escort and had then lured him into a trap. His neck was broken with no other sign of injuries. Efficient. Mordal had clearly underestimated the former Keltar. Saccath would not be making the same mistake.
The Captain of the guard, dressed in a crimson surcoat, marched over, stopping at a respectful distance. “Orders?”
Saccath allowed the rage to settle in his belly, giving him a new sense of purpose. “We will bury His Excellency. Then you and your men will return to the keep and report all that has happened.
“But…what of you?” the Captain asked.
“You will report that I am pursuing the rebel, Keris, and her group. I will exact penance for her actions.”
The Captain seemed as if he were about to object, then looked down at the figure lying on the ground and appeared to check himself. “Very well, My Lord.” He bowed once and turned away towards the knot of soldiers gathered around the black banner. The three suns and the flame of the Prophet fluttered defiantly in the breeze.
Saccath regarded the body of Mordal once more. I am coming for you, Keris. You cannot escape. I will pursue you to the very ends of the world.
<><><><><>
Chapter 20
Lyall, Keris, Shann, Alondo and Boxx looked down from the Gilah Hills at the country spread before them. It was a rural landscape, dotted with what appeared to be small farms. Shann could make out fields of crops, ripening in the summer heat, and pastures containing what looked like domesticated raleketh. To the north and east, there was a river flowing from the hills; a bright ribbon which twisted back and forth before flowing into a shimmering lake. It was a welcome sight after so many days trekking through the barrenness of the Gilah.
The path through the hills had suddenly opened up onto a bluff overlooking the panorama beyond. Keris was standing near the edge, one leg resting on a small boulder. She was closely examining a small instrument in her left palm. It contained a type of lodestone, one that always pointed south, that travellers used to help find their way. Keris, of course, had never permitted her to have a close look, so she could only guess at its operation. Shann had a wild fantasy where she saw herself creeping up behind the Keltar. One good shove would send her tumbling over the edge. Problem solved. Would any of her travelling companions seriously object?
Suddenly the tall woman pointed towards the southeast. “Over there.”
Alondo peered along the line indicated by her finger. “I don’t see anything.”
“There,” Keris insisted. Shann looked out over the distant lowlands and saw a faint irregular patch of dwellings. “The village is marked on the map as Pinnar in a stretch of land known as the Distrada. Just beyond is the north-south road and a day’s journey east of that lies Kharthrun.”
“Pretty.” Boxx was standing on its hind legs. Lyall and Shann looked at the Chandara, but as usual, no-one was quite sure what it meant.
Alondo was still squinting at the horizon, as Lyall placed a hand on his shoulder. “What is the situation with our stores?” he asked the musician.
Alondo pressed his lips together. “Too low. The food we stockpiled on the Eastern Plains is gone and it’s been slim pickings in these hills. We need re-supply.”
“Then Pinnar is our next destination. Keris, what can you tell us about these people?”
Keris gave a blank look. “Nothing, really. The settlements are on the ‘tribute circuit,’ but I was never sent down this way.”
Lyall sounded cheerful. “Well, let’s see if we can’t make some new friends. Time to move out.” Shann tore her eyes away from the seductive view and followed him to where the sleek graylesh stood patiently. She mounted her animal, patting its neck, and waited for Alondo and Boxx to board the wagon. Keris took up what had become her customary position during the journey along the narrow hillside trails: alone at the van. It was a prudent defensive measure for someone to watch their rear, but no-one had asked Keris to assume the responsibility. The manner in which the older woman had fallen naturally into the role suggested much about her place within their group. She travelled with them but she was apart from them by her own choice–to preserve her secrets, no doubt, and to make it easier for her to betray them all when the moment came. Shann watched her as she sat high in the saddle, aristocratic and aloof. I know what you are about.
Since that fateful night by the stream when she and Lyall had lost the woman’s trail, there had been two significant events. The first became evident later the following day, when Lyall returned from his scouting mission and gathered the others before announcing, “They’re gone.”
“How do you mean?” Alondo asked.
“The Prophet’s men no longer pursue us.”
Shann’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure. I even found the remains of their last encampment. I think we should continue to backtrack in order to check, but they seem to have withdrawn.”
Alondo looked worried. “But… why would they do that?” He looked at Keris and the others followed suit.
Keris, who had been silent up to now, seemed to wake from a stupor. “Why are you all looking at me?”
“I don’t know,” Lyall interceded. “Maybe we have travelled far enough from the keep that they no longer view us as a threat.” That did not seem very likely to Shann. “In any event, I choose to interpret this as good news.” Despite Lyall’s optimism, the air was one of sombre reflection rather than celebration. Keris turned her back on the others and walked away without a word.
The second development occurred later that evening, as they sat consuming a portion of their dwindling rations. Alondo was doing his best to keep things light with his generous smile and easy manner. As Keris chewed on a piece of dried raleketh meat, Shann glanced idly at the older woman’s right hand. Her Speaker Ring–it was missing.
Shann bit into a flatbread and flicked her eyes towards Keris’ other hand. Nothing there. Of course she might easily have taken it off, or placed it somewhere for safekeeping, but during the entire time since she had first encountered their group on the desert road leading from Gort, Shann had never seen her without the Ring.
Later that night she called Lyall to one side and shared her observations. Lyall absorbed her comments thoughtfully. “Maybe our Keltar has finally renounced her loyalty to her former friends.”
Shann registered shock. “You’re not serious.”
“I’m not sure,” Lyall admitted. “It could equally be a sign that she knows somehow that we are on to her. But the Prophet’s men do seem to have turned back from following us. It is tempting to think that there may be a connection. Let’s continue to be watchful, all right?”
During the intervening days there had been no further sign of pursuit and Keris’ Ring did not reappear on her hand. Shann, however, was not about to be deceived. Somehow, the woman had altered the rules and was playing a different game now. As the party got underway and began descending through the Gilah Hills towards the pasture land below, Shann imagined she could feel the Keltar’s eyes boring into her back. Biding her time. Awaiting her chance to strike.
~
Alondo urged the graylesh forward as the covered wagon pitched and rolled over the rough track between the fields of the Distrada. Lyall pulled up his mount and called over his shoulder, “How’s it going back there?”
Alondo’s face showed signs of strain. “Well, it would help if you could get down off that beast and fill in a few of these potholes for me.”
Lyall smiled. “No problem. And while we are at it, Shann and I can jump on those bumps and flatten them out for you, if you’d like.”
Shann chuckled. “You’d have to make it worth my while. A nice juicy raleketh steak and a cup of narrian wine, I think.”
“I’d appreciate a four course meal, too, if you could manage it.” Alondo ventured.
“Well, I’ll buy you both the finest meal in Pinnar, how’s that?” Lyall’s expression became pensive. “Of course the place is pretty small, so that may not be saying much.”
Shann didn’t care. Right now she was starving, and the talk of food only made her juices run in anticipation. After so many days of living rough in the hills, with the Prophet’s men chasing them, she was looking forward to being able to relax at last with a good meal, a bath and a warm bed. She could smell that steak already.
Up ahead, the squat stone built dwellings of the tiny rural settlement were clearly visible. To either side of them, a patchwork of fields stretched away. Sounds of animals, wild and domestic, played in her ears and the scent of growing things filled her nostrils. People clothed in rough browns and reds could be seen, bent over and absorbed in their labours. Without warning, one of them pointed at their small caravan and hollered something. His voice was echoed by others, who dropped their implements and began running towards the village. The sound of the repeated shouts carried over the open field to reach Shann’s ears as a single word. Keltar.
She glanced over her shoulder to see Keris riding around from the rear to join them in the front. The tall woman was wearing the distinctive black flying cloak. As she drew level with them, Shann let fly at her. “Look what you did. You scared them off.”
Keris’ face was impassive. “So it would seem. Their reaction is quite puzzling.”
“Puzzling? You’re dressed as a Keltar. People are terrified of them,” Shann blustered.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, child. People normally come and do obeisance rather than run away. Ignoring a Keltar can bring about their wrath.”
“Nevertheless,” Lyall interposed, “we do not want to give the impression that we are in the service of the Prophet.”
“It seemed a good way to get their attention.” Keris was watching the fleeing villagers.
“I would rather begin any encounter with honesty.” Lyall was insistent.
Keris turned to look at him. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”
Lyall turned his mount and faced her squarely. “We will not gain allies by beginning with deception or by posing as our enemies.” His voice softened. “Let’s see if we can talk to these people, shall we?”
The party rode on into the village of Pinnar and came to a halt in the midst of an open area, ringed by low stone cottages with roofs of rough thatch. Gundir barked at their approach. A flock of black birds with red tipped wings lifted from the gables, flapping against the thick air. There were no other signs of life. Lyall looked around and behind him. “Where is everybody?”
“Hiding,” Shann scowled, “from her.” Keris did not react.
“What’s going on?” Alondo called from his seat on the wagon.
“We’re not sure,” Lyall returned. “Just stay where you are for now.”
“The graylesh need water and feed,” Alondo reminded him.
“I know, thank you.” Lyall dismounted, Shann and Keris following his lead. He surveyed the empty village once again. Raising a hand to his mouth, he called out. “Hello, is anyone there? We would like to trade. Hello?” Nothing stirred. The doors of the various crofts remained stubbornly closed. “So how far is the next village?” Lyall enquired.
“Too far.” Keris’ face was dark. Shann snorted in disgust.
“Perhaps if we wait for long enough and appear non-threatening, they will come out eventually?” Lyall speculated. As he was speaking, Keris started forward. She was striding towards the nearest dwelling, the ends of her flying cloak fluttering in the light breeze. “What are you doing?” Lyall shouted at her back.
Keris did not look back. Her tone was menacing. “Getting you your supplies.”
Shann’s eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open as she watched Keris pause before the entrance, lift her right boot and kick the door viciously. What the?
“Keris–Keris, stop… Keris.” Lyall called out, but the tall dark-haired woman was not listening. She seemed to be in a private trance, as if she were taking out days of agony and frustration on the doorway. Her face contorted as she lifted her boot once more–crack. Splinters of wood flew from the impact of her boot heel–crack. Shann could hear the groaning of tortured cross members–crack. The door finally gave way, flying open on its hinges and banging against the opposite wall. Keris marched inside.
Moments later she reappeared at the entrance. She had two elderly villagers, a man and a woman, by the scruffs of their necks. Keris half dragged them to the open centre of the hamlet and pitched them forward, so that they fell headlong to the hard-packed ground. “Please, Lady–please spare us,” Shann heard the old man whimper.
Keris ignored him, turning instead to address the shut up stone dwellings. “Get out here–now.” As Shann watched, doors opened slowly, and dejected villagers approached their caravan, heads bowed. Frightened children could be seen hiding behind the legs of their parents. Probably scarred for life, thanks to Keris.
Lyall stepped in front of Keris, both hands raised. “We mean you no harm. We are not Keltar, despite our appearance. We wish to trade with you. However, if you wish us to leave, we will leave peacefully and not return. And …we will be happy to pay for a new door.” Keris looked at him sharply, but said nothing. Shann knelt beside the elderly couple. “It’s all right,” she soothed, helping them to their feet. Their expressions were confused, but they accepted her assistance gratefully.
A man with long, straight black hair and a weathered face stepped forward. He wore a simple brown tunic and black breeches. His tail twitched in agitation and his eyes narrowed. “You say you are not Keltar. Yet this one bears the cloak and carries the staff.” His eyes flicked over Keris. “How can this be?”
Lyall raised his voice to address the assembled crowd. “She was Keltar, but no longer. We do not serve the Prophet. We are…working against his interests.”
“Last turn of the season Keltar came to this village with their soldiers.” The weathered-faced man declared. “They acted much as your Keltar there. Then they took all that we had and put five of our men folk to death. Their widows and orphans are here before you.”
Shann caught the eye of one little boy, no more than six turns old. She smiled at him. He turned away and buried his head in his mother’s skirts.
“I’m deeply sorry for your loss,” Lyall spoke up.
The dark haired man continued, “You said that if we asked, you would leave and not return.”
“Yes,” Lyall affirmed.
“Then we would ask that you leave and not return.” From the wagon behind her, she heard Alondo curse under his breath.
Lyall gave a slight bow, then turned on his heel, leading his graylesh back the way they had come.
“What is that?” It was a woman’s voice from the crowd. With their eyes fixed on the exchange between the two men, no-one had noticed the Chandara hop down from the back of the wagon and scamper over. The creature stood erect on its rear hind legs, its head cocked to one side. “I Am Boxx.”
Some in the gathering started to back away. A young girl screamed. Keris interposed herself between Boxx and the milling crowd, staff at the ready. “Wait.” The hubbub subsided before a commanding voice. A small older man stepped forward. He was well dressed by village standards, with a faded green jacket and matching cap. Shann was vaguely reminded of an older version of Alondo.
The older man’s face was filled with wonder. “You are Chandara.”
“You Are Kelanni,” Boxx responded. The man in the green jacket laughed infectiously. Shann could sense the assembly relaxing. Keris returned her staff to the sleeve at the back of her tunic.
“It certainly is Chandara.” The older man’s gaze was fixed on the little creature. “But it is a very long way from its forest. It is travelling with you?”
“Yes,” Lyall confirmed.
“Incredible. Tell me,” the older man addressed Boxx directly, “these you are travelling with, are they servants of the Prophet?”
Boxx replied in its thin high tone. “They Do Not Serve The Prophet. They Seek To Destroy His Device. For All Kelanni.”
“These people are not servants of the Prophet,” the older man declared.
The man with the long dark hair scowled. “You would take the word of this…this thing?”
“Forgive us,” the man in the green jacket addressed Lyall. “Grief and loss can cause people to give way to fear and suspicion.” He made eye contact with the dark haired man. “Whatever you may think of them, Mevan, Chandara do not lie. Nor do they serve the Prophet.” He turned back to Lyall. “I am Ernan, Headman of Pinnar. Our village is humble, but you are welcome here for as long as you wish.”
“I thank you, Ernan. I am Lyall. This is Shann and our former Keltar is called Keris. The fine fellow driving our wagon is Alondo.” Alondo doffed his cap and grinned. “I appreciate you may have little to spare, but I would like to discuss securing the provisions we need to continue our journey. We are prepared to compensate you fully.”
Ernan nodded thoughtfully. “We do not have an inn here in Pinnar, but I have a comfortable home. If you and your party would consent to stay with me, I will see what we can do to assist you. I would also enjoy a conversation with your Chandara.”
Shann chuckled. “You’re the first person I know who’s ever said that.”
The crowd began to disperse, murmuring to one another as they did so. The party followed Ernan as he led them in the direction of his house. Lyall hung back and buttonholed Keris, addressing her in low tones. Shann pricked up her ears to listen in. “What you did back there–well done.” Keris looked at him strangely. “But if you ever do anything like that again, you will no longer be a part of this group.”
~
Ernan’s home was comfortable indeed. The hearth was not lit this deep into summer, but the atmosphere was warm and homely, with delightful smells wafting from the kitchen. Shann realised that this was the first time since the farmhouse near Lind that she had actually stayed in a house. The hut at the compound didn’t really count. Memories of the compound made her wonder how Roanol and the others were doing. I haven’t forgotten you.
The main living space was set with an assortment of stools. Alondo sat opposite her, making adjustments to his curious instrument. He had offered to play for them later that evening. He looked up and smiled at her every so often. Boxx lay with its head on the wooden floor. Keris sat on her own three stools over. Her hands lay in her lap and she seemed unnaturally subdued after her earlier violent outburst. What is going on in your head?
Lyall was engaged in discussions with Ernan. The negotiations seemed protracted, but Ernan’s wife and only daughter kept them supplied with cool drinks. The daughter kept stealing glances at Alondo; he seemed to have that effect on women. Maybe it was something to do with being a musician.
At length, Lyall emerged with Ernan. He was smiling, which she interpreted as good news. “I think I have secured most of what we need. Replacing the door wasn’t cheap.” He meant it as a joke, but Keris’ face was as impassive as ever. It was almost as if… she were in mourning. But for what? For whom?
Ernan flopped onto a stool across from Shann and Alondo and gave a genial smile. “Hungry?”
“Yes, please,” Shann replied a little too eagerly, evoking a ripple of laughter from the others. Her eyes fell to the floor.
“Good–that’s good,” Ernan spread his hands. “Evening meal will be ready soon. Our fare is simple, but good enough to satisfy our young friend here, I think.” He winked at Shann and she perked up. Then his mood seemed to shift. His wide mouth straightened, his blue eyes narrowed, and his forehead took on a slight frown. “Lyall tells me you are bound for Sakara and that you intend to travel through the Fire Pits?”
“That is correct,” Keris answered from her place across the room.
The older man leaned forward and put his hand to his mouth but said nothing.
“Anything you can tell us about them might be helpful,” Lyall prompted.
There was a pause. Then Ernan spoke, his eyes unfocussed as if he were speaking to himself rather than to a room full of people. “Nobody travels through the pits and with good reason. There are too many ways to die. The fumes can choke and the ground is unstable in places. The there are pools of boiling mud and scalding water. And then there is the Serpent.”
Alondo looked up. “You mean the Kharthrun Serpent? I thought that was a story told to frighten young children.”
“Oh, the Serpent is real,” Ernan’ eyes focussed on the musician, who let his instrument slip to the floor. “Although it isn’t just a single creature, of course; there must be a number of them.”
“Have you ever seen one?” Shann asked.
“No. But Mevan, the man you spoke to before, has; as a young man, he ventured into the Pits with three others, one of whom was his brother. The Serpent attacked them. He was the only one to survive.”
There was a shocked silence. Finally, Lyall spoke up. “Did he say anything about the beast?”
Ernan shook his head. “Only that it stalks his nightmares to this day…I do not mean to interfere. We have a saying here in the Distrada: ‘A mylar determines its flight and a man his path.’ However, I would be less than a host if I did not acquaint you with the dangers that lie ahead of you.”
A silence descended once again. It was Alondo who verbalised their thoughts. “Maybe we should reconsider taking the route through this place?”
“Nonsense,” Keris countered. “If we take the road north, east and then south we will lose at least ten days. We have lost too much time already owing to our failure at the tower. The journey across Kharthrun will only take a few days. Then it will only be a short distance to the coast and the port of Sakara. There is nothing that lies within Kharthrun that we cannot deal with. Do not let yourself be swayed by these…fables.
Shann shot a glance at Ernan, but he merely shrugged slightly. Once again it was Lyall who stepped in to smooth over any ruffled feathers. “I thank you for your counsel, Master Ernan. However, the urgency of our mission demands that we take the swifter route, even if it is at some risk to ourselves.”
Ernan exhaled, whether through resignation or disappointment, Shann could not tell. “Then I will do what I can to aid you. You will have whatever supplies we can muster and I will arrange for an escort to conduct you safely to the rim. I cannot ask them to descend into Kharthrun itself–I’m sure you understand.”
Lyall gave a short bow. “Your offer is most generous, Ernan. We would like to get underway as soon as possible tomorrow.”
A tinkling sound came from the direction of the kitchen. Ernan stood up. “Well, I believe evening meal is about ready, after which I will make the arrangements for your departure tomorrow. At least I have this evening to talk to your Chandara friend.
Boxx raised its head at the mention of its name. “Chandara Friend,” it agreed. Shann wondered if she ought to warn Ernan that he was liable to end up with a splitting headache, but decided that it was probably best to allow him to make that particular voyage of discovery on his own.
Ernan was leading the way towards the kitchen while conversing with Lyall. “So, what does your Chandara eat…?” Shann and Alondo got up and fell in behind them, followed by Keris and Boxx. However, she found that she was no longer listening to the conversation. Her physical hunger had been replaced by a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. The Fire Pits…the Kharthrun Serpent…the very stuff of nightmares.
<><><><><>
Chapter 21
Down. The way to the Fire Pits lay open before them. A slim path, a tiny fault of broken rock, led the way down the immense canyon wall before disappearing beneath clouds of vapour, beckoning them towards the dangers that lay hidden below.
The headman had been as good as his word. He and a group of half a dozen villagers rode with them to the rim of the immense depression. On the way, Ernan told them The Legend of Kharthrun. According to the tale, the Pits had been formed long ago, when the people of the Distrada had displeased The Three. The Suns had fashioned a fireball and hurled it from the heavens to serve as a sign of their wrath. The fireball gouged out a vast burning pit. Then it engulfed a forgar worm, feeding it until it grew into the Serpent. Shann thought the story outrageous and even a little blasphemous, but she listened politely and held her tongue.
At the rim, they halted and looked out across the fear-inspiring vista. Beneath the steam clouds Shann glimpsed twisted features amid dark volcanic rocks. The immense bowl stretched as far as the eye could see, looking for all the world as if it had been scooped out by a gigantic hand. She began to wonder whether there might be some truth to the legend after all.
Ernan could not hide his concern, as she and the others offered their thanks and expressed their goodbyes. Lyall made a formal gift of the wagon and the graylesh to Ernan, and they bowed gravely to one another before the older man conducted them personally to the point at the lip of the cliff face where the path began.
Lyall produced a long length of rope. “Tie the rope around your waist like this.” He knotted the rope around his middle and handed the end to Shann. She tied it in the same way and passed it to Alondo. “We stay roped together till we reach the canyon floor, in case of any mishaps.”
“What about Boxx?” Shann enquired.
Lyall shook his head. “I think the rope would only hamper its movements. More importantly, it’s much lighter than any of us, so if we were to stumble or fall, we would just drag it down with us. No, I think the Chandara is better off as it is.” He addressed the little creature directly. “Boxx, be careful as we descend. Do you understand?”
Boxx raised itself erect on its hind limbs as if coming to attention. “I Will Be With Keris,” it declared happily. Keris looked away, but said nothing.
Shann hefted her pack and manoeuvred her arms between the shoulder straps. They had slimmed down their possessions to no more than they could comfortably carry. For Shann that meant just her flying cloak and her staff; besides food and water, she had nothing else. She watched as Alondo reached inside his jerkin and pulled out the emerald he wore around his neck. The jewel sparkled in the early afternoon light. He bowed his head silently, mouthing a few words–a prayer? – before tucking the stone back out of sight. Shann was suddenly struck by the fact that she had no memento, no keepsake, nothing of her former life and home. If she died here in these Fire Pits, there would be nothing on her body to indicate to anyone who found her who she was or where she was from. Had she been a good or a bad person? Had she loved anyone or been loved? Had her short life amounted to anything? She felt a wave of sadness wash over her. Alondo had offered her a place in his home along with Hedda, but that was a long way off and there was a good chance she would never live to take him up on it. For now, all she had were the cloak and the staff. Yet perhaps those things said more about the person she was now than anything else. From that moment on a rain-soaked night in Corte, when she had grabbed the staff and ran forward to give it to the tall fair haired man with the piercing blue eyes, she had crossed a line. She had taken her life in a new direction. She had decided to become someone who could make a difference.
Slowly and carefully, the party began their descent into the Fire Pits of Kharthrun. Single file, perched on the narrow rock ledge with their backs against the cliff wall, edging towards the plumes of rising steam mingled with smoke and sulphur, Shann felt a growing sense of peril. What was it Ernan had said? Too many ways to die.
~
Shann could already feel the heat rising from below, creating an updraft of unsteady air currents. The palms of her hands were pressed against the rock face as she moved along a ledge not much wider than her feet. Don’t look down.
Alondo seemed to be faring worse than she was. He was far from surefooted, and Shann could see the apprehension in his eyes. He tried cracking jokes in an effort to raise his spirits. “Lyall?” His voice was like a thin thread.
“Yes, what is it?”
“You know, out of all of the things we have done so far, I think this is my least favourite.”
“I know,” Lyall soothed, “try to hang in there, my friend.”
The flying cloaks were useless; a fall from this height would not be stopped by any deposits of natural lodestone, even assuming there were any directly beneath them. Looking out over the expanse, it occurred to Shann that there were no birds flying. The silence was broken only by laboured breathing and the sounds of boots scraping against rock.
At times, the ledge widened a little, allowing them to make faster progress. Keris was stone-faced, her dark eyes betraying no sign of anxiety. She moved over the thin strip of rock with the grace of a dagan. Boxx shuffled along with ease. He was forced to stop frequently as the Kelanni in front of him slowed his progress.
They were a little more than halfway down. The ledge had widened once again, and Shann was beginning to think that the nightmare would soon be over, when Lyall stopped in his tracks and raised a hand. Shann halted and so did the others. She noticed that Alondo was breathing heavily.
“What’s the matter?” she called ahead.
“Look.” Lyall moved aside to allow her to glimpse the way ahead. She squeezed against him, craning her neck. The narrow shelf continued for a short way before coming to an abrupt end, a broken edge falling off into nothingness–a brutal denial of passage. Her heart sank at the thought of making the journey all the way back up the cliff side. The musician had slumped down and was seated with his back to the rock, hugging his knees. His eyes were shut and he was breathing through his teeth. She was not at all sure he would make it.
Keris edged past Alondo and approached Shann and Lyall. She had untied herself from the rope and removed her pack.
“Why have we stopped?” she demanded.
Lyall met her eyes gravely. “The path is gone.”
~
“Let me see.” Keris sidled past the other two and crept gingerly to where the path ended abruptly.
Lyall leaned forward. “Be careful; it may not be safe.”
Keris did not answer or look back. She got down on her knees, then lay flat on her stomach and peered into the abyss below. Her head moved up as her eyes scoured the rock face. There. Ever since that night in the Gilah Hills when she had faced Mordal for the last time it had seemed as if a maelstrom were churning within her, a storm of grief and loss over which she had no control. When she had found herself kicking down a door in the village of Pinnar, it felt as if she were another person, yelling at herself from afar, but unable to make herself stop.
The feelings of grief and loss were still there, but now, for the first time in many days and nights, Keris felt a centre, a point of calm. She stood in the eye of the storm, aware of her feelings, but detached from them somehow. Here was a problem, an obstacle, but one that could be overcome by logic and tactical analysis. She was on familiar ground once more. She was in control.
She got back up and retreated to where Lyall and Alondo were waiting, indicating behind her with a flick of her head. “The path continues ahead of and below us. It begins again at a fault line, where the canyon wall is split.”
Lyall moved to the end of the path and checked where she was indicating. He turned back, shaking his head. “Too far. We could never jump that gap.”
Keris looked straight at him. Her eyes flashed. “I can do it.”
Shann and Lyall looked at her with disbelief. “If you’re thinking of using the flying cloak, it would take a leap of great precision to make it to that far ledge without falling off,” Lyall argued. “What’s more, there would have to be a good lodestone deposit on this side and you haven’t even taken the cloak out to scan for any yet.”
“I won’t be needing any.” Keris moved back along the narrow shelf. She passed Alondo and went to the place where she had set down her pack. Carefully she extracted her flying cloak and fitted it around her shoulders, fixing the clasps and shaking her head so that her dark tresses settled across her shoulders, framing her sharp delicate features. She tied the pack to her belt and made her way back to where Shann and Lyall were waiting expectantly. She addressed Shann. “Give me your cloak, please.” Shann looked to Lyall, who nodded at the girl. Obediently, Shann took off her pack and gave her own cloak to Keris. “Thank you.” Keris headed for the broken end of the path once more and knelt down just short of the edge. She laid Shann’s cloak out on the rock surface and began making adjustments to the control mechanism.
Lyall walked up behind her. “May I ask what it is you’re doing?”
Keris continued perfecting her adjustments without looking up. “I can get us all safely across to the other side.” Satisfied, she stood up and faced Lyall. “But I need you to do exactly as I say. Please ask everyone to untie themselves from the rope.”
Lyall examined her with his penetrating blue eyes, as if trying to read her mind. “Everyone, untie yourselves from the rope.” He gathered in the line and handed it to Keris, who took one end and tied it around her torso.
She handed the other end to Lyall. “Keep a firm hold on this.” Then she turned, stepped just beyond the place where Shann’s cloak lay, took a sighting on the far ledge and leapt into the void.
There were two parts to this plan that were going to prove difficult. This was the first. She had configured Shann’s cloak so as to expose the refined lodestone. Refined lodestone was stronger than any naturally occurring deposit, so she was in no doubt that she could traverse the distance. The problem was that there was nothing at the other end to put a brake on her momentum. For that reason, she had selected a trajectory that was as low as possible. The refined lodestone in Shann’s cloak gave her an unaccustomed jolt and she sailed across and down the cliff face towards the opposite ledge. Keris angled as close to the cliff as she dared as the narrow rock shelf rushed up to meet her. She overshot the edge, and her boots impacted the hard rock as she came to a running stop. The rope spanned the gap between both ledges.
Keris removed her cloak and placed it carefully near the fault line, exposing its lodestone layer. Then she looked up to the broken path across and above from her. She could see Lyall and Shann, as well as Alondo and the round head that was Boxx, driven by curiosity to see what was happening. “Lyall,” she called out.
“Yes?”
“I want you to tie the rope securely around yourself and make the jump, just as you saw me do. I have set my cloak so that you can use its lodestone to slow your descent.”
Lyall glanced behind him. “But what about the others?”
“Listen carefully,” Keris yelled. “In order for this to work, we have to execute a series of actions in a precise order. Everyone will be fine. I…must ask that you trust me.”
There was a pause. “Very well.” Lyall disappeared over the rim and then reappeared wearing his own cloak. “Ready?”
Keris grabbed the rope and braced herself in case he should miss his aim. “Come on.”
Lyall set his sights on the opposite ledge, as he had seen Keris do, and then hurled himself boldly across the gap. His legs bicycled in the air as he flew in a somewhat higher arc than she had. Keris saw him adjust his neck control, partially extending his bronze layer, using Keris’ cloak to slow his fall. He landed lightly on the other side. “That was incredible.” He looked back over the distance he had just crossed. “What now?”
“Take off your cloak,” Keris interrupted. Lyall reached to his neck and undid the clasps, handing the cloak to her. She dropped her pack and retrieved her own cloak, placing his cloak on the ledge, and checking the settings. One step at a time. She fixed her eye on the upper ledge, bent her knees and flared her own cloak, pushing against the lodestone in Lyall’s cloak. This time, she angled her body so as to assume a more vertical path. The power of the refined lodestone took her up and over the lip of the path, to land in front of Shann and the others. Shann and Alondo looked too shocked to applaud.
Boxx was moving around in tight circles, although whether that was intended to signify excitement or anxiety, Keris had no idea. Keris picked up Shann’s cloak and handed it to her. “You are next. Put this on, and tie the rope securely around your upper body.” Shann did so. Keris checked the knots and nodded her approval. She undid her own cloak and placed it on the path, adjusting it so as to uncover the lodestone layer. Then she faced the girl. “As the lightest one here, you will need to carry Boxx across. Can you do that?”
“I think so…yes.” Shann appeared uncertain.
“I Will Fly Now,” Boxx piped.
Keris was not sure whether this was a question or a statement, so she replied simply, “Yes.”
“Chandara Do Not Fly.”
Keris was not about to embark on another fruitless exchange with the creature. “Then this will be a first for your people.” She turned back to Shann. “Wrap your arms around Boxx and hold it securely as you jump. You should be fine, as your combined weight is no more than any one of us. Alondo and I will be holding the rope securely in case anything goes wrong.”
Shann’s lips were tightly pursed as she fastened her cloak. Then she bent to pick up Boxx. The creature squirmed like a small child. “Keep still,” she commanded. Boxx stopped struggling.
“Make sure you get a good push off the lodestone,” Keris counselled, “and try to stay as tight to the cliff face as you can.” Shann nodded. Keris could see the fear in her eyes. She held the girl’s gaze, trying to instil confidence. You can do this.
Shann walked to the edge and hesitated. Don’t lose your nerve now. Keris watched as if in slow motion. Shann clutched the Chandara to her chest, bent her knees and leapt upwards. The rope snaked outwards, with Keris holding firmly on to the other end as she followed Shann’s trajectory. Higher…a little higher. The girl was falling short. Keris felt a rising sense of panic. She tightened her grip on the rope–there was nothing more she could do. Shann touched down on the very edge of the broken path and began to topple backwards. Lyall reached out and grabbed her with both hands. She fell forward, landing on top of him, with Boxx between them. As they slowly disentangled themselves, Keris breathed a sigh of relief. Good girl.
Boxx stood up on its hind legs. “Again…I Fly Again.” Lyall and Shann burst out laughing.
Almost there. Alondo’s face was creased with concern. Keris ignored him, retrieving her own cloak and fitting it around her shoulders. Then she hailed across the gap. “Is everyone all right over there?”
“We’re fine,” Lyall shouted back.
“I will need to borrow Shann’s cloak once again. Tie it securely to the rope.” Shann removed her cloak and handed it to Lyall who did as he was bid. Keris tugged on the rope hand over hand and pulled it up the cliff side. She placed it once again on the ledge. Next, she checked the equipment still on their side; Alondo’s instrument and pack, and Boxx’s pack, containing the machine which Annata, the woman from the past used to communicate with them. Boxx’s pack was the lightest. She faced Alondo. “Please let me have your pack and your instrument.”
Alondo removed the items and handed them to her. “So, how am I getting over there?” He was doing his best to sound nonchalant.
Keris hefted his instrument and tied his pack to her belt. She tied the rope around herself once more. Finally, she handed him the other end of the rope. “Whatever you do, don’t let go.” she told him firmly.
Then, without another word, she turned and launched herself skyward. The return journey was less of a challenge. Although she carried Alondo’s instrument as an additional burden, the presence of Lyall’s cloak on the other side afforded her considerably more control during the latter part of her flight. Keris touched down on the ledge, receiving a smile and clap on the back from Lyall. She untied the rope, set down the instrument and Alondo’s pack and then turned to view the ledge above them. The others followed her gaze.
A round face appeared, topped off by a jaunty red hat. “Er…hello?” he quivered. “Are you still there? Because I’m still here.”
Keris cupped her hand to her mouth to amplify her voice. “Alondo, can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Alondo, I want you to listen very carefully and do everything I tell you. Can you do that?”
“All right.”
Keris could hear the note of apprehension in his voice. She made her own voice as even as possible. “First of all, I want you to pick up Shann’s cloak and put it in Boxx’s pack, then tie the pack around your waist.”
There was a pause while they waited expectantly. Eventually, Alondo’s head appeared once more. “I’ve done that.”
“Good, very good. Now I want you to tie the end of the rope under your arms. Be sure it’s secure.”
Another pause. Keris signalled for Lyall and Shann to take up the rope with her. Then Alondo’s voice came back. “I’ve tied it good and tight.”
Well done. Now I want you to step off the edge.”
“Excuse me?”
“Step off the edge,” Keris insisted. “Look, you will be perfectly safe. There are three people here ready to pull you up. The best way is not to try to jump, just step straight off. Keep away from the side of the canyon, but don’t swing too far out or you will swing back and hit the rock face.”
“Lyall?” Alondo pleaded.
“Just do as Keris says and you will be fine,” Lyall assured him.
“Come on, Alondo, you can do it,” Shann called.
There was silence. Then a tremulous voice from above, “Very well, I’m going to count to three.” Keris, Lyall and Shann looked at one another but said nothing. Alondo appeared at the edge. “One…Two…Three.” They watched as Alondo stepped off and fell into nothingness. A moment later the line went taut. They took the strain, pulling up the rope as quickly as they could. At last, Alondo’s head appeared and his hands grasped the broken path. Keris dropped the rope and lunged forward, grabbing the back of his tunic and manhandling him over the lip. As she pulled backwards, she sat and her foot kicked out. Something broke free and fell over the edge. She hauled him the rest of the way up and he turned back, panting with exertion. His face was etched with alarm, no longer for his own predicament but rather for something that affected them all.
“The pack with the machine in it,” he cried, “it’s gone!”
<><><><><>
Chapter 22
“I can see it.” Keris was lying with her head over the precipice, Lyall keeping firm hold of her legs. She crawled backwards over the uneven rock shelf. Lyall released her and she got to her feet. “The pack is lodged part way down. The strap seems to have become caught on a spur.”
“How far down is it?” Lyall asked anxiously.
“We can reach it with the rope, but it’s off to the side, back beyond where the path ends. We would have to abseil down the rock face here, and then swing on the rope to reach it.”
Lyall frowned. “It sounds risky, but I don’t think we have a choice. We have to get the machine back, not to mention Shann’s flying cloak.”
Keris bit her lip. “It was my fault. The whole thing was my idea and I was the one who knocked it off the edge. I should be the one to go.”
“But you were trying to save me at the time,” Alondo chimed in. “I don’t know how, but somehow my belt came off with the pack attached. I should have made it more secure. If anything, I’m to blame.”
Lyall was insistent. “Forget it, Alondo, we’re not sending you down there again.”
“I’ll go,” Shann heard herself say. The others looked at her in surprise. Shann felt smaller than usual under the questing gazes of the other three, but she felt a knot of resolve forming within her. Keris had tried to destroy the machine and make it look like an accident. If she let the woman go down there on the pretext of trying to retrieve the pack, it would be a perfect opportunity to finish the job. She could not say any of that out loud, of course. Fortunately, she knew of another effective argument. She addressed Keris directly. “You said it yourself. I’m by far the lightest one here. Swinging to and fro will increase the strain on the rope and the people who are anchoring it. I am the safest choice.”
There was a pause as she allowed her words to sink in. It was Keris who spoke first. “The girl is right; she is the best choice.” Shann was a little surprised that the woman had caved in so quickly. Maybe Keris was even now formulating a plan to sabotage her efforts somehow. No matter. Shann had to get the machine and her cloak back. She would have to deal with whatever came.
Boxx was looking from one to the other, as if trying to work out what was going on. Alondo appeared distinctly unhappy. Lyall fixed her directly with his steady blue eyes. “Are you sure about this, Shann?”
She was ready for him. She drew herself up as tall as her slight frame would permit and met his gaze. “I’m sure. Let’s get on with it.”
Keris had gathered the rope, and was making a loop. She looked Shann over and adjusted the size, before tying an elaborate knot. She then placed it over Shann like a lasso, pulling the running noose, so that the loop was around her buttocks. She spoke to Shann as she worked. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”
Sure I have. Every day after we finished working in the kitchen, we’d go find a vertical drop and dangle from it. “No,” she replied.
Keris jerked the rope experimentally, and Shann felt it tighten. She offered it to Shann who took it from her hand. Their fingers touched briefly and a distant part of Shann’s mind noted that in all the time they had been travelling together, it was the first time they had made physical contact.
“Keep hold of the guide rope at all times,” Keris was saying. “Use the loop as a seat and face the cliff side, using your legs to push against it as you descend. Don’t push too hard, or you risk coming back and hitting the rock wall. Remember, we will be on the ledge holding fast the rope, so we won’t be able to see you from that angle. You will have to let us know when to let out the rope and when to pull you up. You must also let us know when you begin swinging, so that we can brace ourselves for the extra strain. Don’t be in too much of a hurry. Start with a small swing and when you reach the apex, push as hard as you can in the opposite direction. If you get into any sort of difficulty, let us know at once. Do you want me to repeat any of that?”
The woman talks to me as if I were three turns old. Shann felt like telling her to take her advice and shove it. Instead, she simply answered, “No, I understand.”
Keris examined her handiwork once more before turning away and nodding to Lyall and Alondo. The three of them took up the rope. She turned back to Shann. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Shann suppressed the sudden desire to gulp. She grasped the rope and began to back slowly over the edge.
“Please be careful, Shann,” Alondo called after her.
She forced a smile for him. “I will.”
The edge of the path cut off her companions as her legs bounced lightly down the side of the cliff. She could feel heat rising, a slight updraft against her back which ruffled the ends of her short dark hair. The side of the cliff was sandy brown, with occasional streaks of black and yellow. There were cracks and indentations in the surface, the wear and tear of ages past. Shann looked up. The taut line twitched as it eased her descent. “Hold it.” She turned her head to the right, scouring the side of the canyon. She couldn’t see the pack. Her heart sank. Maybe it dislodged itself already and fell to the canyon floor? Then she saw it, caught in a crack below and to her right. “I can see it. Lower me a little more.” She started down again with a slight jolt, keeping her eye on the position of the pack. “Slowly.” She passed below it. “Stop.” The rope juddered to a halt and she hung in silence for a moment. “I’m starting my swing.”
She flexed her legs against the unyielding rock…left…right…left. A part of her wondered idly whether Gallar was perhaps wondering where she was and what she was doing right now. She tried to imagine how her surrogate mother might react if she could see her little Shann, swinging back and forth over a sheer drop. What have they got you doing? I’m sorry, Gal. I have to do this.
The rope began to creak as she swung back and forth. The pack flew up and then away again. Almost there. Shann held onto the rope firmly with her left arm while her right arm was outstretched, seeking contact with her prize. The pack loomed into view once more and her fingers scrabbled for the strap, knocking it free. Her heart froze as the pack dropped and then jerked to a stop once more. I mustn’t fail. She swung away and back twice more, driving against the cliff face to widen her arc. The rope groaned with the strain, but she ignored it. As she drove herself up for the third time, she splayed the palm of her right hand. Her fingers closed firmly around the strap and she pulled it free. Got it.
Shann bounced her legs against the rock to cancel her swing. She came to rest, clutching the pack to her as if it were a living thing. Then she called up in a voice that had grown hoarse. “I’ve got it. Pull me up.” The rope jerked once more and she began to ascend rapidly. As she crested the broken ledge, Lyall grabbed the pack from her and then he and Keris each took a hand and dragged her up onto the flat shelf. She got to her feet only to have the air crushed out of her lungs as Alondo dropped the line and rushed over to give her a desperate bear hug. He was still holding on tightly when she heard Lyall say, “Well done, Shann. Now let’s get down from here, shall we?”
~
Alondo sat on the floor of the canyon with the hologram machine in front of him. Boxx sat opposite him, its head moving from side to side, as it peered into the device. Lyall and Shann stood off to one side. Inside Lyall, patience was fighting a hand to hand battle with concern. It was concern that finally won out. “Can you fix it?”
Alondo looked up at him and shrugged. “I don’t even know that it’s broken.” He picked up the mechanism carefully and rotated it so that Lyall could see. “The casing is dented here…and here. Other than that, the unit seems basically intact. However, most mechanical devices don’t take kindly to being bounced down a hillside.”
“What does Boxx say?” Lyall suggested.
“Boxx knows how to operate the controls. But there’s a big difference between knowing how to operate something and understanding its inner workings.” He turned it once again. “This panel is the ‘on’ switch, and there’s a little light next to it which is supposed to come on. The light isn’t working.”
“What does that mean?” Lyall asked.
Alondo sighed. “I wish I knew. This technology is beyond anything I’ve ever seen before. Most of these components–I can’t even guess at their function… I think this orange object is a power source of some kind but if it is, no power is getting to the rest of the mechanism. There could be various reasons for that.” Lyall looked confused. Alondo reached over into his pack and drew out his water bottle, holding it up. “If my water bottle is empty, it could be because I drank all the water or it could be because there’s a hole in it.”
“So what you’re saying is that it could be damaged, or just out of power.”
Alondo nodded vigorously. “Exactly.” He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them, scrutinizing the circular machine once more, as if challenging it to give up its secrets. This was the other side of Alondo. One was the carefree musician, the joker who kept others’ spirits up. The other was the natural engineer, the mechanical genius who could do anything from repairing a flying cloak to building the amazing vortex arm that he carried.
“I think the device stores energy, which it uses up when the woman from the past communicates with us. That energy may be transferred by the link itself. Our best option may simply be to wait till the next appointed contact and see what happens.” When he looked up at Lyall and Shann once more, he had his familiar grin. “Maybe next time you talk to Annata, you could ask her for an instruction book or a plan diagram for this thing?”
“The optimist of the group,” Lyall commented. “You’re assuming it works at all.”
Lyall suddenly noticed that Shann was very quiet. He stole a glance at the slim, dark haired girl. Her face was like a thunderhead. She strode away without uttering a word. Alondo looked up at him questioningly. Lyall raised his hand in a leave it to me gesture.
He followed her to where a tiny fumarole hissed and sputtered like a spiteful animal. They were a short distance from the canyon wall, where Lyall had declared a rest period following their tortuous descent into Kharthrun. Heat shone forth from the yellow and white suns far above. The floor of the canyon stretched off into the distance before being obscured by clouds of rising smoke and steam.
She had her back to him as he walked up behind her. “Shann, what’s wrong?”
“She broke it.” Shann’s voice sounded choked.
“We don’t know that,” Lyall reasoned. “You heard Alondo. It might simply be out of power.”
Shann was still facing away from him. “She planned this all along. She wants to destroy the machine and us.”
Lyall wanted to take her by the shoulders and turn her round to force eye contact. He hung back instead. “I can’t see that makes sense, Shann. Why would she bring us the machine and then try to destroy it?”
“I…I don’t know. Maybe…maybe she doesn’t want us to hear what Annata is going to say next? Annata said the instrument she is directing us to is dangerous and powerful. Maybe Keris wants that power for herself?”
Lyall shook his head. “That’s no more than speculation, Shann…You know, I’ve been thinking about it. Apart from the one time when you saw her using her Ring out on the Eastern Plains, every other piece of evidence against her is circumstantial. She keeps to herself, she isn’t always good with people and she disappears off into the night on her own, but those things don’t make her guilty. The truth is that without her help and expertise earlier today, we wouldn’t be here now. I think there is definitely something going on with her, but I wonder if we are misreading the signals somehow. Are you absolutely sure you saw her using the Ring?”
Shann rounded on him. Her thin face was streaked with tears. “I know what I saw.” He reached out to her, but she pulled away. “You don’t see it, do you? You don’t see what she’s doing to us?” She pushed past him and stormed back towards the others. “I’m going to show you. I’m going to show you, right now.”
Lyall started to trot after her. “Shann, stop… Shann, come back here.” The girl did not turn or hesitate. Instead, she made a beeline for the place where Keris sat alone, checking and servicing the mechanism of her flying cloak. The tall woman looked up as she saw Shann approaching. She put aside her work and stood, her stately form towering over the diminutive girl. Whatever Keris was hiding, Lyall knew that she would have to be confronted about it eventually. Now that the moment had arrived, he was shocked to find that he was no longer in control. He could do no more than watch helplessly as the two women faced each other amid the rising smoke and steam and the rumbling fury of the Fire Pits.
Shann’s arms were straight down at her sides. Her face was a mask of rage. “You destroyed it on purpose.”
Keris frowned. “What are you talking about, child?”
“The machine,” Shann spat. “You kicked it off the ledge. You destroyed it.”
Keris looked at Lyall with an annoyed expression, then back at Shann. “That was an accident.”
The girl stood her ground. “No, it wasn’t. You’re working with the Prophet and his people. You’ve been speaking to them through the Ring.”
Keris’ face changed to one of shock. “What?”
“I saw you.”
Alondo and Boxx hurried over, drawn by the sounds of confrontation. They stood off at a respectful distance, watching the drama unfold. Lyall could see Boxx’s head moving rapidly up and down in an agitated fashion. “The Key, The Key…,” it was squeaking in its shrill voice. Lyall blotted out the Chandara from his mind. He did not have the time to deal with its banter. I have to defuse this situation right now.
“Shann, that’s enough,” Lyall intervened. “I’m sorry, Keris. She’s confused and upset. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
Shann turned towards Lyall, her eyes blazing. “I’m not confused. I know what I saw.”
Lyall reached out his hand. “Shann, come along.
“No. She’s been talking to her masters in Chalimar all along. She sold us out. Ask her if you don’t believe me. Go ahead, ask her.”
“That’s enough, Shann.” Lyall’s tone was insistent. “Come with me now, please.”
“The girl is correct.” Silence fell as all eyes turned towards Keris. The tall woman’s eyes dropped beneath their stares and then rose once more to settle on each of them. “I did talk to Mordal using the Ring, but not for the reason you think.” She paused. “Deep down Mordal is…was a man of principle. I had the thought that if I could explain things to him–convince him that all Kelanni were threatened by the Prophet’s plans–then he might call off the pursuit and become an ally. As it turned out, I…was wrong.”
“Why did you not tell us what you were doing?” Lyall demanded.
“Because I was afraid of exactly this reaction. I am not stupid. I am aware that you view me with suspicion.” Keris’ eyes settled on Shann, who immediately looked away. “But I was a Keltar for many years. I figured that the Prophet’s men would Ring ahead and set an ambush for us somewhere in the Distrada.”
“What made you think that?” Lyall asked.
Keris harrumphed. “Because it’s exactly what I would do in their place. The Distrada has been hit hard by the Keltar and the Prophet has many enemies there, but he also has allies, people who are drawn by power and the opportunities it presents. That’s one reason why I suggested travelling through Kharthrun instead of taking the usual route to Sakara. It’s also why I agreed to meet up with him in the Gilah, but instead of coming to look at the evidence, he tried to make me go back with him. We fought and he was killed. It was a mistake.”
Lyall’s face was dark. “Yes it was. You realise how this looks.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry for that. I have no way of proving any of this. I should have confided in you all, but … over the years, I have become accustomed to working alone. It is a difficult habit to break.” Keris stiffened. “If you wish me to withdraw from your company, I will understand.”
There was an awkward silence. It was Lyall who finally broke it. “Do you wish to be a part of this group?”
“Yes,” she replied. Then she added, “If you will have me.”
“Then I require your solemn oath that you will never attempt anything like this on your own again.”
As the others looked on, Keris drew herself erect. “I swear.”
Lyall nodded once. “Very well, then. The matter is closed.” He turned slowly and walked away.
Shann ran past him and stood in his path with her feet squarely planted on the pitted volcanic rock, forcing him to stop in his tracks. Her features were screwed up and her fists were clenched at her sides. “So that’s it?”
“That’s it, Shann.
“But you heard her. She lied to us. She’s been lying to us all along. How can you just let her off?”
“Because I believe everyone deserves a second chance.”
~
Mevan lit the oil lamp and closed the small glass panel. Yellow effulgence slowly filled the little croft, banishing the shadows to their dark corners. He placed the lamp down on a small table and settled himself on to a stool which lay next to the open hearth, to await his night visitor. His dark, lank hair lay flat against his back and the lamplight cast his tanned features in sharp relief.
At length there was a single rap on the door. A tall figure entered without waiting for permission and closed the door behind him. The figure strode over the rough wooden floor to stand before Mevan. Mevan gestured towards another stool. The visitor responded by pulling up the stool to sit opposite him. “Good evening, Mevan. It has been many days.”
“Indeed it has, Lord Saccath. Your duties carry you far from Chalimar, I see.” Saccath was clad in simple serge coat and black trousers such as a trader might wear. Clearly this was not an “official” visit. He did not wish to be identified as Keltar.
“I am actually on something of a private mission,” Saccath confided. “Did you encounter the fugitive band?”
Mevan nodded. “They arrived here, just as you predicted. They had a Chandara with them, of all things. I attempted to turn them away with a view to encountering them later on the road, where there would be no witnesses. Unfortunately, that fool Ernan intervened. He gave them shelter and supplies and conducted them personally to the Fire Pits.”
Saccath leaned forward. “They went down into the Pits?”
“It is true, I swear.”
Saccath put his hand to his chin, deep in thought. The cragginess of his face appeared exaggerated by light and shadow. Finally, Mevan broke in. “I’m sorry; there was no opportunity for me and my men to intercept them.”
Saccath roused himself from his deliberations. “Do not concern yourself. They will be taken care of.”
“You are not going down into the Pits after them, surely?” Mevan protested. “I lost my own brother to the Pits. They are too dangerous for any right-minded person.”
Saccath smiled thinly. “Your concern for me is touching, Mevan, but I assure you that I have no intention of chasing them all the way down there. There is no need. I am quite sure that the denizens of Kharthrun will deal with the insurgents most effectively. And in the unlikely event that any of them do survive to reach Sakara, I will be arriving there to ensure that that is the end of their journey.”
Saccath stood up. “Once again, your loyalty and service to the Prophet’s cause have proven valuable. I think that the village of Pinnar would benefit from a new headman, someone with the vision and commitment to secure the peaceful cooperation of the people. I will speak to the authorities at the keep upon my return.”
Mevan got to his feet and bowed low. “I appreciate your faith in me, sire.” As he watched Saccath turn to leave, he permitted himself a smile of grim satisfaction.
<><><><><>
Chapter 23
The Fire Pits insinuated themselves on Shann’s senses like an all-enveloping beast with sinews of smoke and steam. Sulphur and soot stung her eyes, invaded her nostrils and left her with a foul taste in her mouth.
They were roped together once more–a safeguard against the hazards of the Pits, Lyall had explained. The farther they travelled into the depths of Kharthrun, the more she could see the wisdom of that precaution. It seemed as if every step were fraught with potential danger.
In places, the ground over which they walked was little more than a thin crust of hard white residue that crunched beneath her boots. There was no way to tell how thick–or how thin–the crust was. One good reason for the ropes.
They passed along trails between pools of boiling mud in shades of pink and orange. Shann watched in fascination as the mud slowly bubbled and popped, like an overly thick soup. Lyall placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t get too close, Shann.” She nodded and they resumed their passage through this chimerical world.
Plumes of steam emanated from conical vents or fractures in the ground, drifting over the landscape like fog. Every now and then, jets of boiling water were ejected into the air from raised pools, only to die back moments later to form a bubbling, angry cauldron. It was both spectacular and frightening at the same time.
Columns of basalt rose up from the canyon floor, forming winding gaps and small twisting valleys to confound their path. Shann quickly found that after she had been turned around several times in this way, she had had no idea in which direction they were headed. It was Keris who kept them on track both by continually checking the directional lodestone she carried and by using the flying cloak to determine their bearings. After the incident two days ago, when Shann had forced the confession out of her, Keris’ position within the group had changed. Now she was out in front, leading the way, her detached arrogance replaced by settled assurance as she consulted her lodestone device and pointed confidently. “This way.” Shann was reluctantly forced to admit that without her direction, they would probably end up totally lost, condemned to wander endlessly in the ever-shifting clouds of steam. Clearly, Ernan had not been exaggerating when he said that most of those who ventured into this place never made it out again.
They were skirting an emerald green thermal pool, edged by shades of yellow and red, when Shann saw a movement out of the corner of her eye–a dark shape slipping through the water. A fish? She stopped without warning, pulling Lyall to a halt on the tether, and almost causing Alondo to bump into her.
Lyall walked back to her position. “What’s up?”
“Look,” Shann pointed into the water. She could now see sleek shapes of various sizes, all covered by what looked like thick scales. Thin wisps of steam were drifting over the glassy surface. “How do they survive in there with the water near to boiling? They would cook, surely.”
By this time Keris had doubled back to investigate the disturbance. She followed their eyes. “Fish–so what?”
“What kind are they?” Lyall asked.
“I don’t know. I’m not a fish expert–why, are you hungry?”
“No, it’s just–” Shann began.
“Then let’s move on, shall we?” Keris strode off without waiting for anyone’s agreement.
“I was just curious,” Shann protested.
Lyall offered her a smile by way of compensation. “Don’t worry about it, Shann; although she does have a point. Out here, curiosity can be fatal.”
As their journey across the vast canyon floor continued, Shann saw other creatures, the likes of which she had never seen before. The fact that anything could survive in these conditions, let alone thrive, was a testament to the adaptability and tenacity of life.
There was a black thing that looked like a snake with both ends joined up, flexing its way over the ground in the shape of a figure eight.
A little farther on, a balloon-shaped creature an arm’s length in diameter floated lazily over a thermal vent. It was dull orange in colour with black mottling. As it rotated, Shann counted four evenly spaced eyes, although she could not see a mouth. It looked like a much larger version of the foul smelling ball she had encountered in the Gilah.
Shann could not resist. She ran forward and tapped Lyall on the shoulder. “What is it?”
“I think it’s a variety of maralah,” Lyall speculated, “although I confess I have never seen one anything like that size before. Maybe they are suited to the heat of the Pits?” Shann kept her eyes fixed on the balloon as they passed. It bobbed up and down over the vent and continued turning slowly, oblivious to their presence.
Eventually, they reached a level rock platform. “The suns will be setting soon,” Lyall observed. “I think we should make camp here.”
Shann untied herself from the rope and gratefully flopped down where she was.
Keris held out the lodestone device in her outstretched hand and turned slowly, checking her observations. “We are making good time,” she announced, “better than I hoped. We should reach the eastern rim as early as tomorrow. There is an easier route out of the Pits on that side.”
Shann sat back with her hands splayed against the rock and examined her surroundings. The flat rock was bounded on one side by a natural terrace of chalky white stone. In front of it, there was what looked like a deep depression in the ground. Shann got up and walked closer to get a better look. It was a large hole, a fissure which disappeared into the ground. She peered over the edge but could not see the bottom. The fuliginous interior seemed to draw her in.
She heard Lyall’s voice behind her. “Don’t get too close.”
Shann tore her eyes away and turned to rejoin the others. Keris was standing next to Lyall. She still wore the ebon tunic, trousers and flying cloak of a Keltar. You look the part. As Shann approached, she heard the woman make a curt remark before turning on her heel. Shann glared at Keris’ receding back for a moment and then made eye contact with Lyall.
He raised one eyebrow. “You two are going to have to learn to get on, you know.”
Shann made a sound in her throat. “She doesn’t get on with anyone. I can’t believe you swallowed her story like a piece of rotten raleketh meat.”
“I didn’t ‘swallow’ it, Shann. I told you: I merely gave her a second chance.”
“You think she deserves a second chance? What about all the things she did when she was a Keltar? Have you asked her how many people she killed?” Or how many parents she ripped away from their children?
“That’s not fair, Shann.” No. Leaving someone without their parents; not knowing if they are alive or dead –that’s not fair. Lyall smiled. “You and Keris are like two pieces of refined lodestone, repelling each other, yet unwilling to admit how similar you are.”
“I am nothing like her,” Shann fired back.
Lyall exhaled slowly. “You and she are both on a journey–not the act of putting one foot in front of another, but a journey of a different sort. You have always thought of yourself as weak. Yet with all that has happened over the past few days, you have discovered that you have strengths you never knew you had. You have fought sand scarags, escaped from a slave camp and ridden down a cliff. You are not the same person who left Corte.”
Shann’s brow furrowed. “I suppose.”
“Keris is very strong mentally and physically, but she has discovered that she has weaknesses she didn’t know she had. She too is on a journey. She too is not the same person as she was. And just as you need help to come to terms with your new strengths, she needs help to deal with her weaknesses.”
Shann smiled in spite of herself. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Boxx. You’re starting to sound like it.”
He laughed. “I take that as a compliment.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Want to get something to eat?” They both walked over to where Boxx was lying down and Keris was examining her staff. Shann noticed that whenever they stopped, the woman always seemed to check her equipment. She was almost pathological about it. Shann looked around for Alondo but could not see him. Then she saw him climbing the terrace. Lyall spotted him at the same moment and put a hand to his mouth. “Don’t go too far.” Alondo waved to them by way of response.
All of a sudden, Shann felt a low vibration. At first it was almost subliminal, causing her to conclude that she must be imagining it. Then it rapidly grew in intensity. Ground tremor? She saw Keris get to her feet, knees bent, eyes casting about wildly for the source.
The ground shook under them as a massive shape broke the surface of the fissure and reared up over their heads. An ear splitting roar shook the air. A living grey nightmare of scale, tooth and claw. Piercing red rimmed eyes. Neck frills flared. Flattened head split by an immense jaw which snapped at everything that moved. The Khathrun Serpent.
The towering titan twisted with terrifying agility, massive maw darting towards the terraced area. Shann felt as if her legs were rooted to the spot. A small voice somewhere in the back of her mind was clamouring, screaming for attention. Alondo. Cut off from the other side of the fissure. She could not see him. The serpent drew back for a further strike and she spotted him. Knocked down. On his back. Hands scrabbling against the rock behind him, desperately trying to get away.
Lyall was yelling at him, “Use the vortex arm.” Shann could not tell whether Alondo heard him or not, but he brought his instrument to bear, fumbled an adjustment and struck the strings. A powerful torus rippled outwards and struck the gargantuan beast, knocking it backwards slightly. It split the air again with a primeval bellow of pure hatred.
“That won’t hold it,” Keris warned.
Lyall’s gaze was still fixed on the creature. “No, but it might buy us some time.” He grabbed Shann by the arm. “The flying cloaks.” They ran back to where they had dropped their packs. Shann pulled out the cloak, shaking it free, and fastened the neck clasps. Her mind reeled. What can we do against that thing?
Boxx had rolled itself up–a segmented ball of impenetrable chitin. At least you are safe.
Keris backed away, staff held in a defensive posture, covering their retreat. She reached the position where Shann and Lyall waited, black cloaks now draped over their shoulders.
Keris shot a glance at Lyall. “Alondo is The Fool.”
Lyall nodded. “Agreed.”
“Mannatar gambit?”
“Risky,” Lyall returned.
“Do you have an alternative?”
“No.”
“Then it’s decided,” Keris declared with finality. A succession of waves from Alondo’s vortex arm washed over the serpent, causing it to sway its head back and forth. How much longer can Alondo hold out? “I am the mannatar; you are the dagger. The girl will have to provide you with a lodestone base line.
“You taught her cooperative mechanics?”
“No, of course not.” Keris faced Lyall’s questioning look and sighed. “The girl has no more than a simple grasp of the basics. Besides, she seems to have a…resistance to learning from me.” Lyall cursed under his breath. “I am the mannatar,” she reminded him. “Make haste.” She ran forward, flared her cloak and leapt into the air.
Shann’s mind whirled in confusion. “Wha– What is she talking about?”
Lyall’s attention was fixed on Keris as she engaged the serpent with a swift mid-air thrust. Her diamond blade was deflected by the creature’s thick overlapping scales. It whipped its immense head around and snapped at the empty space where Keris had been only moments before. “It’s shassatan.”
Shann was even more confused than ever. “The board game?”
“That’s right. Keltar use it to teach tactical thinking and as a form of shorthand–a kind of code.”
Shann’s heart stopped as she watched Keris twist in the air, narrowly avoiding the clashing jaws once more. The woman dropped to the ground, whirling her staff in a complex pattern. Backing away, she reached her hand into her pouch, extracting a small silver sphere. One of the precious lodestone grenades. She gave it a half twist and tossed it towards the creature. There was a low whine which rose in pitch, culminating in a blinding flash and the sound of detonation. The creature swayed as if disoriented. “B-but I’ve never played it.”
“Then this will have to be a quick lesson.” Lyall spoke rapidly. “In shassatan, each of the pieces is assigned a role which determines its relative strength and movement. Some roles are given; others may be chosen according to need. Keris has selected ‘the mannatar,’ named after a crane fly, an insect that stings repeatedly. It’s a distraction tactic. Whilst Keris is keeping the serpent occupied, we need to attack one of its vulnerable spots.”
Shann wanted to say that she couldn’t see where it had any vulnerable spots, but she shoved the thought aside. “What do you want me to do?”
“We have to work together. It’s called ‘cooperative mechanics.’ For example, if we leap together using a natural deposit, and I get above you, I can use the upper lodestone layer of your cloak to propel myself higher and farther. That will enable me to leap high enough to reach the other side of the fissure.”
“Wouldn’t that knock me to the ground?”
“That’s right, Shann. Action–reaction. But you should be able to use the natural deposit to brake your fall somewhat.”
Somewhat. Shann wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. But the others were under imminent threat. There was no choice. She pursed her lips. “Let’s do it.”
Keris had set off two more grenades. With a throw of some skill and accuracy, she managed to pitch one of them into the serpent’s gaping mouth as it clamped shut. Smoke was ejected from the nostrils on top of its head, but it seemed otherwise unharmed.
Shann and Lyall trotted forward, cloaks extended, searching for lodestone. Immediately, the Kharthrun Serpent reacted to their movement, lunging towards them. A monstrous head filled Shann’s field of vision, nostrils flared, neck ridges rippling, shining crimson eyes set in an angular skull. Hot breath washed over her like an imprecation. Lyall threw himself to the ground. Shann was forced to dive to one side, rolling away. She sprang to her feet. The serpent had pulled away and was thrashing around with a bestial rage. She saw a figure tossed in to the air like a rag doll. It came to rest; a broken heap, dark against the pure white stone. Shann felt a sick feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. Alondo.
Keris discharged her last two grenades. Then she shot into the air once more, launching forth a battering series of blows, driving the diamond blade between its thick scales. The dark haired woman was now battling the creature alone. Baiting it. Drawing it to her. We have to act now.
Shann’s hand moved to the cloak’s control mechanism, feeling the push of lodestone a little to her left. She shouted at Lyall, “Over here.” She ran towards the spot, Lyall only a few steps behind her. Bending her legs, she launched herself skyward. As she rose into the air she saw that Lyall was already above her. A sudden crushing pressure. It felt as if a giant foot had stamped on her back. The ground hurtled up to meet her. She landed on her side, knocking the breath out of her.
Pain lanced through her chest as her lungs fought for air. Shann struggled to her feet and looked up. Lyall was on the other side of the chasm, standing over the supine form that was Alondo. The serpent flexed its huge neck, knocking Keris to one side. She tumbled away across the rock surface. The leviathan towered over the tiny figures of the Kelanni. Shann watched as it fixed its malevolent gaze and made a vicious strike–directly at her.
Lyall cried out a warning from the opposite side of the fissure. “Shann!” Instinctively, she held her staff in front of her with both hands. A clawed arm reached out and caught her a glancing blow. Crack. Her darkwood staff split in the middle, and she was sent sprawling. The splintered sections of her staff skittered away.
Three more explosions. As Shann oriented herself once more, she saw a vision of Lyall perched on the head of the creature from the Pits, stabbing and slashing furiously with his staff. Gripped with horror, she watched as the beast flicked its head and caught Lyall in its massive jaws. In an instant, it turned and disappeared into the fissure with a final whip of its tail, dragging Lyall’s body down into the night-filled depths.
<><><><><>
Chapter 24
Keris stood with her staff at the ready, straining her ears for subterranean vibrations–any clue that might presage the serpent’s return. As the silence persisted, she permitted herself the luxury of a brief self-examination. Her mouth tasted like ashes. Her body complained of various lacerations and contusions and what she suspected might be a broken finger. The pack she carried contained an analgesic plant that might provide some relief; for now, such minor injuries were beneath her notice.
She surveyed the aftermath of the conflict. Boxx had unfurled itself from its defensive ball and appeared unscathed. The girl was holding her side awkwardly, but she was on her feet and was alert and responsive. That left Alondo. Keris ran to the other side of the fissure and scrambled up the terrace to where the musician lay. She dropped to one knee, checking for signs of life. One side of his face was covered in white blood, drying rapidly in the volcanic heat. There was no rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were closed. He was not moving.
“Boxx,” Keris yelled across the gap. The girl appeared over her, still clutching her side and breathing a little heavily. In her free hand, she held Lyall’s staff.
“Keris–” she began.
“Don’t try to move him,” Keris shot back, a little too sharply. “Boxx,” she called again.
The Chandara arrived and lifted itself up on its hind limbs, looking at her expectantly. Keris indicated Alondo. “Can you do anything for him?”
The Chandara looked down at Alondo with its bead like eyes. “I Can Try To Do Anything.” It touched Alondo’s temple with the three fingers of its upper forelimb. It closed its eyes and its mouth rippled soundlessly.
“Keris–” Shann’s voice was insistent.
“I’ll get to you in a moment,” Keris snapped back. You are not seriously injured –be patient.
After a short while, Alondo’s chest rose slightly and Keris heard a faint rattle in the musician’s throat. She allowed herself to breathe once more. Wearily, she got to her feet and made her way back to where her pack lay. The girl came after her, grabbing her arm, pulling her round.
Shann looked small. Her eyes were puffy where she had been crying. “What about Lyall?”
Keris softened a little. “I’m sorry, child, he’s gone.”
“B-but we have to go after him,” Shann pleaded.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
Shann’s body tensed. “We have to go after him now.” She was holding Lyall’s staff in an attack stance.
Keris ignored the veiled threat. Do I have to spell it out for you, girl? “Look, we can’t stay here. That thing may come back at any time. If it does, none of us may survive. Lyall is lost to us. We have to go on without him.” Keris turned on her heel, without waiting for a response.
“No!” The word strangled in Shann’s throat.
Keris sensed a movement behind her, the whoosh of a diamond bladed staff. I don’t have time for this. In a single movement, she thrust her own staff backwards and hooked it, slicing the girl’s legs from under her. She turned around to see Shann lying on her back, her face a mask of pain and frustration. The older woman’s eyes blazed. “I will not fight you.”
Shann got to her feet and stumbled off, heaving sobs wracking her diminutive frame. Let her go.
~
She was thin. Scrawny, some might say. Tall for her age, with long dark hair that ran down her back in waves. Pretty, in a severe kind of way. And with the heart of an utharan mammoth, according to her father.
The smaller children came running up to her. They pulled at her coat, her sleeves. “Keris. Look, it’s Keris. Keris will help us. Yes. Yes.” A little boy was pushed to the front. He was blond, podgy, with a gap in his front teeth. “A boy took Alerain’s spinner. Will you get it back for us? Keris will get it back. Will you? Please?”
She was dragged along to where a big-boned boy with close cropped, dark hair sat on the ground playing with the spinner. Behind him, the Dagmar tower rose above the manse like a finger pointed at the sky. “Give it back,” she ordered.
The boy looked her up and down and laughed unpleasantly. “And who will make me? You?” Keris stood her ground. The boy’s smile disappeared in an instant and he rose to his feet. “Why don’t you just try and take it off me?” She flew at him, pummelling him with her bony fists and kicking at him with her long legs. “Give…it…back.”
The boy staggered backwards, raising his arms protectively. His face creased up. “I’m telling my mother.” She watched his receding back. Then she picked up the discarded spinner.
The little children were cheering and jumping for joy. “She did it. Keris did it. Keris is our leader. Keris is our leader.”
Keris is our leader. The older Keris sat with the flying cloak covering her shoulders, keeping night watch, deep in the Fire Pits of Kharthrun. I never wanted that. But then someone had to be there to right wrongs, to protect the weak. Then as now, she was a prisoner of who and what she was.
The girl had returned to their makeshift camp later that evening. She sat on her own and turned away every time Keris looked at her. Shann needed to reach out to someone, but it was not going to be Keris, that much was clear. Boxx was preoccupied with his ministrations, and Alondo only drifted into consciousness for brief periods. So the girl was left to wrestle with her grief alone.
“Wh-what happened?” Alondo had asked with his eyes still closed.
Keris was stone faced. “The Kharthrun Serpent. It’s gone now.”
“Lyall?”
“We lost him. I’m sorry.”
Alondo’s head moved from side to side slowly. He pressed his eyes together. “Where’s Shann?”
“She’s fine.” It was a lie, but the truth was an added burden he didn’t need right now.
Boxx stood up on its hind legs and faced Keris. “Alondo Must Sleep. Alondo Must Heal.”
Keris nodded at the Chandara and stood up. “How long?”
“Alondo Must Heal,” it repeated.
Keris took the hint and left. She had not discounted the possibility that if the creature attacked again, they might be forced to try to move Alondo, despite Boxx’s protestations. Or they might have to abandon him altogether. These were decisions she would really rather not have to make. I never wanted this.
She sat hunched in the flying cloak, burdens weighing on her shoulders like great black birds. Mists drifted over the flat ground. With an effort, she got to her feet and went to her pack. As soon as she opened it, she knew something was wrong. The small oil lamp she carried–it was gone. She rummaged around in the pack. There was no mistake. A wild thought occurred to her. She hurried over to the place where Shann slept. The blanket lay empty and discarded. The girl was gone. So were Lyall’s weapon and the pieces of her broken staff. Keris’ heart sank. You’ve gone after him. You brave, stupid girl.
~
Using the blades of her broken staff as pitons, Shann eased herself down the steep sides of the fissure. Her boots sought toe holds in the rock face. She regretted leaving Alondo, but right now, Boxx could do far more for him than she could. Besides, he would want me to do this. He would want me to save Lyall.
It was up to her. Keris was not going to do anything; in fact it probably suited her purpose to assume that Lyall was dead. That way, she could take charge by default. Not while I’m still alive.
How far this chasm went down, she did not know. The passage was curved slightly, so that light from the entrance above was gradually occluded. Soon, she found she was descending in a gathering crimson dusk. The thought of returning to the surface occurred to her briefly but she dismissed it just as quickly. He needs me.
Shann drove the diamond blades into any available crack or crevice. It was getting difficult to see. Her progress was slower now, as she made her way as much by touch as by sight. Her left side still grumbled from the injury sustained in the battle with the serpent. She gritted her teeth and ignored it. The volcanic heat was becoming oppressive, a steady updraft which washed past her like an exhalation. Beads of sweat began to roll down the side of her face and into her eyes. The odour of sulphur was becoming more persistent. She coughed once…twice. Her head was growing dizzy. Her left boot quested for a hold and found an irregularity. Her toe pressed home, and then slipped. Her sudden weight pulled one of her makeshift pitons free and she was falling backwards. Hot air rushed around and past her body. At last she struck solid ground and her tortured side gave one final angry cry of protest before everything went black.
~
The dark haired waif sat in the older woman’s lap and sniffled. The older woman stroked her hair and the little girl grew quiet. The kitchen at the inn was warm and homely. The silver haired woman smelled of dough and spices.
A portly man in a blue apron stood over them both. His tail swished from side to side. “Shann–Shann, why did you worry us like that?”
The silver haired woman spoke on her behalf. “She fell out of a tree, Poltann, but she’s all right now–aren’t you?” Shann nodded, too choked yet to speak.
“The girl has no business climbing trees. It’s enough that we have the responsibility of caring for her, Gallar. If her father were here–”
“Poltann…” Gallar rebuked him. “Shann has learned her lesson. She will not go climbing trees on her own again– will you?” Shann blinked away the tears and shook her head. Her short, unkempt hair framed an elfin face.
Poltann shook his head. “Look at her; there’s nothing of her. She is small and weak for her age. I suppose we may be able to put her to work in the kitchen, but I really don’t know what she will be good for.”
“Shann will do her best, won’t you?” Gallar soothed. The elfin face nodded once more.
Poltann ran his hand over his bald head, smoothing down hair that had long since departed. “The girl has to learn that she is frail, and that she can’t just go climbing trees. One day she’ll attempt something like that and there won’t be anyone there to rescue her. She has to accept that there are some things that she simply cannot do.”
Shann gradually came to, with Poltann’s words from all those years ago ringing in her ears. “There are some things you simply cannot do.” No–I won’t accept that. Her head felt muzzy and her hand went up to feel a lump on her forehead. Her side still hurt, but no worse than before. She must have been nearly at the bottom when she lost her footing and fell. Shann sat up. The wide shaft stretched away above her. The area around her was a faint circle, surrounded by darkness. The lamp. She found it and fumbled with the tinderbox. Yellow light erupted and pushed back the gloom. She was in a large cavern. Her breathing was laboured. The air was hot and tinged with sulphur. And there were sounds. Distant. Indistinct. Ominous. The beast could return at any moment. She got to her feet gingerly, holding the lamp aloft. The broken pieces of her staff lay nearby on the ground. She gathered them up and then began to explore her surroundings.
The rock floor was surprisingly smooth. She walked in what she judged to be a straight line. Soon the gradient began to incline upwards and she found herself facing a wall. Using the diamond blade on one of the broken pieces of her staff, she carved three intersecting circles into the rock–the Sign of The Three. Shann had never been particularly religious, especially having witnessed firsthand how the Kelanni faith had been corrupted under the Prophet’s influence. However, she needed a mark that would be easily recognisable by her or any one of the others who might decide to come after her and that was the only sign she could think of. Her effort was crude, but effective.
Turning to her left, she followed the wall. Suddenly the wall disappeared into a dark recess–a passageway leading off from the chamber. Shann scrutinised the entrance. Too small. The serpent could not have passed that way. She continued on, moving along the wall, mapping out the cavern in her mind until she was back at the Sign of The Three, her starting point. There were five exits from the cave. Two of them would not have been large enough to allow the creature passage. That left three possible routes. Shann picked one at random and etched another Sign of The Three into the even rock face before heading away from the chamber.
It occurred to her that this subterranean maze could go on endlessly, but she had no choice but to press on. She followed the tunnel, lamplight reflecting back from the walls. After a short while, the walls began to narrow and the ceiling became lower. Not this way.
She doubled back to the large chamber and vigorously scrubbed out the mark she had made. Locating a second possible route, Shann made another mark and moved cautiously into the open passage. A steady current of warm air flowed past her. The lamp guttered. She turned the wick up a fraction before moving forward again. The gradient began to slope gently downwards. After a while, a large shadow on the right wall revealed an adjoining tube. The flow of air was still coming from directly ahead. Shann decided to ignore the side passage and continue on.
The way continued straight. Then her mind registered something odd–an irregularity in the floor. She had almost stepped into it. Shann stopped and leaned forward, rubbing the perspiration from her eyes with the back of her hand. A depression in the ground in front of her was filled with an orange-yellow glow, framed by a web of dark cracks. A lava pool. There was a ledge near the wall to one side, barely wide enough for her feet. Carefully she moved around the pool and tested the ledge with one boot. Slowly she began edging sideways along the rim. Heat rose from the molten rock within the pool, disturbing the surface so that it seemed to breathe like a living thing. A few more sidesteps and she was on the other side. She took a deep breath and resumed her progress.
After a short distance, the tube opened out into another sizeable chamber. She held the lamp aloft and peeked cautiously inside. The soft yellow illumination fell onto a huge shape within. The shape moved, scales scraping against bare rock. The Kharthrun Serpent. Panic rose momentarily in her breast. She extinguished the lamp, stepped back into the darkness and began to think. There was no safe way past the leviathan. More than that, she could not stay here. She had seen the speed at which it moved. If it came this way again, she would be crushed or worse. The side tunnel.
Shann retreated back down the passage, squeezing past the lava pool as quickly as she dared, and ducked back into the adjoining passage. She hunkered down and strained her ears to hear. A low growling sound. It was coming from behind her. She spun round. Half a dozen pairs of red eyes shone out of the pitch dark like steady flames. Shann sat on her haunches, transfixed, torn between the malevolent creatures before her and the gargantuan serpent behind. She made her decision.
Aarrrrgghh! Grabbing Lyall’s staff, she made the fiercest, most guttural sound her throat could muster, and rushed the red-eyed beasts, whirling and slicing indiscriminately. Snarls turned rapidly to squeals. Bodies scuffled and collided with one another. Fiery eyes receded into the blackness.
As silence descended once more, Shann listened intently. After what seemed to be an age, she heard and felt a low rumble. Getting closer. Instinctively, she drew back farther into the side passage. The monstrous form of the serpent appeared in the main passageway. Shann watched as it passed directly in front of her. It felt as if her very bones were being shaken. She waited long after the creature’s tail had flicked past and the rumbling had ceased completely, so that all she could hear was the hammering of her own heart.
Warily, she stepped back into the main passageway and headed for the second cavern once more. She checked behind her for any sign of the serpent’s return, but there was none. Striking the tinderbox, she relit the lamp and examined the vacated chamber. There was something different about it. It was strewn with rocks. No, not rocks. Bones. Shann keened her senses and moved into the chamber. There was something that looked like a mound in the centre. As Shann approached, she saw a pile of bones topped by what looked like a clutch of leathery eggs. And there was something else. A dark shape. Her heart leapt and she hurried over. She saw a figure lying, wrapped in a black cloak with a shock of fair hair. Lyall.
Shann knelt and touched his face. It was warm. Relief washed over her. She placed her hand in front of his nose and felt a faint breath. Quickly, she pulled a flask of water from her belt. Turning him over gently, she put the flask to his lips. The water dribbled from the side of his mouth. His eyes squeezed together and then opened. He looked confused, as if unsure whether he was dreaming. “Shann…what happened?”
Shann whispered as if the beast might somehow overhear. “The serpent snatched you and dragged you down here. I came after you.”
“Wh-where are we?”
“I’m not sure. It looks like some sort of nest. We must leave before it returns. Can you move?” Shann helped him to a sitting position.
He tried to stand, then winced and sat back. “My left leg…it feels like a fracture.”
“Wait here.” Shann got up and cast her eyes about the chamber. She sifted through the bleached skeletal remains, trying not to speculate what or who they might have come from. All of the pieces were broken or too small or not the right shape. Then she suddenly remembered her staff. She pulled the two halves of the broken staff from her belt. Yes. These should work.
Shann placed them beside Lyall and quickly began ripping strips from her own clothing. Then she lashed the broken staff pieces to either side of Lyall’s leg to form a makeshift splint.
Lyall’s brow was covered with perspiration and he looked pale. “You look as if you’ve done this before. I didn’t know you had healing skills.”
Shann smiled as she worked. “From time to time, Gal would treat travellers’ injuries at the inn. Pretty soon she gained a reputation for it. She would let me watch and even help sometimes…There. Can you stand up now?” Lyall struggled up to stand on his good leg, using his staff as a crutch. “Don’t put any pressure on it,” she counselled.
Lyall looked about him. “Which way?”
Shann considered. Her plan, such as it was, had been to return the way she had come. It was obvious, however, that Lyall would not be able to make the climb out of the shaft in his present condition. They would have to find another route.
“How many exits do you think these caves have?” Shann asked.
“Probably several.”
Shann recalled her descent into the fissure. “Air from the Fire Pits rises. If we follow the flow of air, then we should find a way out.”
Lyall grimaced. “All right, let’s see if we can find a way to the surface. After you.”
Shann lifted the lamp and surveyed the chamber. She located two new passages. One seemed to have a stronger air current. “I think we should try this way.” She waited for Lyall to hobble over. Then a thought struck her. “One moment.” She made her way back to the nest and hefted one of the bones, raising it over her head.
“Shann, what are you doing?” Lyall called.
“I’m going to smash these eggs.”
“No.” Lyall declared firmly.
“But…why not?”
“Because the serpent is guilty of nothing except trying to survive, just as we are. We are the ones who invaded its domain. We should let it be.”
Shann let his words sink in, lowering the bone harmlessly as she did so. Lyall had a unique way of looking at things. Yet she found herself agreeing with him. This creature, fearsome and terrible as it was, was not her enemy. It was an astounding creature that was itself part of a unique world that one individual was bent on destroying for his own ends. If she were to commit such a wanton act of destruction–revenge–would she not in fact be serving the very purpose of the person she most despised? Fortified with this insight, and a renewed sense of purpose, Shann, the little orphan girl from Corte, rose to her feet once more. “You’re right. Let’s go.”
~
“I can’t believe it. You mean to tell me that you let Shann go down there on her own?” Alondo was sitting up now, squinting in the early morning sunlight. His scarlet coat looked dusty and worn, but he was remarkably recovered, thanks to Boxx. And he was demanding answers.
Keris felt as if she were being accused of a crime she hadn’t committed. “I did not ‘let her go’. She went before anyone could stop her. She was…upset. I tried to reason with her that it was hopeless but she wouldn’t listen. The next thing I knew, she had gone after Lyall on her own.”
Boxx was sitting on its hind limbs, watching the exchange between the two Kelanni curiously. Alondo was not letting up on the interrogation. “How do you know she went underground? She might have just gone off somewhere.”
“The girl took the lamp from my pack. Besides she was… determined. You know how she is when she gets that way; she doesn’t listen to anyone.” Keris was rapidly losing patience. “Look, every moment we stay here is dangerous. We have to leave. Boxx, can Alondo travel?”
The Chandara replied in its childish tone, “Alondo Can Travel.”
“Then we must leave, now.”
Alondo managed to stand with effort. He met her squarely. “I am not leaving them behind.”
Boxx’s eyes were like black beads, almost pleading. “The Key. You Cannot. You Must Not Leave Lyall And Shann. It Is The Key. It Is The Key.”
Keris had no idea what the Chandara was babbling about, but she had no time for its ramblings. She gave a massive sigh. “All right then. We will get you and Boxx to a safe place. Then I will come back and go down there after her.”
Alondo’s fierce determination melted as quickly as it had arisen. “You are going alone?”
“Yes, well, acts of rank stupidity seem to be the norm for this group, don’t they? Besides, you are in no condition to go.”
“At least take Boxx with you,” Alondo urged. “They might be injured. Boxx can help.”
It made sense. Keris addressed the little creature. “Will you come with me to look for Shann?”
“I Will Come,” it squeaked.
“Good. Then it’s agreed. Let’s pack up so that we can move Alondo somewhere safe.” Keris turned away and hurriedly began assembling her gear. A shout. Alondo’s voice. Keris reached instinctively for her staff, but even as she did so, a part of her registered that the shout was not one of alarm, but of something else. Elation? She looked to where Alondo was pointing. Out of the clouds of wafting steam and smoke a miracle was stumbling. It was unmistakably Lyall, his fair hair dishevelled and his clothes torn, supported by the tiny figure of Shann.
Keris ran towards them, then stopped several paces off, adopting her stoic stance, staff upright, expression drained of emotion. It was as if the arrival of Lyall and Shann had suddenly restored balance. Equilibrium. She was herself once more. Detached. In control. No more were people looking to her for leadership, demanding that she solve all of their problems. Keris stood apart from the celebrations, letting the outflow of feelings from the others wash over her like surf crashing against a granite coast and then ebbing to leave her intact. Secure. Indomitable.
Alondo had already covered the distance to Lyall and Shann, all thoughts of his lingering injuries forgotten. He was feeling their arms and their faces in an apparent effort to confirm that his eyes were not playing tricks. “Are you all right? How…how did you get out?”
Shann helped Lyall to a sitting position. Boxx was bobbing up and down. “It was all quite easy, really.” Lyall touched his injured leg experimentally. “After Shann found me and I regained consciousness, we followed the air currents. Eventually we found a shaft with a fairly gentle incline and crawled our way to the surface. We heard the serpent, but never saw it again.” He looked down at Shann. “I owe her my life.” Shann looked down at the ground. Alondo was beaming at them both.
Keris continued to stand guard. Checking the perimeter. Watching over them like a parent, keeping children safe from their own foolishness.
<><><><><>
Chapter 25
It was the most breathtaking sight that Shann had ever seen. It seemed to go on forever. Shades of crimson and azure blue, topped with myriads of whitecaps, stretched to the very horizon. Waves reared up, breaking against the shoreline. Flocks of birds swooped in and out of the surf, their shrieking cries drifting upwards to Shann’s ears.
“The Aronak Sea,” Alondo announced theatrically, with a wave of his hand. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Shann’s eyes were wide as dinner plates. “It seems to go on forever.”
“Maybe it does,” Lyall speculated. “Over there, some way below the horizon, lies The Great Barrier of Storms. If the sea extends beyond the Barrier, then who knows how far it goes?”
They were strolling down a chine which led through a meadow of yellow and purple grasses. Alondo was on Shann’s left, with Lyall to her right. Keris and Boxx followed a little way behind.
The party’s spirits were high. Keris had led them to a steep but navigable cut through the eastern wall of the canyon, so that they cleared the Pits in less than a day. Boxx had done an amazing job of treating everyone’s injuries, although it pronounced itself extremely tired afterwards–the act of healing seemed to sap its energies. Lyall had even carried it for a while. It seemed fully recovered now, as it trotted next to Keris.
The change in the air was palpable. Instead of oppressive heat and sulphurous steam, there was fresh air and cool sea breezes. Shann was mesmerised by the immensity of the sea. She pointed at a distant shape moving over the water. “Is that…a ship?”
“It certainly is,” Lyall declared. “Ships ply up and down the coast between Leota, Sakara and Kalath-Kar, as well as many of the smaller settlements. They carry everything from moba root to gold.”
“We will be at Sakara by this time tomorrow,” Keris announced from behind.
Alondo whipped his hat off and threw it into the air. “Whoo hoo!” He ran to retrieve his hat and settled it back on his head.
Shann chuckled. “You’ve been there before, I take it?”
Alondo nodded. “Lyall and I spent some time there a few years ago. It’s probably my favourite place in all of Kelanni. You’re going to love it.”
Keris snorted. Shann, Lyall and Alondo all turned round to look at her. “It’s a lawless place,” she retorted, “a den of thieves and cutpurses.”
“That is not true,” Alondo countered, “the lawless part, I mean. They have very strict laws in Sakara. And the Asoli are always there to keep order.”
“Asoli?” Shann enquired.
“Yes, they’re the city watch. You’ll notice them right off. They have green jackets and large plumed hats–almost as nice as mine.” Alondo grinned expansively.
“The Asoli are the eyes and ears of the Guilds,” Lyall explained. “The Guilds run the port city. There is an uneasy peace between the Guild Master and the Prophet in Chalimar. The Keltar and the Prophet’s soldiers could probably overrun Sakara and the lightly armed Asoli would not be able to do much about it, but holding on to the port would require a major investment of troops and resources that are currently being used to secure and refine the lodestone ore. So the Guilds pay a healthy stipend to the Prophet, in return for which they are largely left alone.”
“The Asoli are a joke,” Keris cut in. “Ask him what would happen if they saw someone steal your purse. Go ahead.”
“Redistribution of wealth is legal in Sakara,” Alondo returned, without waiting for the question.
Keris scowled. “Redistribution? You mean theft.”
“Theft…commerce…it’s all the same really.” Shann looked puzzled. “Look,” Alondo continued, “If I make something and sell it for more than it cost me to make, then that’s a kind of stealing.”
“That’s profit, not stealing,” Keris corrected.
“It all amounts to the same thing,” Alondo shot back. “If Shann does a day’s work for me and earns a quarter astria, but I only pay her an eighth, it’s no different than if I went to her at the end of the day and stole the eighth from her. In Sakara the only difference is that they recognise all dishonesty for what it is and declare it to be legal. I have always found the fact that the Sakarans are so honest about their dishonesty to be quite refreshing.”
Keris shook her head. “You’re not even making any sense.”
“Indeed,” Lyall agreed. “That’s all a part of his enduring charm.”
“Why, thank you,” Alondo removed his hat and bowed expansively. “Actually, theft, as you call it, is highly regulated by the Guilds, along with all forms of commerce. Stealing from children, the elderly or any vulnerable people is strictly forbidden, as are all forms of violence. No-one ever gets attacked in Sakara. I doubt the good citizens of Chalimar or Corte or Lind could say the same, especially when the Keltar pay a visit.” He looked back at Keris pointedly.
“Keris is no longer Keltar,” Lyall reminded him.
Alondo grinned from ear to ear. “Then she should love it in Sakara.”
~
Shann sat by the fire with her arms wrapped around her knees, looking out to sea. Ail-Mazzoth’s gentle light lent a tinge of pale pink to the breakers. The red sun sat low behind her in the western sky, dominating the night.
Alondo’s silhouette approached and sat down beside her. They sat in silence for a while. Finally, the musician spoke. “Enjoying the view on your own?”
“Yes,” she returned.
“Pretend I’m not here then.”
Shann smiled as she felt the cool onshore breeze and smelled the freshness of the ocean. “I’d love to sail in a ship.”
“Who are you talking to?”
“No-one,” she replied innocently.
“I see.” Alondo splayed his arms out behind him and stretched his legs out in front. The dune on which they were sitting was peppered with tufts of purple grass, running down to the beach. Small creatures scuttled across the wet sand, busy about their night errands. “Boxx says we are due to get another message day after tomorrow.”
“Really?” She unclasped her arms and turned to stare at him, all thoughts of their little charade forgotten.
“Yes…well I’m pretty sure at any rate. You know what having a conversation with a Chandara is like. I ask it, ‘What is the time of the next message from Annata?’ And it says ‘It Is The Time Of The Next Message,’ or something like that and then we go round and round for a while and I ask again, ‘How many days to the next message?’ And it says ‘Two,’ so I say, ‘You mean two days?’ And it says, ‘Two, Two, Two.’” He was doing a fair approximation of Boxx’s thin, high squeak, and Shann was giggling uncontrollably. “Of course, it could have just been a Chandara mating call for all I know, but I think it was trying to tell us that we can expect the next communication soon.”
“I wonder what Chandara mating habits are? Perhaps someone should ask it.” Shann chuckled.
“I nominate you,” Alondo countered. “Anyhow, we can’t do much more till then, so Lyall has a surprise planned for tomorrow.”
Shann’s eyes grew round. “What is it?”
“Can’t say. It’s a secret.” Shann looked at him doe eyed. “Well, all right, since you forced it out of me, we’re having a celebration at an inn near the wharf, The Calandra.
Her eyes lit up, then her face fell almost immediately. “But…I haven’t anything to wear.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Alondo confided, “It’s not that kind of celebration.”
“Oh,” Shann responded, not entirely understanding his meaning. She grew quiet, as her main preoccupation pushed itself to the forefront of her thoughts yet again. “Alondo?”
“Yes?”
“What do we do if Annata doesn’t contact us?”
“You have to have faith, Shann.”
She sighed. “I’m afraid I’ve never been very religious.”
“I wasn’t talking about that kind of faith–although there is a place for that. I meant faith in the people around you, those you work with, who want the same things you do…like Keris.” Alondo flashed a sideways glance as if he had thrown a ball and wanted to see if she would catch it.
Shann was staring out across the sea once more. “She would have left him to die.”
“You mean Lyall?” Alondo followed her gaze out to sea as if he were seeking the same answers as she was. “Did you know that she was preparing to go down there with Boxx to get you when you two turned up?”
Shann felt the old resentment welling up inside her. This is Alondo. He thinks well of everyone. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true, Shann. I was out of it, as you know. It was her idea to go after you. She was going to go alone. I persuaded her to take Boxx. Then you and Lyall appeared out of nowhere.” He frowned. “You know, Keris was right. As Keltar, she is trained to think tactically in any action, to assess the odds. The odds said that Lyall should have been dead, that any attempt to rescue him would only put more lives at risk. However,” he put his arm around her shoulder, “what she doesn’t know–what you proved –is that sometimes, love and friendship can beat the odds.”
A tear rolled down Shann’s cheek as they sat in silence together, listening to the gentle soughing of the dimly sunlit sea.
~
Sakara. A heady perfume of salt, sweat and spice. The creaking of masts. The gentle lapping of water against the quayside. Gundir barking. Children chasing each other through a maze of oddly shaped crates. Weather-worn sailors and thieves jostling with noble women and grandees. Gaudy merchants proffering exotic articles from beneath the shelter of brightly coloured awnings. Birds wheeling overhead, squabbling for scraps. Shann’s senses were overcome by the rush of sensations. Sakara was Life–raw, unalloyed, unpretentious.
The party strolled across the wharf. Barques and luggers were laid to, side by side, their masts crammed together like an offshore forest. Alondo took in the scene with a sweep of his hand. “Well,” he grinned at Shann, “what do you think?”
“It’s…amazing,” she replied honestly. She pointed to a tall figure in a green jacket and large plumed hat, who seemed to be watching over the goings on at the docks like a hungry perridon. “Is that one of them?”
“One of the Asoli, yes,” Alondo affirmed. “Don’t worry. They won’t bother anyone unless they spot an infraction of the commerce laws.”
Keris had been watching over Boxx, fending off the prying looks of onlookers with her own fierce stare. The curiosity seekers scurried away, suddenly recalling some life or death errand. She turned to Lyall anxiously. “I’m not sure this place is safe for Boxx.”
Lyall regarded the Chandara, who was standing on its hind limbs, watching the hustle and bustle with its head cocked to one side. “I’m sure it will be fine. People are bound to be inquisitive–the overwhelming majority will never have seen a Chandara before. But remember, all forms of violence are strictly forbidden here. Besides, this is a very cosmopolitan city. Folk are used to sights that are out of the ordinary.”
“Kelanni Live Close Here. Like Chandara In The Great Tree.” Boxx’s chirping voice sounded wistful, homesick.
Lyall bent down to address the creature directly. “Boxx, how many days till the next message from Annata?”
“One,” it responded confidently.
Lyall drew himself erect again, “Well we can’t do much until then. So later on, after some sightseeing, I thought we might make a night of it.”
“At the Calandra,” Shann finished.
Lyall’s eyes narrowed. He looked from Shann to Alondo and back again. “Yes, at the Calandra. I see our musician friend’s tongue has been wagging again.”
“She forced it out of me,” Alondo pleaded.
“I’m sure she did.” Lyall’s face was serious, but his blue eyes had a twinkle in them.
Keris’ forehead was creased. “I assume that is a drinking establishment? I think we should avoid doing anything to attract attention to ourselves. In any case, I don’t drink; neither does Boxx. And the girl is too young.”
Shann shot the older woman a look of pure resentment. Fortunately, Lyall cut in before she could respond. “Nonsense. If she is old enough to save my life, then she’s old enough for a mug of horge. As for Boxx, it might enjoy liquor for all we know. I don’t recall anyone having asked it. You are welcome to come with us. You can drink plain water if you like and make sure we don’t embarrass ourselves too much.”
Shann felt a wicked sense of satisfaction at seeing Keris put in her place. Whatever tomorrow held in store, she was going to enjoy this evening. Perhaps it’s time for a new outfit, after all? Smiling brightly, she hooked her arm into Alondo’s and led him off towards the brightly coloured stalls.
~
The Calandra was set in an imposing four storey terrace, fronting the wharf area. Shann had learned that Calandra was the name of a famous ship, captained by a certain Arval, who seemed to have more stories, exploits, anecdotes and downright tall tales attributed to him than any person could reasonably accomplish in a single lifetime. Shann was seriously coming to doubt whether such an individual had ever really existed, but his ship was depicted on a large board outside the inn’s entrance, as if testifying to the truth of the claims.
The inside of the Calandra was big, much bigger than the Wayfarer in Corte. The spacious seating area had an air of flamboyance and frippery that was in stark contrast to the plainness and austerity of hostelries within the Prophet’s area of influence. Ornate bronze lamps set in rich wood panelling cast a warm glow over the eclectic mix of patrons. Waitresses in blue cote-hardies sailed between tables like carracks in full sail, balancing trays piled with plates of food and steaming mugs of horge. The noise level was pleasantly rowdy.
The party were bivouacked at a corner table–Keris had insisted. The dark haired woman sat in her traditional dark colours with her back to the wall, eyes flicking from one individual to another. She looked as if she were picking out targets. Shann was dressed in a light blue gown, drawn in at the waist and swept to the floor. It was the prettiest, most impractical and easily the most expensive garment she had ever worn in her life. Alondo was seated next to Shann, his crimson suit and hat now cleaned and pressed. He whispered in her ear every so often, sending the girl into fits of giggles. Boxx was perched on a stool next to Keris, sipping from a mug of horge. As it quaffed, its mouth rippled in a way that Shann found hysterically funny.
Lyall was on a stool next to Alondo, cradling the mug before him, looking quite contented. He had purchased a magnificent black and white outfit for the occasion, trimmed with gold and silver brocade, which drew admiring glances from staff and patrons alike. He could easily have been taken for a highborn noble. What is your background? Where do you come from? Even after so many days of living, working and battling together, Shann realised that she still knew next to nothing about Lyall’s origins. He seemed to have a talent for avoiding the subject.
The table was becoming increasingly messy, with spills of horge, discarded plates and scattered scraps of food. A waitress with a delicate chin and fair hair that cascaded about her shoulders appeared, deftly sweeping away the leftovers and empty mugs and replacing them with fresh mugs of the steaming brew. Shann whooped with delight and took a decidedly unladylike swig. The waitress regarded Alondo coquettishly before moving on to the next table.
Shann’s eyes widened. She snickered into Alondo’s ear, “I think she likes you.”
“You mean Gianna?” Alondo whispered. “Never seen her before.”
Shann slapped him playfully on the shoulder. Her eyes alighted on the table next to them. It was empty, save for a cross shaped board with stone pieces mounted on it. She clapped her hands. “Look, sassatan.”
“Shassatan,” Lyall corrected. “Do you play, Keris?”
The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “It is a required part of training at the keep; you know that.”
“Perhaps you should ask someone for a game?” Lyall suggested.
Keris huffed, “I seriously doubt whether anyone in this establishment could give me a worthwhile game.”
Shann was wriggling on her stool. “Ooooh, let me play. I want to learn, pleeease?”
“We’re not having you play Keris,” Lyall ruled. “There’d be blood on the board.”
“I’ll play.” All eyes turned to Alondo.
“You?” Keris had an expression as if she had just detected a foul odour. “What do you know of tactics?”
“Nothing, really, I suppose.”
“Have you even played the game before?” Keris sounded exasperated.
“Once or twice…I think.”
Keris waved a dismissive hand. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Winning isn’t everything,”
Keris looked as if he had just said something blasphemous. “Of course it is.”
Alondo shrugged. “If you say so. Shall we play?”
There was a scraping of stools against floorboards as they all stood up and transferred to the shassatan table. Boxx hopped down from its perch and climbed onto a stool next to Keris, leaning over the board as if it were studying it. “You Move, They Move, You Win.”
“That’s the general idea,” Keris concurred. They selected the placement of their pieces on the board: red for Alondo, yellow for Keris. “Would you like a handicap?” she offered.
“Oh…no, I don’t think so.”
“Very well,” she motioned to Alondo. “After you.”
“Why, thank you.” Alondo bowed his head formally. His hand hovered over a red piece. “This is The Fool,” he announced. He paused uncertainly. “Does The Fool move two spaces or three?”
“Three,” Keris’ impatience was starting to show through. “Do you need me to go over the rules?”
“Er, no…no. I’m sure it will all come back to me as we play.” He moved the piece the required number of spaces, then twirled it between his fingers as if trying to make up his mind. “Northern…er, no sorry, Eastern orientation.”
Keris picked up a yellow piece, holding it between thumb and forefinger. “The Door,” she declared, looking at Alondo as if she were instructing a small child. She moved it four spaces towards the centre of the board and turned it so that it faced sideways. “West.”
Shann’s horge soaked brain was confused. She turned to Lyall. “All the pieces look the same.”
“That’s right. Shassatan involves memory skills as well as tactical and positional training. You have to remember your pieces’ designation, as well as those of your opponent. Certain strategies can even alter a piece’s designation during a game. Also you notice that at the end of each move, every piece is given a ‘facing’, which raises its defence rating on that side.”
Shann blinked. “It sounds really complicated.”
Lyall laughed. “Oh, this is nothing. Shassatan can be played by up to four players. Imagine trying to keep that lot in your head. A full game is normally played with twenty-one pieces a side, but the number of starting pieces isn’t fixed. Beginners usually start with four of five pieces a side and build up from there. You can also have unequal starting numbers, where an experienced player will agree to start with less pieces to even up the game. That’s called a handicap.
“What makes the game so fascinating is that with the number of different possible designations of pieces and the various combinations of strategies between them, the possibilities are virtually endless. No two games are ever alike.”
Pieces were being thinned out as they were moved across the board. Both sides of the table were littered with those captured or sacrificed. A subtle change in the players was also taking place. Alondo’s moves were becoming faster and more confident. Keris, on the other hand, was hesitating more, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Shann cupped her hand to Lyall’s ear. “When does it end?” she whispered.
“When one side or the other no longer has the right pieces to form a strategy, they cannot win,” Lyall confided. At that point ‘Kada-Lorran’ is declared.” He registered her puzzled expression. “It means ‘victory and defeat.’”
“Ah…” she acknowledged, adding, “Who do you think will win?”
Lyall’s eyes were smiling a secret smile. “Wait and see.”
Keris seemed paralysed by indecision. Finally, she moved two pieces so that they were adjacent to a third.
“Facing?” Alondo asked.
“Oh, er…North,” she replied distractedly.
Alondo smiled his sweetest smile, went to a piece immediately and moved it ten spaces into the centre of the board. Still smiling, he turned it. “South.” Keris was staring at the board intently. “Did I make a wrong move?” he asked innocently.
“What? No…no…” her voice trailed off.
“I think your Wheel is threatened,” he suggested, helpfully.
“Yes, I see that, thank you.”
Shann’s face was buried in Lyall’s shoulder. She was stuffing the brocade on the lapel of his jacket into her mouth to try and suppress her laughter. Her small body shook with the effort.
Keris shot her a look of irritation. She turned back to Alondo, her voice formal. “Lorran.”
“Kadda.” He announced with a mock version of her own formality. He stood up from his stool and bowed. “Thanks for the game. I could give you a handicap next time, if you like?”
Shann finally lost control. She released Lyall, doubling up in fits of raucous laughter, drawing attention from nearby tables.
Keris ignored her with some effort. “You deceived me,” she accused Alondo.
Alondo’s eyes widened. His hands moved to his chest in a gesture of injured innocence. “Me?”
“You led me to believe you were less experienced than you are.”
Lyall moved to intervene. “Well, I’m surprised a trained investigator couldn’t spot the clues.” He ticked off his fingers one by one. “First, he’s a genius. Second, he’s a musician by trade. Where do you think musicians spend most of their time?”
“Playing in inns and public houses,” Keris acknowledged.
“Exactly.”
“So the two of you set me up?”
“Only in fun…and as a way of helping you to relax. After all, he did give you a challenging game.”
Keris appeared mollified by Lyall’s explanation. She rose from her stool and formally returned Alondo’s bow. “Thank you. I look forward to our next encounter.”
Shann had her arm around Alondo’s shoulder. Good friends. Good food. Good company. She could not remember a time in her life when she had felt so contented. “How about another drink?” she suggested amiably.
Far off in another corner of the Calandra, a figure in a black and red tunic and black trousers sat alone at a table half in shadow, watching the party surreptitiously. As he raised his mug to his lips, a ring was visible on his index finger, bronze and set with a single stone of the deepest ebony.
<><><><><>
Chapter 26
Shann awoke the next morning feeling muzzy-headed. They had secured two rooms at the Calandra, one for Lyall and Alondo and one for her and Keris. Boxx had naturally accompanied Keris and no-one had argued the point.
As she came to and struggled to focus, she quickly realised that Keris and Boxx were gone. She was alone. Like everything else at the Calandra, the bed was soft and sumptuous–not at all what she was used to, but highly pleasant for all that. She was sorely tempted to turn over and go back to sleep, but the light level told her that it was well past the time for her to rise. Besides, she was curious as to what the others were up to.
Reluctantly, she pushed back the covers and padded across the wooden floor to a side table where a basin of fresh water stood. The rush of cold water on her face brought her to full wakefulness. She found some clean clothes in a dresser and slipped out into the corridor. Going to the door of the adjacent room, she knocked lightly. The door opened and she was gratified to see Alondo’s round face.
He beamed at her. “We thought you were going to sleep all day.” He opened the door fully and beckoned her inside. Lyall and Keris stood to one side, watching Boxx. The Chandara had the machine from the past set up in the middle of the floor. Light reflected off the gold and silver coloured workings, but the device was otherwise inactive. Shann and Alondo took up a place on the other side of Boxx.
Lyall looked up. He seemed pleased to see her. “How are you this morning?”
Shann was still feeling a little fragile. She realised she probably needed some food inside her, but that would have to wait. “I’m fine. What is Boxx up to? ”
“You got here just in time,” Lyall informed her. He was wearing a rustic brown tunic and trousers, in sharp contrast with his ostentatious outfit of the previous evening. “Boxx says that Annata is due to contact us shortly.”
“She will expect us to be on the other side of the world by now,” Keris reminded them. “We are going to have to break the news that the tower was destroyed.”
“Do you think there is another way to get there?” Shann asked.
Keris was looking tired and anxious. Her hair was uncombed. “Let’s hope she knows of one. And that we are not already too late.” Was she being genuine? Or was she merely saying what she thought they wanted to hear? She remembered what Lyall had said about the difficult journey that both she and Keris were on. Lyall had been prepared to give her a second chance, but in doing so, he had chosen a dangerous path for everyone. It was a second chance for her to betray them all. She claimed that she had turned against her overseer and left him dead in the Gilah, but there was no way of verifying that–they only had her word. One persistent thought kept nagging at the back of her mind–Keltar do not turn against the Prophet.
Then there was Boxx. In some ways, its role in all of this was just as much of a mystery. Chandara do not lie; Lyall had said as much. Deep down, Shann believed that to be true. But could it be deceived? Was it possible that the Keltar had somehow run across Boxx and the machine from the past and had seen an opportunity to use the situation for her own ends?
Shann could not help but think back to last evening’s game of shassatan. During their epic journey together, moves had been made; gambits employed; strategies followed. Now was the decisive point. Kada-Lorran. Victory or Defeat. It all comes down to this.
“It Is Time.” Boxx’s announcement brought a deathly silence to the room. Shann hardly dared to breathe. The Chandara stretched forth its left middle forelimb and touched the panel set into the mechanism’s circular base. It did so again. And a third time. Nothing. No gentle hum emanated from the delicate components. The row of lights remained stubbornly dull. It was for all intents and purposes dead.
Broken. She broke it after all. Shann was filled with despair and disgust. She fired a look at Keris, but the older woman was looking intensely at the scene in the middle of the room and did not notice, or pretended not to.
Alondo had moved to Boxx’s side and was on his haunches, inspecting the device. His hand touched a part of the inner apparatus, then went to his chin.
“Well?” Lyall finally broke the silence.
Alondo was continuing to stare into the unfathomable mix of brightly coloured parts. “All I can say for sure is that there is still no power getting to the unit. Whether that is due to the earlier damage, or the fact that no power is being transferred to it, I just don’t know. I’m sorry.”
A pall had settled over the gathering. Finally Lyall drew himself erect and spoke to no-one in particular. “Well, it seems we have some thinking to do–and I for one don’t think well on an empty stomach. I am going to order up breakfast. I want everyone downstairs as soon as it’s ready.” His tone brooked no argument.
The group slowly dispersed, each one to their own private room of dejection.
~
The table at the back of the Inn was laden with a sumptuous repast of flatbreads, sweetmeats and an amazing variety of fruits, both dried and fresh. At any other time, Shann would have happily piled her platter high and ate her fill. Yet now she was doing little more than picking at the seeds on a pastry or rolling a janaberry around on her plate. The others were showing scarcely more of an appetite than her. Only Boxx seemed unaffected as it munched a yellow fruit contentedly with its eyes closed. She envied the little creature. The little girl in her resented the thought of all that food going to waste. Maybe later.
Lyall was seated at the head of the table; his eyes rested on each of them in turn. When he reached Shann, she met his look and smiled encouragingly. She did not want to let him down, although she was not sure what any of them was supposed to do now.
Finally he began, “I can appreciate that you are all disappointed. We made the journey here in the hope that Annata would contact us and tell us how we might cross the Great Barrier. However, for whatever reason, it seems she has been unable to do so. She told us before that she had devoted her life to the salvation of the Kelanni of our time. I believe that she is even now doing everything she can to get through to us. In the meantime, we must continue to do our part.” He paused as if waiting for a response, but no-one spoke. He tied the threads of his purpose into a single knot. “We must cross the Great Barrier ourselves.”
Keris who was seated to his left, lifted her head from her empty plate. “And how do you propose that we do that?”
Lyall smiled enigmatically. “I was hoping that you were going to tell me.”
Alondo smiled back from the seat on his right. “I thought jokes were my speciality.”
“I mean it.” Lyall leaned back on his stool and spread both hands wide. “Look, The Great Barrier of Storms lies over there,” he pointed vaguely towards the front of the inn, “just across the Aronak Sea. All we need to do is cross it.”
“None of us knows how to sail a vessel,” Alondo pointed out.
“It doesn’t matter.” Keris was staring down at her plate once more. “The storms are impenetrable. Any ship that approaches would have its sails torn to shreds. If it strikes sail, it would have no way to push against the massive winds. At best it would be blown back to this side; at worst it would be swamped and capsize. There is no way through.”
Keris’ summary was like a funeral oration. Silence descended once again. Then, as if out of nowhere, the merest suggestion appeared at the back of Shann’s mind. Something Keris had just said. She scrabbled around in the junk room of her memories, as if desperately searching for a lost volume. Her hand closed around a book and she picked it up. There was a single word on the cover. Push.
“Maybe we could use lodestone?” she heard herself say. She looked around and saw that her companions were all staring at her.
“How do you mean, Shann?” Lyall asked in a kindly voice.
Shann swallowed. She was now the centre of attention. The idea was still taking shape in her mind, and she was concerned that she might sound foolish. She gathered her wits and addressed Lyall directly, as if the others were not there. “The…the training stones you showed me at the farmhouse–do you still have them?”
Lyall reached down to his belt and produced a small pouch, handing it across the table to Shann. “There you go.”
Shann hastily rearranged and stacked plates and mugs until she had a clear section of table in front of her. Then she untied the string at the neck of the pouch and peeked inside, selecting two stones; one white, one black. The black stone resisted her pull slightly. She set the white disc on the table and the black one next to it. Immediately, the two discs began to move in the direction of the white disc until both dropped off the end of the tabletop. She bent down to pick them up, and held up the white disc between her thumb and forefinger. “Say the white stone is our ship.” She held the black disc in her other hand. “We could use lodestone to push it from behind using …a barge or something.”
Keris had an expression of rapt attention. “Intriguing.” Then she added, “A pity we couldn’t actually do it.”
Shann felt instantly deflated. “Why not?”
Lyall cut in. “I’m afraid I’d have to agree with Keris. Your idea is fine in theory, Shann. Unfortunately though, a ship, even a relatively small ship, weighs a lot. It would take a lot of lodestone to push it–far more than we could possibly lay our hands on. If we had unlimited time and resources then maybe it would be possible, but we don’t. Still,” he beamed at her warmly, “it was a great suggestion.”
Basking in his smile of approval, she felt herself blossom once more. However, the fact remained that they were no further forward.
Boxx was still enjoying the fruit and seemed not to be paying any attention. Suddenly it raised its head. Juice was running from the corners of its mouth, lending it a comical appearance. “It Is A Boundary.”
Lyall had a bemused expression. “In a way, yes.”
“A Boundary Between Here And There.”
“Boxx is right,” Lyall declared. “Any boundary can be crossed. We just need to figure out a way.” He pursed his lips for a moment. “All right, let’s approach this from a different angle. Is there any instance of anyone ever successfully traversing the Barrier? ”
“I know of one.” It was Alondo.
“You do?” Keris asked incredulously.
Alondo nodded, “Uh-huh. Captain Arval is said to have crossed it once.”
“Captain Arval?” Keris turned away dismissively. “You mean one of those ridiculous stories.”
“Stories are a part of Kelanni culture,” Alondo maintained. “They also happen to be a valuable source of inspiration for songs, so I always pay attention to them. I have found that in among the exaggerated claims, there is more often than not, a grain of truth.”
Lyall leaned forward on his stool. “Go ahead, Alondo. Tell us the story.”
Alondo glanced in Keris’ direction. “The legend says that Arval was offered a great sum of money by the Lord of Kalath-Kar to determine what lay beyond the Barrier. He travelled to the Isle of Panna. There he captured and tamed three giant perridons. He tethered them to the bow of his ship and used them to pull it through the tempests.”
Shann was intrigued. “What happened? ”
“Well this is where the account starts to get a little strange. It says they were ‘brought forth into a land of darkest dark, where the sky is bright but there are no suns.’”
“What does that mean?” Shann asked.
Alondo shook his head. “I have no idea. However, it goes on to tell of how the crew of the Calandra were terrified and on the brink of mutiny. Arval was forced to take them back across the divide. Afterwards, some of them were said to have gone mad. Others never took to sea again. ” He paused for a reaction but everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts. Surely it could not be true. Annata would not send them to such a terrible place.
“What I found interesting, ” Alondo continued, “is that this one is quite unlike the other stories surrounding the good Captain, where he is portrayed as the all conquering hero. He came close to losing his ship and crew. ”
“It’s nothing more than a legend,” Keris reminded them.
Lyall had a faraway look. “Perhaps. But it’s given me an idea. I think there might be a way to combine Shann’s rather inventive notion of using lodestone with Arval’s fanciful tale. It’s risky, but I think we may just have found a way to cross the Great Barrier.
“How?” Alondo asked eagerly.
Lyall’s eyes sparkled. “First things first. We are going to need a ship. ”
~
Shann stood with her back to the wall of the shipwright’s office, watching the world go by. Opposite her, a hodgepodge of buildings large and small, boarding houses, moneylenders, traders of every description. Carts drawn by striped graylesh trundled past along the cobbled street, conveying goods from the docks and back again. As she watched, an argument broke out between a round faced, hook nosed merchant and what she took to be a customer. The round faced man seemed to be demanding money. Over on the street corner, the tall figure of an Asoli, in distinctive green jacket and feathered headgear watched over the altercation, ready to intervene. The sky was overcast and a warm drizzle had begun, spattering on the round cobblestones and trickling down the back of her neck.
Shann felt like a fifth wheel. Alondo and Boxx were back at the Calandra. Alondo had had expressed the idea that if he could discover what type of energy the machine used, they might be able to power it from this end, so Lyall suggested that he stay behind with the Chandara and work on it. He would take her and Keris into town. Then they would all meet up at the Calandra later that evening. Lyall had been rather cagey about his plan for them to cross the Barrier. All he had really said was that it would be necessary to arrange to modify a ship.
“Why am I coming along? ” Shann had asked as they headed uphill towards the commercial district.
“Well, I thought it would be more interesting for you than just sitting around at the inn,” Lyall had explained. Now he and Keris were ensconced in the shipwrights, discussing the finer points of maritime vessel construction, and she was left outside in the street. Just waiting. In the rain.
She wrapped the simple russet coloured robe tighter around her neck and felt a jingle in one of the folds. Lyall had given her half an astria. To the orphan kitchen hand in Corte, it would have been a fabulous sum of money and she would have been consumed by thoughts of how she could possibly spend it. Now though, standing here on a street in a city filled with more wonders and temptations than she had ever seen, she found that there was nothing she wanted. At least, nothing that money could buy. You are not the same person who left Corte–that was what Lyall had said. More and more, she was coming to realise that was true.
She was debating whether or not to enter the shipwright’s to ask how much longer they were going to be, when the door opened and Keris stepped out into the street, closely followed by Lyall.
Lyall was contrite. “Sorry it took so long, Shann. ” He looked up at the sky and the gathering rain. “We’ve agreed on the modifications that will be needed. The chief artisan was curious, but fortunately, this is a town where people don’t ask too many questions so long as you have the money to pay. Our next task is to secure a suitable ship so that he can start work. We will also need someone to sail it, plus a certain quantity of lodestone. That last one may prove a bit difficult.” He began leading the way back down to the docks. “The other thing is that the alterations will take a while–ten to twelve days, he reckons. That can’t be avoided.”
They reached the corner where the Asoli was standing watch. A blur of movement. A dark figure shot past them. Shann swivelled on her heel to see the back of a dark blue coat disappearing into the rain. Behind her she heard Lyall ’s shout, tinged with frustration and anger. “The money pouch–it’s gone.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 27
Keris was already pulling her flying cloak out of her pack. “You haven’t brought yours, have you?” It was a rebuke, rather than a question. She fastened the neck clasps. “You are the Door; I am the Dagger,” she addressed Lyall. “River and Dam. Try not to lose sight of him.” She turned and sprinted up the street.
“Remember Keris, no violence,” she heard Lyall call after her. Does stomping on his head count? She shoved one lumbering pedestrian to one side, clipping a basket with her elbow. There was an angry shout as red and yellow fruits rolled across the cobbles. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the green uniformed Asoli on the corner was headed in her direction. She was attracting too much attention. And the thief was getting away. She cursed to herself and pounded away through the rain.
Keris blipped the upper lodestone layer of her cloak as she ran, seeking any natural lodestone that might lie beneath the old city. She needed to gain height, both to evade the Asoli and to track the criminal. The only deposits she could detect seemed to be fairly weak, but she managed to leap from one and immediately push against another, sailing up through the air to land on an adjacent roof. She dashed across the eaves, drawing stares and shouts from the street below.
The thief would be working to a definite plan–he was probably not operating alone. An accomplice had no doubt been keeping watch over the shipwright’s office while they were inside. It was even possible that they had been targeted at the Calandra and followed here. She had tried to warn the others about the dangers of this place and had urged them to keep a low profile but as usual, Lyall had overruled her in his cavalier fashion. Now, once again, they were in a life-threatening situation. This is not a game.
Rain was falling steadily now; her boots felt slick against the smooth stone slates. She had to be careful not to lose her footing. Reaching the gable end, she hauled herself up onto the next building, then scaled the ridge. Standing on the apex, with one foot planted firmly on each slope, Keris had a bird’s eye view of the port city.
Irregular roofs jutted into the air like a row of jagged peaks. Below her, a knot of curiosity seekers were running and pointing, following her progress. The tall Asoli in his distinctive green was visible in the centre of the throng. She peered through the curtain of rain up the length of the bustling street. After a moment, she spied Lyall and Shann racing away in pursuit of the thief, unmolested. Serendipity. Her clumsiness had diverted attention from the real chase. All she had to do now was lose her spectators and then execute the strategy.
The first was childishly simple. She ducked down the opposite slope and moved rapidly along the roof, out of sight of the crowd. She followed a course roughly parallel to that of Lyall and Shann. Thanks to her rooftop survey, Keris now had a map in her head of the streets in the immediate area. There was a fork in the road, ahead of Lyall and Shann’s position. Assuming the thief did not turn and face them that left him two choices. Whichever road he took, one of them would give chase and the other would follow the remaining route. Hopefully, Lyall would have explained the strategy to Shann as they ran together. If nothing else, the girl was quick. She would get the idea.
River and Dam. River–channel the enemy down a single path. Dam–close it off, trapping him in front and behind. Keris darted across the uneven roofs, hopping over the gaps between narrow alleyways. She moved with the grace of a dagan, as if she had been born to this rooftop world. There were fewer people in the street on this side, and most were too preoccupied with finding shelter from the downpour to look up.
She was near the point where the road forked in two. Keris clambered up to a chimney breast and spotted Lyall pursuing blue-coat down the right hand street. Shann had taken the left fork, with the intention of cutting right at the first intersection, narrowing the thief’s options.
They had to run him down quickly. Street thieves usually had a number of bolt holes at various points around the city, leading to underground or sewer networks. If he reached one before they could catch him, he would no doubt disappear like smoke. For all she had come to detest the Prophet’s form of oppression, at least crime in Chalimar was virtually unheard of. No-one wanted to fall foul of the Keltar or end up as ‘tribute.’ At least there, she didn’t have to deal with this kind of vermin.
Blue-coat ducked right down a passage between two low buildings. Keris slid down the right side of the high roof and scuttled along the eaves until she detected a deposit under the street below. She stepped off the overhang, using the lodestone to slow her descent. She touched down, cloak outstretched, in front of a thin, balding man in a stained apron. He was pushing a handcart laden with fish. The man gawped so that he looked like one of his charges.
“Pardon me.” Keris loped away, leapt into the air and disappeared over the rooftops of the street opposite. It seemed to be a warehousing area, of newer construction than the shops and offices. The roof area was lower and more even. She swept across her private world, high up over the city, until she reached the opposite end of the alley into which the blue-coated thief had vanished. Lying flat against the tiles, she waited, like a vara-cat, ready to pounce. Moments later, the thief appeared. He allowed himself the luxury of a glance behind him, to check for signs of pursuit. In that instant, Keris rose up and sailed through the air, alighting right in front of him. The man barely had time to turn his head back and register shock before Keris had an arm around his throat. She did not have a weapon, but against a worm such as this, she didn’t need one.
“You have something that belongs to us,” she breathed into his ear.
The man’s windpipe was constricted. “I…gcchhhh.”
Lyall appeared in the alley, looking anxious rather than pleased. “Keris, don’t–”
“You are under arrest.” Keris heard a sonorous voice behind her. She whirled around, still clutching the thief. A mountain of a man stood head and shoulders above her, clad in a green uniform, his height accentuated by his tall feathered hat. Asoli.
She released her hold on the thief and rapidly considered her next action. According to the edicts of this cockeyed city, the common pickpocket she had forcibly accosted was a law abiding citizen, whereas she had just committed a serious crime. She had no doubt that she could subdue the huge Asoli, even unarmed as she was. However, the thief would likely get away with their money in the confusion and if there were other Asoli in the neighbourhood, the results could be quite unpleasant. She had no idea what the penalty was for attacking one of the city watch, but she was certain it would not be trivial. And if Lyall and Shann were implicated…curse this wretched place.
Shann came running up and came to a halt just behind Lyall. She looked uncertain.
All of a sudden, the thief cleared his throat and spoke up. “Is there a problem, watchkeeper?
The mountain placed a massive hand on Keris’ shoulder. “This woman is being taken into custody for violent conduct. You will be asked to testify accordingly.”
The thief massaged his neck briefly, then smiled. “You mean…? Oh, I see the source of your misperception. No, no, there is no violence here. These people are…my business associates. I asked them to chase me before securing our deal–I get so little exercise, you know.”
Keris felt as if her mind was chasing to keep up with what was happening around her but was still falling behind. What is this thief up to?
The Asoli’s eyes narrowed. “You testify that you are engaged in peaceful commerce?”
The thief drew himself erect. “I so testify.”
The big man removed his hand from Keris’ shoulder. “Then you are free to go. Keep the peace.”
“Peace to you watchkeeper,” the thief called after the man’s retreating back. As soon as the Asoli was gone, he pulled a white kerchief from his blue coat and mopped his olive brow. He had a narrow face and sharp black eyes. “You people take some real risks. Don’t you know the commerce laws here in Sakara?”
It was Lyall who framed the question on all of their minds. “Excuse me, but…why did you vouch for us?”
“Because I recognised you.” The thief turned to his assailant. “You are Keris, the traitor from Chalimar.”
~
“You have garnered quite the reputation: operating as a rogue Keltar, assaulting another Keltar and half a dozen soldiers, as well as the commander of the garrison at Gort. They even say you killed your own overseer. Is that true?”
They were seated in the back room of the Calandra, where the party had breakfasted only that morning. The thief was seated at the head of the table. Shann and Lyall were perched on stools either side. Keris stood by the door, as if barring the thief’s escape, although the man did not seem in the least disposed to take flight.
Keris ignored his question. “Where is our money?” she menaced.
“Well, I don’t have that on me right now. I handed it off, you see,” he waved a hand dismissively. “We can discuss that later. Right now, I would be most interested to know what you are doing here in Sakara.”
“Don’t tell him anything,” Keris counselled.
Lyall ignored her. “Why do you want to know?”
The man leaned forward, as if settling in to tell a long story. “There are two kinds of traders in this city. There is the kind whose only concern is making money here and now. They would sell their own grandmother for a fraction of an astria and they would not care who was paying. And then there are others who realise that Sakara is a unique city and that their livelihoods depend on its continued existence.
“Until recently, the city was a haven of peaceful commerce under the Guild Heads. However, over the past few turns, things have changed. The Prophet has spies and informants everywhere. The Asoli still keep peace in the open city, but if the Prophet’s men can get a person off the streets, anything can happen. Every few days it seems, a body turns up, face down in the harbour. People are afraid that the Guild Master is losing his grip. There are even persistent rumours that the Keltar might stage a takeover and place the port under the Prophet’s control. That would be a disaster for those of us who desire to retain our freedom.”
“You mean the freedom to rob others,” Keris accused.
“I mean the freedom to conduct legal commerce, yes. If you are who you appear to be, then I would like to offer the services of myself and my associates. If there is anything you need, I’m sure I can acquire it for you–at a fair price.”
Lyall looked thoughtful. Keris’ eyes widened. “You can’t seriously be considering doing business with this individual?”
Lyall regarded her squarely. “They have a saying here in Sakara–‘it’s not the dealer, it’s the deal.’ Whether we like it or not, Keris, this is the way this city works.”
“But…we know nothing about this person,” Keris protested. “For all we know, he could be in league with the Prophet himself–sent to lay a trap for us.”
“Patris…I am called Patris…look, to show my good faith, let me give you some information and advice–free of charge. Chalimar is stirred up like a mannatars’ nest. They know of your presence in Sakara, and there is a sizeable bounty on offer. I know a lot of people who would love to get their hands on you. They only seem to be interested in the woman Keris, but I’m sure they would not hesitate to eliminate anyone who got in their way. My advice would be for you to leave the city as soon as possible.”
“I’m sorry,” Lyall’s expression was grave. “Circumstances dictate that we must remain here for the next few days. Then we will be leaving by ship.”
Patris shrugged. “The choice is yours. I cannot protect you while you are here–the risk is too great. I can quietly book passage for you on a ship when you are ready to depart–for a modest commission.”
“A commission?” Shann asked.
Patris grinned. “As we say here in Sakara, ‘the wind and the waves are free; everything else comes at a price.’ Where is it you are headed?” There was a silence around the table. Patris held up his hand. “That’s all right. I can appreciate that you have no reason to trust me.”
“It’s not that exactly,” Lyall explained. “It’s just that our destination is not on any of the regular trade routes. We are going to need a ship of our own.”
The thief raised an eyebrow. “Charter or purchase?”
Lyall glanced at Shann and Keris. “Purchase.”
“Size?”
“Small.” Lyall considered. “A single masted cog should be sufficient.”
“A cog cannot be sailed into a headwind,” Keris pointed out.
“No, but it can be crewed by a handful of people. And I don’t intend for us to ‘sail’ into any headwind, in any case.” He gave Keris a knowing look and she grew quiet. He turned back to Patris. “It must also be ready for immediate refit. The details are lodged at the shipwright’s office where you…encountered us.”
Patris nodded. “I think I know of a suitable vessel. Is there anything else?”
“Yes, our money,” Keris repeated.
“Why don’t we consider that a down payment on your requirements, all right?” Patris smiled a genial smile. Keris’ face was impassive.
“We will also need someone skilled in seamanship, someone…” Lyall seemed to be weighing his next word carefully, “…trustworthy.”
Patris burst out laughing. “That’s a tall order in this town. However, I count seamanship among my various talents. I would be glad to assist you.”
“You are a sailor as well as a thief?” Shann was incredulous.
Patris’ dark eyes flashed. “Actually in a free port such as this, that’s not uncommon. Many people here have spent some time at sea as traders or freebooters.”
“There is one more item we will need.” Lyall leaned forward. “A quantity of refined lodestone–not less than five levia weights.”
Patris blew through his teeth and ran a hand through his brown shoulder length hair. “Difficult. I presume you know that all lodestone production is strictly controlled by your Prophet. Even the Guilds here in Sakara are forbidden to trade in it as a part of their treaty with Chalimar.”
Keris turned away. “Dealing with this con artist is a waste of time.”
Lyall looked at her sharply, but Patris didn’t seem fazed by the insult. “I said it was difficult–not impossible. When do you need it?”
“Within three days,” Lyall replied.
“Done.”
Alondo suddenly poked his head around the door. “You’re back, I see.”
“We are.” Lyall confirmed with an amused expression. “How are you and Boxx getting on?”
“We have some ideas–not much progress as yet though. Who is our guest?”
“This is Patris,” Lyall opened his hand. “He tried to rob us earlier. We are just negotiating with him for the things we need.”
Alondo appeared nonplussed. “I see. Well…pleased to meet you. Evening meal will be ready shortly.”
“Thank you,” Lyall acknowledged. Alondo disappeared behind the door. Shann suppressed a giggle.
“He certainly seems an odd fellow,” Patris observed.
“You think so?” Lyall commented. “Just wait till you meet Boxx.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 28
“This is a mistake.” Keris stood toe to toe with Lyall on the deck of the Soraya. Their conversation was punctuated by sounds of sawing and hammering and the occasional shouts of the refit crew as they laboured to install lateral and transverse bulkheads as well as a new bilge keel. The keel would help their little vessel to stay upright in the turbulent storms. The bulkheads would give added strength and help prevent capsizing–or so Lyall hoped. The truth was that despite the ingenious method he had devised to get them through the Barrier and the preparations he was making, there was still an excellent chance that they would all perish in the attempt. That meant that soon, very soon, he would have to make a difficult decision. He thrust the thought to the back of his mind for the hundredth time, and focussed his attention on Keris. “How do you mean?” He had a fair idea of what she was going to say next.
“I mean dealing with these…people.”
It suited Lyall to play dumb. He took in his surroundings. The vessel lay in dry dock, nestled in a maze of scaffolding like a sea monster in a cage. “I don’t know; the shipwrights seem to be doing a first rate job.”
“Not them; I mean the criminals who are meant to be obtaining our supplies.”
“They are not criminals here in Sakara,” Lyall corrected her. “They are law abiding citizens.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Lyall put a hand on her shoulder. “Believe it or not, I appreciate your caution, Keris. But the arrangement does seem to be working out well so far. We have our ship, and work is proceeding apace.”
Keris was steely-eyed. Clearly, she was not going to be easily put off this time. “This ship looks pretty old to me. How can you even be sure it’s seaworthy?”
“Oh, I think that’s the least of our worries.”
“What makes you say that?”
Lyall laughed lightly. “Because Patris is sailing with us. I hardly think he would put to sea in something that is going to sink as soon as we clear the harbour.”
Two caulkers in stained aprons appeared over the gangway, carrying a selection of tools. They nodded to Lyall and Keris as they passed on their way to the stern castle. Keris lowered her voice. “Patris doesn’t know where we are headed, or what we intend to face. When he realises, there is no way he is going to agree to sail the ship into the Great Barrier.”
Lyall pursed his lips. “I’ve thought of that. If all goes to plan, we won’t actually have to sail the ship through the Barrier. As far as Patris is concerned, I am arranging to have a covered launch installed. We will let him disembark and sail back to Sakara. He will be a few days at sea, but he will be more than adequately compensated.”
Keris shook her head. “I still don’t trust them. They agreed to supply our lodestone in three days. That was eight days ago. I think they are suspicious of why we need it.”
“I’m sure they are,” Lyall agreed. “But a good trader knows not to ask his customers too many awkward questions. The Guilds cannot be seen to be connected with any trade in lodestone, so I knew when we conceived of this plan that we would probably have to deal with an ‘unofficial’ source. If you know of another way…?” Keris shook her head. “Then I think we have no choice other than to be patient.”
“Still, we are taking a real risk,” Keris warned. “Patris already told us there is a large bounty being offered. If they were to decide to deliver us to the Prophet’s spies, they could easily do so, and the lodestone provides the perfect excuse to keep us here and delay our departure.”
Lyall cast his eye over the neatly stacked planks of seasoned wood. The work below deck was proceeding apace. However, to provide added stability, he ideally wanted the fore and stern castles lowered. There was also the lodestone to be installed–whenever it finally arrived. Keris was right. Time was of the essence, and every day they remained here involved added danger. “When the lodestone is fitted, we should test it to see if it works properly. After all, I don’t think anyone has ever attempted this before.”
“I will do that,” Keris said. “You still don’t wish for Shann and the others to know what you’re planning.”
“No. I have my reasons.”
Laughter drifted over from the direction of the gangway. Shann and Oliah appeared together, locked in animated conversation. The day after their encounter with Patris, Oliah had shown up at the Calandra and introduced herself as one of Patris’ ‘business associates,’ which was to say that she, too, was a street thief. The unlikely pair had hit it off and were now virtually inseparable. Alondo was involved, too, although Lyall had firmly told himself that it was none of his business.
The girls were both small and slight, although Oliah was a little older and had short fair hair. They could easily have been taken for sisters. Shann sauntered up to Lyall and Keris with a spring in her step. Oliah was hanging back, peeking out from beneath her delicate eyelids with a coy expression. “Have you seen Alondo?” Shann asked Lyall casually.
“I left him below.” The girls turned tail and left together, arm in arm. “Don’t take him away from his work,” Lyall called out after them.
“We won’t,” Shann promised. Both girls erupted again in peals of laughter.
Lyall and Keris stood side by side, watching them go. Finally Keris spoke under her breath. “They have no idea what they are facing.”
For once, Lyall was in complete agreement with her. He felt an odd twinge. Worry? Regret? Fear? And once more, the spectre of the decision he would soon have to make rose in his consciousness like a maralah, its four penetrating eyes demanding his attention. Not yet.
There was a further sound coming from the direction of the gangway, but this time it was not laughter. A shout of greeting. Two more in acknowledgement. Patris’ narrow face and hook nose were followed by his slim body, clothed in an expensive looking purple and yellow suit. He hurried towards them across the deck. He was all smiles. “Good news,” he beamed. “Your lodestone is here.”
~
The wharf area–the very heart of the port city of Sakara. By night, a place of scarlet pools. Of secret shadows. A tall, broad man stepped forth from one. He strode purposefully to the edge of the dock. Ships great and small lay alongside one another, framed as silhouettes against the dimly lit cloudscape. Their hulls creaked gently like a row of old men turning over in bed. Waves lapped gently against the breakwater.
Most of the gangways had been taken up, but one had been left conspicuously rolled out. It vanished into the bowels of one of the larger vessels. Inviting. The man moved silently up the gangway and into the dark recess of an upper deck.
He paused a moment to allow his eyes to become accustomed to the gloom; a tiny point of light was visible towards one corner. The man headed for it, ducking carefully to avoid the low beam work. The light gradually resolved into a flickering candle, set in the centre of a small round table. Before the table were two stools, one of which was occupied by a figure in a dark, close fitting jacket. The candlelight cast his features in sharp relief. One hand was by his side; the other rested on the table, revealing a bronze ring on his index finger, set with a black stone. He motioned to the other stool and the broad man took a seat.
The man at the table raised his Ringed hand. “Fealty and service to the Three and the One.”
“Fealty and service,” the newcomer intoned.
“My Lord, Saccath,” the man at the table began. It is good to meet you at last. I am called Girmala. I have the honour to be the eyes and ears of the Prophet in this city. I have been informed of your arrival by the keep at Chalimar. I am to do all in my power to assist you.”
Saccath nodded slowly. “Very good. You have been briefed as to my mission here?”
“Somewhat,” Girmala affirmed. “I am aware that you are pursuing the renegade, Keris. Armed with that intelligence, and in anticipation of your arrival, I have had the subject under surveillance for a number of days. The group she is travelling with is staying at the Calandra. What is not clear, however, is the reason for their presence here. They appear to have allied themselves with one of the thief gangs.” He screwed his face up. “It is difficult to believe that a servant of the Prophet would consort with such people.”
Saccath ignored the man’s thinly disguised attempts to curry favour. It had been a long journey here and he did not have time to waste. He needed information, information that would enable him to deal finally with Keris. Murderer of Nikome and Mordal. Traitor to the Prophet. Betrayer of everything she stood for. Somehow she and the group she was travelling with had survived the Pits of Kharthrun. He had promised Mevan and himself that if any of them reached Sakara, then he would see to it that that would be the end of their journey. He intended to make good on that promise. “What else have you discovered?”
“They have purchased a ship and appear to be modifying it, although I cannot say to what purpose. Their destination, too, is something of a mystery. Most curious of all, they have acquired a quantity of lodestone.”
Saccath’s ears pricked up. “How is that possible?”
“We do not know. We… were unable to track the source.” Girmala’s eyes flicked to the other man and then down at the table.
Saccath did not care about delivering a rebuke. The Guilds were supposed to be prohibited from acquiring or trading in lodestone. Clearly the authorities in Chalimar had underestimated their resourcefulness–and their treachery. He would have to report the matter in due course. For now though, he did not care about anything other than his quarry. His eyes became distant. “Why would she require lodestone?”
Girmala took the question as addressed to him. “I will investigate.”
Saccath roused himself. “No…no, I want you to take the woman Keris into custody as soon as possible. I will interrogate her myself. She must be taken without interference from the city watch.”
Girmala smiled; shadows cast by the candlelight lent his face a ghoulish appearance. “Do not concern yourself, Lord. We have done this sort of thing a number of times before at the behest of the Unan-Chinneroth. We are quite good at what we do.”
Girmala was a little too self assured, a little too complacent. His use of the Prophet’s formal name was calculated to impress. It had the reverse effect. Saccath found that his dislike of the other man was growing by the moment. This had to be done right. There was no room for mistakes. He leaned forward, the single flame reflected in each eye. “Listen carefully. This woman is no mere petty thief or corrupt city official. She is one of our own, a trained Keltar with skills well in excess of those of your men. Even unarmed, she will not be taken easily. The operation will need to be well planned.”
Girmala’s smile vanished. “It will be as you command.” He paused, weighing his next words carefully. “We have discovered a further piece of information that may be of use, my Lord. It seems that one of those travelling with her–the coward who attacked a Keltar in Corte and then fled–has been identified as the same person who led an attack on Persillan eleven turns ago. The Prophet has a special interest in him. In fact, his sister is being held in custody at a secret location, in the hopes that he would show his face again.”
“I see. Well, we will deal with the rest of them, as soon as the woman Keris is out of the way,”
“Understood.”
Saccath rose from his stool and turned to leave. He heard Girmala’s voice behind him. “What will happen to her?”
Saccath did not turn around. “She will not leave this city alive.” He strode off into the darkness, leaving the other man seated alone at the candlelit table. Girmala leaned forward, cupped the flame gently in one hand as if it were a life, and blew it out.
~
“We sail on the morning tide.”
Lyall made the announcement to the gathering seated in the back room of the Calandra that had become their unofficial meeting place. Keris and Patris were off making final arrangements and were expected shortly. Shann and Boxx sat on one side of the table; Alondo and Oliah were on the other. Oliah’s eyes were red rimmed, as if she had been crying. She kept looking at her hands.
Lyall and Alondo had been friends since childhood. The musician’s ready smile and easy manner had led him into numerous close friendships with women, but none that Lyall could recall as being serious–until now. Lyall was grateful in a way, since it made the decision he had come to, the decision he was going to have to announce a little later this evening, somewhat easier.
Before that however, there were two small but important matters to deal with. The first was purely to do with morale. He smiled at the group. “Our ship needs a name.”
“It already has a name–the Soraya,” Shann reminded him.
“The ship is ours now.” Lyall pointed out. “Besides, a ‘soraya’ is a sea creature with four eyes and tentacles.”
Alondo had a puzzled look. “I thought it was the name of a local soup?”
“It is,” Lyall confirmed. “That’s what’s in the soup.”
Alondo suddenly looked ill. “That’s what I had for breakfast. No wonder no-one would answer me when I asked what the bits were.”
Shann stifled a giggle.
“Well, I think we can do better. Suggestions, people?”
Alondo and Shann looked at each other. Shann’s face lit up. “How about Stormchaser?”
“I like it,” Alondo beamed.
“So do I. However, I don’t think we want to give Patris quite such an obvious clue to our intentions, do we?” asked Lyall. Shann and Alondo both shook their heads.
Alondo interrupted the silence. “We could name her after Oliah, here.” Oliah squeezed his hand, looked up into his face and smiled.
“Annata.” All eyes turned to look at the Chandara.
Lyall nodded. “That seems good. After all, it is she who started us on this journey. It’s a reminder of why we are all here.”
“Annata’s Reach,” Shann added.
“Perfect. Are we all agreed?” There were nods from around the table. Lyall broke the top off a bottle of narrian wine and filled five goblets. He raised one. “The Annata’s Reach.”
“Annata’s Reach,” the others chorused.
Lyall put down his goblet. “Well now that that’s decided, there is another thing for us to take care of.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small box. He opened it carefully. Set within it were the two Speaker Rings that Keris had acquired back in Gort. “I think it is time for us to put these to use. Alondo has explained to Oliah where we are going. She has agreed not to tell Patris. She has also agreed to care for the Speaker Ring on this side, to keep us informed of developments here. Of course, we cannot be certain that the Ring will function across the Great Barrier, but Keris and I both feel that it is worth the risk.”
He passed one Ring to Alondo, who took Oliah’s hand and put it on her finger. The fair haired girl was looking up at him all the while.
“The Rings must first be Linked.” Lyall handed the second Ring to Alondo.
“What do I do?” Alondo asked.
“Hold the Rings against each other so that the stones touch.”
Alondo touched the Ring to the one on Oliah’s hand. They looked into one another’s eyes. After a moment an ethereal green light filled the space between them. Finally, the light died. Alondo handed the second Ring back to Lyall, who placed it back in the box and closed the lid. Oliah looked down at the Ring on her finger as if it were a thing of wonder.
“Thank you,” Lyall addressed her. “We will be relying on you.”
“I will not let you down,” she said.
“I have one more favour to ask. I need to talk to Shann and Alondo alone for a moment. Is that all right?”
Oliah smiled bravely. “Of course. Come on, Boxx.”
When the two had left, Lyall looked at Shann and Alondo in turn. Now that the moment he was dreading had finally come, he found himself torn by indecision. A part of him wanted to excuse himself. To say it was nothing, that it had all been a mistake. But he was locked onto a path that allowed no turning. He pressed on. “You have both been an essential part of this journey so far. I could not have asked for braver companions.” He paused, looking down at the table; then raised his head to look into their eyes once more. “Or truer friends.
“Now we are facing our greatest challenge yet. To save this world, we must attempt to cross the Great Barrier of Storms. Yet, even in spite of all of our planning and preparation, we may not survive. That is why I have decided…that the two of you should stay behind.”
“No!” It was Shann who reacted. Alondo just looked stunned.
“I have thought about this carefully,” Lyall pushed forward. “Boxx is essential to the fulfilment of Annata’s plan. He will only deal with Keris, so she has to come, too. Besides, there seems to be no safe place left for her here. Patris is needed to sail the ship. As for the two of you–well there is no compelling reason to risk your lives further. Besides, Alondo has…ties here now.”
“Oliah and I have already discussed this together,” Alondo said. “She believes in what we are doing and she wants me to go.”
Lyall had a wry expression. “You know little about women, my friend. She will tell you what you wish to hear, but I was watching her tonight. Her face betrays her true feelings.”
“This is about what happened at Persillan again, isn’t it?”
Lyall felt Alondo’s words hit home. “It has nothing to do with that. I simply will not risk more lives than is absolutely necessary.”
“Persillan?” Shann asked.
“It’s something that happened a long time ago, Shann. It has no bearing here.” Lyall looked at Alondo, willing him to silence.
Shann pulled down the collar of her tunic, exposing the bare olive flesh of her neck. The flame brand was clearly visible, the mark that he had put there with his own hand. “I got this trying to free the tributes at Gort from slavery to the Prophet. I am coming with you, whatever. Unless you intend to throw me off the ship.”
Alondo leaned forward. “That goes for me, too.”
Lyall looked at their earnest faces and felt his heart melt. His best friend and the girl who had saved his life twice. How could he forgive himself if anything happened to them? He wanted to plead with them both–to beg them not to add to his pain. Alondo was right. It was the pain associated with those events eleven turns ago that had shaped his life ever since. That pain had compelled him to attack a Keltar in Corte and to try in vain to free the tributes at Gort. Now it was driving him to hurl himself at the Great Barrier itself. Aune. Are you still alive somewhere? Will I ever see you again?
In that moment, the door flew open, and Patris appeared. His breath was short and his eyes were grave. “Keris–she’s disappeared.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 29
The room at the back of the Calandra seemed crowded. Shann, Lyall, Alondo and Boxx were joined by members of the thief gang. Oliah’s arm was linked in Alondo’s and the girl seemed to be leaning against him for security.
Shann too felt conflicted, but for different reasons. If the Prophet’s men had indeed snatched Keris, then that would suggest that her claims to have broken her ties with Chalimar were genuine. However, she could just as easily have gone with them voluntarily to make it look as if she had been kidnapped–perhaps as a last ditch attempt to delay their departure? If that were the case, then the best thing to do would be to leave her in the company of her Keltar friends and sail without her. However, something told her that Lyall would never agree to that.
Patris stood at the head of the table. “They have her at one of their safe houses.”
“Safe houses?” Lyall asked.
“The Prophet’s agents have several business fronts and safe houses in the city,” Patris explained. “Your companion is being held at one on Cyrran Street, near where the shipwright’s office is located.”
“Then we must go there and free her,” Lyall said.
Patris shook his head. “That would be unwise. She is being held on the uppermost floor and there are guards on each level. You would not get anywhere near.”
Lyall frowned. “What do you suggest?”
“I am not sure–I don’t see how I can help you. Our thief company is a cooperative–I can’t order them to undertake a mission such as this and to be honest; I wouldn’t even if I could. To do so could lead to open war with the Prophet’s forces here in Sakara–a war that we have neither the people nor the resources to sustain. I’m sorry. I won’t do it.”
“We could get straight to the top floor.” Shut up, you fool, Shann berated herself. Yet despite her misgivings, it still felt wrong to abandon someone–even Keris.
Lyall appeared lost in thought. Then he turned to Patris. He seemed to be weighing his words carefully. “I appreciate your situation. However, we must attempt a rescue of our companion. As you say, there is an element of risk. And…you have not yet been paid for your services on our behalf. If we were to meet up with an accident–”
“That would be most unfortunate,” Patris completed the thought.
“Yes,” Lyall said. “Yes it would…Of course, our chances of success might well be enhanced if there were some sort of unforeseen diversion–say for instance, a fire suddenly breaking out in an adjacent building?”
Patris quirked one side of his mouth. “I believe there is a blacksmith’s shop next door. It’s quite possible that a stray ember might spark a blaze of sizeable proportions.”
“Might such an accident occur later this evening?” Lyall probed.
“It’s a distinct possibility.”
“Then we have an understanding?”
“I believe so–oh, by the way, I wonder if you would excuse me. I have suddenly remembered some pressing business I must attend to.”
“By all means. Don’t forget to be aboard the ship by first light. Our departure will prove to be…somewhat hasty, I would think.”
Patris and Lyall exchanged a look. Then Patris signalled to the others in his group and they filed out.
When they had gone, Alondo turned to Lyall. “You had him eating out of your hand.”
Lyall laughed. “I just played on his weak spot–money. Besides, I think he enjoys the thought of taking the Prophet’s forces down a peg. I just needed to show him a way of doing that without risk to his own people.”
Shann had a serious look. “You realise this may be a trap.”
“You’re right, it may,” Lyall said. “However, I don’t think we have much of a choice.” Shann saw the resolve in his eyes. No, I don’t suppose that you do. “Shann and I are the only ones who can get to the upper floor without having to go in the front door. So we will be the ones to free Keris.”
“What do you want me and Boxx to do?” Alondo asked.
Lyall put his arm around Alondo’s shoulders. “I’m glad you asked that. I have a special job for you, my friend.”
~
Ail-Mazzoth lay low in the west, casting a ruddy glow over the rooftops of the port city. Sounds of merrymaking drifted up from the various hostelries, as clothier and baker, seaman and sail maker, raised a stoup to one another’s health. In an alley to the rear of the safe house, hidden deep in the shadows, two cloaked figures were crouched down side by side, waiting.
A shout…then another. Not the sounds of casual revelry. These were cries of alarm. Patris’ little diversion was underway. Time to move.
Lyall and Shann moved stealthily along the alley until they were directly beneath the building where Patris had indicated that Keris was being held. The edifice rose before them, indomitable like a sheer cliff face, punctuated by lit windows at regular intervals. Four storeys. It would take a considerable leap to reach the uppermost level. Following the battle with the Kharthrun serpent, Shann understood the basic concept of cooperative mechanics. If they timed it correctly…
Shann made eye contact with Lyall, who nodded to her. Bending her knees, she jumped, using a weak natural source. She felt a rush of air behind her; then a crushing downward pressure on the refined lodestone in her cloak’s mechanism. She was slammed towards the ground. The natural deposit barely slowed her descent and she landed hard, barely managing to stay upright. How about next time I do that to you?
She peered upwards to see a hunched form on the roof and a rope snaking down to meet her. Shann wrapped the rope around her hand and allowed herself to be pulled up. As she reached the uppermost level, she passed a darkened window. Her feet found the ledge. She signalled to Lyall and the rope went slack.
With one hand, Shann held on to the casement and with the other hand, she reached inside a pouch, feeling the resistant pull of an oval shaped lodestone, dark as night. She held the stone against the window just as Lyall had instructed her earlier, and moved it in an upward motion towards the inside latch. After a couple of failed attempts and a rising sense of frustration, Shann heard the dull scrape of iron against iron as the latch was pushed upwards.
The freed window moved outward imperceptibly. As Shann pulled it all the way open, her other hand moved instinctively towards the staff at her back–Keris’ staff. As usual, the woman had taken her flying cloak with her, but had left her staff back at the Calandra.
As they were getting ready to leave, Lyall had handed it to her. “To replace your broken one.”
Shann stared at it as if it were about to turn into a serpent and bite her. “She would not let me take this.”
Lyall smiled. “You didn’t take it–I did. Don’t worry, Shann. If there is one thing Keris understands, it’s necessity.” I hope you’re right.
The room beyond the window was silent, swathed in shadow. Shann nimbly slipped inside. A moment later, Lyall’s feet appeared in the window frame and she helped pull him in.
Lyall took the lead, moving to a door set in the far wall. He opened it a crack. Artificial light washed into the room. It was largely empty, apart from a cabinet against one wall and a few packing cases. Lyall opened the door wider. The corridor was empty. She followed him out into the hallway. They followed the passageway as it bore to the left, passing a stairwell which led down to the floor below. All was quiet. At the first intersection, Lyall held up his hand and peeked around the corner. He stepped back and touched her arm to get her attention, holding up two fingers. Two guardians. They might just as well have put a sign over the door. He mouthed the words, “Follow my lead,” waited until she nodded once,; then rounded the corner confidently with Shann in tow.
The two guardians were clad in light serge, with short blades at their sides. They fingered the hilts and shuffled their feet nervously as the cloaked figures approached. Lyall’s instructions earlier that evening came back to her. “Use the wood and the flat of the blade.” It was a euphemism for the employment of non-lethal skills. She could just imagine what Keris would have to say about that. Still, these were obviously not Chalimar-trained soldiers; they were locally recruited grunts. With luck, their wits would be as dull as their blades.
Lyall stopped in front of the guardians and assumed an authoritative air. “We wish to interrogate the prisoner. Stand aside.” It was a calculated gamble. The flying cloaks Lyall and Shann wore were not only a tool; they were a symbol of authority. But would these men’s fear of the Keltar be sufficient to overcome their natural suspicion? Shann felt her body tense. The next few moments would be critical.
The guardian on the left had an older weather-beaten face, like a man who had spent too many days at sea. His eyes narrowed. “The prisoner was returned from interrogation only a short while ago. Our orders are that no-one be allowed in to see her without Girmala’s express permission.”
Lyall stood his ground. “We are sent by Girmala. There is some information she provided that he wishes to clarify.”
“Girmala sent you, Keltar?”
“You doubt my word?”
“No–no of course not.” His tone suddenly changed. “Forgive me, Lord.” He sounded solicitous–too solicitous. “Do you wish us to accompany you or shall we–”
In a split second, Shann saw the steel in the man’s eye. The subtle shift of balance onto the balls of his feet. The barest twitch of his fingers on the hilt of his blade. Suddenly, Keris’ staff was in her hand like a living thing, its movement a blur, faster than thought. The wood impacted against the guardian’s temple and he dropped like a sack of moba root. She shifted her attention towards the younger slender-faced, dark-eyed guardian, but Lyall’s staff was already in motion. He swung it with great force at the youth’s midriff. The youngster doubled up as every ounce of breath was forcibly expelled from his lungs. A moment later, Lyall brought the staff down on the back of his head. The boy fell to the ground face down and did not move. Lyall looked over at Shann, his brow knotted.
“He was going for his weapon,” Shann explained.
An odd flicker passed over Lyall’s face. “The key?”
Shann sheathed the staff and ran her hand over the guardian’s serge until she felt an irregular shape. “Got it.” She handed the large flat key to Lyall who opened the door. They quickly dragged the supine forms inside.
Shann peered into the dimly lit room. It was featureless save for a pallet in the far corner. As she moved towards the pallet, she saw a figure lying motionless. A figure in a dark suit, with long black hair. Keris. Shann bent over her and felt the warmth of her olive skin, a faint breath of air from her nostrils. “She’s alive.” As she examined the woman she realised with a jolt that the side of her face was badly bruised and swollen and there were contusions on her forehead and neck, smeared with drying white blood. What have they done to you?
Keris opened her eyes slowly and looked up at Shann. Her expression turned to disbelief. “You.”
Shann’s feelings of pity began to evaporate. Maybe we should just leave you here.
Lyall appeared behind her. “Keris, are you all right? Can you move?”
With some effort, Keris propped herself up on her elbows. “I’ll manage.” Her voice sounded thick in her mouth. Shann helped Keris to her feet. She unsheathed Keris’ diamond bladed staff and handed it to her. Keris’ right hand was covered with a makeshift bandage ripped from her own clothing. Dried blood had seeped through. Shann wanted to ask her what happened but was gagged by the bile rising in her throat.
The solidness of Keris’ staff seemed to strengthen her, and she drew herself erect. She moved stiffly over to where the guardians lay and knelt next to the younger one, grabbing him with her unbandaged hand and shaking him by the scruff of the neck. He came to, groggily. Her voice rasped. “My things. Where are they?”
The guardian pointed. “Two doors down. Don’t–” Keris cuffed him back to silence. They exited the detention room. Lyall locked it behind them and led the way down the corridor. Stopping at the designated room, Lyall listened; then tested the door. It was unlocked. They slipped inside. The room was dimly lit, with a table at the centre and an assortment of cabinets lining the walls. Lyall watched the door while Keris and Shann began lifting lids and rifling through drawers. “Hurry it up,” he hissed.
Shann glanced across at the other woman, taking in the extent of her injuries, the way she winced when her body turned a certain way. She realised that her sense of shock derived not just from the damage done to Keris but the damage done to her own expectations. Ever since the Keltar had appeared in their path on the highway outside Gort, Shann had been convinced that she was the enemy. Keltar are the eyes and ears of the Prophet–everyone knew that. Later on the Eastern Plains, when she caught Keris using the Speaker Ring, there seemed no room for doubt. The timing of the woman’s ‘kidnap’ the night before their departure seemed altogether too perfect. Shann had fully expected to find a trap waiting for them. Now, seeing firsthand the abuse meted out to her by the agents of the Prophet, brought Shann face to face with a jarring thought–could I have been wrong about her all along?
“Here it is.” Keris extracted her pack from a small chest. She pulled out the flying cloak and cast it about her shoulders, fumbling one-handed. Shann went over and helped her secure the neck clasp. As their eyes met, Shann searched the other woman for answers. The side of her face was puffy and one eye was partly closed, but there was the same angular nose and lean features–the same black eyes, hard as diamonds and just as unfathomable. “Thank you.” Keris’ voice held an edge of concealed pain.
“All right, let’s move.” Lyall opened the door a crack; then motioned for the others to follow. Retracing their steps, they turned the corner and passed the stairwell. Footsteps and agitated voices from the floor below. The creak of heavy boots ascending the stairs. Lyall urged the two women forward. “Get out of here, now.”
“What are you doing?” Shann hissed.
“I’ll try and slow them down. Move.”
No. Shann’s protest died on her lips as she realised with a sickening feeling that she had no staff with which to fight. She could not ask Keris for hers back–the older woman was leaning heavily on it, barely able to stand. Flushed with anger at her own impotence, Shann turned and headed for the room at the rear of the building where she and Lyall had entered earlier. Keris hobbled along in her wake. Shouts of surprise and anger. Shann checked over her shoulder and was granted a vision of Lyall, feet firmly planted, staff held out defensively against an onrush of attackers. She reached the door and held it open for Keris. “In here,” she called, a little too harshly. Keris, who seemed to be expending every ounce of willpower in just keeping moving, obeyed without comment or argument.
Shann dashed to the open window and climbed onto the ledge. Grabbing the rope, she turned back to address Keris. “Wait here.” As she abseiled down the side of the building, her only thoughts were of Lyall. Stay alive. Her boots settled down onto the hard packed dirt of the alleyway. She released the rope and flared both the bronze and upper lodestone layers of her cloak. As she looked up, Keris’ head appeared at the window. “Jump,” Shann commanded.
She watched as Keris climbed awkwardly onto the window sill, opened her cloak and stepped into empty air. Shann felt the sudden pressure on her shoulders, as Keris used the lodestone in Shann’s cloak to slow her descent. The tall woman touched down beside her, and Shann saw her shoulders sag. Shann fixed her eyes once more on the upstairs window, looking for signs of Lyall. Come on… Moments stretched and attenuated into spans. Keris stood beside her and sighed.
You would abandon him again, wouldn’t you? Just as you did in the Pits. “We are not leaving without Lyall.”
“I had no intention of doing so,” Keris said. No. Of course you didn’t.
There was a commotion from above. Suddenly a dark silhouette launched itself from the window. Shann felt a downward push once again as Lyall dropped towards them, framed by the crimson night sky. He landed lightly. Above them, figures at the window scanned the alley below.
“Let’s go.” Lyall led the way as they rounded the building and came out onto the main thoroughfare. A knot of people were gathered up the hill, still preoccupied by the mysterious fire at the blacksmith’s shop. The party set off in the opposite direction, down the hill towards the docks. Shouts behind them. Shann glanced back as an armed group spilled out onto the street and started after them. There were no Asoli anywhere nearby–by accident or design? There was no time to speculate. Keris was doing her best to keep up, but it was apparent that she was struggling. Lyall grabbed her arm, pulled it around his shoulder and propelled them both forward.
As they reached a crossroads, Shann looked over her shoulder once more. The others were gaining on them. They would catch them before they reached the docks for certain. An odd roaring sound. All of a sudden, a large cart trundled out of the side street and onto the intersection. The cart held barrels of pitch. They were on fire. The cart skidded to a halt and barrels dislodged themselves, bursting and spreading burning tar over the cobbles. At the same moment, three figures jumped from the buckboard; one a strange shelled creature, one in a light blue dress and short fair hair, the last with a round face, topped off with an absurd red cap. Alondo, Oliah and Boxx hurried to catch up to them.
“How’d we do?” Alondo asked Lyall.
Behind them, the pursuers had been stopped dead in their tracks by the flaming barrier. The shouts had risen in pitch to cries of anger and alarm. “Well done, indeed. Let’s hope that holds them for a while.”
They hurried past deserted stalls and shadowed doorways, finally bursting out onto the open wharf. The sky above the rooftops to the west was lightening with the promise of dawn. Annata’s Reach lay alongside two square rigged caravels, like a small child flanked by parents that towered over it. At the top of the gangway, Patris was beckoning to them urgently.
Lyall supported Keris up the gangway. Shann embraced Oliah and they held on to each other for a long moment. Shann felt the tears welling up in her eyes and let them flow. They released each other and Oliah embraced Alondo. He whispered something in her ear and she buried her head against his shoulder. Boxx stood on its hind limbs, head cocked to one side, and watched them curiously.
Patris called out from the top of the gangway. “Come on. They’ll be here any moment. We have to leave.”
Alondo released Oliah, reached out and brushed her face with the back of his hand. “Get away from here, quickly.”
She smiled through her tears and touched his cheek in return. The Speaker Ring was visible on her finger. “I’ll be fine. Be well. You too, dear sister.”
“I’ll make sure he stays out of trouble,” Shann promised.
Alondo and Shann tore themselves away and ran up the gangway, Boxx scampering behind them. Shann glanced back in time to see Oliah slipping into the entrance of a building adjoining the wharf area, seeking a safe vantage point from which to watch the ship’s departure. When will I see you again, my sister?
As they reached the foredeck, Patris cut the ropes securing the gangway. It fell into the water with a satisfying splash. Lyall was already at the cathead, hacking with his diamond bladed staff at the hawser which secured the ship to the dock. After a few strokes it was severed and the ship floated free.
“Grab a pole,” Patris called to Alondo and Shann. They followed Patris’ lead as he and Lyall picked up one long oar between them, while she and Alondo hefted the other. They manhandled their oars on either side of the bowsprit and shoved off from the dock. They heaved together. Slowly, the ship began to back out from its mooring, slipping past the hulls of its larger neighbours until there was clear water on either side. Patris went to the stern and pulled the rudder hard over. The small ship began to turn until its prow was pointing out to sea.
“Where did Keris go?” Shann asked Lyall.
“She’s in the stern. Boxx is caring for her. She is badly injured, Shann.”
Shann felt sick at the injuries inflicted on the older woman. But that did not change who and what she was. She may have turned against her former masters but that did not absolve her from the crimes she had committed, not as far as Shann was concerned. Can you bring back the people you sent to the ore camps to die? Can you bring back my mother and father? No. I risked my life to rescue you. But don’t expect any sympathy.
Patris fixed the rudder in place and hastened down the ladder to the deck. Making his way to the single mast, he scuttled up the rigging. Lyall, Shann and Alondo descended the forecastle to the deck and gazed up in fascination as he bent over the yard and untied the sail.
“He’s not going to ask me to go up there, is he?” Alondo asked nervously.
Shann looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t think Oliah would let you go.”
“She doesn’t tell me what to do,” Alondo protested.
“No,” Shann smiled a secret smile. “Of course not.”
Patris slid down the rigging to the deck beside them. His eyes shone and he looked as if he was in his element. “Time to make sail. Let’s haul on the halyards.” They looked at each other blankly. “The ropes here,” he indicated, “and here.” Shann and Alondo took up a rope obediently and Lyall and Patris grabbed the other one. “Now, pull together.” They hauled on the ropes and watched the sail unfurl. The canvass flapped in the offshore breeze, then filled out. As they tied off the lines, the ship began to pick up speed, cutting a smooth wake through the still waters of the harbour. Patris smiled encouragingly. “We’ll make a crew out of you yet.”
Alondo headed to the afterdeck, followed by Shann. She stood next to him, leaning on the stern rail. Already, the ships tied up at the quayside were growing smaller, but Shann fancied she could see a group of people gathered at their now-empty mooring. Above the quay, smoke was rising over the port city, a testament to their escape. Alondo looked like a lost gundir pup. She rubbed his back gently. “We’ll be back. Lyall will see to it.” He smiled at her gratefully and put an arm around her shoulder as they both watched Sakara receding into the distance. The ship began to rise and fall gently as it cleared the harbour and caught the swell of the open sea.
Setting its course eastward, the Annata’s Reach sailed towards the Great Barrier of Storms, carrying on board five Kelanni, one Chandara and the fate of a world.
<><><><><>
Chapter 30
The Aronak Sea by night. Ail-Mazzoth’s pale pink light playing over the waves. And in the midst of the sea, the lights of a tiny vessel lost in the vastness. In the cramped forecastle, Shann, Lyall and Patris sat around a rough wooden table, picking over the remains of the evening meal. Shann was chewing on a black flatbread and washing it down with narrian wine.
Patris leaned back on his stool, and took a sip from his flagon. “I see you renamed the ship,” he said conversationally.
Lyall looked up from his own drink. “You don’t like the name?”
Patris shrugged, “She’s your ship.” He took another sip. “So…who is Annata?”
“She’s a friend of ours,” Lyall said.
“An old friend,” Shann added.
Lyall shot her a warning glance. “Yes, I suppose you could say that.”
“Someone who has aided you on your journey, perhaps?” Patris probed.
The thief-sailor was a clever individual. Clever and perceptive. This was an interrogation, cloaked in the guise of pleasant conversation. They would need to be careful so as not to give too much away.
Lyall fielded the question. “Yes, although she is far away now. It may be a long while before we see her again.”
Patris adopted a different tack. “By the way, how are your friends doing?”
“Keris has extensive injuries. Boxx is tending to her,” Lyall sighed. “As for Alondo–well, I’m sure he will be all right, given time.”
Not long after they had left the still waters of the harbour, the musician had fallen prey to a bad bout of seasickness. Shann had scarcely seen him above deck after that, and when she went to the stern castle, he was lying motionless on a bunk, his round face unnaturally pallid. He had not been able to keep anything down.
“Well, not everyone is cut out to be a sailor, I suppose,” Patris said. “Now, Shann here–she seems to have taken to it right off. Are you sure you weren’t born on board ship?”
Shann had to admit she had no idea where she was born. She could barely even remember what her mother looked like. Sometimes, she thought she could recall her mother’s soothing voice, although it did seem to her that it sounded like Gallar, so maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. She frowned. “I…don’t think so.”
Patris and Lyall both laughed. “Well, it doesn’t matter.” Patris said. “I’m just grateful to have such an able deck hand. In fact, I’m thinking of promoting you to first mate.”
“What would that mean?” Shann asked.
“It would mean,” Lyall said, “that you would be able to tell the rest of us what to do.”
Her expression brightened. “I accept.”
They all roared with laughter. Patris ran a hand through his shoulder length black hair. “Now that’s settled, I should ask, where are we headed, exactly?”
“We sail due east,” Lyall said.
“Well, you should know that there is nothing east of here other than a few islands, all of which are uninhabited as far as I am aware,” Patris said. “Besides, if we stay on this heading, we will eventually run straight into the Great Barrier and we will have no choice but to turn. Even near the Barrier, the winds can be treacherous. You would be putting your ship and crew in unnecessary danger.”
“We will not put you in danger–you have my word,” Lyall said.
Patris bit his lip. “I could understand your reluctance to speak about your plans in Sakara. But now, here we are, in the middle of the Aronak Sea.” He spread his hands wide. “Who am I going to tell?”
“That’s true,” Lyall agreed. “Nevertheless, you will be returning to Sakara, so it is safer both for you and for us if you cannot reveal our plans.”
Patris’ eyes narrowed. “Your words would seem to imply that I will not be accompanying you to your destination.”
Lyall met his gaze squarely. “That’s correct.”
“You still do not trust me?”
Lyall shook his head. “It has nothing to do with trust.” He paused to collect his thoughts “Each of us–myself, Shann here, Alondo, Keris and Boxx–each of us is a willing volunteer. Each of us knows the hazards involved and has agreed to accept the risks. Your interest is…financial. I appreciate all you have done for us, but it would be wrong for us to place you or the members of your thief cooperative in more danger than is necessary.”
Patris gazed into his drink. “We have tended to avoid contact with the agents of the Prophet in Sakara. However, the situation in the city worsens day by day. Violent crime–even murder is on the rise. There are rumours that the Asoli are being paid to look the other way. Many believe it is only a matter of time before the Keltar are sent in to ‘restore peace.’ If that happens…then we will be in a fight for our very survival. That is why I agreed to aid you–not just for the money, but because I believe that in the end, people like you may be our only hope.”
“If that happens, I’m afraid there may be little we can do to help you directly,” Lyall said.
“You are not returning to Sakara?”
“It…seems unlikely,” Lyall confessed.
“A pity,” Patris said. “We could use people with your skills–breaking someone out of one of the Prophets safe houses–now that was impressive. Not to mention chasing me down in the streets after I had ‘liberated’ your coin purse.” Laughter rippled round the table once more. “Well, wherever you are bound for, you should remember that the authorities in Chalimar are desperate to get their hands on you. Watch yourselves.”
“We will, thank you,” Lyall said.
Shann stood and gathered up half a loaf of flatbread and a carafe of wine from the table. “I’m going to see if I can get Alondo to eat anything.”
Lyall smiled at her. “Good idea. Tell him I’ll be along to see him myself, presently.”
Shann opened the door to the forecastle and stepped out onto the deck. All was quiet save the lapping of the water and the creaking of the ship’s hull, the sounds blending together like a lullaby. She walked towards the stern, enjoying the gentle caress of the night breeze against her cheek. At the entrance to the stern castle, she put her hand to the latch. Suddenly the door opened inwards of its own accord, and Keris stood in the doorway. She was dressed in a loose white night robe. Her black hair hung attractively about her shoulders in thick waves. Shann felt an irrational pang of jealousy. They stared at each other for a long moment.
Finally, Shann spoke up. “I…I was bringing these things for Alondo.” Why am I justifying myself to this woman?
“I see,” Keris’ face was impassive. She made no attempt to get out of the way.
“How is he?” Shann asked.
“I’m not sure. Boxx says it can’t do much to help.” It felt bizarre that they should be standing there discussing Alondo’s seasickness, when Keris’ injuries had been far more severe. The bruising and the cuts and abrasions on the woman’s face and neck seemed almost gone and her stance seemed more relaxed. Shann marvelled at the irony that Boxx could work miracles on internal and external wounds of that kind, but a simple upset stomach was beyond its capabilities.
“You seem a little better,” Shann observed.
“I feel quite weak, but I am free of pain, thanks to Boxx. I do have a permanent reminder of my time as a guest of the Prophet’s minions, however.” She held up her right hand. Shann registered with shock that the end of her Ring finger had been cut off to the first joint. The injury had been hidden beneath her rough bandage. Shann fought down the sensation of nausea. “Unfortunately, Boxx can’t replace a missing limb. Still, it serves as a reminder of my stupidity in allowing myself to get taken off the streets in the first place.” She lowered her hand and concealed it in a fold of her robe, as if it were a secret shame. “I wanted to say…thank you for risking your life to rescue me.”
Shann felt caught off guard. “I…I didn’t do anything really.”
“Your modesty is unnecessary. You have already proven your bravery on more than one occasion–like when you rescued Lyall from the Pits.”
“But…you wouldn’t let anyone go after him.”
Keris looked down at the deck. “That was only because I was certain that he had perished, and I didn’t want to risk anyone else. I was…gratified to have been proven wrong.”
“But you didn’t even try. You would have left him there to die.”
“Look, Shann–”
“No, you look. Getting you out of that place was Lyall’s idea, not mine. I went along with it because Lyall believes you are important to the success of this mission. Annata seems to trust you, as does Boxx, but that’s only because they don’t know who you really are.”
Keris drew herself erect. “You know nothing about me, girl.”
“You are Keltar, sworn to serve the Prophet.”
“I was Keltar.” Keris had a faraway look. “When I came to live at the keep I was young–younger than you are now. My ears were ringing with words like ‘duty’ and ‘honour’. Mordal told me that I was special–that I had the strength and the ability to help people–to protect them, and to serve the Prophet’s greater purpose for all Kelanni. ‘The Unan-Chinneroth who ascends to the Heavens and returns. His ways are beyond our understanding.’ We were told that that great purpose involved the extraction of lodestone in large quantities. So I dedicated myself honing my skills–to becoming the perfect Keltar.
“However, as time went on, I saw things–people being starved. Brutalized. Even murdered. I began to doubt my oath. Finally, when the Chandara activated the machine from the past and Annata appeared to me at the Great Tree, she told me of the Prophet’s true intention. I did not want to believe it at first, but–well, it made so much sense after all the things I had witnessed. I knew in my heart that the woman spoke the truth. That was why I had to travel to Gort to deliver you, Lyall and Alondo from the trap that was waiting for you there. That’s why I turned my back on the Keltar and was forced to slay the boy Nikome and Mordal, who had been more of a father to me than my own father.”
Shann’s face screwed up. “Do you expect me to feel sympathy for you?”
“I expect nothing. I have chosen my own path.”
“What about all of your other crimes?” Shann demanded.
“Crimes?”
“Yes, crimes. What about all of the people you rounded up and sent to die in the ore camps? What about all of the families you broke up? The brothers and sisters that were parted from one another?” The parents you dragged away from their children? “What about all of that?”
“I don’t have any answers for you, Shann. I hold myself responsible for a lot of things that happened. But I cannot change the past. I can only try and work for a better future–and to change the person I used to be.”
Shann’s eyes blazed. “You say you are no longer Keltar? Then what are you?” Keris pushed past Shann and strode off across the deck. “What are you?” Shann called after her.
Keris did not look back. “I am nothing.”
~
A few minutes after Shann had left Lyall made his excuses to Patris and exited the forecastle. Looking across the deck, he saw Shann and Keris in the shadow of the stern castle, deep in conversation. Perhaps they are working out their differences at last?
He decided to leave them to their discussion. Besides, he had another important task to perform. He climbed the ladder to the foredeck and walked slowly to the starboard rail. It was a beautiful night. A balmy breeze blew through the rigging. Waves lapped gently against the overlapping strakes. Sidelights were strung along the curve of the hull, reflecting over the water. Black clouds drifted lazily across a dull pink sky. Lyall leaned against the rail, lost in the view. Then he recalled the reason for his late night stroll. He raised his right hand to his mouth and spoke into the Ring in his forefinger.
“Oliah.” The stone came to life, exhibiting its familiar green glow.
“Alondo, are you all right?” Oliah’s silken voice was slightly distorted, but it was unmistakeably her.
“This isn’t Alondo, this is Lyall.”
“Where’s Alondo?”
“He’s…not feeling very well. Don’t worry; it’s nothing serious–just a bout of seasickness. It seemed to come on the moment we left the harbour. Boxx is caring for him and Shann just took him some food.”
“Can I speak to him?”
“He’s lying down right now. I promise, when he’s feeling better I’ll get him to Ring you.”
“What about the others? How is Shann?”
“Shann is just fine. Patris is keeping her hard at work. He’s a little put out because I won’t tell him where we’re going. I told him it was for his own protection, but I don’t think he liked that answer.”
“Maybe you should consider telling him?”
“No, I don’t want to risk him turning the ship around.”
“I doubt he would do that.”
“I don’t know–I think if I was in his boots and someone told me that we were going to attempt to sail this ship into the Great Barrier, I would think we had all gone mad. In any case, I have no intention of forcing him to come with us. I’m sure he will be more than happy when we cut him loose in the launch with a bag of astrias.”
“What about Keris?”
“She seems to be up and about already, thanks to Boxx. In fact I saw Shann speaking with her, just a moment ago.”
“Shann doesn’t trust her.”
“I know. I was hoping they could put that behind them. How are things back in Sakara?”
“The city was in uproar after you left. The official line is that a band of renegades led by a woman–a criminal from Chalimar–tried to set fire to the city and then escaped by ship. However, there are lots of rumours flying around about this woman–that the Prophet is in fear of her, that she has the strength of many men. They are calling her ‘The Heroine of Gort,’ saying that she attacked the garrison there single-handed. Chalimar has already tripled the bounty on her.”
“I’m sure Keris will be delighted to hear that.”
“When will you reach the Great Barrier of Storms?”
“Some time the day after tomorrow, according to Patris. If the wind holds, that is. We’ve been fortunate so far. Patris is worried about turbulence near the barrier, but I plan to have him on his way well before we encounter it.”
“Lyall?” Her voice sounded suddenly fragile.
“Yes?”
“I’m worried about what will happen to Alondo. We talked about what you were planning to do and I agreed he should go along but the truth is I…I don’t want him to go. I don’t want to lose him, or Shann. I know I’m being selfish, but–”
“It’s all right, Oliah. I already told them that they won’t be coming with us.”
“You did? But Alondo never said –”
“I only discussed it with them the night before we left. They were both still adamant about coming. I was going to insist when the news came about Keris’ disappearance and–well, there just wasn’t any opportunity for debate after that. I figured it didn’t matter, because I could still send them back with Patris when the time came.
“Do you think Alondo will agree to being sent back?”
“Probably not. But I’ll pick him up and throw him in the launch if necessary. I’m more concerned about Shann. She can be extremely stubborn when she wants to be. But I’ll deal with that when the time comes. They will have more than enough food and water, and Patris and Shann are our two best sailors. They should be safely back in Sakara in a few days.”
Lyall fancied he could sense the tension easing in her voice. “I don’t know how to thank you. But…what about you and the others?
“Boxx is essential to Annata’s plan and it will only deal with Keris, so she has to come. Besides, I suspect that there’s nowhere in all of Kelanni that would be safe for her now. As for me–well I have my own reasons for doing this. Our method of traversing the Barrier is a good one–even Keris thinks it has a chance of success, and she is a born sceptic.”
“What does Shann think?”
“I haven’t told her the details, although it’s partly based on her idea. I didn’t want to worry her unduly. In any case, by the time we enter the Barrier, she will be on her way back to Sakara with the others.
“Remember, Oliah, if you don’t hear anything after we have crossed over, it doesn’t necessarily mean that there is anything wrong. It’s quite possible that the Ring may not work from the other side. These are untested–”
A creak on the deck timbers behind him. Lyall tore the Ring from his finger and stuffed it into a pocket selfconsciously. He turned to see Patris. How long have you been standing there?
“Who were you talking to?” Patris asked.
Lyall looked around; then smiled disarmingly. “No-one here but me.”
~
Shann found life at sea exhilarating. She revelled in the rhythmic rise and fall of the waves, the smell of the sea in her nostrils, the cries of the birds that wheeled overhead, seeking out scraps of food. She liked nothing better than to climb up to the tiny crow’s nest and view the ocean from far above. Whitecaps stretched to the far horizon on every side, so that it was easy to convince oneself that their little ship was the only thing left in the entire world.
She was sitting in her basket shaped perch atop the mast, when she saw it. A thin brown line between the blue-green sea and the blue and pink sky. She hollered down to the deck below. “Land–I see land.” Patris and Lyall were the only ones on deck. They both turned their faces up to her. She pointed towards the southeast. “There.”
She hopped out of the crow’s nest and scurried down the rigging to join the other two. They were already at the gunwale, looking out at the direction she had indicated. Shann took a place beside Lyall. The brown line was a little less distinct from this vantage point, but was still visible. “What is it?” she asked.
“The Isle of Panna,” Patris announced.
Panna…Panna…that name rang a bell somehow–from the tale Alondo had told about Captain Arval. “That was where Arval went to tame the three giant perridons,” she recalled.
Patris chuckled. “You’re a fan of the Arval stories, I see.”
Lyall’s sharp glance reminded her that she shouldn’t give too much away. “Not really,” she said. “But I know someone who is.”
Patris lifted his head, sensing a change in the wind. He strode across the deck to the pillar which rose from the afterdeck and checked the binnacle into which the directional lodestone device was set. “I take it our course is still due east?” he called.
“Yes, if you please,” Lyall said.
“Then I will need to adjust our heading.” Patris began busying himself with the ship’s tackle.
Shann looked up at Lyall “Maybe we should divert there and search for a couple of perridons?”
Lyall was still gazing at the island in the distance. “Don’t worry, Shann. We will have our own ‘birds’ when the time comes.”
Shann was about to ask for an explanation, when Patris yelled, “Hey ‘first mate,’ how about some help over here? Jump to it.”
Soon Shann was lost in the minutiae of guiding their tiny vessel and Lyall’s strange comment lay forgotten–lost in the vast emptiness of the Aronak Sea.
~
It was late in the morning of the third day when they first spotted the Barrier. At first it was nothing more than a lowering bank of angry clouds on the distant horizon. Slowly, it grew, occupying more and more of the eastern sky, dark and forbidding. Soon the wind started to pick up, causing the canvass to flap and buffeting the sides of their tiny vessel.
Lyall finished tying off a bowline and looked around the tiny vessel. Alondo and Boxx were at the ship’s forward rail. Alondo was transfixed by the distant storms. He had finally emerged from the stern castle that morning, seeming to have found his sea legs at last, although he still looked a little pale. The rail was a little high for Boxx, who kept jumping up like a small child to get a view of the storm front. Keris was also above deck. She was seated on a crate on the afterdeck–off by herself as usual, checking her equipment. It appeared that she and Shann had not spoken since their conversation that first night at sea. Then the woman had seemed fragile. Vulnerable. Willing to talk. Now her inner strength had returned, and the shutters had gone up once more.
Lyall shook his head. Perhaps in the end it didn’t matter. Soon they would be parting, perhaps forever: Shann sailing back to Sakara with Patris and Alondo; Keris accompanying him and Boxx towards–what? As the Great Barrier of Storms loomed ever closer, Lyall felt an odd sense of calm. If this was to be the end–the culmination of his life–then it seemed to him that it was a good one. It was perhaps fitting that the road from Persillan should end with him finally joining those who had died in a desperate effort to end tyranny. On the other hand, if they should by some miracle make it to the other side to continue the struggle, then maybe he could finally find some justification for his having survived, when so many had not. Perhaps he might even discover finally what had happened to Aune.
He heard a voice calling his name–intruding into his private thoughts. Patris was standing before him. The man’s lean face was etched with worry and he ran a hand through his hair as it was blown about by the gathering wind. “We have to change course. Now.”
Lyall steeled himself. Time for Patris and the others to leave. As he opened his mouth, he was cut off by a cry from behind him. “A ship.”
Lyall turned to see Keris on the afterdeck, pointing astern. He hurried across the deck and up the ladder, with Patris just behind him.
As they joined her, Keris pointed again urgently. There was no mistaking it. They were being pursued by a square rigged ship, perhaps three times the size of theirs. Already it was looming large on the horizon. With their attention focussed on the Great Barrier, they had failed to notice the larger vessel as it crept up on them. Lyall leaned over the stern rail, straining his eyes for a better view. His heart sank. Emblazoned on the foresail, Lyall could clearly see the three interlocking circles with the symbol of the flame riding high above them. The Three and the One.
The Keltar had found them.
<><><><><>
Chapter 31
“Can we outrun them?” Lyall projected his voice at Patris, as the swirling wind tried to snatch it away.
Patris shouted back at him. “Can a single masted cog with a bilge keel outrun a three masted carrack in full sail? Not likely.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Lyall tried not to sound desperate.
“Perhaps we might–”
A distant thud. A whooshing sound. The water just off the stern exploded, drenching the three of them.
“Lodestone cannon,” Patris yelled.
Shann’s mouth was open. Seawater ran down her face. “What?”
“Lodestone cannon,” Lyall said. “It uses a shaped charge, a bit similar to a grenade–Patris.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll try and run her as close to the Barrier as possible and track the storm front. It’s risky and she’ll be like a gudrun beast to handle, but the Prophet’s ship will encounter the same problems. We’ll see if her master has the guts to brave the storms. At the very least, it may buy us some time.”
Another dull concussion sounded from the oncoming vessel. Seawater burst over the Reach’s larboard rail.
“They have our range,” Patris bellowed. “Quickly.”
The three of them slid down the ladder and sprinted over the deck to where Alondo and Boxx were waiting.
“What’s going on?” Alondo cried in alarm.
Lyall joined Patris and Shann as they fought to bring every scrap of canvass to bear to the wind. “A Prophet’s ship is attacking us.” He saw with dismay the frightened look on his friend’s face. There was no way to lower the launch under these conditions.
A third boom sounded from the chasing ship. Lyall ducked down instinctively. Hot metal impacted the deck in a staccato rattle. When the sound died, Lyall looked up to see that their sail was peppered with several holes.
“Chain shot,” Patris hollered. “They’re not trying to sink us–they’re trying to cripple us.”
Before them, the Great Barrier roiled like nest of giant vipers. As the Reach heeled over in the gale, Patris sprinted to the rudder. Their ship turned to starboard and began to run before the storm’s leading edge. Lyall and Shann trimmed the sail and fought to keep her course straight. Rain, now mixed in with the wind, lashed their faces as they worked. Lyall kept glancing aft. There was no doubt about it–in spite of their best efforts, the carrack was gaining on them, the symbol of the Prophet now clearly visible through the smoke rising from its forward mounted cannon.
Another round of chain shot tore into the rigging. One linked pair of half balls narrowly missed Shann. If we carry on like this, we’ll be shot to pieces. The next volley reduced the canvass to tatters. The remnants of their once proud sail hung uselessly from the crosstrees. The deck was littered with splintered wood, tangled cordage and spent shot. The launch had a gaping hole in its side. Miraculously, no-one appeared to be injured. Patris was advancing toward him. Lyall made his decision. “Patris, strike what’s left of the sail.”
“Do you want me to signal our surrender?”
“Absolutely not,” Lyall replied. “We’re going through.”
~
“What do you mean, ‘going through’?” Patris demanded.
“I mean,” Lyall met his eyes levelly, “we are going to cross the Barrier.”
Rain had plastered Patris’ shoulder length black hair to his head and was running down his olive face. His tail swished from side to side. “You can’t be serious. It would be suicide. We don’t even have a sail left to speak of.”
“We won’t need a sail.”
Shann was standing beside Patris. He turned to the girl. “What’s he talking about?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” Shann confessed.
Keris, Alondo and Boxx had all converged to listen to the exchange taking place on the cluttered deck. Lyall fixed Shann with his intense blue eyes. “Do you remember that first morning back at the Calandra? It was you who came up with the idea of using lodestone.”
“But Keris said–you agreed that it wouldn’t work,” Shann said.
“The method wouldn’t work, but only because we couldn’t secure a sufficient lodestone mass to push the vessel. But the idea–the idea is sound. When Alondo told how Captain Arval supposedly used flying perridons to pull his ship through the Barrier it got me to thinking. What if we were to install lodestone into the deck and then leap off while tethered to ropes? Maybe we could pull the ship in just the same way.”
Wind gusted through the ragged remains of the sail, flapping like a round of applause. Shann put a hand to her head. “But…that wouldn’t work either. If…if I were to push off from the ship, then the forward pressure from the lodestone in the deck would be matched by the backward pressure from the lodestone layer of my cloak. It…would be just as if I were to attach a line to the deck and pull on it–my pulling forward on the rope would be countered by my pushing backward with my feet on the deck. The ship wouldn’t move.”
Lyall and Keris looked at each other. “She thinks like a Keltar,” Keris said.
It was intended as a compliment, but Lyall was certain that Shann would take it badly. He moved quickly to head off any clash between the two. “You’re absolutely right, Shann. Action–reaction. But what would happen if I was to leap off and then retract the upper lodestone layer, whilst at the same time extending the bronze?
Shann was frowning in concentration. “The lodestone in the deck would still push me away, but the bronze in my cloak would pull on it.” Shann looked up. “But would it be enough to move the ship?”
“I did some tests in Sakara,” Keris replied. “The pull is small, but it accelerates with time. I am certain that two of us could do it.” She turned to Lyall. “Three would be even better.”
“How about it, Shann?” Lyall asked. “Will you help us?”
Shann nodded quickly. “I’ll get my cloak.” She ran off in the direction of the stern castle, dodging to avoid the debris that littered the deck.
“We haven’t much time,” Keris pointed out. “The Prophet’s ship has ceased its bombardment. That means they must be getting ready to board us.” She reached into the pack she carried and pulled out her cloak, shaking it free and securing the neck clasp. Lyall followed suit.
“What do you want the rest of us to do?” Alondo asked.
“You take the rudder and Boxx…well, just make sure it holds onto something,” Lyall said.
“No.” All eyes turned towards Patris. “Look, I don’t pretend to understand what you people just said, but you can’t take this ship in there. There are hurricane force winds and impenetrable seas, not to mention the fact that we don’t even know if anything can survive beyond the Barrier.”
Lyall tested his neck control. “Look, I was going to send you back to Sakara–Shann, too. But the launch is too badly damaged. And we can’t stay put–not with that thing out there.”
Realisation dawned on Patris face. “You planned this all along, didn’t you? You planned to take this ship into the Barrier. Why? What possible reason could you have?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have time to explain right now. But I won’t sacrifice anyone else to the servants of the Prophet. You saw what they did to Keris.”
“I don’t care about that.” Patris said. “I’d rather take my chances with them than face the Barrier.”
Shann reappeared at the door to the stern castle clad in her flying cloak and hurried towards them. Keris faced Patris. “There’s no time–they will be boarding us any moment now. We have to move.”
“Look.” Alondo was pointing up at the sky. Lyall followed the line of his finger. The hull of the carrack lowered over their ship now–a predator breathing down the neck of its helpless prey. A dark shape was hurtling across the threatening sky between the two vessels. It landed lightly on the afterdeck, the cloak settling about its shoulders. Keltar.
The creature walked slowly to the ladder but did not descend. Lyall saw clearly the bald head. The round face. The twisted smile of triumph. It looked down at them. “My name is Saccath.”
“I know who you are,” Keris said.
“Then you know why I am here, ‘betrayer’. You will come with me.”
Lyall stepped forward. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”
Saccath looked around the shattered deck, as the wind and rain continued to lash down. “Your pathetic ship is destroyed. You have nowhere to go. Come with me and I will spare these others. Refuse and they will all die.”
“I told you,” Lyall said. “She’s not going with you.”
Saccath laughed without mirth. “This is the one who dresses as Keltar. The one who was bested back in Corte by Garai. Do you take your orders from this gundir now? Did you know that he already led one failed insurrection eleven turns ago? Led his people into death and then fled.” He turned to face Lyall. “We have your sister in custody. Renounce this woman, and come with me and I will take you to see her.”
Lyall’s mind reeled with the news. Aune–Aune is alive. But could a Keltar’s word be relied on? He shook his head. It did not matter. He could not–would not turn against his companions. If it were true–if she was indeed alive and in the hands of the Prophet–then he would find another way to free her.
Somewhere near the edge of his consciousness, he heard Keris respond. “Saccath, you have been betrayed, but not by me. The Prophet intends to destroy all Kelanni.”
“Lies,” Saccath spat. “You may have been able to convince that old fool Ferenek before he died, but you will never convince me. I am Keltar. The eyes and ears of the Prophet.” He drew his diamond bladed staff from behind him. “In the name of the Three and of the One, you will come with me. Now.”
He jumped from the stern castle to the deck in front of them. Keris and Lyall had their own staffs drawn and were standing their ground. Alondo and Boxx were backing away towards the bow. Shann, without a staff of her own, was casting about wildly.
Lyall called out to her. “Get back with the others.”
He looked back to see Patris stepping forward, hands outstretched in capitulation. “I am not with these people, Keltar. They deceived me. I request the sanctuary of the Prophet and safe passage back to Sakara.”
Saccath regarded him with a mixture of annoyance and disdain; then swung his staff. The wood connected with the side of Patris’ head and the thief collapsed to the deck in a heap. He did not move.
The three cloaked figures began circling one another slowly, like caged animals.
“The Thief Guild,” Saccath sneered. “They would betray their own family for a fraction of an astria. A slip of a girl who also likes to dress up as Keltar, a fellow with an odd hat and a Chandara, of all things. Why would you ally yourself with such people?”
Saccath put one hand to his neck and blipped the control on his flying cloak. “Interesting. I detect a sizeable source of refined lodestone on this vessel. You will tell me its purpose.” Keris swung her staff at Saccath’s head. He sidestepped neatly and she grunted as her diamond blade sliced through empty air. “Very well. We will do this the hard way.”
Saccath turned and ran towards the forecastle; then flared his cloak, and leaped from the deck, pushing off the lodestone in the ship’s bow and hurtling towards Lyall and Keris. They scattered in opposite directions, tumbling beyond the reach of Saccath’s staff. The bald Keltar touched down once more and began advancing on Keris. “You killed Nikome and then our master, Mordal.”
Keris managed to get her feet under her and held her staff out defensively. Her voice was cracking. “I had no choice. They attacked and wouldn’t listen. Just as you are refusing to listen. Wh–why would I be doing this if I didn’t believe it to be true?”
Lyall scrambled towards Saccath and made a thrust with his staff. Saccath knocked it away contemptuously; then in a single fluid movement, raised his own staff over his head and brought it down on Keris’ upheld staff with great force. Keris was sent sprawling to the deck once more, as the sound of clashing darkwood reverberated around the ship.
Saccath walked towards her slowly, swishing his tail. “Motives–who cares for motives? Small children, perhaps. Or fools like these.” He took in her companions with a wave of his hand. “You are Keltar. You betrayed your master and your oath. For that, you must pay.” He raised his staff once more.
Lyall was readying himself to lunge once more at Saccath’s back when he registered a blur of motion above him. A fourth cloaked figure came flying feet first, impacting the small of Saccath’s back. Shann. The bald Keltar grunted, lurched forward and fell face first onto the deck. Keris rolled out of the way and sprang to her feet. Shann joined her, so that the two stood side by side. The girl was brandishing an oar as if it were an oversized staff.
Keris flexed her hands on her staff in readiness. “Using lodestone and bronze layers to effect a downward thrust. Very good. Who taught you that?”
“You did–at the tower–remember?” Shann replied.
Keris smiled wryly. “You learn quickly.”
“You saved me using that particular technique,” Shann said. “Now we are even.”
Saccath got to his feet. His eyes were lit with fury. “Th –that will cost you your life, little girl.” He turned and ran towards the ship’s bow. Going for the lodestone in the foredeck. Standard Keltar to Keltar tactics. Whoever dominates the lodestone has a decisive positional advantage in height and power. Up to now, Saccath had not even bothered with tactics. Lyall remembered telling Shann that the Keltars’ greatest flaw was their overconfidence. Turns out we are not quite the pushover you thought.
Lyall pelted after him, followed by Keris and Shann. He wanted to order Shann again to stay back, but she had already proved her bravery and competence beyond anything he could have expected–and they were going to need every advantage they could get. It was at that moment that he spotted something out of the corner of his eye–something that gave him renewed hope.
“All three of us–mannatar gambit. Sting and retreat,” Lyall called as he ran.
“He will be familiar with that,” Keris pointed out.
“Yes, but I have a surprise planned,” Lyall said, “one that isn’t covered in shassatan.”
Keris shot him a look but said nothing.
Saccath reached the foredeck and fully extended his cloak, hurtling upwards. He was closely followed by Keris, then Lyall and Shann. As the four of them met in midair, the deck rang with an array of blows.
Shann was struggling with her unwieldy oar, warding off Saccath’s attacks as best she could. Suddenly, he whirled his diamond blade and sliced her oar in two, narrowly missing her hand. She threw the paddle half away and gripped the handle end, which was more attuned to her size.
As they sank back downwards, Keris pulled away from the fray, dived towards the foredeck and then immediately pushed off from the lodestone again. As she passed Shann, she pushed off the upper lodestone layer of the girl’s cloak to gain an extra boost in height. Keris shot into the air whilst Shann was knocked flat against the deck. Using the poorly armed girl as a lodestone baseline made perfect sense as a tactic, but Lyall had a feeling that Shann wouldn’t see it that way. There would be time enough later to debate such minutiae–if they all made it through this alive.
Keris reached the apex of her leap and began to drop rapidly, angling towards Saccath, who was now rising to meet her. He had read her actions and was braced for her assault. As they met, there was a concussion of wood against wood. They strained against each other–a contest of strength and wills.
Shann was still getting to her knees–the breath had been knocked out of her. Lyall glanced sideways towards the deck–it seemed that his little surprise was ready. Time to end this.
The rain continued to pelt down as Lyall launched himself upward once more. He made no attempt to engage the Keltar. Instead he called out to Keris, “Mannatar–withdraw.” Keris seemed not to hear as she pressed her attack. She and Saccath were beginning to sink slowly towards the deck. “Withdraw.” She disengaged herself and pulled away. Saccath swung his staff, the diamond blade slashing her arm as she fell. Lyall backed off, leaving Saccath alone in midair. “Now.”
Instantly, the air around Saccath congealed and he was struck with a giant invisible fist. The bald Keltar’s mouth opened as he was hurled backwards and disappeared over the ship’s prow. Lyall landed next to Shann and helped her to her feet. They both made their way to the forward rail where Keris was already standing, her long dark hair blowing about her face in the strong wind. Lyall leaned over the rail and scanned the water. The sea was slate grey, strong winds plucking spray from the choppy waves. Of Saccath, there was no sign.
“Is he gone?” The three cloaked figures at the rail turned to see Alondo standing before them. He had slung his vortex arm behind him. Boxx was by his side–bobbing up and down in curious fashion.
“It would seem so,” Lyall replied. “I’m sorry you had to do that, but we had no choice.”
“Well, I for one won’t miss him.” Alondo grinned through the pelting rain.
“Impressive,” Keris said. “I suppose we should call that the ‘Alondo gambit.’” She walked past Alondo and carefully picked up something from the deck, holding it reverently. Saccath’s staff. Dropped in his final moments of panic. She walked over to Shann and held the staff out to her. The girl looked distinctly selfconscious with everyone looking at her. “You fought bravely,” Keris declared. “This is yours by right–to replace that which was lost.” Lyall and Alondo both nodded their assent. Shann reached out and took hold of the staff as if she was expecting it to bite her at any moment.
Lyall suddenly remembered something. “Patris.”
“I checked him–he’s alive,” Alondo smiled again. “Maybe we should throw him overboard so he can keep his ‘friend’ company?”
Lyall looked at him disapprovingly. “He didn’t ask to be in this situation. I was the one who decided that we should be less than honest with him about the true purpose of this voyage. If anything, the fault is mine.”
“What do you want us to do with him?” Alondo asked.
Lyall looked up at the carrack, its sails still towering over their ship’s stern. The shipmaster was no doubt already speculating at how events had played out over here–debating over what should be his next move. There was not much time.
“You and Boxx get him into the launch. Keris, Shann–let’s get this ship moving.”
~
Shann stood on the foredeck of the Reach, fumbling at the straps on the harness that now enveloped her shoulders and upper torso. Her fingers felt numbed by the constant wind and rain. Lyall, who had already completed his adjustments, came over to help her. Keris stood a short way off, her own harness tethered to the iron rings which had been set into the deck for this very purpose. Waiting patiently.
Lyall smiled at Shann encouragingly, as he checked her over. “You understand how to do this?”
Shann fought back the feeling of being patronised. “Leap off using lodestone. Then retract the upper lodestone layer and extend bronze.”
“Correct. However, it’s important that the three of us act in concert, so that we pull at the same time. We leap together. Then extend bronze together on my signal. All right?”
Shann nodded. As usual, she found his intense blue eyes reassuring. She wanted to ask him about Saccath’s taunts concerning events at Persillan and about his sister, but this was clearly neither the time nor the place. Keris was standing, listening to every word, and she had no wish to embarrass him. Besides, Lyall was right–getting the ship underway was their priority right now.
She and Keris took up positions to Lyall’s right and left. “Ready?” he called. “Go.”
They ran a few steps towards the ship’s prow, extended their cloaks and leaped into the space above the deck. Just like the three perridons in Arval’s tale, Shann mused. As the line went taut, she felt the strain of the harness against her shoulders. She looked across and saw the others alongside her, suspended in midair and raised her hand to her neck control, awaiting the signal from Lyall.
“Now.”
As she withdrew the lodestone and simultaneously extended her bronze, she felt a subtle change of pressure on her harness. For an eternity nothing happened. Then a shout from below. It was Alondo. “She’s moving.” He ran towards the stern, climbed the ladder to the afterdeck and took up position at the ships rudder. Boxx scampered after him.
Slowly, determinedly, Annata’s Reach came about and headed into The Great Barrier of Storms.
~
It was unlike anything Shann had ever experienced before. The colossal tempest assailed her senses. Rain lashed against her face, obscuring her vision. Cracks of blue lightning blinded and deafened her. Wind buffeted her small body like a dozen mailed fists. Before long, it felt to her as if she were surviving on willpower alone.
It was impossible to tell if they were making any progress. Beneath them, the Aronak Sea lifted up their tiny ship on waves the size of mountains before dropping them just as suddenly into valley-like troughs in between. She fancied she could hear Lyall yelling encouragement, but the maelstrom immediately ripped up his words and threw them away contemptuously.
Above the cacophony of sound, Shann had the impression of a high pitched whine below. She glanced down to see Boxx on the foredeck. It seemed to be pointing aft. She hazarded a look over her shoulder. Through the mist and rain she saw the unmistakeable shape of the carrack. Sails trimmed to beat against the gale. Bearing down on them.
A sudden concussion–but this time it was not lightning. The sea burst ahead of them as the lodestone cannon overshot its mark. Again Lyall shouted something. She could not make out what he was saying, but she got the message clear as crystal. The Prophet’s ship was no longer trying to cripple their vessel. It was trying to sink her.
There was another impact just off their larboard quarter. Shards of timber blew out as their ship listed violently to starboard, then righted itself. The wooden hull creaked in protest. Lyall shouted and pointed downwards.
Shann nodded and adjusted her neck control, withdrawing the bronze and partially extending her lodestone layer so that she drifted downwards to where Boxx was waiting patiently. As her boots made contact with the rain-slicked deck, she was already tearing at the straps of her harness. She tore it free, letting it fall to the deck, and raced to the port rail, with Boxx behind her. Leaning over the side, she saw shattered timbers floating on the sea. The side of the ship was now marked by a dark gash. They were holed just above the waterline.
Shann had barely had a moment to survey the damage when she heard a loud retort followed by a terrible rending of wood and canvass. As she peered into the mist and spray, she saw the pursuing vessel heeled violently over to larboard. The titanic storms had slapped it like a petulant child, toppling the mainmast and snapping the mizzen mast in two. The flame symbol of the Prophet still fluttered boldly as the ship was blown onto its side by the howling winds. Crewmembers jumped or were thrown into the turbulent waters. Shann realised with a sickening feeling that there was nothing she could do to save them. Slowly, the Prophet’s ship began to capsize.
As she watched the death throes of the carrack, Shann found that she was unable to tear her eyes away. The stern was gradually swallowed by the enveloping waters, causing the prow to rise up in one final gesture of defiance before finally slipping beneath the waves. In a few moments, the sea had closed over the once proud vessel, so that there was nothing to mark its passing.
Shann jerked herself back to reality. They had to do something about the breach in their hull, or the Reach would soon be joining the other vessel at the bottom of the sea. She started back to where Lyall and Keris were still straining, pulling their battered cog through the storms. Then she saw it. A shaft of light burst through the whirling clouds, revealing a sliver of azure blue sky beyond, like a flash of hope. Suddenly an immense wave crashed against the starboard side of the ship. The deck lurched under her and she was flung backwards in the flood of seawater. Boxx was tumbling towards the ship’s rail. Shann lunged at the creature, grabbing it round its midriff just as a second wave burst over the side. She was hurled back again. Then the world exploded as her head hit the rail and she was tossed over the side of the ship, still clutching the Chandara. Shann experienced an instant of freefall before hitting the water with a splash. Her ears were instantly muffled as she felt herself sinking below the waves, and gradually her consciousness slipped away.
~
It began with a merest suggestion of warmth. Slowly, the suggestion became a sensation and the sensation moved outwards from its birthplace. Spreading. Growing. Its tendrils insinuated themselves, enlivening and animating all that they touched. Slowly the warm feeling changed colour and intensified, becoming…pain. Slowly, determinedly, Shann opened her eyes.
There was a round head above her. Its eyes were closed and its mouth quivered oddly. The head had a name. “Boxx.”
The creature opened its eyes and the sensation of warmth faded. “You Are Awake,” it said.
Shann’s head felt muzzy. Her back ached and she realised she was lying on something hard. She tilted her head to her left. Smooth round stones stretched away into the distance. There was the sound of water, lapping gently. A beach. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again.
“Wh-where is this?”
“This Is Beyond.”
“Beyond the Great Barrier?”
“Yes, Beyond.”
“Lyall…Alondo…where are they?”
“Gone.”
“The ship?”
“It Is Gone.”
Shann’s mind kicked in, replaying her most recent memories. They were pulling Annata’s Reach through the storm barrier–the other ship fired–they were hit–she saw the Prophet’s ship go down in the storms–a wave struck them–she clung to Boxx to stop him being swept overboard–then…what?
She struggled to sit up. Her salt-stained clothes had partially dried in the warmth of the suns and they felt stiff.
“How did I get here?”
“The Tree–It Bore Us.”
It indicated a large timber laying half out of the water–from the Reach’s smashed hull. She got to her feet. Her muscles protested loudly, but she ignored them. The sky looked peculiar–a deep cerulean blue, unbroken, save for a few wisps of cloud. Ail-Mazzoth was gone–lost somewhere beyond the distant horizon, where the Great Barrier brooded like an angry frown.
She turned and walked up the stony beach. Ail-Kar was chasing Ail-Gan towards a line of hills to the east. The beach gave way to a shelf of grey rock, strewn with boulders. There were strange patches of white powder on the ground. Shann bent down to touch one. It felt cold–colder than anything she had ever felt before. Curiously, she scooped up a little of the powder and held it in her hand. It seemed to be made up of tiny crystals. She watched in fascination as the crystals turned to…water. She raised her hand to her mouth and allowed the drops to fall on her tongue. They were deliciously cool. She scraped up a handful of the stuff, ignoring the growing numbness in her fingers. Soon, she had slaked her thirst.
Boxx had climbed onto a small boulder and was watching her patiently. As the suns began to set, she felt the air grow colder. Shann began to shiver. The light was fading rapidly, and the sky was gradually turning darker and darker, blue into black. Suddenly, a bright point appeared. But it was not one of the streaks of light that appeared regularly over the skies of her home. It hung motionless overhead. Shann gasped as another appeared near it…and then another. Soon the blackened sky was filled with twinkling points of light, like diamonds on velvet, filling her vision. The words of Alondo’s tale back at the Calandra came back to her. “It was a land of the darkest dark, where the sky is bright, but there are no suns.” Her mind reeled. It was true–Arval had been here.
She turned to Boxx. The Chandara was perched on its rock, its upturned face illuminated by the myriads of tiny lights. “What are they?” she asked.
Boxx’s high pitched voice was charged with reverence. “They Are Called Stars.”
— End of Book One —
********************
Lodestone
Book Two:
The World of Ice and Stars
Science Fiction
by Mark Whiteway
Published by Mark Whiteway
Kindle Edition
Copyright 2011 Mark Whiteway
***
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Book Two: The World of Ice and Stars
List of chapters
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 1
“‘Beyond this world,’ sayeth the sage, ‘lay both wonders to delight the heart and terrors to freeze the soul’.”
The Wisdom of Kal, First Stanza, First Line
What is this place? Shann’s heart beat like that of a tiny bird caught in a snare. The star-filled sky wheeled overhead. Her first instinct was to crouch down and cover her head with her arms to shut out the dizzying spectacle. A distant part of her recalled that according to Alondo’s tale, a number of Arval’s crew had lost their sanity after witnessing this very sight. Come on, Shann, get a grip on yourself. She recalled that fateful night in Corte when she had plucked a staff from the rain-soaked ground and handed it to a man with fair hair and piercing blue eyes. Since then she had escaped from a prison, battled the fearsome Keltar, braved the Fire Pits of Kharthrun, and survived the Great Barrier of Storms. She had seen and endured more than anyone from her hometown of Corte, or indeed the entire district of Chalimar; more perhaps than any other Kelanni alive. She was no longer a weak little girl.
Boxx sat still, perched on its rock, staring up at the myriad of tiny frigid lights, its face serene. She forced herself to follow its gaze. The stars were both terrifying and beautiful. Gradually her fear began to ebb, replaced by fertile shoots of curiosity from which questions began to bloom.
“What are they–these ‘stars’?” she asked.
“I Do Not Know, Shann. Worlds Like Ours, Perhaps. Or Unlike Ours.”
That explanation didn’t seem very likely to Shann. “How did you know about them?”
“I Remembered,” the Chandara said in its sing-song voice.
“You mean you have been here before?”
“No.”
“Then how–?”
“I Remembered. From Before. Chandara Remember.”
Shann was beginning to feel her headache returning. One thing was certain; they could not stay here. She could feel the cold penetrating her bones. Her breath condensed in front of her face in clouds of vapour. She had to find Lyall and the others.
“Come on, let’s go,” she called.
The creature hopped down from the rock obediently and fell into step. Shann began to head away from the beach. She was still wearing her jet-black tunic and trousers, her flying cloak flapped in the breeze, and Saccath’s staff was slung behind her–the trappings of a Keltar. Still, what was it Lyall had said back at the farmhouse? “If you understand the power of a tyrant, you can use it against him.”
She walked uphill, making for the highest point she could see. If her companions from the Reach had made it safely to shore, and had witnessed the fall of darkness and the appearance of the stars, then the first thing they would likely do would be to build a fire. She would stand the best chance of spotting it from higher ground; indeed, she would be better able to see any signs of life–assuming there was anyone at all alive in this benighted world.
At first, Shann found progress difficult in the unaccustomed gloom. She stumbled more than once over rocks or uneven surfaces. If she had been on her own, she would naturally have thought of using her flying cloak to make faster progress, but she was not sure whether Boxx would be able to keep up. She was afraid they might lose each other in the dark. Better that she should endure the arduousness of the climb and stub her toe occasionally than risk losing the only friend she had left in the world. Alondo, you had better have a nice fire going by the time I get there.
After a while, her Kelanni eyes became more accustomed to the lower light levels and her progress became a little easier. Boxx trotted along contentedly next to her, as if they were merely out for a midnight stroll. “Where Are We Going?” it asked, conversationally.
“Up there.” She pointed to the escarpment that rose above them, a dark outline against the star-filled sky.
“Why Up There?”
“Because I need to look around. Find out what’s in this place.”
“There Are Chandara Here,” it declared.
“How could you know that?”
“Chandara Remember,” it said. “Memories Are Passed On. We Grow. We Change. We Eat. We Remember.”
Shann’s brow knotted. It felt just as when they had first met up with Keris and Boxx on the road from Gort. The creature had “explained” to them about the “key.” It had offered to “speak the key” to Keris, but when invited to do so, what it came out with amounted to gibberish. It had continued to mention the key at odd intervals, usually when it became agitated about something; but other than Annata’s statement that Boxx was the key and Lyall’s revelation that the name Boxx meant key in the ancient tongue, none of them had been able to discover what that meant. Once again, Shann was forced to admit defeat. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand you.”
“You Will Understand,” it said, “When My Time Comes–As It Must For All Chandara.”
“Your time for what?”
“We Change. We Eat. We Remember,” it repeated.
Shann laughed inwardly. At least Boxx’s company was lightening her mood, even if she was no wiser at the end of their discussion than she had been at the beginning.
Still, if it were somehow right–if there were Chandara here–then that would change everything. From the moment she had awoken in this hostile world, she had been dogged by the nagging fear that it was devoid of all life. If that were true, then their chances of survival were poor indeed. Right now, she would gladly settle for the sight of a group of Chandara, even if it meant that she would never enjoy a sensible conversation again.
They were approaching the crest of the ridge. Shann’s muscles ached from the exertion of the climb, but the heat she radiated was helping to stave off the unaccustomed cold of this place. She turned to look back. The sound of the breakers on the shore had faded to a faint soughing. The sea was an inky black, yet the crests of the waves twinkled, picked out by starlight in a way that struck her as quite beautiful. She raised her head and gazed upward at the burnished sky. Some of the stars were hard points, staring down at her from far above like accusing eyes. Brilliant. Indomitable. Others, though, were fuzzy patches of light, shining with a softer glow. As she watched, she noticed something else–there were faint impressions of colour. Pink and yellow and orange…
She tore her gaze away and scaled the last section to crest the top of the ridge. Her breath congealed in the cold night air as she surveyed this world beyond the Barrier. The landscape was dark, populated with indistinct shapes and anonymous shadows. Then she saw it off to the south. Not a campfire–something far larger. It could only be the lights of a village or a town. So there are people here. What manner of people, she could only guess. But she and Boxx were going to need food and shelter, and the only source of either was there.
A low snarling sound. A pair of yellow eyes appeared in front of her; then another, and a third. Shapes moved in the darkness, jostling each other impatiently, regarding her with a malevolence colder even than the bitter air. The snarl grew into a chorus of deep-throated growls from every side. The staff she had inherited from Saccath was already in her hands, her tendons stretched white against the darkwood. “Boxx, stay close,” she commanded. Glancing beside her, she saw that the Chandara had transformed itself into a ball of chitin. You’ll have to teach me that trick.
Shann whirled around. The creatures were circling her, probing her defences, testing her resolve. She strained her eyes, but their forms were elusive, melting into the anonymity of the starlit night. If she were on her own, she would have flared her cloak and scanned for lodestone so as to effect her escape, but there was no way she was going to leave Boxx at the mercy of these…things. She keened her Kelanni senses, bracing herself.
The attack erupted in a flurry of fur and fang–of horn and claw. Shann sliced, slashed and stabbed at anything that moved; her diamond blade flashing in the starlight as if the heavens were lending her their power. She brought her staff down on the head of one of the beasts and heard the crunch of bone; then pirouetted, cleaving phantoms and sundering shadows. Bass growling became interspersed with higher pitched yelping. The creatures backed off. Regrouping. Thinking.
As she stood, breathing hard, braced for the next onslaught, Shann’s mind went back to the battle with the sand scarags of the Great Southern Desert. The sand scarags were like automata. They had one tactic–swarm and overwhelm–which they pursued with a mindless compulsion. These creatures were different. There was a collective intelligence here, the cold unyielding logic of the implacable hunter.
Shann felt a sudden sharp pressure in the small of her back. Before she could react, she was propelled forward and sent sprawling face first to the ground. She twisted onto her back. A huge shape loomed over her, blotting out the stars. Xanthic eyes bore into her and hot, fetid breath washed over her face.
Shann’s heart froze. Without thinking, she tightened her grip on her staff weapon and thrust upward with every ounce of her strength. The silhouette above her stiffened. Gradually, the amber lights faded and went out, and a great weight pinned her to the ground.
Bestial sounds converged and deliquesced into the night. Shann felt too spent to move. At length, she gathered the last few crumbs of her strength and pulled herself out from under the mass of tangled fur. Her hand and forearm were covered in white blood, and blood stained the front of her tunic. She found a patch of the white powder and cleaned her exposed skin as best she could, enduring the numbing effects of the cold. Her clothes, she could do nothing about, for now. Boxx had unfurled itself and was regarding her with an expression of mild curiosity.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, answering its unspoken question. “I don’t need your help this time.” The Chandara settled back down with its head resting on the ground, waiting patiently for her to finish.
Shann went to the felled beast and knelt beside it. It was a four-legged animal, as long as she was tall, with a matted grey coat and a head that seemed too large for its body. The crown of its skull was bare, topped off by three wicked-looking horns. Its wide, slightly parted mouth was filled with rows of sharp teeth. She had never seen anything like it before.
Shann let out a long breath and hunched her shoulders. She had been in this strange world for less than a day, and she had already spilled blood. It was not a good beginning. Something cold caressed her cheek. She looked up, startled. White flakes drifted lazily down from the sky. They settled on her shoulders, in her hair and eyelashes, and on the fur of the lifeless beast. She held out her hand tentatively. The flakes landed on her palm and melted into beads of water, just like the powder which lay on the ground. Like a fine crystalline rain. She shivered involuntarily. It was getting colder. They had to get moving.
Without further thought, Shann rose, wrapped her flying cloak tightly about her small frame and began heading along the line of low hills as it snaked south, toward the lights and whatever welcome or warding awaited her there.
~
As she descended the rough escarpment, the white flakes grew thicker and more numerous. They surrounded her in a slow motion aerial ballet, obscuring her vision. Even when she closed her eyes, she could still see them in her mind’s eye and feel them on her face.
As the ground levelled out, she could make out what looked as if they might be cultivated areas to her left and right. Between the gloom and the growing white precipitation, it was difficult to be certain. She could have been walking through fields of kalash or moba root, or of some unknown crop, and not realised it.
Ahead of her, the lights of the town burned steadily. Shann was struck by the fact that they seemed preternaturally bright–brighter than the lights of any town ought to appear at night time. At first, it seemed to her that it might be nothing more than an impression, due to the fact that the night was much darker here, devoid as this world was of Ail-Mazzoth’s comforting dull red glow. As she drew near the outskirts, however, the real reason became apparent. There was a roadway that led into the town, and on either side, set on poles several times her height, were yellow globes like strange oil lamps, bathing the road with a soft effulgence.
Shann found herself drawn to the globes. They were placed at regular intervals and were completely enclosed, so Shann could not see where the oil would go. Besides, it would take huge amounts of oil to keep all of them burning–and with the streets empty, she could not see the point of all that waste. She put the enigma of the globes aside for a moment and turned her attention to the dwellings.
Their angled roofs were covered with an unbroken layer of the white powder. The stones from which they were constructed were…odd. They were all uniform, with rigid, precise angles. Perhaps the inhabitants were a strict, military people? Wasteful military. Somehow, that didn’t seem right.
The dreamlike precipitation had eased. Occasional flakes fluttered down from the sky like stragglers at the end of a procession, hastening to catch up to the main performance. The thick white powder gathered in clumps and collected in drifts. It seemed to deaden sound. There was no wind. Shann suddenly realised how tired and hungry she was. Boxx had not complained, but she knew that acts of healing tired the Chandara. She was sure that it, too, was in a weakened state.
Somewhere far off, a bell chimed. Shann looked up and down the deserted street. The road surface was cobbled, like the streets of her home, except that the stones were smoother and more even than the streets of the Great City of Chalimar itself. The surface was dappled with patches of the cold white powder. The yellow globes created intersecting pools of light.
In one of the pools, by the side of the street, sat a large box-shaped object. Shann approached and saw that it was some sort of compartment with windows made of pure glass. She reached out her hand. The surface was metal–cold and smooth to the touch. What could be its purpose? And equally, why would someone leave such a thing by the side of the roadway? Shann walked around it and saw that it had what looked like a door with a handle. She tested it. The mechanism clunked and a door opened outward. Inside, she saw two sets of comfortable seats facing each other. She glanced around. Nothing stirred in the cold, empty street.
“Boxx.”She waved the creature over, and it hopped inside. She climbed in after it and closed the door behind her. It felt as if the cold had been banished to the outside. The folk of this peculiar world, whoever they were, would no doubt soon be up and about their daily business. The windows of the compartment would provide the perfect vantage point for her to observe them before deciding whether she should make contact.
Boxx lay curled up on the seat opposite. As the cold and numbness faded, warmth and sensation returned to her hands and feet. And with the warmth, there came an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. The seat seemed to mould itself to fit her back, soothing her tired bones and aching muscles. Shann closed her eyes, and in moments was fast asleep.
<><><><><>
Chapter 2
Shann was awoken by an ear-splitting scream. The combination of the sound and the frigid air flooding into the compartment conspired to shock her into full alertness. In the open doorway stood a figure about half her size–a girl. She was Kelanni, with long fair hair, dressed in a thick brown fur garment that reached below her knees and a matching fur hat. Before Shann could react, the little girl opened her mouth and screamed again.
Shouts from outside–the sound of running feet. She was trapped; the girl blocking the only exit. Shann sprang forward like a scalded dagan, shoving the girl aside more roughly than she’d intended, and stumbled out onto the street. Boxx appeared beside her, twitching its head from side to side. Bright sunlight reflected from the pure white roofs and window ledges. Shann was dazzled and disoriented for a moment. Through her squinting eyes she began to discern a thoroughfare busy with people. All Kelanni. All clad in variations of the little girl’s fur attire. All staring at her.
Two burly individuals, dressed in thick blue surcoats, were bearing down on them. One of them shouted to the other, but it was a word Shann could not recognise. She turned to Boxx. “Run.”
The Chandara obeyed, scuttling off down the street at speed, dodging around the feet of startled passersby. I’ll keep them occupied. Shann drew her staff and planted her feet. Come and get me.
It dawned on her that from the moment she had found herself washed up on the beach until now, she had not scanned for lodestone in this world. Everything was so different here–maybe lodestone didn’t exist? Her hand moved to her neck control and she flexed it experimentally. She was shocked to detect a strong deposit right here under the street–so strong, in fact, that it could hardly be natural. Refined lodestone, then. But there was something else. A regularity, as if …as if it had been laid here deliberately. But for what purpose?
There was no time to speculate. Shann flared her cloak and launched herself skyward, to the gasps of onlookers. Looking down, she noted with grim satisfaction that the blue-coated figures had slowed to a halt and were gazing up at her, perplexed. Shann landed on the roof of the compartment, then pushed off again immediately, following the line that Boxx had taken.
She could not help but be reminded of the tower on the Eastern Plains. The base of refined lodestone embedded in the roof there afforded a freedom of movement that was exhilarating–liberating. Then she had been locked in a life and death struggle with a young Keltar. Now there was no-one to challenge her mastery of the air.
Shann touched down a little farther up the street, sending a group of alarmed townspeople scattering in all directions; expressions of horror frozen on their faces. A tatterdemalion creature dragged from the depths of the sea and stained with blood. I must look a sight.
She glanced behind her. The two men in blue had shut their mouths and gathered their wits, and were headed in her direction once more. One of them yelled to her in a voice that sounded urgent. Again it was a word she could not make out, although she seemed to hear it distinctly.
A rushing sound. She turned around. Another of the compartments was bearing down on her, filling her vision. It seemed to be moving on its own, with no graylesh to pull it. Stranger still, it had no wheels or any other contact with the ground. Through the glass windows, Shann caught a glimpse of the occupants. The one nearest her was gesticulating wildly. She moved an instant too late. The flying compartment caught her with a glancing blow and sent her tumbling onto the freezing cobbles.
Pain lanced through her right shoulder. Shann gritted her teeth and got her feet under her. People were backing away and shouting at each other. “Come–what–hurt–in the way.” She shook her head. She seemed to be able to make out every second or third word, but even those were spoken in a thick dialect, so she had to strain her ears and her brain to discern them. Suddenly she remembered Boxx. She turned to look up the street in the direction it had gone. About two hundred yards ahead, a crowd of the fur-clad denizens were gathered in a large circle. They had it trapped.
With a stab of alarm, Shann recalled how the folk in the village of Pinnar in the Distrada had reacted to it with fear and distrust. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she extended the upper lodestone layer of her cloak and sprang upward once more, angling toward the mob. As she reached the zenith of her leap and began to descend, Shann flared a second time to stay aloft. She sailed gracefully over wide eyes and pointing fingers before landing in the midst of the assembled throng. Boxx was standing on its hind limbs, moving its head from side to side. It seemed agitated, but unhurt.
The crowd muttered, calling to one another in the same thick, indistinct accent. Some men at the front started to edge forward. She moved both hands to the end of Saccath’s staff and began swinging it violently to and fro in a wide arc. “Stay…away. Keep…away.” Her voice cracked, and the gathering shattered, backing rapidly out of the range of her wide sweeps. Her teeth were clenched and her eyes wild.
The two blue-coated figures burst through the retreating throng, then came to a halt, regarding her and then each other. Shann saw for the first time that they both carried staffs, but they were unlike any Keltar’s. There were no diamond blades in evidence, and in place of the darkwood there was a silver coloured metal. One end was more bulbous, with extensions and protuberances that reminded her strongly of Alondo’s vortex arm. The thinner end had a series of concentric rings running down its length.
One of the blue coats, a short, square jawed man with eyes half hidden by cheekbones, said something and raised the thin end so that it was levelled at Shann. The other, who was taller and leaner, with skin a darker shade of olive, put out his hand and forced the other’s staff downward, so that it pointed to the ground. The taller man issued what sounded like a sharp rebuke. Shann was able to make out just one word clearly. “…kill…”
She stiffened. Boxx had taken up a position behind her and was peeking out between her legs. “Stay away –I’m warning you.”
Before the blue coats could react, a commotion arose behind them. They parted to allow a third man through, dressed in a full length sable coat. His face was etched in worry lines and framed by shoulder length fair hair. He spread his arms wide and spoke in a halting voice, tinged with the same odd accent. “None…no-one here will…hurt you. What is…your name?”
“Shann,” she replied tersely, her staff still held at the ready.
“Shann,” he repeated. “My name is Byrdach.”
“Berdak,” she said, her tongue chasing the unfamiliar sound around her mouth.
“Where do you…come from, Shann?” Byrdach asked.
“From across the Great Barrier.”
Byrdach frowned. “Where?”
“The Great Barrier,” she repeated. She looked out on the yawning gulf of incomprehension surrounding her. “Across the Aronak Sea–the Sea of Storms.”
A woman in the crowd piped up. “Ayronath.” There followed a chorus of agreement, interspersed with howls of dissention.
Byrdach barked at the blue coated figures to either side of him. “…people…safe…eating.” At least, that was what it sounded like. Again, Shann had to strain her ears to make out the words. It was an odd experience–like trying to recall the cadence of a long-forgotten melody. She felt like asking him to speak slower.
The blue coats snapped out of their trance and set about shooing people away. Slowly, grudgingly, the gathering began to disperse. Children, dragged away by their parents, glanced over their shoulders at Shann and Boxx with unsated curiosity.
The watchmen stood flanking Byrdach once more, eyes locked on Shann, fingers twitching near their odd silver staffs. Ail-Gan and Ail-Kar were dazzling orbs amid a sky of washed-out blue and worn, ragged clouds. Beads of sweat started to form on Shann’s forehead.
“Will you put away your…?” Byrdach stretched out a weathered palm, indicating her staff. “…Please.” Shann looked down. Her hands were clenched around the haft as if they were an outgrowth of the darkwood itself. With an effort, she relaxed her grip and sheathed her weapon in the scabbard at her back. There was a palpable release of tension in the air.
“Will you…come with me?” Byrdach asked.
Shann’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you want me to come with you?”
“I want to take you to a place of…safety. And there is another you should meet.” Byrdach made the same placating gesture. “…Please.”
Shann felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach–apprehension locked in mortal combat with hunger. It was hunger that finally won out. “Boxx, come on.” She crossed the space to where Byrdach stood a head taller than she was. His eyes were dark–secretive, yet not unkindly. He smiled for the first time, and the cracks in his face grew more pronounced. She was far from convinced that she could trust this individual. Still, Saccath’s staff was a reassuring pressure against her back muscles, like the gnarled hand of an old friend. Just don’t try anything.
Byrdach led the way up the cobbled street, the people of the town giving them a wide berth. The blue coated figures followed at a discreet distance.
As the need for flight or fight receded, Shann’s inquisitive nature reasserted itself. “How is it you can speak to me, when these others cannot?”
Byrdach looked down at her. “I recognised your speech. It is like…Old Kelanni.”
“Old Kelanni.”
“Yes,” Byrdach said. “It is what people spoke before the Goratha–the dark time.”
“The dark time?”
Byrdach nodded. “There was a…sickness. Many died.”
A plague is sweeping through our race. That was what the woman from the past had told Keris. Were these also descendants of Annata’s people? But they were so…different. It didn’t seem possible. Shann looked from one side of the street to the other. Someone had gone along and extinguished all of the globes, but their glass was milky white, opaque, giving no clue as to their inner workings. The white powder was melting gradually to water, patches becoming puddles. Drifts that had taken refuge in corners and doorways were shrinking, congealing, turning grey at the edges–sacrificing their purity to the warmth of the suns. Along the side of the street there were walkways thronged with people, striding purposefully, dawdling or gazing into glass-covered bay windows displaying unknown merchandise. She caught the scent of fresh baked bread. Her stomach growled and her mouth salivated, forcing her to swallow. Somewhere nearby, a gundir barked.
Shann was struck by a peculiar paradox. The more she observed these people, the more different they were; yet in another sense, the more they were the same. They were Kelanni: one head, two arms, two legs, one tail. Just as she was. Strip away the strange globes and the glass-fronted windows, the heavy clothing and the floating carriages, and she could be in Corte or Lind or Kinnat or any of half a dozen towns of her home.
Thoughts of home brought a more pressing concern back to her mind. She forced herself to broach the question. “Have you seen any others–any like me?”
Byrdach paused and looked at her strangely. “No, why do you ask?”
“There were others with me. We were…separated.”
“You said you crossed the Ayronath?”
“The Aronak Sea,” she corrected.
“There are…winds.”
“The Barrier. I know.”
“Then how–?”
“Because I was with a man who doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘impossible’.” She smiled wryly at Byrdach’s confused expression. “We modified a ship and pulled it in. Boxx and me were swept overboard and washed up on the beach not far from here.”
“You modified a ‘what’?”
“A ship.”
“I…am not familiar with that word.”
They reached an intersection just as one of the floating carriages passed in front of them. It was silver, with a festive yellow stripe along its length and lamps attached to the front end, although they were not illuminated. It made only the faintest whooshing sound as it moved. She craned her neck to watch as the carriage flew down the street, then slowed to disappear around a corner. A realisation struck her–the lodestone in the street; that was how the carriages moved. But that would take a great amount of refined lodestone. She thought back to the extravagance of the globes. The people here must have wealth beyond imagining.
Byrdach led the way across the intersection and into the street opposite. The buildings were taller here; up to four stories high, but constructed of the same uniform stones in varying shades of grey. Opulence with a cloak of austerity. Flying carriages plied their way up and down the highway. Shann wondered idly how they always managed to avoid colliding with one another.
“You spoke of a…‘ship’,” he reminded her.
“A vessel that carries people over the sea. Surely you know what a ship is.”
“I have never heard of such a wonder,” Byrdach said. Shann listened carefully but could detect no hint that the man was joking. How could a people who lived in a lighted city and rode in flying carriages not know what a ship was? “Where is your ‘ship’ now?”
Is he testing me? “I…don’t know. We were attacked. The hull was breached. I…” Shann castigated herself. Maybe I should not have mentioned that we were attacked. She shot him a sideways glance, but he merely looked thoughtful. They walked on in silence for some moments. He made a right turn down a narrow street. It looked like an artisan’s district–some shops she seemed to recognise, like smiths and glassmakers; others she could only guess at. One had an adjacent yard stocked with some types of machinery, larger and more intricate than any she had ever seen. Alondo would go crazy here.
Shann looked over her shoulder and saw that the blue coats were still following. Despite Byrdach’s ready smile and disarming manner, it still felt as if she were under guard. Their route was leading them toward the western edge of town, in the direction of the sea. He said he was taking me to a place of safety–safe for whom?
It was Byrdach who broke the silence. “That is a…Candachra you have with you, is it not?”
“We call them ‘Chandara’–yes.” She felt a rush of excitement. Boxx had said there were Chandara in this world. “You know of the Chandara?” she asked conversationally.
“I have never actually seen one. They disappeared after the war. You say yours came with you, through the…Barrier?”
“Yes.”
“How come it is travelling with you?”
“Why don’t you ask it?” she said innocently.
“Your Candachra can speak?”
“Oh, yes.”
The shelled creature was ambling along behind them, sniffing at the air and taking in the sights. Byrdach turned to address it. “Candachra–”
“Its name is Boxx,” Shann interposed.
Byrdach looked at her oddly, then raised his eyebrows and began again. “Boxx, where do you come from?”
“The Great Tree,” Boxx responded in its thin, high tone.
“Where is that?”
“It Is In The Midst Of Our Forest. Kelanni Had A Name For It In The Before. Illaryon. Kelanni Name All Things, As Is Their Way.”
“And where is Illaryon?” Byrdach asked.
Boxx appeared wistful. “Far Away. Over Storm And Sea. Deep Pits And High Hills. Crowded Prairie And Empty Desert. To The Heartwood. My Home.”
They had left the last vestiges of the town behind and were wending their way up a hillside covered with an unbroken blanket of the white powder, its crystalline surface glinting in the light of the suns. A flock of birds took to the air as they passed, before gradually settling back to the ground. Large cylindrical structures were set back from the path at odd intervals.
“Why are you here?” Byrdach continued his interrogation of the Chandara.
“For All Kelanni. I Am The Key.”
“The key? The key to what?”
“You Are Not The Key. I Cannot Speak It. Only To Keris.”
He looked back at Shann, who only smiled sweetly.
The hill they were ascending was dominated by a large building, quite different from any she had seen in the town. The main part formed a huge silver dome which rose majestically over the white landscape. To one side, there were other constructions of the more familiar grey stones. A palace, perhaps? It would make sense that they would be taken to a higher authority–someone with the power to decide their fate. She briefly considered the possibility of flight once again, but she could not guarantee Boxx’s safety, and she needed more information. Not to mention food.
They walked up the final section and through an ample gateway to a large wooden door, set with a bronze coloured ring. Byrdach grasped the ring and banged it loudly twice.
“We are here,” he announced.
<><><><><>
Chapter 3
“Go Away.”
The words, though heavy with dialect, were unmistakeable. A door opened and a portly woman came bustling through it before closing it behind her with utter finality.
Shann and Boxx stood next to Byrdach in a spacious hallway lined with wood panelling and set with lamps that looked like miniature versions of the ones lining the streets of the town. The decor seemed appropriate to the dwelling of a rich person, but it was hardly the palace Shann had envisaged earlier. Byrdach stepped forward, and there was a frank exchange of words. Finally, the woman acquiesced, after a great deal of tutt-tutting and shaking of her head. He made for the door she had come through, then stopped with his hand on the door lever as if remembering something. He turned back and whispered to the woman, his head inclining slightly in Shann’s direction. Then he opened the door and disappeared through it, closing it behind him as if he did not want what was inside to get out.
The plump woman hustled over to Shann, then her face fell, as if she had just noticed Shann’s condition. Her hands went to her round cheeks, then smoothed down the apron fronting her workmanlike dress, as if she were preparing for battle. “You…come.” She grabbed hold of Shann’s arm to emphasise her point, aggravating the girl’s shoulder injury.
Shann winced. “Oww.”
The woman instantly let go, unsure what to do next. Then she went to a side door, opened it and waved Shann through. “You come…”
Shann was too weak and tired to argue. With Boxx in tow, she allowed herself to be led through a generous sitting room whose walls were lined with strange clicking devices and more books than Shann had ever seen in her life, to another wood panelled hallway, and finally to a smaller room with white walls and a white tub against one wall that she recognised as a bath. Boxx was standing on its hind limbs, its head cocked to one side. “Go, wait outside,” she ordered it. Boxx looked at her uncomprehendingly. “Shoo, shoo.” She waved her hands dismissively. Reluctantly, Boxx dropped to all sixes and scuttled out of the room.
Shann stripped at the woman’s insistence, and there followed a brief but comical tug of war over the clothes. Shann retained her flying cloak and staff, but grudgingly allowed everything else to be whisked away.
Moments later, she was sitting in the tub behind a screen, waiting for the water to arrive. Nothing happened. Bored, she began fiddling with the bronze fittings, and to her amazement warm water came gushing forth. Soon she was luxuriating in the light steam and testing her injured shoulder–a job for Boxx later. She got out and peeked behind the screen. A towel had been draped over one chair and fresh clothes over another. Her flying cloak still lay crumpled on the floor where she had dropped it, but her diamond-bladed staff which she had propped up against the wall was gone. She cursed her carelessness and dressed hurriedly, bundling the cloak under her arm.
She opened the door, expecting to find Boxx, and recoiled as she was confronted by the two blue coated figures from before. Standing guard. She looked around, but the Chandara was nowhere to be seen. First my staff is gone, now this. The place was starting to feel ominously like a prison–a comfortable prison to be sure, but a prison nonetheless. “Where is Boxx?” The watchmen looked at her uncomprehendingly “The Chandara; where is it?” she demanded.
The two men looked at each other. Then the taller, dark skinned one addressed her in a firm voice. “You–to come–.” His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his odd silver staff. Even with no weapon, Keris could have disarmed them both and had them lying unconscious on the floor without breaking a sweat. Shann, however, was not her. There was nothing for it but to allow herself to be taken meekly to her cell.
Instead, they led her back to the sitting room with the books and the odd machinery, and indicated that she should wait there. The door closed, and she heard the unmistakeable sound of a lock turning. She got up and tested the door lever, but of course, it did not move. What did these people want with her?
She turned and looked around the room she was in. It was the machines that immediately captured her attention. There were large contrivances nearly as tall as the ceiling, and small ones no bigger than her hand, set on shelves. They were all different, yet they were all moving internally. Whirring. Clicking. One of the smaller devices erupted into a peal of tinkling notes and then settled down once more. Shann walked over to it and peered into its inner workings. Beneath its pure glass dome, she could see wheels–wheels within wheels. Tiny components of bronze and silver, interlocked and moving together in a common purpose, the nature of which she could only guess at. It was like looking into a whole new world. Beautiful. Alive…
A key turned and the door behind her opened. Shann spun around. Two men entered. One was Byrdach. The other was old and balding, with bleached olive skin stretched too tight over sharp cheekbones and a hook nose. He was slightly bent over, but his movements were sprightly. Byrdach selected a couch and settled himself into it. He tossed a reassuring smile in Shann’s direction which only succeeded in making her more wary. The old man remained standing. He was watching her intently, like a hungry perridon.
She ignored him and addressed Byrdach. “What have you done with Boxx?”
It was the old man who responded. “Who?”
“The Candachra she was travelling with,” Byrdach explained. The old man nodded thoughtfully, then went to a bookcase, dragged down a thick leatherbound volume and began rapidly thumbing through pages, seemingly engrossed.
“Yes the Chandara. Where is it?” Shann lent her voice a sharp edge.
“It is quite safe,” Byrdach assured her.
“I want to see it, now.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Byrdach replied evenly.
“Why not?”
“We have it in… protective custody,” Byrdach said.
“What does that mean?”
Byrdach looked at the old man, and then back at her. “There is a wild animal…place, near here, where we keep some specimens in cages…”
Shann could scarcely contain her anger. “You have it in a cage?”
“It is for its own safety,” Byrdach soothed. “You have my personal assurance that it will not be harmed in any way.”
The old man glanced up from his book. “You were a fool as my student, Byrdach, and you are a fool still. Don’t you realise the scientific importance of discovering one of the first race alive and well?”
Shann’s curiosity was piqued. “The first race?”
“Yes, yes,” the old man responded with impatience, “Surely you know that your ‘Chandara’ is one of the first ones?” Shann looked at him blankly. “Look, there are two intelligent races that originated on this planet. We, the Kelanni, are the second. The Chandara were the first. But there have been no Chandara seen anywhere since the war.”
Byrdach too had mentioned a war. Had the Kelanni here been at war with the Chandara? It seemed inconceivable–Boxx was the most inoffensive creature she had ever known. However, it was also the only Chandara she had ever known. Perhaps it was not representative of its people. And as for the Chandara of this world–well, who knew what they were like.
The old man was lost in his book once more. “You called it a name…Boxx…Boxx….” He stabbed a page with a bony forefinger. “Here it is. In the ancient tongue it means ‘opening…portal…key’.”
“Key,” Shann confirmed.
“Key to what?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Shann confessed. “It’s supposed to be the key to some kind of special device which–”
“Byrdach tells me that your Chandara has the power of speech.”
“Yes, although–”
“Then I must speak to it. Byrdach, I insist that you set it free. I will go to the Scientific Directorate if necessary.”
“I heard that since the business with that new engine of yours, you and the Principal Director weren’t on speaking terms.” The old man had a determined look. Byrdach’s face softened, and he raised a placating hand. “All right, all right–I’ll see what I can do to get it released into your custody.” He turned to Shann. “I must ask, on your honour, that you do not hurt anyone or attempt to leave this house for the time being. Do you agree to this?”
Shann nodded. Like I have a choice. Byrdach rose from the couch. “Very well, then. I leave her to you, Hannath.” He lapsed into his own dialect and she listened carefully. She couldn’t catch the words, but she saw the old man frown. Perhaps Byrdach was reminding him that the two blue coats were just outside if he needed rescuing from an unarmed slip of a girl.
The door closed behind him, and she was left alone with the old man. She jumped as Hannath slammed the book shut and threw it so that it landed with a thud on nearby table. “Byrdach is a good man, but he has no sense whatsoever.” He was staring into space, as if talking to himself. “I suppose that’s why he was chosen as Prefect.” He turned to Shann, fixing her with the same intense stare. “Sit down, please. I would like to ask you a few questions.” Shann selected a plush leather stool nearest the door and sat on the edge, holding the flying cloak in her lap as if it were the last remaining shred of her identity. “You seem to speak Old Kelanni–or a version of it, at least.”
Shann felt her hackles rise. She was already picturing Boxx huddled in the corner of a cage like some wild animal. Still, like it or not, this man had declared his determination to free the creature. She stiffened. “I speak Kelanni, not Old Kelanni. I don’t know what version of Kelanni you people speak, but it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard before.”
Hannath seemed to ignore her answer. “…and Byrdach tells me you claim to have crossed the Ayronath–Aronak, pardon me.
“Yes.”
“You crossed over from Kelanni-Drann.” Shann looked blank. “Kelanni-Drann,” he repeated. “Our planet is divided into two halves by a natural storm barrier. This side is known as Kelanni-Skell; the far side is called Kelanni-Drann. Archaeological evidence shows that the two sides were able to interact before the dark time–the Goratha. Since then, they have been cut off from each other…separate parallel development.” He was staring off into space again. “The language difference would support that…”
There was a light knock on the door. “Who is it?” Hannath barked impatiently. The door opened and a tall, lanky boy slipped in. He was not much older than Shann, with a thin, serious face and limbs that were constantly on the move, as if signalling that they were too large for his body. “What’s the matter, Rael?” the old man snapped. The boy stammered a reply in the local dialect. It sounded like something about ‘pressure tests’. “Not now, Rael, can’t you see I’m busy?” The youngster bowed reverently and closed the door behind him.
“So how did you cross the Barrier?” he demanded.
“We came by ship…it’s a vessel that travels on water.”
“Fascinating. How does it work?”
Shann frowned. “I…I don’t know…wind. It has sails and is powered by wind.”
“Unlikely. Wind is too unreliable, and the sea is dangerous and unpredictable. A vessel like that would be too unstable. Attempting to navigate the Storm Barrier in it would be foolhardy.”
Something inside Shann snapped. “I told you; we came here by ship. We risked our lives because the Prophet is building a device to destroy all Kelanni and the only thing that can stop it lies somewhere on this side. I have to find it and I have to find my friends. I’m tired and I haven’t had anything to eat since I woke up in this crazy world of yours. So…so if you don’t want to help, then please just let me and Boxx go, and we will find our own way.”
She looked at Hannath, but he did not seem to have heard her tirade. Instead, he had the same faraway look as before. “Byrdach did say that you were hurt when those idiots tried to capture you. Perhaps your memory was affected? I will ask Tallia to stop by and have a look at you.” He blinked, as if he had just remembered something. Then he picked up a small bell lying on the table and rang it vigorously. The plump woman who had attended her earlier appeared at the door. She was flushed, her head beaded with perspiration. Hannath rattled off a series of orders. The woman waddled over and spoke earnestly to Shann, herding her through the door. Before it closed, Shann glanced behind her to see that Hannath was pulling books from shelves, tossing them aside impatiently, then taking down others, leafing through them and muttering to himself all the while.
Shann blinked. I’ve just been interviewed by a lunatic.
~
The kitchen where the thick-set woman led her was sparse and functional, clashing rudely with the studious opulence of the sitting room. It was dominated by a large range, but there was a dearth of pots, pans or other utensils. It looked like a kitchen designed for someone who never got hungry. Shann sat on a stool, sipping a bowl of broth that the woman had produced from nowhere before flitting off on some unnamed errand. The broth was laden with some form of meat and pulses, and tasted wonderful. She was trying to decide whether this place was a private home, an artisan’s studio or an official residence of some kind. It seemed to have elements of all three–one more question to add to her growing list.
The blue coated watchmen had followed discreetly and were now standing guard outside. Shann was certain she could escape if she wanted to. The place was far from secure and her guards didn’t seem too bright. However, she had made a promise to Byrdach. More importantly, she could not leave Boxx behind. She didn’t even know where the Chandara was being held.
There was a noise from outside and a head topped with a brush of short cropped dark hair poked around the door. She recognised Rael, the boy from earlier. “S-sorry,” he said, and the head disappeared.
“Hey,” she called out. The head reappeared. An idea suddenly occurred to Shann. She smiled at him with her eyes. “Do you speak Old Kelanni?”
“Yes,” the head said.
“My name is Shann. You’re Rael, is that right?”
“Y…yes,” the head replied.
“Would you mind if I ask you some things?”
The head looked around furtively. “I…I guess not.” A body followed the head as the boy slid into the room and sat on a stool opposite her, looking downcast. She put down her bowl. “Do you work here?”
The boy shifted on his stool, avoiding eye contact. “I…well…yes. I mean, I’m Hannath’s apprentice.”
“Apprentice–that sounds important. What do you do?” Shann asked encouragingly.
“I run tests, report on experiments. I learn from the master.”
“You mean Hannath?”
The boy nodded, staring down at the table.
“Is he some sort of artisan?” Shann probed.
Rael looked up at her as if she had said something blasphemous. “He’s a scientist.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“You don’t know what a scientist is?” Rael sounded incredulous. “A scientist is someone who tries to find out how the world works.”
“How…the…world…works,” Shann repeated. “What do you mean?”
“W…well, for instance: why is the sky blue, how far away are the stars, why does a barrier of storms divide our world–things like that.”
“Why would anyone want to know such things?” Shann inquired.
Rael appeared stunned by the question. “We must understand how the world works, if we are to make it better.”
“So, a scientist tries to make the world better,” she said.
“That’s right.”
“By knowing about the stars,” she added.
Rael shrugged. “Maybe if we knew about the people who live there, we might understand ourselves better.”
Worlds Like Ours Perhaps. Or Unlike Ours. That was what Boxx had said. “There are no stars on my side of the world,” Shann informed him.
Rael frowned. Somehow when he did so, he looked more mature, Shann mused. It was like watching someone turn from boy to man and then back again. “That can’t be right. Our world is round; it’s surrounded by stars on every side.”
“Well, I never saw them before I came here,” Shann affirmed.
“What does the sky look like on your side?”
“Well,” she began, “there is Ail-Gan, the yellow sun, and Ail-Kar, the white sun. They rise and fall with the days. But we also have Ail-Mazzoth, the red sun, our Mother. She stays fixed in the sky–she never leaves us.”
“You have another sun on your side?”
“That’s right.”
“Does the master know this?”
Shann’s mouth became a line. “Your ‘master’ doesn’t even believe I came here by ship.”
Rael was getting the same faraway look that Hannath had. “This could explain much. The master has long theorised that our world must orbit a given mass, but aside from our calculations, there was no evidence of it. Tell, me, what does that sun of yours look like?”
“It’s a dull red colour,” Shann said. “And it’s big–about ten times the size of Ail-Gan.”
“That would mean hotter. It would be hotter on your side.”
Shann nodded, “It’s cold here, much colder than anything I’ve ever known. And there’s this white powder that turns to water–”
“Snow,” Rael put in.
“I never saw anything like it,” she said.
Rael was becoming animated. “Your red sun…”
“Ail-Mazzoth,” she interjected.
“Yes.” He looked at her intently. “That’s the reason for the storm barrier.”
Shann was incredulous. “The Great Barrier of Storms is caused by Ail-Mazzoth?”
“Well, indirectly, yes.” He gestured, his long arms describing wide sweeps over the table. “A storm front is caused when a body of warm air comes into contact with a body of cold air. The red sun must constantly heat up the air on your side, so that when it meets up with the cold air from our side, it creates a continuous storm front between the two halves of the planet…”
Rael’s face suddenly fell. “What’s the matter?” Shann asked.
“The master,” Rael said. “I have to tell him my conclusions, but…but he left orders he was not to be disturbed.” Suddenly his expression brightened and he looked like a boy again. “The stars, Shann…”
“Yes?” she responded.
“How would you like to see them up close?”
<><><><><>
Chapter 4
Shann gasped. A diorama of dazzling diamond dust, scattered across a vast inky blackness, filled her vision. Delicate yet grandiose. Fear inspiring, yet seductive.
“There are so many,” she breathed.
Rael’s voice sounded in her ear. “Do you see the cloudy patch in the middle?” Shann nodded. “We call it a ‘nebula’. It’s where stars are born.”
“Born,” Shann sounded shocked. “You mean like people?”
Rael chuckled. He seemed to be enjoying himself. Shann noticed that his stammer had vanished. “Not really,” he said. “In a nebula, matter clumps together until it forms a star and starts to shine.” He tapped her on the shoulder. “Let me show you something else.”
Shann tore her gaze away from the eyepiece. Before her, an immense copper coloured tube, which Rael had informed her was called a ‘telescope’, extended through a gap in the ceiling. They were sitting in the high domed structure which Shann had observed when she and Byrdach had approached the building complex. At that time, she had speculated that it might be a throne room, occupied by some sort of local potentate, attended by his royal retinue. However, what she was seeing now was far more magnificent than any human ruler she could possibly imagine.
Shann relinquished her seat, allowing Rael to take her place. Pressing his eye to the lens, he began spinning a bronze coloured wheel. There was a deep whirring sound from beneath the floor and the room began to rotate. He spun another wheel and the great copper tube angled upwards. Stopping at a designated point, he locked the wheel. Then he climbed out of the seat and motioned for her to take his place.
She settled herself back into the seat and looked into the eyepiece once more. “It looks like…another nebula.”
“Actually,” Rael said, “we think it’s something a great deal larger and farther away. We call it a ‘galaxy’. You see it has spokes a bit like a cartwheel?”
“Uh-huh.”
“We think each of those spokes could contain many, many thousands of stars.”
“How do you know?” Shann asked in hushed tones.
“We take measurements–do calculations. To be honest, some of it is guesswork. I spend a lot of time here, making observations for the Master.”
“You must get lonely.” The words were spoken before Shann could stop them. She glanced sideways at him.
His long legs were stretched out in front of him and he was studying the hands that were folded in his lap as if they didn’t belong to him. “I…I am very happy here. Th–the Master is very good to me.”
The wonders she was glimpsing through the telescope were causing Shann to forget her objective; the reason she had allowed herself to be led here in the first place. Put the boy at ease. Get him to trust you. She turned to face him and quickly changed the subject. “I wonder if it would ever be possible to travel there–to visit the stars.”
He looked up and smiled at her once again. “Perhaps in time. The Master is building a vessel to take us into the space between the stars.”
“How could you ever get up that high?” she asked.
“We are going to use lodestone,” he replied.
Shann nodded. “You are going to use lodestone to push the vessel, and the vessel to pull the lodestone.”
Rael’s mouth opened and his eyes grew wide. “H–how could you possibly know that? It’s a closely guarded secret.”
“Because it’s the same method we used to traverse the Great Barrier of Storms.”
“Really.” Rael sounded incredulous. “Did you tell Hannath that?”
Shann’s laugh was tinged with irony. “I never got that far. When I tried to tell him we came by ship, he concluded that I must have had a bump on the head. Do you know who Tallia is?”
“She’s the local physician. Why do you ask?”
“Because he’s asked her to visit me, to see whether I’m crazy.”
Rael glanced over at the doors to the observatory. The two blue coated sentinels had followed her discreetly and now stood watch outside–a silent reminder that she was a prisoner rather than a guest. Rael looked down at his lap once more and his voice became quiet. “I’m truly sorry for the way you’ve been treated, Shann.”
This was it. He had reached the place to which she had been carefully leading him. Now was her chance. She lowered her voice to match his. “Rael, do you know why me and my friends came here?”
“The Master said something about a…a destructive device,” he replied.
Best not mention the woman from the past–I don’t want him thinking I really am crazy. “The place where I live is ruled over by a ‘Prophet’. We…discovered that he is building a machine to destroy the Kelanni.”
“What sort of a machine?”
“I’m not sure,” Shann replied. “All I know is that it requires large amounts of lodestone.”
“Lodestone. How would that work?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “but there is a device here on your side that has the power to render his machine harmless. I must find it, and I must find my friends. Will you help me?”
The lanky boy looked uncomfortable. “I…I’m n-not sure what I can do.”
“Rael, do you know where they have hidden Boxx?”
“You mean your Chandara?”
“Yes,” she pressed. “I need it to help me find the device. Besides, Chandara are odd, but they are not animals. It doesn’t deserve to be in a cage.”
“Not everyone here in Kieroth would agree with you. However, Hannath and I are not among them–although I think Hannath’s interest is mostly intellectual. The chance to speak with one of the first ones and learn from it.”
Good luck trying to make sense out of it, she thought wryly. However, she asked, “And how about you?”
“I…I suppose I don’t like to see anything mistreated.” He looked up at her and then back at his lap. “Or anyone.”
“Where are they holding Boxx?” she repeated.
“Y-you can’t free it on your own, Shann.”
Her eyes flashed. “I could if I had my staff.”
“You mean the weapon you used to fight the drach?” He acknowledged her puzzled look and indicated the doors, with a movement of his head.
“I didn’t ‘fight’ them. They had Boxx trapped. I was only defending myself,” she protested.
“I believe you,” he said.
Her hazel eyes pinned him like an insect. “You know where my staff is, don’t you?”
He looked down at his lap again. “I…don’t want to see you hurt.”
“But–”
“No, Shann.” Shann was knocked back by the vehemence of his reply. It was all the more shocking because it was so unexpected. Then, just as suddenly, it was past, like a spring thunderstorm. “H-Hannath says he will get your Chandara freed. Please, Shann, give him a chance. Once he understands why you are here, he may be able to help. And…I will d-do everything I can to help you too, I promise.” He reached inside his tan jacket and brought forth a round object. It made a soft rhythmic sound, as if it were alive. “It’s late,” he announced. “I will see whether Meira has a room ready for you.”
As she followed him toward the doors, she turned to take a last look at the magnificent observatory, with its telescope pointed at the heavens. But it was not the wonders of the night sky in this world that filled her thoughts. It was the far more wondrous revelation of a boy suddenly blossoming forth the traits of a man.
~
The following morning, two things happened. The first was that the drach, her blue coated guardians with their odd silver staff weapons, were gone. Shann stuck her head out of the room where Meira, the plump housekeeper, had led her the previous night, and looked this way and that, but there was no one to be seen.
The aroma of cooked food wafted up from downstairs. Maybe they’re having breakfast, she thought idly, although that did seem something of a dereliction of duty, what with there being a dangerous girl in the house and all. However, when she followed her nose and arrived at the kitchen, there was still no sign of them. Meira was fussing as usual, but seemed pleased to see her. Soon she was enjoying a bowl of thick porridge made with an interesting variety of grains.
She was just cleaning the last of the bowl’s contents when Rael poked his head around the door, just as he had the previous day. On catching sight of her, he instantly cast his eyes down at the floor; clearly his diffidence had returned. Shann had an odd feeling of disappointment. “Hannath s-sent me to find you. He would like to see you. If…you’re ready.”
“Very well.” She rose from the table like a miniature queen. Rael stepped out of the way, his head still bowed as if he were a subservient courtier, and led the way to the sitting room where her first encounter with Hannath had taken place. The old man was standing, poring over a table stacked high with books and next to him…
“Boxx!” Shann ran to the Chandara, knelt down and flung her arms around it. Boxx made a slight squealing sound, but otherwise did not protest. Hannath seemed mildly irritated by the disturbance. Rael was still looking down at the floor. She held the creature at arm’s length, as if checking the evidence of her eyes. “Did they treat you all right?”
“I Was In A Cage,” it answered. “It Was Cold. I Was…Afraid.”
Shann’s eyes flashed at Hannath. She could not decide whether to thank him or yell at him. In the end, she chose to get straight to the point. “We have to leave here. I have to find my friends and the device needed to disable the Prophet’s weapon.”
The machines lining the wood panelled walls continued their private ticking and whirring, oblivious of her presence. Hannath, too, appeared not to hear her. “Rael tells me you claim there is a third sun on your side of the world.”
“Claim? No, I don’t claim Ail-Mazzoth is there. It just is. Look, none of that is important right now. What’s important is getting the device and stopping the Prophet. I have to do that. I can’t stay here.”
“Wh-where would you go?” It was the voice of Rael from behind her.
Shann was pulled up short. She had to admit that she had not thought that far ahead. “I would go talk to people. Question them; see if anyone had seen my friends…” If they survived the barrier. She still could not bring herself to vocalise that thought. Not yet.
“M-most people here don’t speak Old Kelanni, Shann,” Rael reasoned. “A few know it, but most do not. You might get a similar reaction to when you first arrived in Kieroth.”
Shann felt a growing sense of frustration. “I can’t just sit here. I have to do something.”
“You will stay here,” Hannath ruled. “Rael will make enquiries about your friends. Now, tell me, how large is your red sun?
Shann stood up and faced Hannath, her nose in the air. “Are you saying you believe me now?”
She heard Rael’s voice behind her once again. “P-please, Shann. Hannath is trying to help you.”
Shann looked down at Boxx. The creature, with its segmented shell and round head, looked up at her expectantly. She found Hannath irritating beyond belief, but in the matter of setting the Chandara free, he had been as good as his word. There seemed little to be gained by letting her annoyance show. She sighed. “I don’t know…Ail-Mazzoth is big, several times bigger than either Ail-Gan or Ail-Kar.”
“And you say it does not move in your sky?” Hannath asked.
Shann recalled Lyall’s explanation when they were travelling across the Eastern Plains. “If you move a considerable distance, then the red sun appears to have moved in the opposite direction.”
“Tidal lock,” said Rael.
Hannath nodded. “Yes, yes, that much is obvious.”
“It would seem to confirm your theory, Master,” the boy continued.
“What’s a ‘tidal lock’?” Shann asked.
Rael came and stood beside her, as if offering her support. “If a planet or another body is close enough to a sun, then the sun ‘grabs’ onto it, so that it will revolve around the sun, but the planet will always keep the same face towards it. Our planet–our world revolves around your red sun, with your side always facing it. That’s why the red sun appears motionless in your sky.”
Hannath appeared preoccupied with his own thoughts. “What is the mean surface air temperature on your side?” Shann looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“She had never seen snow before,” Rael reminded him. Hannath seemed lost in thought. “The temperature differential would be what creates the storm barrier,” Rael prompted.
Hannath roused himself. “Speculation, Rael. A scientist records data and then verifies or falsifies a theory by experimentation.”
Rael cast his eyes downward once more. “Yes, Master.”
Hannath turned to Shann “Your Chandara speaks of a key. It says it will only speak the key to one called Keris.”
Shann nodded. “Keris is one of our group.”
“Why will it only speak the key to him?” Hannath demanded.
“Her,” Shann corrected. “I think it’s because the Chandara first connected with her when they brought her to their Great Tree.”
“Has it spoken the key before?” Hannath asked.
“Once,” Shann said.
“What did it say?” he pressed.
“I don’t know. It was gibberish.” Shann struggled to recall the events following their flight from Gort in the Great Southern Desert. “…numbers. It spoke a string of numbers.”
“Numbers?” Hannath sounded shocked. “What were they?”
“I…I don’t remember,” Shann was growing irritated at Hannath again. “One, two, three–just numbers.”
The old man looked at Rael. “Numbers are your speciality, boy.”
“Y-yes Master, but without knowing the progression…”
Hannath addressed Boxx. “Chandara, you will tell me what this key is, now.”
Boxx raised its head. Its tiny eyes were an unfathomable black. “No.”
Shann stepped in front of the creature protectively. “Stop bullying it.”
Hannath was unapologetic. “You said it yourself; we have to know what this key of yours is. Your friend Keris is lost–you don’t even know if she and the others made it to this side.”
Shann’s arms were rigid at her sides and her hands were little fists. “I don’t care about that. You people already stuck it in a cage once. I won’t see you continue to mistreat it.”
“It Is The Key.” All eyes turned to Boxx. The creature was moving its head from side to side excitedly.
“What does it mean by that?” Hannath demanded.
“How should I know?” Shann said.
Hannath seemed to come to a decision. “Rael, I am putting you in charge of this matter. You are to find this Keris, if possible, and get the Chandara to talk. Report your findings to me. Make sure it and the girl stay out of trouble.” He turned away and began scanning a bookshelf, lost once again in his own private world.
“Yes Master.” Rael turned and signalled with his eyes for Shann and Boxx to follow. As they reached the door, they heard Hannath’s voice behind them once more.
“And keep the girl away from the launch site.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 5
For the first time since that rain-soaked night when she had made her escape from Corte, Shann’s life settled into a routine. Reluctantly, she had been forced to admit that Rael was right–charging about the countryside looking for someone, when you couldn’t even speak the language properly, didn’t make a lot of sense. Boxx was safe, and although she still did not have Saccath’s staff back, it was clear that Rael knew where it was. She was sure she could get it from him when the time came. So in the meantime, Shann applied herself diligently to learning the language of the people of Kelanni-Skell.
She found that when she could persuade folk to slow down and then listen to their phrasing, it was not all that different from her own tongue. To help her progress, she asked Rael to refrain from using “Old Kelanni” when talking to her. She also practised on Meira whenever she could persuade the fussy housekeeper to stand still for a moment.
Each morning she would rise and gaze out of the window of her room on the first floor of the sumptuous house adjoining the observatory. Beyond the large black metal front gate, the covering of snow stretched away over the fields, dazzling in the bright sunlight. “Is there always snow here?” she had asked Rael.
“We’re coming into winter now, Shann,” Rael said. “When spring comes, the snow will disappear in the lowlands where we are, and the hills will be covered with flowers. In the mountains though, the snow always remains.”
Would she still be here come spring? I mustn’t get too comfortable here, she reminded herself. Still, she had to admit that she was enjoying the peaceful, undemanding lifestyle.
Tallia, the local physician, had stopped by to examine her as Hannath had promised. A kindly middle-aged woman with a small mouth and a ready smile, she poked and prodded the girl in a gentle form of torture, chatting to her in Old Kelanni all the while. Finally, she pronounced that aside from being somewhat malnourished, Shann was in good health. The physician swept up her jumble of oddly shaped instruments into a capacious canvass bag and strode off, presumably to report her findings to Hannath.
Since the meeting when she had been reunited with Boxx, Shann had seen hardly anything of the old man, which suited her just fine. Rael, on the other hand, was a daily visitor. Sometimes he would invite her to accompany him on his various duties. He tried to explain what he was doing and why, but she had to admit that most of it was completely over her head. Nevertheless, she made a point of listening and showing interest. In a sense, Rael was her only real ally in this world, so it was vital that she maintain the relationship.
After the first couple of days, Shann had complained to Rael that although the drach were gone, she still felt something of a prisoner. So Rael had asked if she would like to take a walk in the grounds. After that it became a tradition that every other afternoon, when Rael had finished his work for the day, he would accompany her on a stroll outside. They would don fur boots, fur coats and the odd fur hats that seemed to be the fashion here in Kelanni-Skell, and venture forth out into the snow.
She could not get used to the fact that despite the bright sunshine, it was so cold here. Still, she felt comfortably warm and snug inside her fur coverings, and she enjoyed the feel of the cold, crisp air in her lungs and watching her breath condense in clouds in front of her face. Rael grew more relaxed in her presence as the days slipped by, so that his stammer was almost gone.
It was on the second of their strolls that Shann was suddenly confronted by another marvel of this strange world. They had just passed through the imposing gate, the sound of snow crunching under their boots. Shann glanced behind at the footprints now sullying the otherwise unbroken blanket of snow and felt an odd pang of guilt. Then she caught up to Rael. He was standing, looking down at the town of Kieroth spread out beneath them.
“Those globes, lining the streets–why are they kept on at night?” she asked.
Rael looked at her oddly. “Well, it’s unsafe to stumble around in the dark. And it also keeps the predators in the hills at bay.”
“But surely it must use a tremendous amount of oil.”
Rael laughed. He had a quiet, almost private way of laughing. “They don’t use oil, they use electricity.”
“Electricity?”
“It’s a form of power.” He paused. “You don’t use electricity in Kelanni-Drann?”
“No, I never heard of it,” she said. “Is that how those other machines work?”
“What machines?”
“You know–the ones in Hannath’s study.”
Rael raised his eyebrows, “Oh you mean the timepieces. No, they are just mechanical.”
“Time…pieces,” Shann repeated.
“Yes, they measure time.”
Shann looked puzzled. “How do you mean”
Rael smiled and reached into his inside jacket pocket. He opened his palm, and one of the small round instruments was laying in it. “Each day is divided into ten ornahs, and each ornah into a hundred dahns.” He pointed, using the index finger on his other hand. “This lever counts ornahs, and this one, dahns. Right now it’s…thirty-seven past six, see?”
She gazed at the delicate silver and bronze coloured workings. “It’s beautiful.”
There was a sudden droning noise from somewhere high above. Shann glanced upward, shading her eyes against the bright sunshine and her jaw fell open. A bird. No, not a bird–a machine. A silver flying machine. It was slim, light glinting from it as it hovered a short way off, supported by what looked like two huge fans on either of its sides. As she watched, the pitch of its engines rose and it suddenly moved off, sweeping down the snowclad hillside leading from the observatory toward the town of Kieroth below.
She glanced at Rael, who was watching her with an amused expression. “It’s called an ‘avionic’,” he said, responding to her astonished expression. “It’s the main method of travel here in Kelanni-Skell.”
“I…I thought you people travelled in those…those carriage things.”
“You mean phaetons,” Rael said. “I heard you were found hiding in one.”
“I was not hiding, I was…sleeping.”
A smile played about his lips. “Of course you were. Anyway, phaetons are used for local transit. However, the lodestone tracks only extend to a few locations outside the town, like this observatory for instance. If we want to travel to the next town or for any distance, then we take an avionic.”
“Are those things…safe?” Shann felt foolish as soon as she asked the question.
“They’re pretty reliable. I’ve never heard of a serious accident involving one.”
“Don’t you use roads?”
Rael extended one of his long arms, taking in the surrounding vista. The valley in which the town of Kieroth nestled was bounded to the west and south by jagged peaks and sharp ridges–forbidding grey stone poking through the covering of snow like the helmets and axes of an army of giants. “Roads would be difficult to build in terrain such as ours, and impossible to keep clear in winter. Not to mention the fact that there are dangerous and aggressive creatures in the hills.”
“I know,” Shann said. “I came across some of them on my way here.”
It was Rael’s turn to look shocked. “You did?”
Shann nodded. “Large beasts, about half my size–grey fur, with horns.”
“Valthar…you encountered valthar?”
“A pack of them, yes.”
“And you fought them off?”
“I was forced to kill one of them. The rest fled.”
Rael shook his head. “Remarkable. Are all of the women in Kelanni-Drann fighters like you?”
Shann laughed. “Of course not. I have had a little training in the flying cloak and the staff. And at the time, it was a question of survival, so I did what I had to do.”
Rael looked thoughtful. “Your flying cloak is a fascinating piece of equipment. I would love to take a look at it some time.”
Shann was not about to entrust this boy with the last thing of value that she possessed in the entire world. However, she didn’t want to appear rude, so she diverted the request. “I can’t imagine why a people with flying machines would be interested in my cloak.”
“Because it’s an application of lodestone technology we never considered,” he explained. “You also mentioned devices that allow you to communicate instantly over long distances.”
“There are the Speaker Rings, as well as Vision Spheres,” she confirmed.
Rael’s faraway look reminded her of Hannath. “I would love to know how they work.”
“Well, I can’t help you there. Those devices are used exclusively by the Keltar. Keris is one–if we find her, I’m sure she could explain them to you.”
They walked on in companionable silence for a while, broken only by the sound of their boots trudging through the snow. They were an odd pair–the tall boy with gangly limbs, and the slight girl half his height. Birds cawed and chittered in the rolling white fields. Dark bulbous clouds appeared over the peaks to the west, a presage of late afternoon or early evening snow. By morning, their footprints would be obliterated by fresh snowfalls, with nothing to indicate that they had ever passed this way.
It was Shann who finally broke the silence. “Hannath said that the two halves of Kelanni–yours and mine–were once united.”
“Before the Goratha–the dark time–yes, we believe so.”
“Then how is it that everything is so different here? How is it that you have so many things that we do not?”
“Separate parallel development,” Rael said, looking down at her frowning face and smiling. He seemed to enjoy confounding her with odd words, a trait of his that Shann found mildly irritating. “Imagine twins who were separated at birth,” he continued. “What would happen to them?”
She stopped and faced him. “How do you mean?”
“Well, if they grew up in different places, they would have different experiences–different ideas–wouldn’t they? They would no doubt develop in different ways. We have machines that fly through the air; you have ships that can traverse the sea. We have devices that measure time; you have ones that can communicate with people far away. But when the twins finally met…”
“They could share all of that knowledge,” Shann completed the thought.
There was a gleam in Rael’s eye. “I know. Exciting, isn’t it?”
~
It was ten days later when Rael asked Shann if she would like to accompany him to the launch site.
Shann’s heart leapt. She had scarcely ventured beyond the observatory grounds since she had arrived with Boxx some fifteen days ago. Then she had been in the company of Byrdach, and under drach guard; now she was free and unsupervised most of the time. The servants and officials who visited from time to time hardly noticed her. In fifteen days, she had gone from being the centre of attention to being invisible. Escape would have been a simple matter–if she had had anywhere to go.
There had been no news of Lyall and the others. Shann could not shake the nagging dread that they had perished in the storms. At night she had dreamed she was back aboard the Reach. Lyall, clad in a flying cloak, was yelling at her from the forecastle. Wind and rain scrabbled at his words with long bony fingers and tossed them away. She ran and climbed the ladder, but when she reached him, he was no longer Lyall, but Roanol, the boy she had met in the compound at Gort. She awoke bathed in sweat and confusion.
Now she stood in the middle of the guest room that had become her home, savouring the prospect of a trip that would take her away from these four walls and the feelings of grief and loss that were threatening to overwhelm her, even if only for a few ornahs. Then she remembered. “But…Hannath said I wasn’t allowed to go there.”
Rael raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’s true. But he only said that because the Scientific Directorate has insisted the Master keep the diametric drive a secret for now. However…since it turns out that you already know the principle behind the drive, there seems little point in barring you from the site. The master doesn’t like to travel, so it’s a part of my job to monitor the progress of the work there and report back. With everything that’s been happening of late, I haven’t been out to the site in days. I am also responsible for looking after you, but I can’t be in two places at once, so…I think you should come with me.”
Shann was not at all convinced that Hannath would agree with that fine piece of reasoning, and she had no desire to see Rael, her only friend in this world, get into trouble. However, she desperately needed a release from this place. Before she realised it, she heard herself say, “Thanks, I’d love to.”
A short while later, she was standing next to Rael at the outside gate, watching a phaeton drifting up the snowy hill toward the observatory. The carriage came to a stop next to them and settled gently to the ground. A young face poked out of the window. It split into a cheery grin. “Hello, Rael. Where to today?”
“Hello, Solvi. The avionics field, please.”
Rael boarded the carriage, followed by Shann. Solvi seemed to notice her for the first time. “Nice…very nice. Hey, it looks like excellent flying weather today. A great idea, taking your young lady up for a spin.”
“She’s not my…”
Shann looked over at Rael. He was staring into his lap, looking distinctly uncomfortable in the plush leather seat. Solvi’s smile was unapologetic. “Hold on now.” Shann felt the carriage rise smoothly into the air and start down the hill. The countryside filed past, and soon they were entering the outskirts of the town.
It was the district she had travelled through before, lined with artisans’ shops and strange machines. She wanted to ask Rael what they were exactly, but there was a more urgent question; one that had been dominating her thoughts since her first meeting with Hannath, but that she had repeatedly thrust away because she was afraid to face the possible implications. Yet there it was, like a persistent gundir, yelping and snapping at the fringes of her consciousness. Whatever the outcome, she had to know the truth. She addressed him in hushed tones. “Rael, I need to ask you something.”
Rael looked as if he has just been bashed on the head. She pressed on. “I wanted to ask you about the war.”
Rael’s expression morphed from shock, to relief, to confusion. “The war?”
“Yes,” she said. The war between you and the Chandara.”
“The Chandara?”
“Hannath said there are two intelligent races in this world, and that the Chandara originated first. He also said there was a war on your side, after which the Chandara disappeared.”
Rael shook his head. “I think you must have misunderstood, Shann.”
“You mean there wasn’t a war?”
“No, there was a war, but it wasn’t with the Chandara. It was with the Unan-Chinneroth.”
Shann’s eyes widened. She had not mentioned the name of the Prophet since she had arrived here. How could he possibly know it? “At least,” he continued, “that was the name given them in ancient. They have another name in their tongue…
“Hu-man.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 6
The stately stone edifices of the town of Kieroth slid past the windows of the phaeton. It was still early in the morning, and the fur-clad townsfolk hurried about their business, paying little attention to their carriage as it sailed through the wide streets. Shann looked without seeing as she listened to the boy sitting next to her.
“It was thirty-six turns ago. The hu-mans came to our world in three great vessels. At first they offered friendship. However, it soon became clear that what they really wanted was power over the lodestone…and us. There was a war. It lasted only a short while, but at the end, the hu-mans surrendered. Their ships had been destroyed in the conflict, so they could not return to where they had come from. So an agreement was reached.
“There’s an island in the Erigone Sea called Helice. It lies over 200 met-ryns off the mainland–far beyond the range of avionics. The island was given over to them on the condition that they not venture from there. The hu-mans left in vessels they had constructed.”
Shann struggled to take it all in. “That seems overly generous to me.”
“There were women and children in their camp,” Rael continued. “It was highly doubtful that they could be integrated peacefully into Kelanni society, and we were not prepared to just slaughter them. So segregation was the only viable option.
“Since that time, there has been no contact between us and the hu-mans. We do not even know if they made it to Helice.”
It felt like there was a stone in the pit of Shann’s stomach. “They made it,” she said quietly.
Rael looked at her strangely. “How could you possibly–”
“Because they have come to my side–the side of the world that you call Kelanni-Drann.” Shann caught Solvi glancing at them from the driver’s seat. He thinks we’re having some sort of lover’s tiff. Let him.
“I don’t think that’s possible, Shann,” he replied.
“Look, I’m not lying. The Unan-Chinneroth–the Prophet–rules my side of the world. Thanks to you, he’s enslaving people and building a weapon to destroy the Kelanni.”
She took a deep breath. It didn’t make sense for her to be angry at this boy. His people may have been short-sighted and naïve, but the decision was made long before he was born.
He looked as if she had just slapped him in the face. “I…I don’t understand how one of them could reach your side. Besides, the peace treaty specifically forbids them to leave Helice. If they have done so…” His voice trailed away as the full implication hit.
Shann saw the terrified look in the boy’s eyes and felt a twinge of sympathy. “…It would mean war,” she said.
~
Their phaeton arrived at the avionics field, and Rael and Shann disembarked in silence. Solvi gave a brief wave before turning the carriage back toward town.
The field was a circular flat area covered with close-cropped yellow grass, which poked through the overlaying snow. At its centre, a low grey building with smooth sides spewed forth a series of long tenticular tubes. The sleek machines were parked haphazardly, like a collection of discarded child’s playthings, some connected to the tubes. A few individuals moved purposefully between them, but they took no notice of Rael and Shann. Rael walked unhesitatingly to a machine near the edge of the field. It looked identical to the others–a slim pencil shape, flanked by bulges set with large fans beneath an open cockpit.
Shann looked up at the sky. It was a cerulean blue decorated with a few wisps of cloud. Excellent flying weather. Her heart beat faster at the thought of flying…up there.
“She’s ready to go when you are.” Shann and Rael turned to see a Kelanni clad in bright blue coveralls. He was old, but with a strong physique. He had a round tanned face and wispy white hair, which was being blown about comically by the wind.
“Hello, Ravid.” Rael turned to Shann. “This is Ravid–head avionics engineer. Ravid, this is Shann.”
Ravid winked conspicuously at Rael. The boy shuffled his feet and bowed his head once more. What is it with this place? Why does everyone think we’re on some sort of a date? She suddenly had a wicked thought. Impulsively, she linked her arm with Rael’s. She felt the boy freeze. “So,” she asked conversationally, “how far can this thing go?”
Ravid looked at Rael with a puzzled expression. “Is your girlfriend new here?”
Shann glanced up at Rael, who was looking more and more uncomfortable. She smiled enigmatically. “You could say that.”
“Well, I charged her overnight myself, miss,” Ravid said. “Twenty met-ryns on turbines alone. If you use lodestone, you might put another five on that. Of course, you’d need to halve the numbers for a round trip. You kids going far?”
Shann fluttered her eyelids. “That depends…”
Ravid grinned from ear to ear. “Well, have a good trip.” He turned and headed back toward the low building.
Shann withdrew her arm and regarded the boy, but he would not make eye contact. “Th-that wasn’t very funny, Shann.”
It was a stupid thing to do. First Solvi; then Ravid. She had allowed her feelings of annoyance to get the better of her and played into a role, but now Rael thought she had done it to make fun of him. She felt regret at having hurt him, but also a flash of annoyance. Why did males always think that they were at the centre of everything you did? Shann thrust the thought aside and did the only thing she could. “I’m sorry,” she said.
She saw the tension flow out of him. He smiled weakly. “Come on, let’s go.” Using handholds on the side of the fuselage, he climbed up to the cockpit and held out a hand to pull her up. “You take the front seat.”
“Surely you don’t expect me to fly this thing?”
“The front seat is the passenger seat, Shann. There are auxiliary controls, but they’re locked out. In any case, just…don’t touch them.”
It was easier said than done. The cockpit was cramped and it was hard not to knock something accidentally. Rael somehow managed to fold himself into the seat behind her. The clear cover came down over her head, and the fans started up. She had an odd sensation and realised that the machine was rising into the air. Looking down, she could see the avionics field with its odd building, surrounded by the other craft, growing smaller until they looked like a shoal of little silver fish. Soon it was swallowed up in the wider countryside of rolling fields overlaid with falls of snow.
The engines’ note fell as their little craft banked towards the northeast. Shann turned her head so that she could just about see Rael from the corner of her eye. “Ravid said this thing was powered by lodestone,” she shouted.
“Partly,” Rael’s raised voice came back. “The turbines are powered by a stored electrical charge. However, lodestone has diamagnetic properties. We run a current through the lodestone in the lower fuselage; it gives us extra lift from natural lodestone deposits at lower altitudes.”
“So…you push off natural lodestone, like we do with the flying cloak.”
“In a way, yes,” Rael replied. “But the electrical field gives us more of a push.”
Shann studied the labels on the controls in front of her. This one would correspond to the lodestone layer; this would be the equivalent of the bronze. There were a few toggles and buttons she wasn’t sure about, but the principles seemed clear.
Snow-capped mountains to the right faded into lowlying clouds, draped about their peaks like a loose fitting shroud. To the left, the land spread out toward the shimmering line that was the Aronak Sea. It was exhilarating. “Do you mind if I ask you something?” she asked.
“I, er…suppose not,” he said.
“How did you come to work for Hannath?”
“I…was good with numbers. The educator told Hannath. The projects the Master was engaged in meant that he needed someone who had number skills. So I was asked to be his apprentice.”
“He doesn’t seem to treat you very well,” she observed.
“He…I am very privileged. It is a great honour to learn from the Master.”
Shann bit back her words. Now was not the time. But the way things were developing, she sensed that there would soon come a point where she would be forced to test his loyalty to his Master. And that would involve hurting him even more.
She did not relish the prospect.
~
The launch site was a nest of rods and girders, cocooning a squat metallic ovoid shape. It sat on a flat, featureless plain–the only sign of artificial construction. Shann was frankly a little disappointed. She had expected the craft to be much larger, for some reason. As it was, it seemed scarcely any bigger than the avionic she was flying in–far too puny and fragile a craft to challenge the very stars.
Rael chose a circular approach vector, so that Shann had a view of the structure from all sides, before he finally brought the avionic to a gentle touchdown on a clear patch of dirt about two hundred yards out. As the dust cleared, Shann saw a couple of figures trotting toward them. They resolved into a man and a woman, dressed in identical green overalls.
Rael slid back the cockpit cover, and he and Shann climbed out. The man stepped up and gave a short bow. His head was bald in the middle and his light olive skin bore a smattering of freckles. “Greetings, Rael,” he said. “You’ll be pleased to know the timetable has moved up and full testing is due to begin…” He tailed off as his gaze fell on Shann. “Who is she?”
“She’s a visitor,” Rael stated simply.
“Does Hannath know about this?” he demanded.
“The master knows all about her. N-now I have to return soon and make my report. Please let me see what you have been doing.”
The man looked as if he was about to say something else, but his lips compressed to a line and he gave another short bow. “Of course. This way, please.” He and Rael set off in the direction of the construction site, while Shann and the other woman fell in step behind.
The woman was middle aged, with shoulder length fair hair. She smiled warmly at Shann as they walked. “Sorry about that. Suma is a little nervous of ‘visitors’. The Scientific Directorate is breathing down his neck right now.” Her smile vanished. “You’re not a spy sent by the Directorate, are you?”
“No, I don’t know anyone from there,” Shann replied honestly.
The woman’s smile returned. “Well my name is Ermina. I’m pleased to meet you,” she said.
“Shann,” Shann replied.
As they approached, the metal gantry towered over them. From the air it had seemed insignificant, an artificial aberration on the plain far below. Now it loomed over her, an uncomfortable reminder of her own insignificance. Rael and Suma entered a small cage-like construction and moved to make way for Shann and Ermina. There was barely enough room for the four of them, and Shann was about to ask why they were all crammed into such a tiny space, when the cage suddenly began moving upward with a jerk.
Shann stifled a cry and grabbed onto a rail to steady herself. The cage juddered as it moved. She watched as the curved surface of the vessel that was entombed in the metal framework passed before her eyes. They were halfway up the structure when the cage suddenly lurched to a halt, and they squeezed out onto a narrow platform. There was a chilly breeze. Shann pulled the brown fur jacket tighter around her neck.
Rael and Suma headed off around the platform. Suma was pointing upward and talking animatedly. Ermina tapped Shann on the shoulder. “Come on,” she said, setting off in the opposite direction.
“What about the others?” Shann queried.
Ermina waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, they’ll be at it for ornahs. Best leave them to it.”
Shann followed the older woman as she led the way around the narrow walkway. They had walked a quarter of the way around the structure when Ermina stopped and leaned against the outer rail, inviting Shann to take the spot beside her.
Ermina gazed at the plain stretched out before them. “Takala Flats.”
“What?”
Ermina turned toward the girl and laughed lightly, “Sorry, it’s the name we’ve coined for this place. ‘Takala’ means banishment or exile in Ancient. It’s a bit of a joke, really. Some of us have been here for quite a while.”
The “flats” were spread out like a patchwork quilt–yellow grass and purple shrubs, interspersed with white snow. There were no signs of habitation and no wildlife evident from this distance. Even the sky was empty of birds. In comparison to the Eastern Plains, it was positively barren.
“So,” Ermina began, “what is your interest in our project, Shann?”
Shann felt like a fish out of water. She had no reason–no excuse for being here. For all she knew, this woman might report back to Hannath and get Rael into trouble. For his sake and hers, Shann had to play into a role. There was only one card she had to play, but it was a good one. She hoped it would be enough. “You use lodestone to power the vessel. The lodestone pushes it and the vessel pulls the lodestone.”
The older woman’s eyes widened. “So you know the principle behind the diametric drive?”
“Uh-huh.” Shann nodded. “Rael and I have been collaborating on it for a while.”
“Really,” Ermina returned, “Rael never mentioned you before.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Of course, you know how he is around girls, so maybe that’s not surprising.”
Shann didn’t really know what the woman meant, but she replied “Oh, yes.”
Ermina looked her up and down as if seeing her for the first time. “You seem a little young to be consulting on a project such as this.” Shann felt a rising sense of apprehension, but it was quickly dispelled when the woman laughed again. “Still, I suppose at my age, everyone starts to look young.”
Ermina had an easygoing manner that Shann was warming to. As Shann smiled back, the germ of an idea formed in her mind. She dipped her toe gingerly into the waters. “This vessel–it could take us to the other side–to Kelanni-Drann, could it not?”
“I suppose so,” the woman agreed, “but that isn’t the mission profile. Three orbits, followed by a controlled landing. We will be making observations of the other side from orbit, of course. Why do you ask?”
“Aren’t you curious about what lies on the other side?”
“In a way, yes.” Ermina said. “But I seriously doubt whether there’s much there of interest.”
Shann was taken aback by the woman’s response, but managed to make herself sound casual. “Why do you say that?”
Ermina chuckled. “Well, I’m not an anthropologist, it’s true. But if the accounts of the Goratha are correct, then I seriously doubt whether anyone survived on that side. The few who were left here in Kelanni-Skell were almost wiped out that first winter. No–it’s very unlikely that anyone would be left in Drann after all this time. It’s probably a wasteland.”
Shann imagined the look on Ermina’s face if she knew that the person she was talking to now was from that “wasteland”, and that there were many thousands of Kelanni there. A part of her longed to shatter the woman’s self-assured notions. But Shann had something far more important to accomplish than that, right now. “I was wondering…whether I might take a look at the flight controls.”
To her utter surprise, Ermina pointed a finger at her. “Caught you.”
Shann’s heart froze. “W…what do you mean?”
Ermina laughed again and shook her head. “Of course I half suspected when I saw your size and build. But that last remark gave you away. Although I must admit, I didn’t even know there was a short list yet.”
“A short list?”
“For the position of our first pilot.” Ermina smiled warmly. “Although I would have to say that if you have managed to charm both Hannath and our boy Rael here to the point where they would allow you to come visit the site, then you probably deserve the honour of being our first pilot for that piece of ingenuity alone.” She burst out laughing again, and Shann felt the tension flow out of her to the point where she could return a smile.
“Well, the command area is restricted, but I think we can make an exception for such an ‘illustrious person’.” Ermina winked. “Come on.”
She led the way back toward the cage. They stepped inside, and Ermina pulled a lever. Shann was forced to find a handhold again as the metal enclosure started upward once more. The flats pulled farther away from Shann’s vision as they ascended the gantry. Ermina raised her voice above the grinding and clanking of the lift machinery. “You’re fortunate that I’m not ten years younger, or I would probably be challenging you for the position…here we are.”
They were near the top of the squat vessel, which poked its snub nose just above the network of girders enclosing it in a seeming gesture of defiance. The wind was stronger here–it chilled the exposed parts of her face. Shann watched carefully as the woman walked over, put her hand on a small depression in the hull and operated a catch. A door swung open to reveal an interior with seats and an array of instruments.
They clambered inside, and Ermina began talking Shann through the various controls. Shann concentrated hard. There was a lever controlling a device similar to the bronze layer on her cloak, dials measuring altitude, air pressure and something called “attitude controls”. It was a lot to take in, but she was pretty confident she could operate the vessel in a pinch, even if there were some controls that she would literally have to learn “on the fly”. Shann didn’t find the thought of stealing the craft very appealing, but logic informed her that it might become necessary as a last resort. At least she now had something that she had not had since the moment she had arrived on this side.
She had a way back.
<><><><><>
Chapter 7
The return flight to Kieroth was uneventful. Rael didn’t seem inclined to make conversation. Whether that was because of the report he had received from Suma, her revelation that the hu-mans had broken their treaty with the Kelanni, or because of her stupid stunt embarrassing him in front of Ravid, Shann couldn’t tell. The first two were facts of life beyond her control, and the third she had already apologised for.
Rael was moody and difficult to read, which she found irritating. She could not help comparing him to Roanol, the boy she had left at the compound at Gort. Although she had known Roanol for less than a day, there had been an instant connection there, so it felt as if she had known him for much longer. Rael she had known for some fifteen days, but it felt as if she hardly knew him at all. He would be personable for a while, but then he would collapse in on himself to a place she couldn’t reach. Nevertheless, she reminded herself, this boy is your only real ally in this world. If you want his cooperation, then you’ll have to put up with the sullen silences. Of course, she didn’t have to like it.
Shann studied the avionics auxiliary controls once more until she was confident that she had them pretty well figured out. The rest of the time she spent gazing out of the cockpit, watching the coastal plain slipping by beneath them. Every now and then, Rael would descend and then gain altitude once more. She quickly deduced that he was detecting lodestone deposits and pushing off them to gain extra lift. He had said that the avionic used the diamagnetic properties of lodestone to increase its range, although she didn’t know what that meant exactly. If it was a capability built into the machine, then it didn’t really matter how it worked, just as long as it did.
The journey back seemed longer than the outward leg, but eventually she spied the town of Kieroth up ahead, and not long after that they were touching down at the avionics field, the fans at the sides of their little craft blowing up clouds of loose, powdered snow.
To Shann’s relief, there was no sign of Ravid, the avionics engineer. However, at the edge of the field, a phaeton was waiting and as they got near, Solvi’s round head poked out. “Going your way, folks,” he called out cheerfully. “All aboard.”
Rael opened the door to the passenger compartment, allowing Shann to enter first and then ducked in after her. They sat at opposite ends of the green leather seat–as far apart as the physical dimensions of the carriage would allow.
Solvi looked back at them. “You folks enjoy yourselves?”
Shann smiled at him, denying his obvious conclusion. “Yes, I had a good time, thanks.” Rael said nothing and looked sullenly out of the window.
Solvi shrugged as if he couldn’t be bothered to solve the puzzle. “Hold on,” he said. The phaeton rose a little way into the air and started forward in the direction of the town.
Shann felt a little wicked streak run through her again. If Rael wasn’t going to talk to her… “So,” she said, addressing Solvi in the sweetest voice she could manage, “how long have you been driving these things?”
“Less than two turns, miss. Rael and I were taught by the same educator–Rael has all of the brains, but as you can see, I was blessed with all of the charm.” Shann giggled girlishly. She glanced across at Rael, but he was still staring out the window. In spite of herself, she felt a pang of guilt. She turned away and stared through her own window. They had entered the fringes of the town. The streets seemed more crowded than before. It was late afternoon, so Shann supposed that most of the people would be making their way home from their daily activities.
She tried to distract herself by observing the scene that was sliding by. They were passing the storefronts once again. Shann wondered for the first time what they used for currency here. She was certain that it wouldn’t be silver astrias. The unfortunate truth was that she was a stranger in this world and completely dependant on others. She was coming to grips with the odd dialect that these people spoke, but there were a thousand and one everyday things she didn’t understand. How did these people heat their homes? Hannath’s house adjoining the observatory was warm and comfortable, but although she had walked the length of it, she had never seen a fireplace. What were those strange-looking staff weapons that the drach carried? What was this power called “electricity” Rael had spoken of? So many questions–so few answers. Yet she somehow had to deal with it all, and with Boxx’s help, complete the mission which was the reason she had risked her life to cross the Barrier in the first place. She had to find the instrument and destroy the Prophet’s weapon for the sake of the Kelanni on both sides of this world.
If only Alondo were here. He would be the one to figure all of these things out. And Lyall–he would know exactly what to do. Even Keris, she had to admit, had the competence and skill to handle almost any situation. She missed their stability, their strength. I don’t think I can do this on my own.
She stared out the widow, idly picking out individuals. A tall, stately woman with flowing golden hair. A wizened old man, bent over like a tree in a gale. A little boy, jumping up and down to get his mother’s attention. A thin, pale young man lost in a fur overcoat too big for him. A…“Stop–stop this thing.”
Rael came to with a start. “What’s the matter?”
“Stop,” she yelled again.
Solvi did not look back. “I can’t stop in the middle of a thoroughfare, miss.”
Shann lunged forward, snatching at the driver controls. Solvi cried out in surprise. “What the–” He made a grab for her arm, but she was too quick for him. She grabbed one of the two levers that corresponded with the bronze layer in her flying cloak and pulled down on it hard. The front end of the phaeton dropped instantly, impacting with the roadway. A horrible grinding. Rael was thrown forward, landing on the floor of the carriage in an ungainly pile of arms and legs. Solvi cursed and fought to regain control. As their vehicle lurched to a halt, the rear of the carriage spun round violently. They finally came to a halt, the phaeton pointing almost back in the direction they had come.
There were cries of alarm from outside. Shann ignored them–she ignored everything. She fumbled for the door latch. It gave way and she stumbled out into the street. Bystanders moved toward her, arms stretched forward. She pushed past them roughly and bolted down the cobbles. Men jumped out of the way and women clutched their children protectively. The ground was slick with compacted ice and slush. Shann slithered to a halt and cast about wildly.
“Shann.” The voice behind her was Rael’s. He caught up to her, breathing hard. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“A red hat.”
“A what?”
“A red hat–I saw a red hat.”
“W-what are you talking about? Look, you just crashed the phaeton. People could have been…”
“Alondo. He was one of those who crossed the Barrier with me–the musician. He always wears the same outrageous hat.”
Rael shook his head angrily. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m telling you, it was him.”
“All right,” Rael challenged, “so where is he now?”
Shann turned slowly, scouring the immediate area. Passersby were glancing nervously at her, giving her a wide berth. It had been nothing more than a flash, a scarlet blur, but it had been him. Hadn’t it? It was as if she had just awoken from a dream–vivid in its intensity, yet already the memory was fading, giving way to doubt, like a painting left out in the rain–colours running and blending together until she could no longer be certain what it represented. “I…don’t know…I’m sorry.”
Rael turned on his heel and started back toward the carriage. After a moment, she followed him meekly. The scene was one of controlled chaos. The wrecked phaeton sat forlornly on the roadway. Its front end was lowered where it had impacted with the road surface, and the undercarriage was a mass of buckled and torn metal. A large knot of people had gathered, along with four drach in their distinctive blue coats. Two were busy trying to keep the crowd back, one was trying to redirect phaeton traffic around the crashed obstacle and the fourth was talking to Solvi. The driver was making animated gestures.
“Wait here,” Rael ordered her.
Shann watched as he strode over and interrupted the conversation between Solvi and the drach officer. This is it. They’re going to take me away and hurl me into a deep, dark dungeon someplace–and then they’re going to throw away the key.
After a few moments he returned. “Come on.”
He turned his back on her and walked away without waiting for a reply.
~
They climbed the hill to the observatory in utter silence. She couldn’t really blame him. Let’s see. During their first outing together she had managed to act the fool, embarrass him in public and cause a serious accident. He must hate me.
It was growing late and the light was starting to fade. The clouds had returned, and a few flakes of snow had started to drift down. Shann felt an utter failure. Not only was she no nearer to locating the instrument she needed to save her world, or to finding the others–if they were still alive–but now she had alienated the only ally she had. No-one who knew what had happened today would be likely to trust her again.
She had no idea what she ought to do next. At least now that she had a fair grasp of these people’s dialect, there was a chance she could make it on her own. Maybe she could just take Boxx and quietly slip away. But where would she go?
She peered past the gently falling snow toward the observatory. Something was going on. Two phaeton carriages were parked outside, and there were figures beside them, clad in the unmistakeable blue uniform of the drach. Shann’s stomach knotted. Then it occurred to her–there was only one lodestone track to the top of the hill where the observatory sat, and nothing had passed them on the road, so how could it be in connection with the accident?
They passed through the large metal gate and into the observatory grounds. Two drach were standing near the entrance, but they did not challenge the young people. There was a third in the hallway–a stocky man with close-cropped fair hair. He nodded to them and then disappeared behind the door at the end of the hall, leaving it ajar. A moment later, Hannath’s voice bellowed from behind the door. “Rael, get in here.”
He had disobeyed Hannath and taken her to the launch site. She had gone along with him because she was bored and wanted a change of scenery. And now he was in trouble because of it. What had started out as an exhilarating adventure was fast turning into the worst day of her life.
She started to think rapidly. She could still limit the damage if she chose the right approach. Take the blame–that was her best option. Rael could be punished, even lose his position here. Then she would be utterly alone. However, she doubted they would have any practical means of punishing her. They might reinstate her drach guards, but she could live with that. Tell them it was your idea–that you fluttered your eyelids and begged him to take you–they’ll understand that. Hopefully, the boy would have enough sense to shut up and not contradict her story. And taking the blame would maybe go some way toward restoring his faith in her.
She waited patiently in the hall. Finally, the inner door opened once more and Rael poked his head around it, reminding Shann of the day she had first met him. He came out to her, but his expression was not one of upset or shame. It was one of excitement.
“Your ship, Shann. It’s been found.”
~
“What do you mean I can’t see it?” Shann stood looking defiantly up at the boy who was twice her size, fists balled on her hips.
They were still standing in the hallway of Hannath’s house. Rael held up his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s been sealed off by the Scientific Directorate. They are studying it. It’s definitely a seagoing vessel, although it seems to have suffered a fair amount of damage. We’ve never seen anything like it. The name on the hull was ‘Annata’s Reach’, just as you described. There’s no mistake–it’s your ship.”
“Did they find anybody with it?”
“No, Shann, I’m afraid not.”
“Where is it?” she demanded.
“It’s beached…a little way up the coast.”
“Take me there.”
“I can’t. No-one is being allowed anywhere near it right now.”
“But it’s our ship, not yours,” Shann protested. “You have no right to keep me away.”
Rael touched his chin. “Well, you have a point, I suppose. Look, why don’t you rest and change? I’ll see what I can do.”
He hadn’t mentioned her actions earlier or the accident. It felt like she was pushing her luck, but she didn’t care. She had to know what had happened to Lyall and the others.
She was sitting in the room with the whirring timepieces later that evening, with Boxx lying at her feet, enjoying the feeling of clean skin and a full stomach, when Rael entered. “Be ready to leave first thing tomorrow,” he announced. “We’re going to visit your ship.”
~
The pair of avionics were perched on the crest of a sand dune–brooding silver birds, resting on their haunches, overlooking the wide inlet. Two blue-coated drach stood guard over the flying machines.
Rael and Shann half walked and half jogged down the dune’s seaward side. Early morning sunlight glinted on the wave crests as wide breakers fell against the beach. Ail-Gan burned steadily in a clear blue sky. Ail-Kar was still below the horizon. They reached the foot of the dune and made their way across the hard-packed sand. The shoreline, undisturbed for countless turns, was now crisscrossed by numerous tracks. Ahead of them a beached ship reared up, canted slightly to starboard, its prow half buried in sand. The single foremast angled skyward, its crosstrees decorated with the ragged remnants of what was once a sail. Proudly emblazoned on the hull behind the bowsprit was the ship’s name, Annata’s Reach. Their ship. Her ship.
She walked slowly around the vessel. The tide had receded to the point where the Reach was wholly above the water line. There was a ragged hole on the larboard side where the Prophet’s ship had blown a hole in their hull with its lodestone cannon. Shann started to climb up, using the shattered strakes as handholds.
“Be careful–it looks dangerous,” Rael called out. She ignored him, scrambling inside the opening. Inside the ship’s hold it was dark and dank, with a layer of bilge water which reached to her ankles. Shann allowed a moment for her eyes to grow accustomed to the reduced light and noted the position of the ballast before sloshing her way to the ladder and climbing up. Pushing the hatch open, she stood once more on the Reach’s sloping deck.
It was an eerie feeling–like returning to the house you grew up in, long after it had been abandoned. This was where she and the others had battled Saccath. The deck was a jumble of smashed wood and tangled cordage. She picked her way to forecastle. The door was open–it creaked gently on its hinges. Inside was the table where they had shared meals and spread charts. The charts were gone, perhaps removed by Rael’s people. A couple of stools were overturned, and there were some shards of pottery on the floor.
Shann went back out into the light and made her way to the launch. It still sat in its berth on the ship’s larboard side. There had been no attempt to float the craft, and she immediately saw why. A huge gash was visible in its side–a result of the bombardment by the pursuing vessel. Patris’ unconscious form had been placed in here. She searched inside, but there was no sign of the thief.
She continued aft, toward the stern castle. Her hand went to the latch and the door opened outward. Inside were cots with blankets thrown carelessly aside, as if only lately vacated. Here was where Boxx had tended to Keris’ injuries and where Alondo had lain, pale and stricken with seasickness. A broken oil lamp lay on its side. There was nothing of value left here, other than her memories.
Shann cast about looking for something–anything that might indicate the fate of Lyall and the others. She went to one of the cots and felt the sides. To her surprise, her hand came away with a small pouch of black cloth. She opened it at the neck and immediately knew what it was. Inside were the white discs of natural metal and the dark, swirling discs of lodestone that Lyall had used to teach her about lodestone at the farmhouse near Lind. Among them was the very disc that Lyall had pressed into her palm on that wet night in Corte, so long ago. She pulled at one of the atramentous discs and felt the unnatural smoothness–the familiar resistance. She tucked the pouch into her tunic and made her way back down the hatch and out through the ship’s damaged side.
Rael’s face reflected the concern on hers. “Are you all right?”
She nodded without looking at him. “The ship has been deliberately run aground.”
“How could you know that?”
Shann pointed forward. “See the prow–the front part of the hull–how it’s driven into the sand? I checked the hold. The ballast has been moved forward to weigh down the bow.”
“But…why would anyone run your ship aground?”
She gazed out to sea. “A heavy swell and the ship holed just above the water line. The anchor cast off back at Sakara and a launch that’s no longer seaworthy. Running her aground would probably have seemed like the best option.” She turned and began walking back up the beach.
“Where are you going?” Rael called after her.
“Home,” she replied without looking back. “There’s nothing left to see here.”
~
Shann sat under the stars on the roof balcony, hunched beneath a heavy cloak, wracked with sobs. A half-imagined glimpse of Alondo back in Kieroth and her self-control had deserted her. Since then she had promised herself that she would not allow emotion to get the better of her again. Yet seeing the empty ship, broken on the shore and bereft of the lives that had given it purpose, had tested that promise to the limit.
They had flown back to Kieroth in silence. Rael was full of questions, but whenever he tried to engage her, she closed him down. Finally he gave up, and Shann was left with nothing more than the modulating drone of the engines and her own thoughts.
Back at the house she had gone straight to her room. There was a knock at the door and Meira’s voice. Shann didn’t answer. A while later she went to the door and found a plate of food under a cloth–cooked yellow roots, some spiced bread and a jug of some kind of fruit cordial. She brought them in and picked at the meal before setting it aside. It had grown dark. Shann tried to lie down, but sleep fled from her. Finally, she rose and went to the closet, pulling a heavy purple cloak around her bare shoulders. She’d left her room and headed for the stairs that led to the roof.
During her earlier wanderings she had discovered an outside balcony area. It always seemed to be deserted. Indeed, there was no evidence that anyone ever used it, so she had adopted it as her “private space”–a place she could come to think. The air was cold and still; the stars hard and unforgiving. She went to a low wall, sat down and closed her eyes. Faces passed before her. Faces she knew: Alondo with his wide grin and crazy hat, Lyall, fair hair and piercing blue eyes; Keris, flowing raven hair framing her sharp features; Patris the thief, with straight dark hair and intelligent eyes; Hedda, Gallar…all lost to her now. She was finally, completely alone.
Something inside Shann snapped. Her eyes filled with tears and her chest started to heave involuntarily. She covered her face and wept.
Gradually, her breathing slowed, and she became aware of a presence nearby. She raised her head and rubbed away the tears. To her surprise, Boxx was standing on its hind limbs watching her, its black eyes like two shining beads. She had no idea how it had found her here. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen the Chandara since she had returned from her trip to the beach. She had been too preoccupied with her own thoughts.
“Boxx,” she sniffed, “I’m sorry, I–”
“Explain The Meaning.”
“I…don’t understand.”
“Kelanni Exude Water, Respire Deeply,” it said in its high-pitched voice. “It Is A Sign They Are Unhappy.”
“It’s just–well I miss Lyall, Alondo and the others, that’s all.”
“You Visited The Ship.”
It must have talked to Rael. “Yes…it’s pretty much of a wreck, I’m afraid. And there was no sign of anyone.”
The creature cocked its round head to one side. “Explain The Meaning,” it repeated.
“Well. I can’t be absolutely certain, but I think it was beached deliberately. Someone had moved all of the heavy items to the front end to weigh it down. The Reach was holed badly. Without an anchor and with the launch damaged–”
“No.” The Chandara’s mouth rippled. “You Are Unhappy. Explain The Meaning.”
Shann frowned. “I told you. I miss the others.”
“The Others Are Here.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Others Are Here. On This Side. Before The Ship They Were Gone. Now They Are Here. It Is A Matter Of…Statistical Probability…”
Shann didn’t understand the last part, but she realised that it was right. If the ship had made it to land, then there was a very good chance that a least some of her crew had made it as well. Yet in fifteen days there had been no sign–no hint of their presence on this side of the world. It was as if they had disappeared utterly.
“The Others Are Here,” Boxx insisted.
Shann felt the tears welling up once more. “Then where are they?”
<><><><><>
Chapter 8
(Sixteen days earlier)
“They’re gone.”
Lyall stood on the foredeck of Annata’s Reach, his hands cupped around Alondo’s cheeks. Rain and spray were rolling down the musician’s screwed-up face. He might have been crying; it was impossible to tell. Lyall shouted over the roaring tempest in an attempt to galvanise his friend into action. “We’re nearly through the Barrier. I need you to man the rudder. Can you do that?”
Alondo nodded and stumbled away, buffeted by the fierce winds. I hope he’ll be all right. They had just seen Shann and Boxx swept over the side by an immense wave. There was a chance they would survive if they could stay afloat and near to the ship until it was safe, Lyall told himself. If so, then they would be found and picked up when the Reach broke through into clearer water. If not…well, there would be time enough for hariath-sharana if the rest of them made it out of this alive.
Lyall ran forward, extending the lodestone layer of his cloak, and pushed off the lodestone in the foredeck. The tether connecting him to the iron ring in the deck snaked and then snapped taut as he rose over and above the bowsprit, where Keris was already straining in midair to pull the ship forward, buffeted by the turbulent winds. Immediately, he retracted lodestone and extended bronze, adding his effort to hers.
Keris’ dark hair was plastered to her face by the rain. She looked sideways at him and called out the question he was dreading. “Boxx…the girl?”
Lyall shook his head. The pain on Keris’ face seemed genuine. The two women were travelling very different paths, but at the end, they had stood together side by side and faced down Saccath. And Boxx–the Chandara had a special connection to Keris which no-one understood, least of all Keris herself. Yet the creature had touched her heart in a way that no-one from her own race ever had. She had become its companion and its protector. It would be a loss keenly felt by her. By all of them.
Ahead, Lyall could see gaps of blue in the roiling storm clouds. A shaft of sunlight sliced through the dark like a sword point. The mountainous seas were starting to moderate. The wind was beginning to lose some of its fury. Lyall permitted himself a small rush of elation. They were actually going to make it.
As the storms abated and the brooding clouds began to part, Lyall gradually extended the upper lodestone layer of his cloak and allowed himself to drop lightly to the deck. Alondo was already at the ship’s larboard rail, scanning the water anxiously. Lyall walked over slowly, using the time to compose what he might say to his friend by way of consolation.
When he arrived, however, the musician merely pointed at the section of the hull below them. “Look.”
Seawater overtopped the tear in the ship’s side and poured gradually into the hold. As the water accumulated, the ship would ride lower, so that more and more water would pour in until… “We have to rouse Patris.”
Alondo appeared dubious. “Are you sure we can trust him?”
“I trust that he would want to save his own life and not go down with this ship. He’s a sailor. We need his help and his expertise.”
Alondo nodded. “I’ll keep looking for the others.”
Lyall looked out across the grey sea. Here, close to the Barrier, the waves were spiteful, spitting plumes of spray, threatening to drag down anything that came within their reach. He strained his eyes, looking for a miracle, but there was nothing. He felt his heart sinking beneath the waters–weighed down with the burden of inevitability. Next to him, Alondo continued to scan the rolling swell with dogged concentration. He needs to do this. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Alondo did not react or interrupt his search. Lyall released his hand and hurried over to where the launch was berthed. Chain shot from the Prophet’s ship had torn a ragged gash in its hull.
Keris was waiting there for him. Her delicate face was grim. “They’re gone, aren’t they?” Lyall nodded once. “It wasn’t your fault, you know,” she continued. Lyall was pulling at the launch’s sailcloth covering. I don’t have time for this. “At least your method worked,” he heard her say. “We seem to have made it through the Barrier. Of course, if Boxx was the key to Annata’s plan to save the Kelanni, then that leaves us with a problem.”
“Yes, well right now we have a more immediate problem,” he snapped. “Our ship is taking on water fast. The Reach needs its master.”
Keris’ mouth hardened. She reached into the bottom of the launch where the thief lay unconscious, and shook him hard. Patris moaned, but did not open his eyes. She shook him again. He moaned again and raised a hand to his head. “”Wh…what happened.”
“Saccath knocked you out,” she said flatly.
“Wh…?”
“He’s gone. Over the side,”
“We need you,” Lyall put in. “The Reach was holed and is shipping water.”
Patris sat up, his hand still cradling his head. “How…?”
“It’s a long story,” Lyall said.
“Show me.” Patris clambered out of the launch and followed the others to the ship’s side. Alondo had moved to starboard, continuing his search. Patris made a brief inspection of the damaged ship’s structure. Then he took a deep breath. “It seems cold.” He left the side rail and headed aft with Lyall and Keris in tow. He stopped at the binnacle, glancing behind at the storm front and then checking the directional lodestone device once more. “This can’t be right…” Suddenly he looked up at Lyall, his eyes aflame. “You did it. You actually took this ship through the Barrier, you crazy son of a–”
“There’s no time for that now,” Lyall barked. “We have to keep afloat somehow.”
“Well, I have news for you,” Patris retorted. “This ship is going down. The hole in the side is across the main bulkhead. Multiple compartments are going to fill up with water.”
“So what do we do?”
The thief looked as if he were going to let fly at Lyall. Then his brow furrowed as the problem took root. He glanced again at the Barrier astern. The billowing black clouds had closed in behind them, but were still lashing their vessel with wind and rain. “If I had my way, I’d take us straight back across, but in this condition we wouldn’t stand a chance.” He looked around at the cluttered deck. “The launch is useless.” He peered at the horizon. “There.”
Lyall and Keris followed his gaze. A thin, ragged line separated sea and sky. Land.
“Can we make it?” Lyall asked.
“I don’t know, but right now we don’t have much of a choice.”
“Maybe we could rig up a sail?” Keris suggested.
Patris shook his head. “No time for that. Can you two get this ship moving like you said before?”
“Yes,” Lyall said.
“Then get going. We are going to need best possible speed. Your friend Alondo will have to help me pump water and shift anything heavy to the forward section.”
“What are you going to do?” Lyall demanded.
Patris returned his look defiantly. “I’m going to run her aground.”
~
The three of them sat, huddled together in the shadow of their once proud vessel, shivering from cold and apprehension. The Reach lay with its prow buried deep in the yielding shore, sand piled up before it like a wake frozen in time. A soft footfall sounded behind them. No-one looked up. A sack landed on the wet sand and Keris dropped beside it, flying cloak still draped about her shoulders.
“Well, that’s the last of it,” she announced to no-one in particular. “There’s nothing else salvageable. The good news is Annata’s machine wasn’t damaged–at least, it doesn’t seem to have sustained any further damage. However, most of the food we had is spoiled, and finding a source of fresh water is going to be a priority.”
No reaction. The men stared ahead of them, not acknowledging her or each other. It felt as if she was talking to three corpses. She soldiered on. “It’s getting cold. I would guess that when the suns set, it’s going to get a whole lot colder. We should build a fire.”
“With what?” It was Patris’ voice, but when she looked, the thief was still staring straight ahead and not at her.
Keris shot a look at the beached ship behind her. The obvious answer was for them to start dismantling the Reach’s hull for firewood. However, the ship had given its “life” to save them. Tearing it apart just felt…wrong. “I’ll find something,” she said.
Lyall seemed to rouse from his stupor. He addressed Patris. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to be involved in this. But there is a reason we had to traverse the Barrier. Something that affects all Kelanni–”
“Save the recruiting speech,” Patris spat, his eyes like steel. “I’m not one of your little band. I agreed to pilot the ship–nothing more. Kidnapping me and dragging me here isn’t going to force me to do your bidding.” The thief got to his feet and marched away across the desolate wet sand.
~
He’ll be back.” Keris’ words sounded unconvincing in her ears.
“What makes you say that?” Lyall inquired.
Keris had backed herself into a corner and now had to come up with a credible answer. She was uncomfortable in this new role she had been thrust into. Maintaining morale was supposed to be his job, not hers. “It’s just his way of punishing you for getting him into this situation. Besides, he’s a survivor. He can take care of himself.”
They had walked off a little way down the beach. Her eyes flicked back at Alondo. The musician was still sitting in the same position near the ship. He had not moved or spoken during the entire exchange with Patris. She lowered her voice. “To be honest, Alondo worries me a great deal more. He doesn’t say anything.”
“It’s Shann,” Lyall’s eyes were downcast. “He’s taking her…loss pretty hard.”
He stumbled over the word “death.” Keris could fully understand. It was all too recent–the pain too great to face. Yet if they were going to survive in this place, they would have to start facing facts–even unpleasant ones. And they would have to start solving problems faster than they picked up new ones.
A little farther up the beach, the sand gave way to coarse shingle. It was covered with patches of a strange white substance. She walked toward it and knelt down on impulse, scooping up some and putting it to her lips.
Lyall stood over her. “What are you doing?”
She held it up for him to inspect. The tiny crystals were melting and pooling in her palm. “Water,” she said, with genuine surprise.
“What manner of place is this?” Lyall’s voice held a note of alarm.
A low thrumming sound. Keris and Lyall spun round but could not identify the source. It seemed to come from all around them. Keris reached behind and grasped her staff, noting with annoyance that Lyall did not have his. The sound suddenly grew in pitch and a silver shape appeared over a low hill to the southeast. It was narrow, with a curved nose and two oblique tail fins. There were distinct bulges on either side. As it lifted up, she saw that the bulges housed what looked like fans.
Keris backed away and saw that Lyall had the sense to follow suit. Over near the wreck, Alondo was on his feet, watching the spectacle. The low suns glinted on its silver flank as it hovered for a few moments more, then the thrumming intensified once more as the strange apparition rose into the air and banked away following the coastline south.
Keris and Lyall stood unmoving on the beach and watched as it faded into the distance. The steady hum gradually died and was replaced by the rhythm of the surf.
“A machine.” Lyall spoke in hushed tones. “A flying machine.”
~
Soon afterwards night fell, and the stars came out.
The three of them stood together, looking up at the sky in disbelief. They were bivouacked farther up the beach, away from their stranded ship, where the smooth sand gave way to hard round pebbles.
“…Where the sky is bright and there are no suns,” Keris and Lyall turned to look at Alondo. “Arval,” he said by way of explanation. “Of course, it could just be coincidence.”
As they stared up at the pitch blackness, studded with hundreds of tiny blazing lights, something gelid caressed Lyall’s cheek. He stretched out his hand. Snow was beginning to drift downward. Lazily. Silently. The scene was one of ethereal beauty.
He had been putting it off. They were too busy just trying to survive, he told himself. Also, he didn’t want to attempt it while Alondo was within earshot. He didn’t think his friend could handle another disappointment. In truth, he wasn’t sure whether he could handle it himself. He also didn’t enjoy the thought of having to lie, but it seemed the only way of ensuring privacy. “Best take refuge in the shelter. I’m going to check the perimeter.” He strode off without waiting for an objection.
“Don’t stray too far,” Keris called out after him. He glanced back over his shoulder, but she and Alondo were already headed for their makeshift haven–an awning roughly cobbled together from bits of broken wood, rope and sailcloth. Gracing it with the title of “shelter” seemed like comparing a hovel in the slum canton of Lind to one of the grand houses of Chalimar. But Ail-Mazzoth, with its faithful roseate light, lay far beyond the Barrier, and there was no way they could stumble around in the stygian darkness of this world with its unknown dangers. In the morning they would head inland–try to make contact with the people of this world. If indeed they were people. Tonight was about one thing and one thing only. Survival.
The soughing of the surf grew fainter. Lyall’s course was taking him away from the beach. He turned south, so that he was moving parallel to the shoreline. To his right, the Aronak was a sea of ink, wave crests picked out by starlight. He walked until he was certain that he was far enough away from their little encampment. Then he halted, raised his hand to his mouth and spoke into the Ring on his index finger. “Oliah.”
For a long moment the Ring remained stubbornly dark. Then Lyall saw the familiar emerald glow. “Hello? Alondo? Lyall? Is that you?” He realised that he had been holding his breath and exhaled. It worked. The Ring worked across the Barrier. It felt like a lifeline to the world they had left behind–the world of sanity.
“This is Lyall. It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Is Alondo all right?”
“Yes, he’s fine. You can speak to him in just a little while. We made it through the Barrier.”
“You did? What is it like?”
“It’s hard to describe. Strange. Like nothing you’ve ever seen before. Even the sky is peculiar. And it’s cold.” He debated whether to mention Shann and Boxx, but decided against it. He was sure Alondo would bring it up, and she and he could console each other. Lyall was not yet to the point where he needed–or wanted–to talk about it.
“Will you be all right?”
“Absolutely.” He sounded as confident as he could manage. “It seems that there are…people here. We are staying put for tonight. Then we’ll see if we can find out more about them. How are things in Sakara?”
There was a silence. Lyall was beginning to think that the connection had somehow been lost. Then the Ring glowed once more.
Oliah’s voice sounded small and distant. “The city has fallen.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 9
Lyall listened intently to Oliah’s voice, transfixed by the Ring’s intermittent emerald glow. “It happened overnight. The Keltar dropped in out of the sky and took control of the Guildhall. They are holding most of the Guild Heads in ‘protective custody’. Soon afterward, the Prophet’s troops began moving into the city. There are companies of soldiers on every street corner. The Asoli are nowhere to be seen. No-one seems to know why. Some say they are cowering in their homes, too frightened to show themselves; others claim that they have made a secret pact with the authorities in Chalimar.”
It didn’t make sense. It would take a sizeable amount of troops to hold the port city–not to mention the number of Keltar that must be committed to the occupation. Up until now, Chalimar had been content to let the Guilds have a free hand in return for a healthy tariff. Something had changed. But what? A shortage of Kelanni tributes? No, that couldn’t be it. The towns and villages under the Prophet’s heel had more than enough fit young people to replace those who died from heat and exhaustion in the ore camps. What, then? He voiced his concern. “Why would the Prophet make such a move now?”
“Lodestone.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Chalimar authorities appear to have discovered that the Guilds were illicitly trading in lodestone. That’s the declared reason for the takeover. They claim the Guild Master violated his accord with the Prophet.”
Lyall felt his palms go sweaty despite the cold. He was the one who had formulated the plan to refit their ship with lodestone to enable them to cross the Barrier, and it was he who had prevailed upon Patris to use his contacts in order to obtain the stone. Was it conceivable that his plan had precipitated the invasion of the city? No–it was impossible. There was no way that the Prophet would dispatch that quantity of men and resources over five levia weights of lodestone. There was something here he was not seeing. “What about you, Oliah? Are you safe?”
“For the moment, yes. The Thief Guild has already been outlawed. The edict was purported to be from the Guild Master himself, but no-one believes that–at least, no-one believes he would have signed such an order willingly. However, the Keltar have ordered that all Skippers be arrested and detained.”
“Skippers?”
“It’s the name given to those who oversee the thief gangs. It harkens back to the time when the gangs would regularly take to sea as privateers. Patris is one, if he didn’t already tell you. It’s a good thing he’s not in Sakara right now. Do you know when he’s due to return?”
“Well, the truth of the matter is, we brought him through the Barrier with us.”
“You did what?”
“It wasn’t planned that way. The launch was damaged. Then he was…knocked out. We had no choice but to take him with us.”
“Well, perhaps it’s for the best. However strange it is where you are, I suspect it’s probably safer for him there than it is here right now.”
“I’m sorry. I wish there was something we could do to help.”
“Lyall, how much do you know about Sakara and its people?”
“I stayed there with Alondo a few turns back–we were not there for long. Not much, I suppose.”
“Well, I have lived here all my life. It has been a free port for nearly two hundred turns. Sakarans have a unique way of life and they’re not going to give it up without a fight. Taking this city is one thing; holding onto it is going to be quite another. The thief gangs know the city inside out: water conduits, sewers, back alleys and long forgotten passages. Rumour has it that the Prophet’s soldiers haven’t managed to arrest a single Skipper.”
“Tell your people to be careful, Oliah. I know the Prophet’s minions and what they are capable of.”
“I will. Can I speak with Alondo now?”
“Of course. Give me a few moments.” Lyall started back toward their hastily erected camp. The cold, crisp air keened his senses. Breaths condensed in wisps in front of his face, curling and vanishing into the night. His mind chased implications. The reasons for the Prophet’s bold move were still unclear, but Lyall was convinced of one thing; somehow, they involved lodestone. That could indicate that the Prophet’s agenda was moving forward. They might not have much time left.
Yet danger walked hand in hand with opportunity. Occupying the port city was a major gamble; the forces at the Keep must surely be stretched wafer-thin. Something told Lyall that when the time came, the final confrontation would occur there. If so, then they might actually stand a chance of overthrowing the tyranny. Sakara might yet prove to be the Prophet’s greatest mistake.
~
Bleary eyes greeted the slate grey dawn. The tiny fire Keris had built from loose, broken timbers and odd pieces of driftwood had long faded to smouldering charcoal. Lyall passed around meagre rations of flatbread and freezing water melted from fresh snow.
Alondo had a haunted look. Speaking with Oliah the previous evening had drawn him out a little, but the situation in Sakara was a new worry. He heard the musician keep saying, “Make sure you’re safe…Keep yourself safe.” At first Alondo had insisted that she leave the city at once, but she had explained that there were troops blocking all of the exits. Eventually, he broke the news about Shann and Boxx, and as the Ring gently luminesced Lyall heard the faint sounds of weeping.
Patris had returned later that night and lain down, wrapping himself in a roughly woven blanket. No words were exchanged. At first light, he roused himself with the others and accepted a piece of bread in brooding silence.
Lyall looked around at the others. Keris, sitting on her haunches. Alert. Eyes flicking over the desolate beach, ready to spring into action in an instant. Alondo, huddled in a blanket, his carefree demeanour lost amid the worry lines creasing his forehead. They were a ragtag group of misfits–and he included himself in that description. Somehow he had to pull them all together. “It’s time to leave.”
“Where are we going?” Alondo asked from under his blanket.
“We are going to find the people of this world and introduce ourselves,” Lyall said lightly.
Keris rose to her feet in one smooth movement. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
“What do you mean?” Lyall asked.
“We know nothing about these people,” she declared.
“We know that they possess powerful machines,” Lyall pointed out. “That suggests they could be powerful allies.”
“Yes, but they could also constitute powerful enemies,” Keris said. “We should proceed with caution.”
Lyall frowned. “What are you proposing?”
“I suggest you all wait here. I will scout them–determine their location and strength. Then we can decide whether to make contact.”
Lyall nodded thoughtfully. “I appreciate your prudence, Keris, and if circumstances were different, I would probably go along with that. But the invasion of Sakara means that events are moving rapidly. We have to act quickly if we are to stop the Prophet’s scheme. That means securing these peoples’ cooperation, even if that entails some risk.
“We will travel together. When we find the inhabitants of this world, I will approach them alone. Are we all agreed?”
Patris rose to his feet and gathered his meagre belongings. “Go ahead and play Skipper over these people if you want. But leave me out of it.”
“Where are you going?” Keris demanded.
“Back,” he replied tersely.
“How?” Keris asked.
“I’ll find a way.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to split up,” Lyall reasoned. “We have no idea what dangers lie on this side. We should stick together.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Patris began walking up the beach. Lyall started after him, but Keris placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned and she shook her head. She felt his muscles sag in defeat. Patris continued walking until he was out of sight. He did not look back once.
~
The three of them picked their way across barren heath land. Slick stones, damp purple moss and patches of melting ice made the going treacherous. Alondo slipped and stumbled more than once. Lyall offered to carry the musician’s instrument, but he declined. “I think I should hang onto it. You never know when you might be in need of a song or two.” Lyall smiled inwardly. It was good to see him regaining some of his bonhomie. “I don’t see how anyone could survive here,” he continued.
“Me neither,” Lyall agreed. “Perhaps they simply remain in those machines of theirs.”
Alondo looked up at the leaden sky. His voice became wistful. “A machine that flies. I would certainly love to get a look at one of those.”
“If all goes well, then maybe you will,” Lyall replied.
Keris had been quiet for some time. Lyall knew better than to invade her silence and try to drag her out of it. The former Keltar would speak in her own way and in her own time. She chose now to break in. “And what if it does not go well?”
Lyall smiled. “Then it will be up to you and Alondo.”
Keris shook her head. “We cannot afford to lose any more people. Your plan is ill advised.”
“I agree with Keris,” Alondo said. “You shouldn’t put yourself at risk.”
“If we are going to get Annata’s machine working again and find the instrument she was talking about, we are going to need their help.” Lyall insisted.
“There is a better way,” she said.
“I told you,” Lyall said firmly, “we don’t have the time to observe them from afar. Besides, if they were to discover us spying on them–”
“I’m talking about the Chandara,” Keris cut in.
“The Chandara? What do you mean?” Lyall asked.
“At the Great Tree, Annata said that Boxx was the ‘key’ to using the instrument,” she began. “I don’t know want that means exactly. But she also said that if anything went wrong, then we should seek out the Chandara here. She said they would be able to direct us to where the device we need is concealed.”
Lyall extended a sweeping hand, taking in the desolate moor with its sparse vegetation. In the distance, snow-capped peaks rose up above a blanket of mist. “Where do you suggest we start, Keris? It’s a big world, and…” A low thrumming sound. “Do you hear that?”
Keris had already drawn her staff and was circling rapidly. Suddenly she pointed. “There.”
A silver dart swept in from the north, the note from its engines rising as it approached. The three of them stood, transfixed, as it grew rapidly. Heading straight for them. The sleek vessel loomed large, filling their vision. The moment had come.
The faces of those he had known swam before his vision: Rainer, courageous as a vara-cat; fair haired Wenda; Perata, Ennas’ two older sons, Mendar and Nefin–all lost at Persillan; his mother and father; and lastly Aune, his beloved sister, light brown hair framing an all too innocent face. He stepped forward, arms outstretched as if to embrace them all. A voice from behind. “Get down.” A blinding flash. Then the darkness closed over him.
~
Keris watched in horror as a bright beam emanated from the front of the flying machine. It struck the ground next to Lyall, flinging him sideways to the ground.
As the craft passed overhead, the droning fell once more in pitch. Keris flung herself forward, getting her arm under Lyall and turning him over. He was alive, but his eyelids were fluttering. Idiot. His bravery was going to get them all killed.
She shot a look behind her. The machine was already banking, preparing to come at them for a second pass. Keris put his arm around her shoulders and pulled them both upright. Alondo looked as if he were in a trance. “Run,” she yelled at him–then started half-dragging Lyall across the slippery ground, away from the aerial attacker. Alondo awoke from his stupor and caught up to them, grabbing Lyall’s other arm. Keris and Alondo pounded across the moor as fast as their shared burden would allow.
The thrumming grew in Keris’ ears. She hazarded a glance behind her. The flying craft was bearing down on them once more. Suddenly, Keris swerved to the right, choosing a direction perpendicular to their pursuer’s course. Another beam struck the ground harmlessly to her left, kicking up a shower of earth, moss and slush. Evasion tactics. Change tack–don’t give them a clear shot. Trouble was, that would only delay the inevitable. They were caught cold, in wide-open country with no cover. There was no possible way they could outrun it. She recalled that Lyall still had one lodestone grenade left following their earlier battle with the Kharthrun Serpent. However, she would have to stop and search his pack to find it, and there was no time. In any case, it would take a throw of great accuracy and wild good fortune to do any damage to the chasing vessel, let alone bring it down.
The machine was coming up behind them again. Keris shoved to one side, pushing all three of them to the ground. A bolt of lightning struck the ground near her feet, flinging dirt over her. The smell of burnt moss assailed her nostrils. She got her feet under her and stumbled forward once more. Alondo was breathing heavily, and Lyall was little more than dead weight. If I don’t do something soon, we’re all dead.
She spotted a reflection out of the corner of her eye–water. A blanket bog had formed on the waterlogged ground. An idea came to her. There was no way to know how deep it was, but still…
The flying machine had not yet turned. There was no time to explain her plan. She pulled the other two in the direction of the fen. As their boots sloshed through the shallow water, she pushed them both down and threw herself flat. The icy marsh water penetrated her clothing; shocking, then numbing her skin. Keris thrust aside the discomfort, pulling Lyall and Alondo deeper into the marsh, checking to make sure that Lyall’s mouth and nose were out of the water, so that he wouldn’t drown.
She listened for the drone of the engines. The pitch rose and fell, but didn’t seem to be getting any closer. She put herself in the position of the pilot. Where did we go? He would be conducting a search pattern. Alondo started to rise, then grunted as Keris savagely shoved him back beneath the water. Her saturated clothing clung to her body, cold and clammy. An eternity passed. Give it up. At long last, the sound faded and was gone.
He could have landed to continue the hunt on foot. She stayed still, breathing slowly. The fetid water seeped into her mouth and nostrils. Lyall’s eyes were closed; she could not determine whether he was conscious or not. She turned her head and hissed in Alondo’s direction, “Don’t move.”
Keris slithered out of the bog, crawling with her stomach pressed to the ground. She turned, carefully scanning both ground and sky. The flying machine was gone and there seemed no sign of further threat. She stood cautiously, then bent down and grabbed Lyall’s arm. “Help me with him,” she instructed Alondo.
The musician rose with a groan and supported Lyall from the other side. Together, they stumbled out of the fen, freezing water dripping from their clothes. Alondo’s teeth were chattering. Keris cast about her. “We have to get out of the open–find cover.” She briefly considered returning to the ship, but dismissed the idea. It would be too easy for the enemy to track them there. There was a range of low hills to the southeast. “That way.”
The three of them set off together, insects creeping imperceptibly across the vast bleak moor.
~
Sadly, Keris’ expertise did not extend to healing skills. Her examination of Lyall revealed no obvious bleeding or contusions. But he remained unconscious, his colour was too pallid for her liking and his breathing was ragged and shallow. She wished she knew what that meant. If there was ever a time when they needed Boxx…
A line of barren hills rose before them. They looked scarcely more inviting than the moorland they had been trudging through. But hills meant valleys, overhangs, possibly even caves; places that would make them harder to find and provide shelter from aerial assault.
Alondo’s expression reflected his deep concern, but his healing ability was no greater than hers. They had unpacked a half-dry blanket and were trying to keep him warm. With no wood for a fire, it was proving next to impossible. Alondo had suggested scouring the area for something they could burn, but Keris rejected the idea.
“This is enemy territory. We can’t risk giving away our position.”
“You don’t know these people are our enemies,” Alondo protested. “We’ve not even seen or spoken to any of them yet.”
“They attacked us on sight,” Keris said, matter-of-factly. “I think they made their intentions clear.”
“Then what about the machine that came upon us at the beach? That one didn’t attack us,” Alondo pointed out.
Keris shrugged. “Maybe it simply didn’t see us. Or maybe it did and it reported our position to the second one. Either way, the result is the same.”
Alondo shook his head. “I don’t like it. We don’t know anything about them. Why would they just attack us like that? They don’t even know who we are. It doesn’t make sense.”
“We are invaders of their world. That may well be all the excuse they need.”
Alondo fell into a brooding silence. Keris got up and walked a little way toward the nearby foothills. “What was that weapon they used, anyway?” he called after her. “It was like a bolt of lightning. The inhabitants of this world must be far more advanced than us in machines. They could help us.”
“They could also destroy us as easily as swatting a mannatar. They have abundantly demonstrated that. Lyall tried to make overtures to them, and look what happened to him. No, we cannot trust these people…” She trailed off.
“What is it?” Alondo sounded anxious.
“Tracks,” she said.
“Tracks of what?”
“I’m not sure. I’m going to check it out.” Keris set off towards the grey hills. “Stay here, I’ll be back shortly.”
“You’re not going to kill anybody, are you?” Alondo asked.
Keris called back over her shoulder, “Not unless I have to.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 10
The structure sat in a natural hollow, embraced by the surrounding highlands; a simple two-story edifice made of smooth grey stone, with an angular roof. Guardhouse? Barracks? It was difficult to be certain. What immediately caught Keris’ eye, however, was the object to the left of the building–a flying machine, exactly like the one that had attacked them. Keris could not be sure that it was the same one, but she didn’t intend to take any chances.
She checked the perimeter one final time, then slipped out from behind the boulder she was using as cover and set out at a low run toward the structure, Keltar cloak fluttering behind her. She reached the sleek silver craft. It sat, quiescent, in stark contrast to the whirring contrivance that had spat fire at them earlier. Keris understood little of the workings of machines, but she figured she knew enough to put one out of commission. There was a tether linking the fuselage to a part of the building. Keris strode over to it, drew her staff and severed the machine’s umbilical cord with a single deft stroke. The cord sparked angrily, then became still. She walked over to the vessel and scoured its smooth surface seeking vulnerabilities.
Her fingers detected a tiny crack. She hefted her staff once more, wedging the diamond blade into the crack and using it as a lever. Crack. A panel sprang open, revealing an inner array of components. Keris hacked and sliced at them until there were broken parts hanging from the housing and littering the ground. Satisfied, she approached the building. A main door. She ignored it. There was no way of knowing what manner of creature or how many of them there would be inside. Shock and overwhelm–that would be the best tactic. She skirted around to the rear of the property. There was something that looked like a metal barrel, and she crouched down behind it.
Voices. They seemed to be coming from a large window just behind a first floor balcony. Keris blipped the lodestone layer of her cloak, detecting a lodestone deposit just behind her. She rose from behind the cylinder, fully extended her lodestone and sailed upward, landing lightly on the balcony, just to the left of the window. There were three…no, four voices, but she still could not quite make out what they were saying. Four to one, with the element of surprise–it should be simple enough. The most important thing would be to ensure that none of them had an opportunity to raise the alarm. If she could do that without hurting anybody, so much the better, but she and the others had already been attacked without provocation. I will do what I have to.
Steeling herself, she jumped once more, grabbed the upper lintel and came crashing through the window, feet first.
Four shocked expressions, frozen in an instant of time. Kelanni. It was the last thing Keris had expected. She had built up an impression of an aggressive soldier-like race, flying around in their aerial contraptions, blasting anything that dared to encroach on their territory. Yet these were her own people. Two of them appeared to be children. Of course, appearances could be deceptive.
She selected the largest–a male. In an instant, the diamond blade was at his throat. “Medicaments,” she growled. “Do you have any medicaments?” The three others looked at each other in confusion. The youngest–a girl–ran to the larger female and held her, whimpering. The woman stretched out a hand toward Keris and spoke something in a pleading tone. Keris relaxed her grip slightly and softened her voice. “I am with someone who is hurt. Do you have a healer here?” The woman looked perplexed. The man was trying to speak. Keris released him. He positioned himself in front of the others and began talking to her in an urgent voice. Keris listened intently, but could not quite make out what he was saying. There was something wrong here. Slowly, she sheathed her staff weapon and then spread her arms wide.
“Help,” she said. “I need help.”
~
Keris sat on a padded stool in the far corner of a spacious sitting room, keeping company with a plant that was growing out of the floor. Her cloak was wrapped around her, although she no longer felt cold. There were five adults and two children in what seemed to be an extended household. All of them gave her a wide berth. The little girl’s eyes looked as if they were ready to fill with tears whenever the raven-haired woman looked in her direction, so Keris had taken to staring at the wooden floor.
Someone was approaching. She looked up to see Alondo. He drew up a stool and sat beside her. He was smiling beneath his festive red hat, yet somehow, he looked less out of place than she did.
“How’s Lyall?” she asked.
“A little better, I think,” Alondo said. “He hasn’t regained consciousness yet, but his colour is improved and he seems to be breathing easier. I didn’t want to risk trying to wake him. Let the body rest, give it a chance to heal.”
Keris felt as if her mouth were filled with ashes. “I didn’t know you had any healing experience.”
“I don’t.” He smiled again. “It’s just something Mother used to say.” Keris stared off into space. “These Kelanni are very much like us,” he continued. “I’ve been studying their language.”
“Studying? How?”
“Talking and listening, mostly. Signing helps a lot. There are actually a great number of commonalities–too many for coincidence. I think the conclusion has to be that at one time, Kelanni on both sides of the Barrier spoke the same dialect.”
Keris grimaced. “How does that help us?”
“Well, if we once spoke the same language, then we must also share a common ancestry. That should make them more inclined to help us.”
Keris stared at the walls. They were of smooth stone–too perfect, decorated with a repeating geometric design, the significance of which she could not guess. “You’re forgetting the fact that we were attacked.”
“Yes, but I’m fairly convinced that these people weren’t responsible. When I asked them about it, they seemed genuinely confused. I still don’t think they believe me. They told me that their flying craft–they call them ‘avionics’, by the way–have never been fitted with weapons of any kind, even during some earlier war that they referred to. It’s a puzzle.”
“Maybe their war is starting up again,” she offered.
“Maybe. But if that were so, you’d think the pilot would target a populated area, rather than a few people wandering in open countryside. And when I tried to explain the lightning weapon they used, these people didn’t seem to comprehend me. It could have been the language, but I don’t think so. I don’t think they had ever seen anything like that before.”
Keris looked down at the floor again. “I seem to have misjudged things badly. I think you should serve as our ambassador here. I should just keep out of everyone’s way.”
“Well, I think everyone’s recovered from the shock of your entrance. And I offered to help them repair the window.”
“I’m sorry about that,” she said.
“Unfortunately, you did a rather effective job on their flying machine. This is a pretty isolated area, and it’s their only means of contact with civilisation. They said they’ll need to bring an engineer here to fix it.”
“Yes, well, I’m sorry about that too.” She was sorry about a lot of things. She had been by far the most vociferous critic of Lyall’s style of leadership. He was too relaxed, too casual. He was overly trusting of others and had an annoying tendency to want to martyr himself. Yet whenever she had been forced to take over, things had only gone from bad to worse. In the Fire Pits of Kharthrun, she had failed to foresee that Shann would go after Lyall alone. This time, she had managed to misread the situation once again. When she had seen the flying machine parked next to this remote place in the hills, it seemed certain that these were their attackers. Yet she had been wrong and her actions had come close to provoking a serious conflict. Despite his shortcomings, Lyall seemed to possess an instinct for dealing with people and situations that she lacked. I never wanted this.
“Don’t feel too bad,” Alondo was saying. “Apart from the trauma to the children, the smashed window and the crippled flying craft, there’s no real damage done.”
Keris looked at him squarely. “Are you trying to be funny?”
“No, of course not…sorry,” he said. There was a short silence, broken finally by Alondo. “Lyall needs a healer, but the nearest one is in a town some distance from here, and their only form of transport is…they don’t have any form of transport. So they’ve sent someone on foot. They should be back some time tomorrow.” Alondo cast around as if looking for something to lighten the mood. “I’ve agreed to play a concert later.”
“You’ve what?”
“Absolutely,” he grinned. “Kelanni everywhere love music. It’s a great way to bring people together and build trust. The youngsters are quite excited about it. You don’t have to sing along, but you do have to smile.”
“I…really don’t think–”
“Nonsense, you’ll be there. Orders from your ‘ambassador’. Actually, I was thinking of composing a brand new tune, one in honour of your first contact with the people beyond the Barrier.” She looked at him dangerously. “Sorry,” he said again.
Keris drew a long breath. She was starting to relax. The crazy musician had an odd way of doing that to you. Perhaps I can offer him some comfort in return? “How are you dealing with Shann and Boxx?” she asked.
Alondo’s brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”
Keris was not sure how to answer. It felt as if she had walked up a blind alley and promptly forgotten the way out. “I…well, the fact that they’re gone.”
“Sorry, you’re right,” he said. “I should enquire of these folk if they’ve seen them–ask them to get word out. Boxx should stick out like a sore thumb, right?”
It wasn’t at all the reaction she was expecting. He hasn’t accepted what’s happened. Should I confront him with the truth? No, he has to come to terms with it in his own time and in his own way. Lyall, maybe I’m finally learning from you.
“That sounds like a good idea,” she said.
~
“…Come you miners near and far,
To the hills of fair Tragar,
Fortune find you where you are,
You brave men of Thalissa.
Delving deep beneath the ground,
Where the diamonds do abound,
And great riches may be found,
By brave men of Thalissa.”
The strains of Alondo’s instrument faded, to be replaced by a tumultuous round of applause. The group of Kelanni were seated on the floor around Alondo, their faces beaming. Keris sat on a stool a little way back, doing her best to smile, as ordered. The little girl glanced at her nervously every now and then.
“‘Brave Men of Thalissa’ is one of my most popular ditties,” Alondo explained to his audience. “It’s actually a drinking song.”
“Drinking?” One of the two males repeated.
“Yes, you know, drinking.” Alondo made exaggerated quaffing gestures, leading to peals of laughter from the little throng. There was no doubt about it, Keris mused. Alondo was a hit in both worlds. She was grateful at least that he seemed to have largely undone the damage she had wrought earlier. It was a thing of wonder to see that, in a single day, he had virtually managed to get them eating out of his hand.
Keris found that the more she listened, the more she was able to make sense of their odd-sounding dialect. Alondo was right–there were similar words and expressions. Once you got used to the inflections, you could make out the gist of what they were saying. She noticed too that when he could not quite make out their speech, Alondo used a simple but effective technique–he asked them to slow down.
“We came here by ship,” he told them.
“What is…a ship?” the other male asked.
Alondo addressed him directly. “A ship is a vessel that travels on the sea, Dargath.” The gathering looked at each other uncomprehendingly. “Anyhow,” he continued, “Keris here saved us from the hostile avionic. We would not have survived without her. She is a great hunter in our world.”
All eyes turned to Keris. It was as if she were suddenly pinned to the spot. She felt a small rush of irritation at the musician. She had agreed to be present for his ‘performance’ but she had certainly not agreed to be a part of the entertainment. Still, they were all looking at her expectantly. She had to say something. “I…just shoved everyone into a bog.”
There was long pause. Then, to her consternation, the room erupted into laughter. Alondo added, “… thereby saving all our lives.”
One of the women grew serious. “Avionics do not have…weapons.”
Keris’ face grew dark. “We know what we saw. We didn’t make it up. There’s a man lying unconscious back there because of what happened.”
An awkward silence settled momentarily over the gathering. Then Alondo’s good-natured banter broke the mood like a ray of sun bursting through lowering cloud. “Well, let’s see if we can’t rouse him with our singing. Does anyone here know ‘The Old Kelanni of the West’?” There was a chorus of shaking heads. “It’s one for the youngsters, really. It tells the story of an old man who is challenged by a dagan to a race…” There was a murmur from the audience. “What’s a dagan?” Alondo repeated. “Well, it’s a creature that…well, you’ll get the idea.”
He strummed a bouncy intro, then launched into the rousing melody.
“The old Kelanni of the west,
A man both wise and true,
Did run with all the splendid beasts,
And all their wisdom knew.
Then one fine day a dagan said,
‘I am the fastest hind,
Indeed, for I am swifter yet,
Than any of your kind’.
The old man laughed and laughed again,
Till tears ran down his face.
‘If that be so, my noble friend,
Then we shall have a race…’”
The other Kelanni were tapping to the rhythm with obvious enjoyment. Keris stood quietly and slipped out from the back of the room, unnoticed. As she ascended the staircase, sounds of music blended with laughter drifted up toward her. She did not look back. At the top of the stairs, she turned left and entered the first door. Lyall lay on a cot with his eyes closed, breathing gently. She selected a stool, pulled it to his bedside and sat down.
As she watched his chest rise and fall, she felt a growing sense of…irritation. It was his recklessness that had thrust her into the position of having to take charge, of being constantly responsible for the lives of others–but not for much longer. If events played out as she anticipated, then she would soon be alone once more and free to pursue the mission to which she had dedicated herself. The soldiers at the gatehouse. Ferenek. Nikome. Mordal. Saccath, Shann, Boxx. Perhaps then, all of the death and sacrifice she had witnessed would finally have meaning.
Hurry up and get well, Lyall.
<><><><><>
Chapter 11
The Healer arrived the next day, right on schedule. Keris was seated in her corner of the living room, keeping the plant company, when she heard a low vibrating sound. She leapt up and shot out through the front door, skidding to a halt in the yard and shielding her eyes against the brightness of the midday suns. Two identical flying machines hovered overhead, like great silver fish with whirring fins on either flank. Behind her, the others had started to gather: Alondo, distinctive in his russet coat and crimson hat; the children, jumping and waving, desperately trying to catch the attention of the crafts’ occupants.
It was an impressive sight, but one that sounded a cold note of discord deep inside Keris. These aerial craft were exactly like the one that had so callously attempted to strafe them on their way here from the coast. The people beyond the Barrier seemed welcoming enough, now that the initial misunderstandings had been cleared out of the way. Yet Keris could not shake the thought that somewhere out there, prowling the moors, there was someone who was determined to destroy them.
The machines descended in unison, the sound of their engines becoming deafening as they plucked up clouds of powdered snow. Landing struts extended as they came to rest, settling back and powering down. Both canopies were pushed back and four figures clambered out, two from each craft. One pair were dressed in blue coveralls. They strode over and spoke a few words to the one called Dargath. He glanced in her direction, but his expression was unreadable. Then he accompanied them as they made their way to the left side of the building, where the damaged avionic languished. Keris wondered what the repair bill was likely to be. It hardly mattered, since whatever these people used for money, she didn’t have any.
Of the other two, one she recognised as the thin youth who had been dispatched the previous day to fetch a Healer; the other was much older and shorter, with rheumy eyes and an impatient manner. He toted a massive black carpet bag that did not look as if it could possibly have fitted into the cockpit he had just extricated himself from. He struggled over with his burden and exchanged a few curt words with the other adults, waving them away as they offered to take the bag for him. Slowly, the little procession entered the house, Keris following at a discreet distance.
They climbed the stairs and entered the room where Lyall lay. The Healer put his bag on the floor and herded them all out, closing the door behind him. Alondo stood patiently in the hallway while the others dispersed. Keris descended the stairs once more and went back to her corner. She drew her staff and began to inspect and clean it in a methodical fashion.
A while later, Alondo entered and sat opposite her. “Lyall is awake.”
She glanced up at him, then returned to her polishing. “That’s good.”
“He seems to have suffered a bad concussion, along with cuts and bruises, but their Healer couldn’t find anything else wrong. Rest–that seems to be what he needs most right now. Rest and time.” She nodded, rubbing the cloth smoothly over the darkwood. “Would you like to see him?” Alondo offered.
She continued staring down at the haft. “Maybe later.”
“You know, you and he are not that much different.”
She stopped her work, looking up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You both expect too much of yourselves. And you blame yourselves for things you have no control over. The truth is, we would be laying dead out there on that heath land if it wasn’t for you.”
She stared into space. “I was wrong about these people. I read all of the signs correctly, but they led me to the wrong conclusion. And yet…we were attacked. There has to be some explanation for that. There is another influence at work here–it may be something that even these people are unaware of.”
Alondo nodded thoughtfully. “I agree. The people here seem as disturbed about what happened to us as we are. They mentioned someone called Byrdach. They say he is ‘Prefect’ of the local town, although I’m not sure from their description whether that corresponds to a headman or a watchkeeper–maybe he’s a little of both. Anyway, they suggested we talk to him as soon as we get the chance.”
Keris was not sure that was wise; they could still not be sure who was friend and who was foe in this place. She decided to let the matter drop for now and deal with a more pressing issue. “Alondo, how far have you got with figuring out Annata’s machine?”
Alondo blew through his teeth. “Not very far, I’m afraid. Back at the Calandra in Sakara, I was trying to draw up a schematic–an inner map of the workings of the device. It seemed as reasonable a place to start as any. All machines have an internal logic to their operation. It occurred to me that if I could understand that logic, then I might understand what it was that was powering it. The only source of help I had was Boxx. Now that it’s gone, I…”
“Might the people here be able to help you?” she suggested. “After all, they do seem to have a knowledge of machines.”
“The same thought had occurred to me,” Alondo said. “But I’ve talked to the people here, and none of them are engineers.”
“What about the two who are repairing the flying machine?”
“It’s a possibility,” Alondo concurred. “But they are only here for a limited time. I would need to sit down with someone for an extended period to figure this thing out. A town, one with an artisans’ district, would seem to be our best bet.”
Keris weighed their options. “How long before Lyall can travel?”
Alondo shrugged. “Hard to say exactly–several days at least. Why do you ask?”
“I think you and I should use the time to make discreet enquiries. We mustn’t attract too much attention to ourselves. And we will have to be careful how much information we reveal and to whom. It’s possible that the Prophet’s forces were behind the assault on us.”
“You have no proof of that,” the round-faced musician pointed out.
“No, but I don’t think we can discount the possibility either. If the Prophet does know that we have passed beyond the Barrier, and he has somehow sent his people here after us, then we are in constant danger. We cannot relax our guard, even for an instant.”
Alondo grinned. “In that case, I would say that it’s a good thing we have the ‘Heroine of Gort’ watching our backs.”
~
Alexander Edward McCann, human, former ship’s engineer and covert operative on the side of the planet that the Kelanni called Skell, stood on a rocky knoll overlooking the settlement of Kieroth. Behind and below him, his aircraft waited. It was both the perfect transport and the perfect cover. Having the appearance of one of their avionics, it attracted no attention, allowing him to move through the skies of Skell with complete anonymity. Yet its fusion power source meant that unlike the Kelanni version, it did not have to be recharged every few miles. It also meant he could travel between the mainland and the human settlement on Helice. Of course, according to the terms of the armistice forced on them by the Kelanni sixteen years ago, no human was permitted to leave the island. However, humans had broken that rule many times when it suited their purpose. As a result, they already had control of the even more primitive and superstitious civilisation that had crawled its way up on the side of the planet known as Drann. It would not be long before they finally crushed the inhabitants of this side and attained complete mastery over the negative matter the locals called lodestone. At least, that was what Wang kept insisting.
McCann’s stubble was starting to itch. It was a little game he liked to play with himself whenever he left the island. Rather than take a shaving kit with him, he would endure the minor discomfort until a mission was complete and he was back in his two-room habitat module on Helice. It was both an incentive and a way of rewarding himself for a job well done. At the rate things were going, though, it didn’t look as if he would be enjoying the luxury of a smooth chin any time soon.
At first, it had seemed as if everything was proceeding according to plan. Not long after reaching the Aronak coast, he had spotted the ship from the air and determined that the fugitives from Drann had somehow traversed the Barrier and made landfall. How they had managed such a feat was a puzzle, but it was not one that McCann was charged with solving. His instructions were simple–track down and eliminate.
He set down on the landward side of the dunes and walked up the beach, wind blowing through his salt and pepper hair. The sailing ship looked as if it had grown out of the sands that encompassed it. McCann knelt and drew a globe from his side pack–copper in colour and set with a vision sphere at its centre, so that it looked not unlike a large metal eye. He set the program for a full reconnaissance of the structure up ahead and released it.
The ball flew off toward the beached vessel and began a systematic search, guided by its own artificial intelligence. McCann held the receiving sphere in his hand, watching the images as they were relayed. Nothing. The ship was deserted. He inputted the return command, retrieved the “watcher” and returned to his avionic, lifting off once more so as to adopt a standard search pattern. Soon after, he caught sight of three tiny shapes moving slowly across the bleak open landscape. Perfect. He fired the forward mounted gamma ray laser. One of them was hit, he was certain of it, but when he returned for another pass, they were gone. McCann cursed, scanning with infrared, but they had somehow vanished like smoke.
He was not used to reporting failure. Wang was not going to be pleased. It was one thing for their Kelanni servants and spies to prove a letdown–that was almost expected. But for a human, it was unforgivable.
He glanced up as another avionic passed overhead on a leisurely course toward the town below. Sighing, he raised the back of his right hand to his mouth and spoke into his Ring.
“McCann.”
“Hello, Mac, how’s it going?” The female voice was edged with the Ring’s usual distortion.
“They made it through to this side, and I managed to track them down.”
“That’s good.”
“Then…I lost them again.”
“That’s not so good.”
“Can you find Wang and put him on?”
“Sorry, Mac, Wang isn’t here right now. He’s over in Drann playing Prophet for the benefit of the locals there.”
McCann harrumphed. “I think he enjoys that too much. Pretty soon he’s going to start believing in his own hype. To tell the truth, Susan, I don’t even know why these Kelanni he has me chasing down are so important. It seems to me that we have bigger problems back at the island.”
“Wang says they are dangerous. They’re trying to disrupt the supply of lodestone. They could destabilize the whole Accumulator Project.”
“Really? Right now I would say that Lafontaine is already doing an effective job of that. Before I left, I heard that he had persuaded several of the engineering team to cease work on the Accumulator and go back to working on the QDE drive. He says Wang is off his head, trying to take over an entire world.”
“And what do you think?”
“I took an oath to serve the Captain. Although…”
“Mac?”
“Sorry, Susan. It’s just that after nearly sixteen standard earth years stuck on this rock, the thought of going home is tempting.”
“I guess you must miss Emilie and Monica?”
“No…I’m long past that. Emilie’s probably re-married by now. And Monica–well, she was only two years old when I lifted off from Eridani Station. She probably doesn’t even remember me. Heck, she could have children of her own by now.”
“Hey, you could be a granddad, Mac.”
“Don’t start with me, Susan. I’m not in the mood.”
“Sorry…hey, I’d like to go home too. And our only chance of that is to get the QDE working.”
Quintessence. Every school kid back home knew the story. It was a kind of dark energy–the kind that was responsible for the expansion of the universe itself. Its discovery two centuries ago had finally explained black hole physics, proved Einstein wrong and spawned the Quintessence Dark Energy Drive, which had catapulted humans from the backyard of their solar system into deep space.
However, quintessence was difficult to control. So when their ships had entered this system and detected negative matter, unknown anywhere else, it was a cause for major celebration. Ships powered by lodestone would not need quintessence, or any other kind of fuel for that matter. QDE could become obsolete overnight, and they would all be rich beyond the dreams of avarice. But the indigenous population of Kelanni–a nascent industrial society–had proven a major obstacle.
Wang had insisted, then demanded, then threatened; and in the brief conflict that followed, all three of their ships had been severely damaged. It was only now, after all this time, that Lafontaine had cobbled together enough parts so as to maybe get one of their ships operational. At first he had wanted to use lodestone, but Wang insisted that all their available ore be used to construct and test the Accumulator Device, which would wipe out the native population and secure the supply of lodestone. It was no different than with the Incas of South America, the Red Indians of North America or the Aborigines of Australia, Wang said. The history of humanity proved that primitive races had to be swept aside for the advancement of those who were superior. Besides, he was not about to walk away from untold wealth.
It was ironic, then, that the Kelanni here in Skell had discovered the principles behind lodestone for themselves and had already begun construction of their own diametric drive.
“Would you be happy to return penniless after all this time?” she asked.
“I don’t know–sixteen years’ back pay ought to add up to a tidy sum, don’t you think.”
“Perhaps. But the payoff from our little discovery would make that seem like pocket change.”
“Yes, but maybe Wang’s price is a little too high.”
“You wouldn’t allow a colony of ants to take over your home,” she pointed out.
McCann pulled the Kelanni furs tight against the cold and started back down the hill toward his avionic. “No, but these people aren’t ants. And this isn’t our home.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 12
Keris and Alondo walked side by side in silence through the snow-covered fields as they approached the town the locals called Kieroth. Sunlight glinted cheerily off the angled white roofs. Alondo was in a less than talkative mood, but for once it was not she that was responsible–it was Lyall.
Lyall’s recovery was almost complete. He was walking about the house, talking and eating more than she had ever seen him eat, all of which she took to be positive signs. That morning they had breakfasted together for the first time. She and Alondo had returned from their second trip to Kieroth late the previous evening.
“Progress is rather slow, I’m afraid,” she was explaining. “Aside from the obvious language difficulties, we have had to proceed with caution–asking questions, but in a manner so as not to give too much away. What’s more, their artisans’ quarter is quite large, and some shops and artefacts even Alondo can’t identify. I am forever trying to drag him out of one establishment or another.”
Alondo made a face. “Yes, well, don’t blame me if the very thing we need to fix Annata’s machine is found to be sitting in one of those shops you dragged me out of.”
Keris leaned back against the wall. “As I recall, the last contraption you insisted on examining in detail turned out to be a device for making hot beverages.”
“Yes,” Alondo said. “What’s your point?”
Lyall held up his hands. “All right, all right. Let’s call a truce, shall we? We knew this wasn’t going to be easy. I should be able to join you soon–I imagine another pair of eyes wouldn’t hurt.”
“It’s a pretty long walk. Longer since our friend here,” she jerked her head in Alondo’s direction, “can’t use a flying cloak.”
“Couldn’t you ask to use their flying machine?” Lyall asked.
Keris shook her head. “Even leaving aside that it’s their only form of transport, there’s only room for two people, and neither me nor Alondo knows how to pilot it. Besides–”
“Besides,” Alondo finished, “I already told her there’s no way I’m going up in one of those.”
Keris spread her arms wide in resignation. Lyall put an arm around the musician’s shoulders and smiled. “You are a true pioneer, my friend.”
“Thank you,” Alondo said, his grin turning to a frown as the irony hit home.
Lyall released Alondo and his tone became serious. “There’s something else I wanted to discuss, something that may make us all feel a little better. We have all missed Shann and Boxx since we lost them during the crossing. I think it’s time we said hariath-sharana for them.”
“You realise we would have to say the ritual farewell for Saccath too,” Keris pointed out. “That is, if you’re going to keep with Kelanni tradition.”
“I’m aware of that,” Lyall said quietly. “I don’t know whether these peoples’ rituals are anything like ours, but I would like to–”
“What are you saying?” Lyall and Keris both turned to Alondo. “You don’t know that they’re gone. They’re alive somewhere. I know it. They’re alive.”
Alondo stormed off, and she had not seen him again until it was time for them to leave. Keris was content to leave him to come to terms with his grief in his own time and in his own way. However, as they reached the point where the open countryside ended and the road that led into town began, she decided to broach a subject that had been bothering her since their first visit here. “I think you should lose the hat.”
Alondo seemed to take a moment to return from the cold lonely place where his thoughts had been residing. “What?”
“The hat,” she repeated. “We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile. That hat of yours–well, it draws stares. We borrowed these furs from the locals so that we would blend in. No-one here wears a hat like that. It marks us as outsiders.”
“We are outsiders,” Alondo said.
Keris sighed. “Yes, but we don’t want to advertise the fact.”
“Forget it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I said, forget it. Unless you’re going to try and take it off me.”
Keris shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then the hat stays.”
Keris felt troubled. She had never seen him like this. Clearly now was not the time to force the issue. She decided to try and change the subject. “How was Oliah when you last spoke to her?”
“She’s being forced to live underground as an outlaw in a city that’s under martial law. How do you think she is?” He winced as if someone had slapped him in the face. “Sorry…I’m sorry.”
Keris shook her head. “Forget it. We’re all trying to do the best we can. Including Lyall.”
“I realise that. When we get back, I’ll apologise to him. It’s just that…”
“I know,” she murmured. “I know.
~
The streets of Kieroth’s market district were thronged with fur-clad shoppers; ambling along, chatting excitedly or merely staring into ornate bay windows set with leaded lights. It was all very different from Chalimar, or any of the other towns back on their side of the Barrier. Gone were the open stalls and the raucous cries of the street vendors; the loud haggling between stall owners and customers; the snorting of graylesh and the aroma of cooked spiced moba. Here, everything was so much more discreet. Civilised. Shopkeepers displayed their wares behind barriers of glass. And it was cold–so much colder than her home. Snow melting into slush. Keris pulled the furs tighter around her.
After their previous two trips here, she was well familiar with the town’s layout. At the end of this road, take a right turn and that would lead them straight to the artisans’ district. There were many establishments they had yet to check out. Keris tended to allow Alondo to conduct the actual enquiries, as he had a much better grasp of the local dialect–and besides, he knew far more about machines than she did. Her role was to make sure he was safe, and to keep him focussed on the task at hand, as he had a tendency to be distracted by every new invention he came across.
Today, however, that might prove to be a good thing. The musician needed something to take his mind off the fate of Shann and Boxx. Although she had not mentioned the fact to Lyall, another thing that was slowing them down was the fact that he wanted to inquire about them of everyone he met. Keris was not unsympathetic. They had all been affected by the loss, herself included. But they had a job to do. Their companions had sacrificed their lives for the cause on which she and Lyall and Alondo were embarked. Lyall believed that hariath-sharana, the ritual farewell, was the best way to come to terms with what had happened. But to her way of thinking, the best way to do that was for them to successfully complete their mission. That way, their deaths would have meaning.
His inquiries had been met with shrugs and shaken heads. A few mentioned that a while ago, a girl–a stranger–had caused a disturbance and been taken into custody, but no-one knew where she was now. Keris did her best to downplay the account, cautioning him that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but he carried on doggedly asking the same questions. In the end, she had left him to it.
However, from the moment that Lyall had suggested the ritual farewell, it was as if the faint hope that the musician had been clinging to was suddenly wrenched from his grasp. She had no idea what he would do. The truth was that when it came right down to it, even those who cared about you could only be spectators of the pain you were going through. Grief was a path you had to travel alone.
One of the strange floating carriages was moving down the street toward them, making a subtle humming sound. As it passed by, she heard Alondo’s shout just behind her. “Shann…It’s Shann.”
She whirled around. Alondo was standing wide-eyed and rooted to the spot. “What? Where?” she called.
“There.” He pointed at the coach as it receded into the distance. “In that carriage thing.”
“Impossible,” she declared.
“It was her. I’m sure of it.”
Bang. Before Keris could respond, the air was shaken with a loud impact, followed by a horrible grating sound. The carriage up ahead had crashed onto the cobbles and was sending up sparks and shards of metal. She watched in horror as it lurched and spun around, before finally grinding to a halt. The street erupted in panic. Onlookers who had been cowering in terror now began running toward the crash. Keris saw one of the blue-coated watchmen moving in, his odd-looking staff weapon held at the ready. Alondo started moving toward the scene of devastation. We can’t get caught up in this; it’s too dangerous.
Unceremoniously, she grabbed the round-faced musician by the scruff of the neck and dragged him away down the nearest alley.
~
As McCann had anticipated, Wang had been furious at his former engineer.
“What do you expect me to do?” McCann had responded angrily. “They could be anywhere. One man can’t search half a planet.”
The Captain ran a hand through his short black hair and yelled at him. “We have at least some Kelanni contacts in Skell, don’t we?”
“Not many,” McCann countered.
“Well, get back there and kick them up their green-tailed backsides. I want those who crossed over into Skell eradicated before they can do any more damage, do you hear me?”
This is all Lafontaine’s fault. The elderly scientist was refusing to cooperate on the Accumulator Project again. Wang was livid, but he was forced to rein himself in because he needed the old man. That meant taking out his frustration on his subordinates–and McCann was right in the firing line. The engineer would have liked nothing better than to sink his knuckles into Wang’s plump oriental face. But McCann had taken an oath when he signed on. Wang was the Captain and that was that.
McCann threaded his way through Kieroth’s main commercial thoroughfare. He had learned long ago to rely on the anonymity of crowds. A single man would always stand out, but the closer people were packed together, the more distant they became. He kept the Kelanni furs wrapped tight around his face as if to protect against the cold. He was a little taller than most Kelanni but if you ignored that, and the fact that there was no tail peeking out from the hem of his coat, then he was nigh indistinguishable from the rest of the populace.
He had been at it for days–conducting the search by day, going back to the island at night and then returning early the next morning. Nothing. No-one had seen the three fugitives since he had lost track of them out on the moor. It was slow, tedious work. It was also dangerous. Wang had made clear many times that if he were recognized as a human, then he would be on his own–disavowed by Helice and treated as a renegade. The Captain was not prepared to risk open conflict with the Kelanni population until the Accumulator Device was ready. In simple terms, McCann was expendable. And the longer this inquiry took, the more chance there was of his being caught. Soon he was going to have to search farther afield, but with so many possibilities–well, he was going to need a miracle.
A phaeton was gliding towards him, suspended about half a metre above the ground. Suddenly, its front end dropped to the cobbles, throwing up showers of sparks. McCann froze, then drew back instinctively as the wrecked carriage careened past, metal screaming on contact with stone like a stricken maiden. The coach slowed gradually, flinging aside shattered sections of its undercarriage. It screeched to a halt, its back end pirouetting so that the vessel came to rest facing in the opposite direction.
The crowded street erupted. Shouts. People running toward the crash site. McCann roused himself and covered the ground to where the stricken phaeton lay. The door opened and a young female Kelanni stumbled out. She was slight of build, with short dark hair and wild hazel eyes. Arms reached toward her, but she pushed past, shoving McCann to one side with surprising strength and bolting down the roadway in the direction the phaeton had come from.
What the…? McCann followed the girl with his eyes as she slid to a stop farther down the street. She was gazing about, looking for…something. A second Kelanni–a lanky youth–clawed his way through the carriage door and started after the girl. He caught up to her, and there was an animated exchange that McCann could not hear. A third figure clambered out through the opening, rubbing his head. As he did so, one of the blue coated drach appeared and began ushering the onlookers away from the wreck. McCann allowed himself to be herded back with the others.
Another drach approached the occupant who had just disembarked. “Speak truth. What happened here?”
The Kelanni, who was evidently the driver, spread his arms wide. “It was one of my passengers. She…she just went crazy and grabbed the controls. There was nothing I could do.” He looked back at the smashed front end of his coach and swore.
“One of your passengers, you say? And where are they now?”
“I…don’t know.” The driver looked confused. “Gone…they’re gone.” He looked up. “Rael.”
The lanky youth was returning–without the girl. He joined the other two, reaching into an inner pocket and drawing out what looked like a small book. He handed it to the drach for inspection. “M-my name is Rael. I am attached to the Scientific Directorate. I apo…apologise for the accident.”
The drach drew himself erect. “Speak truth. The driver testifies that the crash was caused by another passenger.”
“The girl is…not from here. She has come here from…a different part of our world and is staying at the observatory in the care of Hannath and me. She was not familiar with the workings of the phaeton. I sh-should have monitored her more closely. I accept full responsibility”
“Hannath?” the drach registered surprise. “What would Hannath want with this girl?”
“Th-that is n-not your concern.” The youth was struggling to sound assertive. “Any enquiries about this matter should be d-directed to the observatory. Is that clear?”
The drach looked as if he was going to prolong the argument, but then checked himself. “Very well.”
The driver sagged in resignation. The youth who called himself Rael turned on his heel and headed back to where the girl was standing. She followed him meekly as they disappeared up the street. McCann briefly considered following them. No, that would be too obvious. Besides, it was unnecessary. He knew exactly where the girl was being held. He could bide his time and pick his opportunity. It would be necessary to take that one alive, so that she could be ‘persuaded’ to reveal where the rest of her confederates were hiding.
Alexander Edward McCann stood motionless amid the gradually dispersing crowd, stroking his stubble and feeling a grim sense of satisfaction.
<><><><><>
Chapter 13
“I’ll be leaving in the morning.” Keris sat in the corner of the living room in her chosen spot next to the broad-leaved houseplant which grew from an opening in the floor. Her tone was one of finality.
Lyall sat opposite her. His brow furrowed. “Leaving? What do you mean, leaving?”
“I’m leaving this house–this place. Now that you are well again, there is no further reason for me to stay.”
“What are you talking about?” Lyall demanded.
Keris had been rehearsing her arguments for days now. She had analysed their situation and there could be no doubt that this was the most logical, the most reasonable way forward. Coincidentally, it was also the outcome she personally wanted–one that would leave her free of all encumbrances and able to pursue her chosen task with the utmost efficiency. It was in everyone’s best interests, she reasoned.
Yet despite her careful preparation, there was still an element of uncertainty. She could not be sure how Lyall would take her proposal. If he decided to veto her…well, she would cross that particular bridge if and when she came to it. She took a deep breath. “You said it yourself, Lyall. The invasion of Sakara strongly suggests that the Prophet has moved up his timetable. That means we do not have much time. When Annata appeared to me at the Great Tree, she said that if anything were to go wrong with her plan, then we should seek out the Chandara on this side of the Barrier. She said that they would be able to show us the location of the instrument she hid here in the past. Someone has to seek them out, and soon. That someone should be me.”
“But we don’t even know if there are Chandara on this side,” Lyall protested.
“We have no direct evidence, it’s true. But I don’t think Annata would have told me to seek them out if they weren’t here somewhere.”
Lyall was shaking his head. “No, Keris. We shouldn’t split up; it’s too dangerous. Maybe we could all go together?”
“You would only slow me down–no offence,” Keris said. “Besides, Alondo has to stay here and figure out how to get Annata’s machine working again. He’s not handling the loss of the others very well. Yesterday he imagined he saw the girl Shann, and would have embroiled us in a serious incident if I hadn’t dragged him out of there. Now he’s upstairs and won’t talk to anybody. He’s also consumed with worry over what’s going on in Sakara. He won’t survive here on his own. Someone has to stay with him, look after him and keep him focussed on the task of repairing the machine. As his friend, you’re the best person to do that. I…well I’m not much use in these sorts of situations. I should be out there, tracking down those that can help us.”
“But…even assuming Annata is correct and there are Chandara on this side of the Barrier, how will you find out where they are?”
She smiled wryly. “You forget–I’m a trained investigator. It’s my job to locate people and things. If there are Chandara here then I will find them.”
Lyall let out a ragged sigh. “I still don’t like it, Keris. This is a strange world. There are many things here that are unfamiliar–even dangerous. Patris stormed off on his own the day after we got here, and no-one’s seen him since. Going our different ways–well, it just seems wrong.”
“It’s a risk, I agree,” she said, “but I’m doing this of my own volition. You have no need to feel responsible for me. I can take care of myself.” Lyall sighed and gazed out a nearby window. Shadows lengthened across the snow-covered ground. Soon, the suns would be setting, signalling the beginning of her last night here. It was time to give him the good news. “We obtained a promising lead today–you and Alondo should follow it up tomorrow. We learned of an individual called Hannath. He is described as a ‘scientist’. I’m not sure what that is exactly, but he appears to be one of their high artisans–possibly one that has an advanced knowledge of machines. A woman who works in a kind of repair shop said that he is greatly revered in their community.
“She said that he lives in a building at the top of a hill to the west of Kieroth. The building is known as ‘observatory’. Apparently, there’s a unique dome-shaped construction adjoining it, so it’s very easy to spot. I would suggest you interrogate this Hannath first, to determine if he’s trustworthy, before letting him examine Annata’s machine.”
Lyall dragged his gaze away from the view outside. His eyes were misty, as if he were about to cry. “How long will you be gone?”
“Difficult to say,” she replied. “If you have to leave here for any reason, try to leave word where you have gone. But in any case, I can assure you that I will find you again.”
“Because you are a trained investigator.”
“Exactly,” she said.
~
“We have to get out of here.”
Shann, Rael and Boxx were standing in Shann’s small room at the observatory. Shann was defiant, head high, hands on hips. Boxx was erect on its hind limbs, alert–eyes like twin black beads. Rael was stooped over, downcast, studying the bright multicoloured rug and the plain wooden floor. “We have to get out of here now,” she repeated.
Rael began, “I don’t see–”
Her eyes blazed. “I have to find my friends, and I have to find the instrument we need to destroy the Prophet’s machine. I can’t do that cooped up in here.”
“What instrument is that?” Rael asked. “What does it do?”
“I…don’t know,” she confessed. Rael had raised his head and was looking at her curiously. Shann realised too late that she had backed herself into a corner. Up until this moment, she had avoided mentioning Annata’s role in all of this. Her aim was to win him over as an ally. If he thought of her as crazy, he might be less inclined to help her. But now the stakes were about to get a whole lot higher. She was about to involve him on a course that would likely prove highly dangerous and would mean doing some things he would find quite disturbing, including defying Hannath. It was only right that he know the full truth of what he was getting into. I can’t lie to him, she thought.
She took a deep breath. “The information about the Prophet’s weapon and the instrument we need to render it inert comes from the past–from a woman named Annata.”
“Your ship,” he said, “the one we found beached up the coast. It was called Annata’s…”
“Annata’s Reach,” she finished. “Yes, we named it after her.”
“Was she someone you used to know?”
“Not exactly,” Shann said. “Annata lived and died over three thousand turns ago.”
“So you found some sort of writing–a prophecy?”
“No, she spoke to us through a machine.”
“A machine?”
Shann nodded. “That’s right. Annata sent a machine from the past to the Chandara on our side of the Barrier. The Chandara found Keris and brought her to their Great Tree, where they activated the machine. Annata then told her what the Prophet–the Unan-Chinneroth–was trying to do. She also explained that they had hidden some sort of instrument on your side, with the power to neutralize the weapon.”
Rael’s expression changed rapidly, as if he couldn’t make up his mind which question to ask first. Finally, he spoke. “You mean she sent it through time?”
Shann shrugged. “I suppose so.”
“How is such a thing possible?” Rael asked.
Shann thought back, recalling past conversations. “According to Keris, they used the power of Ail-Kar, the White Sun.”
“How?” Rael demanded.
“I’m sorry–that’s all I know.”
Rael fell quiet again, thinking. All of a sudden, he looked up. “Where is this machine now?”
“I don’t know. The last time I saw it, it was with the rest of our things in the stern castle on the Reach. When we visited the wreck yesterday I searched from stem to stern, but your people had picked it cleaner than a flock of starving perridons. Maybe they have it?”
Rael shook his head. “Impossible. I would have been informed of a find like that.” His face grew studious once more. Shann observed idly how it made him appear much older. He began again. “If this ‘instrument’ as you call it can render the hu-man weapon powerless, then why hide it? Why not just give it to your friend Keris?”
“Annata explained it was because the instrument itself is highly dangerous,” she said.
“In what way?”
“She didn’t say.” Shann considered for a moment. “The Prophet is accumulating large quantities of lodestone. Annata said that the weapon he is building uses the power of lodestone somehow. So it would make sense that the instrument which can neutralize it also uses the power of lodestone, perhaps in a different way.”
Rael nodded. “That would make sense, I agree. But we know how lodestone works. I just don’t see how you could use lodestone to make something so dangerous?”
“Maybe you don’t understand lodestone as well as you think you do.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Well, the Keltar use Speaker Rings and Vision Spheres. You apparently knew nothing about them. Maybe lodestone has other properties you are unaware of?”
“Mmmm,” Rael mused. “It’s a pity we can’t study these artefacts of yours. But you don’t have any of these Rings or Spheres with you; or the ancient machine, for that matter.”
Shann felt the conversation slipping away from her. Rael was a person who depended on facts, evidence; who relied on them to make sense of the world around him. Yet she was asking him to put faith in a tale that she hardly gave credence to herself. “You don’t believe me.”
Rael turned to the Chandara. “Boxx.”
The creature’s mouth rippled. “Yes, Rael.”
“Do you know of the machine Shann is speaking of?”
“Yes, Rael,” it squeaked.
“What does the machine do?”
“It Is From Before. Kelanni Speak From Before.”
“Why?” he asked.
“The Unan-Chinneroth. He Is To Bring The End Of All Things. I Am The Key. You Are The Key. Four Are Needed. Four To Pass The Test.”
Rael turned to Shann. “What test is it talking about?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know.” She resumed her defiant stance. “Do you believe me now?”
He looked at her reprovingly. “I never disbelieved you, Shann. A good scientist doesn’t dismiss a hypothesis just because he has insufficient data. My job requires that I have an open mind. Besides,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “I would love to get a look at that machine of yours, if we could find it.”
She found his intellectual curiosity irritating. Like Hannath, there were times when he seemed to reduce everything to the level of an interesting puzzle. Doesn’t he realise that there are thousands of lives at stake? “Look, right now, the most important thing is to find the instrument Annata told us about.”
“So, what do you want to do?” he asked simply.
It was Boxx who spoke. “We Must Find My People. They Will Know The Place Of The Device You Seek.”
“I’m sorry,” Rael said. “The Chandara disappeared after the war. No-one has seen them since.”
“They Are Here.”
“Where?” Rael asked.
Shann suddenly remembered something–something Keris had shown them out in the Great Southern Desert. “A parchment,” she blurted out. The other two looked at her strangely. “Sorry…I mean, during our journey Keris showed us a parchment–a scroll. It had all the places in the world on it, as if viewed by a bird from high above.”
Rael smiled. “A map. You’re talking about a map.”
“Yes, yes,” she said. “Do you have one of those?”
“Of course. Wait here a moment.” A short while later he was back. He unfolded a waxy sheet of paper over the small desk that was in the far corner of the room. Shann and Boxx joined him. Boxx could scarcely see over the rim of the desk, so Shann fetched a stool and the Chandara hopped onto it.
The map was intricately drawn and looked much more detailed than the one in Keris’ possession. There were writing and symbols on it, the meaning of which she could not guess. Rael pointed to a square icon. “All right, this is Kieroth, where we are now. This is the Ayronath–or the Aronak Sea, as you call it. Here,” he stabbed a forefinger, “is roughly the place where we found your ship.”
Shann spoke softly into what she supposed was the Chandara’s ear. “Can you tell us where your people are?”
Boxx lifted an arm and pointed with one of its three digits to a place on the map. “They Are There.”
Rael craned his neck. “Are you sure?”
“Why, what’s there?” Shann asked.
“Well…nothing. It’s the middle of nowhere.”
“Is there no forest nearby?”
“Not according to the topographical map,” Rael answered. “The forest where the Chandara used to live is well to the north of there.”
Shann turned to Boxx. “There is no forest–no Great Tree in that place. Are you sure your people are there?”
“Chandara Are There,” Boxx repeated. “And They Are Suffering. Annata Has Told Us.”
Shann looked urgently at Rael. “How do we get there?”
He studied the map further. “Well…it’s a three-hop journey.”
“A what?” she returned.
“You remember Ravid saying that the range of an avionic was no more than twenty-five met-ryns or so?” he began.
“Yes,” she said, “but I still don’t know what a met-ryn is.”
He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter for now. The point is that after so far, the avionic has to put down at a recharging station. They are usually recharged overnight. That means three hops–three days to get to the station nearest to the point on the map that your Chandara indicated.”
“Great.” She smiled. “Let’s get going.”
Rael held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can make a trip like that.”
“Why not?” she demanded.
“Because I am needed here. There’s the diametric drive project out on the flats, for one.” He went back to the map, drawing the route with his finger. “Three days to reach the location here. Say, a day wandering about in the wilderness looking for your Chandara friends. Then three days journey back. A minimum of seven days in all. I don’t think Hannath is going to release me for that amount of time. I…could ask him, I suppose.”
She shook her head. “No.”
Rael looked confused. “You don’t want me to ask him?”
“We can’t risk it. If he gets wind of the fact that me and Boxx want to leave, he could reinstate the drach guards and we might never get out of here.”
“But I can’t just leave, Shann. Besides, we would have to travel by avionic, and I don’t have access to one.”
“What about the one we’ve been using?” she suggested.
“That machine belongs to the Scientific Directorate.”
“Then we borrow it for a while.”
“What? Are you crazy? We can’t steal an avionic.”
She glared at him. “I’m going with or without you.”
“Impossible,” he protested. “The first hop is over the Cathgorn Peaks, southeast of here. It’s one of the most perilous and inhospitable places in all of Kelanni-Skell. Glaciers, hidden crevasses, not to mention some highly dangerous creatures that prowl the snow fields up there. You would never make it on foot. It’d be suicide.”
“And if I don’t go, we’re dead anyway. Besides, Boxx says the Chandara need our help. I’d rather die trying to do something than rot here, helpless.”
Rael’s face betrayed a storm of conflicted loyalties. She hated to have to do this to him, but it was the only way. He shook his head. “I can’t let you kill yourself.”
“Does that mean you’re going to help me and Boxx?”
He looked from one to the other. “You realise an avionic can only accommodate two people.”
“Then it’s going to be a tight squeeze,” she said.
<><><><><>
Chapter 14
For the first time in many days, Keris felt truly alive.
At daybreak she had struck out northeast from Kieroth across the snow-covered countryside. Beneath her jet-black Keltar tunic and trousers, she wore an insulating coverall made from a thin fabric, which she had acquired from their hosts. It hugged her wrists and ankles, making her body feel warm and secure. The cold still clawed at her extremities and a biting wind slapped her face in gusts, numbing her cheeks and bringing tears to her eyes. Still, it felt good to be out in the open and on the move.
Keris leaped over the ground, pushing off the available deposits of lodestone, moving rapidly. Although she had refrained from mentioning it to Lyall, while Alondo had been busy talking to the artisan community in Kieroth and losing himself in the new found wonder of their engines and other devices, she had conducted her own little side investigation into the whereabouts of the Chandara on this side of the Barrier.
Most of the young people she spoke to knew nothing of the forest dwellers and cared less. The older generation, however, pricked their ears as if it were a familiar name they had not heard in many turns. One grizzled Kelanni with thinning hair and skin like worn leather, who she found sitting alone in the corner of a dusty workshop, even claimed to have seen them. He also spoke her dialect, what the locals called Old Kelanni, although with a peculiar inflection.
“Candachra–the First Ones. Sure, I seen ’em. It were near a full turn afore the war with them hu-mans. Nastiest lookin’ people y’ever did see. Pale pink skin. Made ya feel sick just to look at ’em. And no tail at all. Made ya wonder how them creatures ever managed to stand upright.” He threw back his head until the tendons in his neck were taut and let forth a laugh, dry and cracked as old leaves. “Anyways, we in the Kieroth Militia had ’em trapped on the beach at Chanoch Bay. We had already trashed their three flying vessels, when–”
“The Candachra,” she reminded him.
“Oh…why sure. Well, they were the First Ones, ya know.”
“First Ones? What does that mean?” she asked.
The old man laughed his raucous laugh once more, then stifled a paroxysm of coughing. “You young-uns, I declare. I don’t know what them fancy educators teach ya these days. The Candachra lived here in this world long before we Kelanni arrived.”
Keris could not see how the old timer could possibly know that, but it didn’t seem pertinent to her inquiry, so she decided to let it slide. “I see. Tell me, when did you last see them?”
The old man’s eyes lost their focus. “I remember like it were yesterday. I were a logger back then. We worked on the edge o’ the great forest in the Atarah Lowlands. Back then, the forest stretched for a hundred met-ryns. At the centre, were a tree that were ten times bigger than the rest, wi’ branches that scraped the sky. There were where them Candachra lived–hundreds of ’em. In the morning they’d just appear outa the mist that covered the forest floor, makin’ them high chirpin’ noises o’ theirs. One time I recall, one o’ them came forward and spoke to Darvath. It carried a staff like an old, twisted branch. Said stuff like, ‘Take, Plant, Preserve The Wood’. Darvath pulled off ’is cap and scratched ’is ’ead till it were raw, but ’e couldn’t make no sense out of it. Still, they never interfered with the logging. Just stood there on there on their hind limbs, watchin’ us with eyes like black flames. Made some ’o the loggers nervous at first, but eventually we just got used to ’em.
“Then one day, they were gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yup. One mornin’ they just didn’t show. We never saw ’em again after that. Some ’o the lads said ‘good riddance’. Others swore it were ’cause some disaster were about to befall us, but nothin’ bad happened. Darvath wouldn’t talk about it. Just yelled at everyone to get back to work. Not long after, the war started, so we packed up and went back to Kieroth to defend our mates an’ young-uns.”
“Did you ever find out what happened to them?” she asked.
“Nope. I did go back to Atarah a few turns after the war, but the forest were dyin’.”
Keris’ eyes widened. “Dying? How?”
“No-one knows,” he replied. “The trees were goin’ bare as far as the eye could see. The massive tree that were their home were dyin’ too.”
“What about the Chand–the Candachra?”
The old man spread his bony arms wide. “Dead maybe. Or maybe they up stakes and went somewhere else.”
Keris was stunned. Could it be that the Chandara had all perished on this side of the Barrier? She shoved the thought aside. Annata would not have told her to seek them out if they no longer existed. They had to be here somewhere. The destruction of their Great Tree was a disaster, but at least it gave her a starting point. If the forest of Atarah was as large as this old-timer claimed, then he couldn’t possibly have searched it all. And if they had migrated, there might be clues as to where they had gone–maybe even a clue to the devastation of the forest itself. “Can you tell me how I would get to the forest from here?”
The oldster blinked. “Now why would you want to travel there?”
A number of convoluted and unlikely excuses flitted through Keris’ thoughts. However, there seemed little point in resorting to elaborate deception. If the old boy paraded through the streets trumpeting their conversation, she doubted whether anyone would take him seriously. So she plumped for something close to the truth. “I am investigating a situation that may be a major threat to our world.”
The old man leaned forward and his eyes narrowed, making his crows feet stand out. “Ya heard the saying, ‘mock an old man in ya youth, an’ they’ll mock ya when ya’ve na tooth’?”
She hadn’t, of course, but she had no interest in debating the homespun philosophy of this culture. “I’m serious.”
He shrugged. “Well, ‘help a traveller on his way, an’ ya’ll be helped another day’. In any case,” he snickered, “I never could resist a pretty face.” Keris resisted the overwhelming temptation to kick him in the teeth and smiled weakly instead. “East by avionic over the Meurig Mountains. Then north to the Atarah Lowlands. Ya’ll run right up against the forest–or what’s left of it, at any rate.”
“What if I didn’t travel by avionic?” she asked.
“Why wouldn’t ya go by avionic? Ya scared o’ flyin’ or somethin’?”
“No,” she replied. “I…just never learned to fly one of those things.”
The old man’s face erupted into a toothless grin. “Me either. If ya go farther up the coast a ways, ya’ll come to the Meurig Divide. Cross there an’ continue north. Can’t miss it.”
Keris thanked him and turned to go. “One thing.” She turned back to see that he was frowning. “Just a little farther north o’ the forest lies Kynedyr, the ruined city o’the Ancients, abandoned at the Goratha–the dark time. Don’t ya go anywhere near that place.”
Her ears pricked up at the mention of Annata’s people. “Why? What’s there?”
“Strange things,” he said, “Things na man’d care t’see. Some say they seen spectres, images o’ them that went before. Make sure ya stay away.”
Keris thanked him and excused herself. Naturally, she wasn’t about to head out into open country on the word of a crazy old coot, so she had asked around some more. It seemed that the old boy’s directions were sound enough, although she put little store in his superstitious warning. Belief in spectres–that was for senile old men, children and the hopelessly ignorant.
Keris gradually retracted the upper lodestone layer of her flying cloak. As the ground rose up to meet her, she flexed her knees and came to a running stop. She shielded her eyes, gazed up at the early morning suns and took her bearings. The jagged peaks of the Cathgorn range loomed large to her right; to her left, a large circular field held a scattering of avionics, surrounding a squat grey building.
A low humming sound, rising in pitch. Shouts. The disturbance was coming from the direction of the sleek flying craft. Moments later, one of them rose into the air, wheeled around, and shot away in a southerly direction toward the town.
Keris adjusted her course away from the field. The ground was beginning to rise ahead of her. Keris slowed as she approached the crest of a rise. That same humming sound again, much closer this time. It was coming from directly ahead. Another silver shape suddenly appeared over the ridge–exactly the same as the one that had attacked them out on the moor. It was hovering right in front of her. Instinctively, Keris threw herself face first down into the snow. The wet snow chilled her cheek and the droning filled her ears. Then, without warning, the hum became a whine. She risked a glance upward. She could see the flat underbelly of the machine as it passed directly over her. Then its nose dipped slightly and it began to accelerate away in the direction of the previous craft.
Keris waited until the sound had died, then stood up and brushed off the loose snow. There was no reason to suppose that it had been the machine that attacked them. If it was, then either it had not spotted her, or its pilot was preoccupied with a different mission. Whatever the case, Keris was content to leave it as a mystery and accept her good fortune. Skirting the ridge, she resumed her solitary journey toward the Meurig Divide and the Great Forest of Atarah that lay beyond.
~
A score of avionics sat motionless, silver flanks glinting in the first light of dawn. At the edge of the field, a tall, awkward looking youth in brown furs scanned the surroundings. Behind him stood a slight female form, clad in an ebon cloak. Behind her was a small round creature, black eyes peeking out from beneath its shell. The cloaked figure was tugging at the youth’s shoulder.
“Don’t just stand out in the open, you idiot,” Shann hissed. “Take cover.”
Rael turned his head toward her. His expression was one of exaggerated patience. “The machines aren’t guarded, Shann. No-one ever steals them. Well, not until now, at any rate.”
“I don’t want to steal one,” she protested. “I just want to borrow it, that’s all.” She saw that he still looked unhappy. “You said it yourself. There’s no other way of getting across those mountains.”
He began threading his way between the silent machines. “It…it’s just that I’m not comfortable with all of this sneaking around. I should have told Hannath what I was doing. Hannath took me on as his apprentice and gave me a position of responsibility. I…I feel as if I’m betraying that trust.”
Shann gestured for Boxx to follow and trotted after Rael, trying to keep up with his longer stride. “From what I’ve seen, he just shouts at you and makes you do all the hard work.”
“He’s one of our greatest scientists,” Rael pointed out.
“Maybe he is,” Shann said. “But he doesn’t listen.”
“We Will Fly Now,” Boxx interrupted.
“That’s right,” Shann replied. “We are going up in one of those metal things.”
“Like At Kharthrun,” it squeaked.
Rael turned to look behind him. “Kharthrun?”
Shann smiled. “It’s a long story.” She turned back to the Chandara. “You can ride with me up front, all right?”
“All Right, Shann…We Go To See My People.”
“Yes. I hope they will be able to tell us the location of the instrument we need.”
“There Is Not Much Time.”
“I know,” she said. “Sakara has already fallen. We have to find it before he completes the weapon.”
“No,” the Chandara replied in its shrill, piping voice. “It Is I…I Do Not Have Much Time.”
“Time for what?” she asked.
“We Change. We Eat. We Remember.”
“What’s it talking about?” Rael inquired
“I don’t know,” she said. “It said the same thing shortly after we got here. I thought it was talking about some sort of spiritual belief. ”
“Maybe it’s referring to its death,” Rael suggested.
Shann ran ahead of him. “What?”
“I don’t know,” Rael continued. “It’s very, very old. Even you told me, it doesn’t seem to know how old it is. Maybe it senses that its end is near and it wants to die among its own people.”
Shann felt a flush of anger. These people, with their clever machines and superior ways, thought they knew everything. She rounded on him. “You don’t know any of that. You’re just guessing.”
Rael seemed unfazed by her outburst. “You’re right, I don’t. But nothing lives forever, Shann.”
He had led them unerringly to a machine close to the far side of the field. This aerial craft seemed to her to be exactly like the others. He climbed up to the cockpit and activated a control that moved the cover back. Shann picked up Boxx and lifted it. Rael took the Chandara from her and placed it in the front seat. Then he reached down one of his long arms to haul her up.
There was a cry from behind her. Rael froze. She turned to see an athletic figure in blue coveralls jogging towards them. Ravid. He came to a halt next to her. “Rael, what are you doing?”
“I…I need to take the avionic up. F-field tests,” he said.
“Field tests?” Ravid frowned. “I wasn’t told anything about it.”
“S-sorry,” Rael stammered. “Must’ve b-been a failure in c-communication.”
The avionics engineer ran a hand through his thinning white hair. “Well, you can’t take this machine up today. It’s already been booked by one of the Directors. He’s being taken on a tour of the launch facility.” He paused, as if suddenly remembering something. “Hannath already knows this. I don’t understand why he would–”
Rael kicked out with one of his long legs and caught Ravid squarely in the chest. The older man’s eyes bulged and he exhaled sharply as he was propelled backwards and fell sprawling on the snow. Rael grabbed Shann’s wrist and hauled her up. She clambered into the front seat, squeezing Boxx over to one side as the transparent canopy closed over her. Ravid had scrambled to his feet, and was yelling at them. His muffled voice was quickly drowned out by the rising hum of the engines. A moment later, she felt a slight downward pressure as the machine lifted into the air. As it banked away, she had a view of Ravid, arms waving frantically as he grew smaller and smaller. Eventually he was lost amidst the snowbound landscape.
<><><><><>
Chapter 15
Alondo stood back, taking in the view of the oddly shaped house on the snowy hill just outside the town of Kieroth. “This has to be it,” he declared. “The dome-shaped structure looks like nothing I’ve seen elsewhere. It’s just as Keris described it.”
“Right, then. Let’s see if we can speak to someone.” Lyall walked up and hammered on the door.
“Hold it.” Alondo came up and stood alongside Lyall. “Better let me do the talking.”
Lyall looked sideways at his friend. “And why is that?”
“Well, to be perfectly honest…you’re not very good.”
Lyall frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“Do you remember the conversation you had with Soppora at the house this morning?”
“Certainly,” Lyall said. “I asked if she wanted help with breakfast.”
“No.” Alondo pointed out. “You didn’t.”
“I didn’t?”
“No.” They stood before the door a few moments in silence. “Although, on the plus side, I think she was seriously considering your offer,” Alondo added.
The door opened, saving Lyall from further embarrassment. A chubby woman in pale green work dress and apron greeted them. “Is this ‘observatory’?” Alondo asked in the local dialect.
“Yes,” she bustled. “Can I help you?”
Alondo smiled. “We are here to see Hannath the Scientist. Is he here?”
“Are you from the Directorate?” she asked.
Alondo looked at Lyall, then back at the woman. “No, we’re here to see Hannath on…a private matter.”
The woman opened the door wide. “Please come in.” They entered the panelled hallway. “I must ask you to wait. I am not sure the Master will see you, I’m afraid. There has been an incident this morning. Whom shall I say is calling?”
“Alondo and Lyall, the Scientists,” he said.
The woman looked at him strangely, turned and disappeared through a door at the end of the hall.
Lyall rounded on Alondo and hissed. “What did you tell her that for?”
Alondo was unrepentant. “You want to get in to see him don’t you? Besides, I have no idea what a scientist is, so we could both be scientists for all I know.”
Lyall was about to counter when the door opened and the woman buzzed in. “This way,” she said. “The Master cannot see you for long. He is in the middle of a crisis.”
They followed her through another door to a large reception room lined with clicking mechanisms of bronze and glass. Lyall dug his friend in the ribs. Alondo tore his eyes away from the machines and fixed on the elderly figure in the centre of the room.
With his bent-over figure, beady eyes and hooked nose, the old man looked like a bird ready to pounce. “You. You’re not from the Directorate. I don’t know you. Who are you?”
“You are Hannath?” Alondo began. “You come highly recommended, sir. We need help with a machine.”
“What? A machine, you say? Why are you bothering me with this? I’m not a repairer.” The oldster waved a bony claw dismissively. “Go visit the machine shops in the town and stop wasting my time.”
Alondo adjusted his tone to one of sympathy. “Your…housekeeper…said something happened this morning,”
“Something happened?” the old man replied angrily. “I’ll say. It’s an outrage, that’s what. My ungrateful assistant has run off with that stupid girl and taken the Candachra with him.”
Lyall’s ears pricked up. “You mean Chandara?”
“That’s their name in Old Kelanni…” The old man put a hand to his scalp. “Hang on a dahn. Where are you from?”
Alondo replied without hesitation. “We came through the Great Barrier by ship, across the Aronak Sea.” Lyall shot his friend a look of annoyance. They had agreed that they should withhold that kind of information until they knew who could be trusted. Too late now.
“You…you’re the accomplices of that wretched girl.” Hannath’s tone grew higher and more querulous. “This is all your fault. My goodness, it’s an invasion. How many of you are there?”
Lyall’s heart leapt. Alondo ignored the old man’s question. “Shann. You’re talking about Shann. And Boxx. They’re alive. ” He turned to face Lyall. “See, I told you. I told you I saw her in that carriage-thing.”
“I’m sorry, my friend,” Lyall said. “I should have listened to you.” He addressed Hannath. “Her name is Shann? Short hair, short in height, short temper?”
The old man harrumphed.
“Where are they now?” Lyall inquired.
Hannath threw up his arms. “How should I know? They stole an avionic. They could be anywhere in Skell by now. He left the pressure calculations half done. How am I supposed to keep the launch on schedule now? The Directorate will hold me responsible. Not to mention that it’s one of their machines he stole. How could he do this to me? And all over some girl.”
“You’re saying that Shann…ran off with this boy?” Lyall asked in disbelief.
Hannath flapped his arms, enhancing the bird impression. “Yes, yes. Haven’t you been paying attention?”
Lyall turned to Alondo once again. “That doesn’t sound like our Shann.”
“That just proves how well you know her,” Alondo countered.
Lyall raised his eyebrows. “And I thought we’d been busy these past few days.”
“Lyall, we have to find her.”
Lyall put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We will, my friend. We will.”
“Forget about her,” Hannath blustered. “Just bring that boy back here. He has work to do.”
~
“So…what will happen when we get back?” In the cramped conditions of the cockpit, Shann could not turn around to look at Rael. For the same reason, he could not see her face. For now, that was something she was grateful for. She did not want him to see the guilt that she knew was etched on her features.
“How do you mean?” she heard him say over the whir of the engines.
“What will they do when they find out we took the avionic?”
“Well,” he replied, “I imagine the good Director will have to postpone his tour.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said.
“To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure. There will be questions asked by the Scientific Directorate. Hannath will be annoyed, not the least because he’s supposed to be responsible for me. Of course, if we do discover the ‘First Ones’, then that might go some way towards smoothing things over.”
“Why did you do it?” she asked. “Why did you push Ravid aside?”
“There was no other choice,” he said. “Once Hannath realised what we were trying to do, there would have been no chance to get away.”
There was a silence, filled by the rising and falling cadence of the engines. Finally, it was Shann who spoke. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked.
“For believing in me.”
The avionic rose high over the jagged knife-like arêtes of the Cathgorns, a patchwork of blinding white snow and night black stone. Beautiful, yet dangerous. Fear inspiring, yet enticing. A part of her longed to be down there, delving into its mysteries. Another part revelled in the security of the clouds and the thrill of the open sky.
A flash. A glint of bright sunlight in the corner of her eye. Shann twisted around in her seat to try and get a better look, squashing Boxx into the corner in the process. A thin silver shape was tracking them. Shann gesticulated to get Rael’s attention, and pointed behind them. “It’s another avionic, Shann,” he called out.
“Why is it following us?” she asked.
“Avionics share similar flight paths. It’s nothing.”
Shann recalled the time the Prophet’s men were pursuing them across the Eastern Plains. “Can you alter our direction?”
“Where?”
“Anywhere,” she said. “It doesn’t matter. Just see what they will do.”
“Shann, I don’t think–”
“Please,” she interjected.
“All right,” he said. The engines’ pitch fell, as their aircraft banked to the left.
Shann twisted in her seat, straining for a view of the other flying machine. “There,” she indicated. “It’s altered course to follow us.”
“I see that.”
“Who are they?” she asked.
“It must be the drach,” Rael said.
“The drach? But you said that the avionics weren’t guarded.”
“They aren’t,” Rael replied. “But if there were drach at the avionics field and they saw what happened…”
The nose of their craft rose slightly, and Shann felt a forward momentum. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I’m slowing down.”
“Why?”
“I’m not running from the drach,” Rael declared. “We can’t set down in these mountains. But as soon as we’ve cleared them, I’m going to land and we’re going to turn ourselves in.”
“But–”
“Forget it, Shann. It’s over.”
Shann fell into a morose silence. There didn’t seem to be anything she could do. She was locked out of the controls, and Rael’s tone made it clear that the matter was not up for debate. Rael had returned Saccath’s staff to her before they left; she could feel its reassuring pressure against her back. However, the thought of battling one–perhaps two–of the blue coated watchkeepers was not appealing. Attacking them would undoubtedly alienate Rael, brand her a renegade and ensure that she would not get any more help from these people. As for talking her way out of it–well, that seemed even less likely to succeed. If her experience with watchkeepers was anything to go by, they were overly attached to their sense of duty. The chances of them simply allowing her and Rael to continue on their journey unmolested seemed negligible. No, they would be taken back to Kieroth, Rael would be disgraced and she would probably be imprisoned. How did I get myself in such a mess?
Boom. The avionic lurched to one side, throwing her violently against Boxx and then back against the other side of the cramped cockpit. “What’s happening?” she cried out.
“Th-the other avionic,” Rael shouted. “It fired some sort of beam at us.”
“The drach are shooting at us?”
“No, no…they wouldn’t do that,” Rael sounded confused. “In any case, avionics aren’t fitted with weapons.”
“Try telling that to them out there.” A bright yellow streak flashed over her head, narrowly missing the cockpit. “What are you doing? Why are we still flying in a straight line?” she yelled.
“Sorry, I…” Rael started to bank the craft into a wide turn.
This is no good. We’ll be blown out of the sky. Shann began frantically examining the levers and dials in front of her. She did not know whether this was the same machine that they used the day before to travel to the launch site, but the controls were exactly the same. There were those that governed the power that was channelled to the fans, and others that corresponded to the bronze and upper lodestone layers of her flying cloak. As she familiarised herself with them once again, an idea started to take shape. “Give me control of this thing,” she demanded.
“What…what are you talking about?” Rael’s voice held a note of desperation.
“Turn the controls over to me,” she repeated.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve never even flown an avionic before.”
“I can get us out of this. I can put him on the ground,” she said.
“What? We don’t even have any weapons. How are you going to do that?”
“Look,” she yelled, “I don’t have time to explain. I’ve…been in these sorts of situations before. Have you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then give me control.”
There was a short pause. Then she heard him say, “You have control.”
“All right. Hang on.” She checked the relative position of the pursuing craft, then cut engine power to a bare minimum. She heard Rael gasp as the note of the engine died away and the avionic tipped forward and began dropping towards the mountainside.
Cooperative mechanics. Shann recalled Lyall’s impromptu lesson as they faced the Kharthrun Serpent together. On that occasion, she had provided what Keris called a “lodestone base line”. Time for a little role reversal, then, she smiled grimly to herself. However, she would probably only get one shot at it. Positioning was everything. If this was going to work, then she would have to be directly above the other machine, but sufficiently near to the ground that the other pilot would have no opportunity to correct.
Their aircraft was picking up speed as it fell. Shann opened up the engines, then cut power again almost immediately. A long time ago, she remembered hearing that some birds would feign a broken wing in order to divert a predator from their nest. If the pursuer thought she was losing height due to engine failure, it would probably be induced to follow her down. He might also conclude that if they were crippled, he could take his time, thereby giving her the opportunity she needed. In any case, it was going to be tight.
She pulled the machine left…right; then hazarded a glance behind her. He was pursuing her line, skimming over the jagged rocks and drifts of snow. Exactly where I want you
A blinding flash of light. Their avionic lurched sideways. Shann wrestled with the controls, bringing the craft back onto a level keel, but the port engine was now making a horrible rattling noise. It was now or never. “Can you see him?” she yelled.
“Yes,” Rael called back.
“How close?”
“He’s gaining.”
Using his lodestone to push against every available deposit and gain every possible advantage in speed. Just as you should. “Tell me when he’s breathing down our neck.” Her brows knotted as she put every ounce of concentration into threading an evasive course. The frozen landscape flashed beneath her in a blur.
An eternity passed. Then she heard Rael’s voice. “He’s nearly on top of us.”
She took a deep breath, then adjusted the fans to a vertical backward lift. Their avionic rose and braked simultaneously, engines protesting. Shann waited a split second longer till she judged that the other avionic was directly beneath them. Then she thrust the lever down, fully extending the avionics lodestone layer. Their aircraft shot vertically into the air, slamming her back into her seat.
“What happened…what did you do?” Rael exclaimed.
She pointed ahead of them. “Look.”
The chasing craft had slammed into the ground, kicking up clouds of snow and ice. It turned slightly before slithering to a halt, half buried in a snowdrift. Shann flew over the downed machine, then banked left, seeking a lodestone deposit to push off to try and gain more height. Their port engine had now added a grinding noise to its persistent rattle, and grey smoke was now emanating from it.
“We’re going to have to land,” she announced.
“No, we can’t set down in these mountains. It’s far too dangerous,” Rael protested.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but this machine is going down whether we like it or not.”
~
The gruff engineer popped the cover of the avionic and hauled himself up, grimacing as he did so. He clutched his sprained wrist to his chest and clambered one-handed over the side of the cockpit onto the engine mounting before dropping to the snow-covered ground. He walked slowly around his craft, surveying the damage. It was not good. The nose cone was buried in a drift of snow and one of the rotors was badly bent. McCann gave the fuselage a hefty kick. The clang reverberated off the surrounding rocks. He wasn’t going anywhere in this thing.
He dry-washed his face with his good hand, feeling the roughness of his stubble. How could this have happened? He had watched the couple leave the observatory building and had tracked them to the avionics field. The plan? Follow them till they got to a remote enough area, then use the gamma ray laser to put them down, eliminate the boy if necessary and take the girl in for questioning.
All was going fine. He had even gotten a couple of shots into them. And then…and then the pilot–whoever he was–had pulled some rookie stunt and the next thing he knew, he was kissing dirt. The pain in his wrist was nothing compared to the embarrassment of having to call Helice to have someone come rescue him. He could just see Wang, red-faced and screaming at him, calling him every name under the sun. If he ever caught up with the green-skinned jerk responsible, McCann looked forward to shaking him warmly by the throat.
He hauled himself back up to the cockpit one-handed and checked the coordinates on the navigational display. Then he looked up, squinting at the suns and noting their position. It was barely mid morning–more than enough time for them to get an avionic out to him before nightfall. Time enough also for him to get his story straight. Of course, there was no need for him to mention the fact that he had been forced down…wind. That was it. He could say that he had been chasing the other craft when a sudden downdraught of air had caused him to lose control and crash. Up here in the mountains, air currents were notoriously treacherous. No-one would disbelieve him–at least, no-one would be able to prove any different. He might even get some sympathy from Susan and one or two of the others.
The avionic would have to be abandoned here on the mountain. He would need to disconnect and remove the fusion power cell, but the rest of it could go to blazes. Tomorrow he could return to Kieroth in another machine and get his contacts to make some discreet enquiries at the observatory. If he could discover the couple’s destination and follow them there, then he might be able to arrange a little payback.
McCann permitted himself a wry grin of satisfaction, then marched off to find his tools.
~
“Shann. Shann, are you all right?”
Shann felt the swelling goose egg where her forehead had impacted the control panel. It was hardly a controlled landing, but in the circumstances, she felt content to be still in one piece and not plastered over the mountainside. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”
The cockpit cover was badly cracked and smoke was still rising from the port engine. Rael released the canopy and extended a hand to help her out of the front seat. His expression was grim. “We can’t stay here.”
Shann took his hand. “You’re quite welcome.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Rael said. “These mountains are dangerous, especially after nightfall. Apart from the risk of hypothermia and frostbite, there are…well, there are creatures here.”
She reached back into the cockpit and checked Boxx over. The Chandara appeared unharmed. She held out both hands, but it scampered past her and dropped to the snow beside Rael, standing on its hind legs. Shann turned and jumped down, landing in front of Rael. “Well, I already met up with those horned beasts–valthar, you called them. I fended them off on my own, I might add.”
He was wide-eyed and glancing from side to side. “Valthar prowl the lower slopes. They seldom get up this far. The creatures here are…different.”
Shann felt a pit of something cold forming in her stomach that had nothing to do with the frigid air. “What do you mean, ‘different’?”
“We call them murghal–the common name for them is rime beasts or rime slayers. They…have a different chemistry to you and me, one that’s specially adapted to the intense cold up here. They have the ability to absorb heat, extracting it from whatever they touch and freezing it in the process. The blood running in their veins isn’t blood. It’s a green liquid that never freezes. They are like no other beasts on this planet. We have to get away from here.”
Shann remembered as a child being told stories about fearsome beasts like the Great Kharthrun Serpent. Her encounter with the Serpent had taught her that sometimes the name lived up to the nightmare. And Rael did not seem the kind of person who would be influenced by childish tales. The fear she saw in his eyes was genuine.
“Can you get this thing airborne?” she asked.
“I…I don’t know. The avionic carries some basic tools, but…I’m not an avionics engineer.”
She smiled encouragingly at him. “I thought a scientist could do anything.”
“I’m not that kind of a scientist,” he replied. “I deal mainly with calculations, formulae, designs. I work on paper.”
Shann did not see what possible use that sort of a scientist could be, but she didn’t want to discourage him. “Why don’t you see what you can do? I’ll keep a watch out for these murghal.”
“All right,” he said, his voice still querulous, “but if you see one, don’t try and fight it. Just run.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 16
Shann stood alert, her right hand gripping the balance point of Saccath’s staff, black Keltar garb stark against the pure white snow of the mountain. She scanned the area for any movement. In truth, she didn’t really know what she was looking for. She had no idea what a murghal looked like, and after Rael’s brief but chilling description she was afraid to ask. The boy was obviously terrified at the very mention of them. Better to keep his mind occupied with other things–like getting out of here.
She glanced back at the avionic. Rael’s long legs dangled over the engine mounting, his head lost somewhere in the workings of the huge fan. She could hear a sound like rushing air coming from the flame tool he was using. She waited till the sound stopped, then called out, “how’s it coming?”
His head appeared from out of the depths of the machinery. To her surprise, he was smiling. “Good…I think. Of course, I won’t know till I switch on, but I think I’ve managed to patch her up. Enough to get us going again at any rate.” He let himself down to the ground, grabbed a small tablet of paper and began scribbling furiously. “Uh-huh.”
“What?” she said. “What is it?”
“Well, by my calculations, the port rotor should work, but only at about fifty per cent efficiency. Because of the damage, I’ve had to reconfigure the blades to balance them and prevent asymmetrical rotation. It’s not perfect. We won’t be able to pull any fancy moves like the one you did. But if we’re careful and don’t overtax the engines, it should get us off this mountain, at least.”
Shann only understood about half of what he said, but she managed a smile. “Good… That’s good. How long?”
“Well I should run a few more checks before we trust our lives to my repair efforts. Soon.” He climbed back up to the rear seat of the cockpit. Boxx had resumed its former position in the front seat, as if it were impatient to be off. Or perhaps it was just sheltering from the frigid mountain wind.
Shann checked the sky. Thus far the weather had been merciful. It was a beautiful day. Up here near the roof of the world, the sky seemed a deeper blue. Farther up the mountain, the peaks were shrouded in brooding clouds, but here the air was clear. Of course, that could change rapidly. The afternoon was also wearing on. However, she was sure that Rael needed no reminder of the dangers of remaining here after nightfall.
“You know, if Ravid could see me now, he’d laugh his head off,” Rael was saying.
“I don’t know,” Shann said. “Seems to me he’d be pretty impressed by your efforts.”
Rael shook his head and laughed. “That shows how well you know him. He sees me as a real science-head, someone who has no idea what goes on in the real world. Still, after this, I think I could probably find work as an avionics engineer if Hannath does decide to kick me out.”
Shann’s face fell. Rael glanced up from the cockpit and caught her gesture. “Sorry, Shann, I was only kidding. I’m sure Hannath will be angry, but I very much doubt he’d let me go. The truth is he’s very protective of me. In some ways, he’s more of a father to me than my own father ever was.”
Shann blinked in astonishment. From what little she had observed, Hannath was a hard taskmaster, rude, condescending and unappreciative. If Rael’s father was worse than that, she was sure she wouldn’t want to meet him.
She decided to change the subject. “So, who do you think it was who attacked us?”
“Well, it wasn’t the drach, I can tell you that,” Rael replied. “For one thing, they don’t use weapons.”
“They carry those silver staff things–I’ve seen them,” Shann declared.
“Yes, but those aren’t used on people. They’re electrolasers. The laser forms an electrically conductive plasma channel in the air, and an electrical charge is then delivered to the target. But they’re only used to shock, not to kill–and only on creatures from the wild that stray too close to the settlements, like the valthar you encountered.
They almost used one on me. However, there didn’t seem much point in bringing that up. “You said before that avionics aren’t fitted with weapons.”
“That’s right,” he said. “At least, I’ve never heard of it. I don’t even know what kind of a weapon it was that they used.”
“Maybe it was one of those…electro-things you mentioned?”
Rael shook his head. “I don’t think so. The electrolaser produces nothing more than an electric shock. Whatever it was that they used caused explosive damage. I’ve not seen anything like it before. If you hadn’t…”
Shann chuckled. “It was an act of desperation, believe me. I was as surprised as you were when it actually worked. I guess you can thank Lyall. He was a very patient teacher.”
“I thought avionics didn’t exist in Kelanni-Drann?”
“They don’t,” she confirmed. “But there are certain basic similarities between the flying cloak and your avionics–at least as far as their use of lodestone is concerned. I had to learn the principles quickly when we were being tracked by the Prophet’s men.” Shann paused a moment in reflection. “Maybe it was the Unan-Chinneroth.”
Rael looked up from his position in the cockpit. “What?”
“Maybe it was the Unan-Chinneroth who fired at us.”
“The hu-mans?” Rael exclaimed. “In an avionic? Impossible.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, because for one thing, an avionic could never make it to the mainland from Helice. It’s about ten times too far. The aircraft would run out of charge and fall into the sea long before it got here.”
“And yet the Prophet made it to my side of the world somehow,” she pointed out. “Maybe you’ve underestimated them?”
A low growl reverberated in the gelid air. Shann spun round, eyes wild, trying to ascertain its direction. The sound melded with others; louder, more menacing, until it seemed to come from all around her. All of a sudden, a creature shambled into view. Ice clinging to off-white fur, shaggy and matted. At the centre of what she took to be its head, a huge maw with razor sharp teeth. From its body protruded four prehensile arms with what looked like long waving fingers at the ends. She could not see any eyes, but it was moving directly towards her.
“Murghal,” she heard Rael cry from behind her. She stepped forward to meet it, blipping the neck control of her flying cloak instinctively to scan for lodestone. The arms waved toward her, seeking her out. “Be careful, it can sense body heat,” he called.
She pushed off a small deposit behind her to gain height, then extended her bronze layer, allowing the push toward the ground to give extra momentum to her swing. Her diamond blade made contact with one of its arms. The blade hardly penetrated before it was stopped short, and the shock of impact travelled through the darkwood and up her arm. It was more like striking iron than flesh. Another of its arms whipped out. She jumped back so that it narrowly missed her midriff. “Whatever you do, don’t let it touch you,” Rael warned. “It attacks by leeching heat–freezing its victim.” Thanks. You could have mentioned that before.
“Does it have any vulnerable spots?” she yelled.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Rael returned. “They have an oddly generalised anatomy. I imagine it’d be pretty hard to kill one.”
Shann extended her lodestone layer and leaped again, higher this time. She twisted in the air and came down behind the monster, thrusting the staff forward with all her strength, driving it into the creature’s back. Her blade met the same resistance. She managed to yank it out just as the creature roared and whirled around to face her.
“They preserve heat by depositing ice crystals between their cells,” Rael was saying. “It makes their skin hard–like armour.”
I noticed that. Shann circled around to come between the beast and the avionic once again. As she did so, she saw a second murghal advancing rapidly on her position, then a third and a fourth. She weighed her options. In any other circumstances, she could use the cloak to leap away and make good her escape. However, that would mean abandoning Rael and Boxx to their fates. If she retreated to the avionic, the murghal would soon overwhelm it. From limitless possibilities she was reduced to just one. Time to make an end of it.
“Can you lift off?” she cried out.
“I’d need a couple of dahns to power up,” he called back.
“Do it.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll hold them off so you can escape.”
She heard his voice crack. “No. I won’t leave you behind.”
“Get out of here,” she yelled. “Take Boxx and find the Chandara. Get Annata’s instrument and disarm the Prophet’s weapon. Do it for me. Please.”
“No, I won’t…I can’t leave you here.”
The murghal were almost on top of her. From the corner of her eye, she saw there were more on the way. Rael had still not started the avionic’s engines. Idiot. Shann cursed to herself. She launched herself skyward, landing on the far side of the flying machine. “Quickly, follow me,” she called.
“What about the avionic?” Rael asked, climbing out of the cockpit and pulling Boxx out by its forelimbs.
“You said they follow heat. Since you haven’t started the engines, they should leave it alone and come after us instead. Maybe we can double back later.”
Rael and Boxx caught up to her just as the murghal were skirting the craft and starting to bear down on their position, hirsute arms outstretched in a grotesque parody of welcome.
“Get behind me,” she ordered.
“Where are we going?” Rael asked.
Shann started backing away, higher up the mountain. “Away from them.”
~
Keris spied the white line of the Great Forest from a considerable way off. Before long, it resolved into individual trunks, like bony fingers pointing up toward a leaden sky. She crossed the tree line and began making her way among the bare trunks. The eerie silence was broken only by her breathing and the sound of her footfalls on the forest floor.
Her mind went back to her journey with Boxx through the Great Forest of Illaryon, far to the west of Chalimar. That had been a vibrant place, replete with the chirruping and cooing of living things, the scent of bark and of fresh loam, orange and yellow and crimson leaves reflecting sunlight like fire. This was different. There was no life here: no leaf, no moss, no scampering animal fleeing her approach. No birds wheeled in the empty sky. There were not even any insects as far as she could tell. The entire forest was a dirge–an epitaph carved in dead wood.
As she headed deeper into the forest, she thrust aside her unsettling thoughts and focussed her mind on her task; to uncover evidence of what had happened to the Chandara. In truth, she did not know exactly what she was looking for. There were some investigations where you started out with very little. You just had to follow your nose and see where it led you.
Keris stopped and knelt down on one knee. She scooped up some of the soil, letting it run between her fingers. It was grey-brown and felt powdery, like dust–or ash. She had heard of instances where whole areas had been devastated by fire, storm or flood. Yet a very short time later, often within days, signs of new growth would appear; shoots budding forth, birds pecking at the devastated ground and animals burrowing into it. Here there was nothing. It was as if the forest had been…murdered.
She froze, stunned by her own audacity. She had nothing to substantiate such an outrageous theory. It was a thought unworthy of a trained investigator. There was no way that such a thing could be done. More importantly, there was no conceivable reason. And yet…and yet, it was evident that something ill had transpired here–something that chilled her to the very bone.
Keris rose to her feet and hastened toward the heart of the dead forest.
~
“Keep moving.” Rael and Boxx scrambled over the black rocks that jutted out between the covering of snow, while Shann acted as rearguard, swinging the diamond blade in a wide arc in an attempt to slow the progress of the murghal. The creatures kept coming, heedless of the blows inflicted on their outstretched limbs. Tubules that passed for fingers flashed inches in front of her face, forcing her to retreat. Don’t let them touch you.
Two more murghal appeared, adding their throats to the chorus of gnarls. She could not tell whether they had eyes; the creatures seemed to be attracted by heat and sound. One thing was clear. She and the others couldn’t keep running indefinitely. Sooner or later one of them would stumble, or be claimed by cold or exhaustion. If they headed back to the avionic, the beasts would swamp the flying machine before Rael could get it airborne.
“Shann.” Rael’s urgent shout behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. The murghal surged forward. A sharp stab of pain. A tubule brushed her bare left arm. Shann pulled back her arm instinctively and retreated to join Rael and Boxx. They were not moving. Another murghal was shuffling down the mountain toward them, bellowing loudly. The party was about to be surrounded. Shann clutched her left arm and cast about wildly. There was a narrow cleft in the rock face to her right. “Come on.” Boxx scampered through the fissure. She waved Rael forward.
He turned to her as he passed. “You’re hurt.”
“Never mind that,” she snapped, shoving him through the gap and clambering after him. She reached the other side and spun round to face their pursuers. The pain in her arm felt like fire. Already, she could see the murghal jostling together on the other the side of the opening, preparing to surge through after them. However, they would not be able to pass through more than one at a time. She might at least be able to hold them for a while. And if this was to be their last stand, then it seemed as good a place as any.
“Look.” She heard Rael’s voice behind her, but it was different somehow. The fear, concern, the panic–they were gone. In their place was…wonder. She turned and saw it. Rising out of the ice directly ahead of them was a round grey tower, an open portal at its base, dark and inviting.
“What is it?” Rael asked in hushed tones.
The answer came to Shann from a distant place, in words spoken by a woman dead for more than three thousand turns. Yet there was no room for doubt.
“It’s a vacuum displacement transporter.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 17
“It’s a what?” Rael looked confused as Shann bundled him in the direction of the doorway. Behind, the sounds of scraping and growling as the murghal forced themselves through the gap in the rock face. Boxx had already covered the distance to the tower. She called after it, but it ignored her and disappeared inside. She cursed under her breath. For all they knew, there could be more of the creatures inside. Too late now.
She and Rael reached the doorway and plunged into the darkness inside. As her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, she scanned the interior for signs of movement. There were none. A pair of cabinets stood off to one side. She went over and tried to move one. It was made of metal, and heavy. “Give me a hand,” she called. With Rael’s help she dragged the cabinets over one by one so that they blocked the open doorway, light filtering in from the top. The two of them scoured the entranceway and located whatever bits of furniture and other detritus they could find. Pretty soon, they had a respectable barricade. Outside they could still hear the bestial growls of the frustrated murghal. Shann remembered something and located a smooth protuberance near the entrance on the left wall. She pressed it, and there was a series of clicking sounds as light spilled from rectangular panels in the ceiling.
Rael gasped. “How did…?”
“It’s one of my many talents.” Shann eased herself down to the floor with her good arm, cutting off a cry of agony with a grimace. When she looked up, Boxx was standing over her, its black beadlike eyes unreadable. “You Are Hurt,” it trilled. “Cellular Disruption.”
“If you say so,” she sighed wearily.
“Remain Still,” it instructed, then placed its forelimb on the site of her injury and closed its eyes. Its mouth began rippling wordlessly.
“What’s it doing?” Rael asked.
“Making my arm better…I hope.”
“I didn’t know it could do that,” he said. He began walking around the artificially lit room. Various banks of instruments stood at waist height, their purpose unknown. “This is…ancient technology. From before the Goratha.”
“That’s right,” she said. “Annata’s people built this.”
“There are three principal ancient sites in Kelanni-Skell,” he continued. “The ruined cities of Kynedyr and Gal-Mador, and the Tower of Akalon.”
She could feel a strange warmth in her arm. The pain was subsiding. “Congratulations. You discovered a fourth.”
Rael was drinking in everything. “I think these are computers.”
“Computers?” she queried.
“They’re a type of machine that does calculations very fast. We’ve been experimenting with them…Hannath is going to go crazy when he hears about this.” He doesn’t comprehend the nature of our situation. Shann felt waves of tiredness wash over her. All she wanted to do right now was curl up and go to sleep. “You said this was…a transporter.”
“A vacuum displacement transporter,” she repeated. “There are four of them–two on your side and two on ours. We have the Dagmar Tower near Chalimar and the one on the Eastern Plains. That one was destroyed by the Prophet’s soldiers. You have this one and…”
“The Tower of Akalon.”
“Right,” she said.
“How do they work?”
Shann sighed. “At the top of the tower there should be a…big globe. You enter it, select a destination tower and pull a lever.”
“So…we can use it to escape from here.”
Shann pursed her lips. “No, I’m afraid not. You need a…an access module to get inside the globe. Keris has it. I don’t.”
“So, what’s the plan?” he asked.
“Plan?”
“For getting out of here.”
“The plan,” she said with forced patience, “was for you to take the avionic and leave with Boxx when you had the chance. Why didn’t you?”
Rael looked as if she had just slapped him in the face. “I…I couldn’t just leave you.”
“Why not?” she demanded. “Didn’t you realise that everything depends on us getting hold of the instrument that Annata preserved here and using it to disarm the weapon?”
Rael’s gaze was riveted to the floor, the same way it had been when she had first met him at the observatory. “I…I just couldn’t, that’s all.”
Shann let out a sigh. “Well, what’s done’s done, I suppose.”
“Maybe we could wait for the murghal to leave, then head back to the avionic?” he suggested.
Shann shook her head. “They’re everywhere. These mountains seem to be infested with them. And they know we are here. We wouldn’t get fifty paces.”
“Maybe someone will find us?”
“Unlikely,” she said. “This place has lain undiscovered for millennia. No-one knows we are here, and we have no way of contacting anybody. I’m sorry, but all we have managed to do is delay the inevitable.” She looked up at him and smiled faintly. “You might have lived rather longer if you’d listened to me.”
~
Keris looked up at the immense bole that was the Great Tree in the centre of the Forest of Atarah. It was a mass of gnarled wood, ancient ribbed bark and roots as big as hillocks that plunged beneath the forest floor. Yet there were no leaves, no creepers, no moss. The Great Tree was as dead as all the rest.
She entered the hollow trunk through a high archway. Dappled sunlight carpeted the floor and the air smelt old–musty. She headed for the curved path that led up the inside of the Tree. If the layout was the same as the one in the Forest of Illaryon, then a short way up, there should be a counterpart to the audience chamber where the Chandara had conducted her to hear the message of the woman from the past. Her stay at the Great Tree had been all too brief, yet her impression was that that place was the centre–the core of the Chandara community. If there were any clue to what had happened, then her instincts told her that it would be there.
As she climbed, natural holes in the trunk gave a panoramic view of the skeletal forest. Keris felt a shiver pass up her spine. It was a different time and half a world away, but it seemed just as if she were returning to the place where it all began. She remembered waking up in the cosy chamber high up in the bowels of the Great Tree, her injuries miraculously healed, her head filled with the scents of new growth and fresh wood. She had gone to the opening and looked out with wonder at the treetops of the forest far below; red and russet, purple and gold, stretching as far as the eye could see. Then she had turned to see one of the creatures standing before her. It had called itself Boxx…
The path suddenly opened out onto a wide, flat area within the Tree, dominated by a central column which rose from the floor and disappeared into the ceiling. This was indeed the audience chamber as she remembered it, although then the space had been occupied by Chandara jostling and crawling over one another. Now it was empty.
She walked slowly through the spacious cavity, her boots sounding a faint echo. There was something on the ground ahead of her. Keris knelt, and as she turned it over to examine it, she knew instantly what it was. A Chandara shell. This must be what was left when one of the creatures…when they passed away. She laid it back on the ground carefully and stood, looking about her. Soon she had spotted a second…and a third. By the time her circuit of the chamber was complete, she had counted a dozen shells in all.
Keris put a hand to her mouth, deep in thought. When she had encountered the Chandara before at their Great Tree, there had been hundreds of them. The Tree here was of a similar size, so logic would suggest that it would support a similar sized community. So what had happened to the rest of them?
Keris exited the audience chamber and made her way back to the forest floor. She had one last lead to explore. Maybe it would turn up some answers.
~
Keris passed beyond the tree line at the northern edge of the forest of Atarah and entered once more into open countryside. A scattering of snowflakes drifted down lazily from an overcast sky. Far to her left, the lofty peaks of the Meurigs were hidden in low cloud. Ahead and to her right was a rolling landscape, interspersed with isolated copses and areas of brush, overlaid with a covering of snow. There was firewood aplenty, but little enough in the way of game. Until now, Keris had been subsisting on the dried fruit and slices of some odd black bread she had brought with her from the house in the highlands near Kieroth. However, her food supplies were running low and would soon become a priority.
The droning sound of an engine. Keris stopped in her tracks. An avionic was sweeping in rapidly from the southwest. She started back toward the dead forest and the meagre cover it afforded, but it was too late; the flying machine was already angling toward her. She turned to face it, one hand reaching instinctively for her staff. The avionic gradually reduced speed and hovered in the air just in front of her. Its nose dipped and she had a view of two occupants. She half expected it to loose a bolt of lightning at her, but instead, the vessel righted itself and sank slowly to the ground, its twin fans plucking up whorls of snow. As the engines died and the avionic came to rest, the cockpit cover was released and the person in the rear seat stood. They were waving.
Keris stood her ground, but her hand moved away from her staff.
“You there…all right?” It was a man’s voice, spoken in the odd dialect of this world. He dropped lightly to the ground, followed by the smaller figure who had occupied the front seat. They began approaching her position. Their gait was casual, non-threatening. She allowed herself to relax a little more.
The taller man flashed a ready smile “Thork,” he said.
The word was unfamiliar, so she could only assume that was his name. “My name is Keris,” she replied.
“…my son, Torran…headed to Vandral for the avionic races.” The last word sounded like ‘races’, but Keris concluded that she must have misheard. Thork’s forehead creased beneath the rough, tawny thatch that was his hair. “…avionic break down?”
After a number of days among these people, Keris was finding it a little easier to make out their speech. She could even manage a fair approximation of it, at least to the point of carrying on a basic conversation. Of course, she didn’t have Alondo’s flair for communication but…“I didn’t come here by avionic.”
“…clothes are strange. What are you doing here?”
“I’m on a personal journey.”
It was a pretty thin explanation, but Thork merely shrugged. “…dangerous animals in these parts. They don’t often frequent the lowlands, but…take care.”
“Thank you. I will.”
“…offer to take you with us but…avionic can only carry two…can ask someone to come by avionic and pick you up.”
Keris smiled reassuringly. “That won’t be necessary.”
“…anything you need?”
Keris thought a moment. “Do you know where the nearest town is?”
Thork pointed. “…east you will find the settlement of Lechem…avionic recharge station there. Directly north lies Kynedyr, the ruined city…” His expression became grave. “…not go anywhere near that place. There are…illusions there. Impressions of those who died before the Goratha…place of fear and dread. Stay well away.”
Keris expressed her thanks once again and stood watching as the avionic took to the skies once more, heading southeast over the Atarah Lowlands.
She waited until it was gone, then set her feet toward the north.
~
Shann awoke from a deep sleep to find herself lying on the floor, covered by a brown fur coat–Rael’s coat. She rubbed her eyes and looked about the room, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. She touched her left arm gingerly. There was no pain, and the skin appeared whole. Next to her, Boxx lay motionless, its eyes closed. It seemed to be asleep. She pulled a hand through her dark tousled hair. She couldn’t remember when she had slept so soundly, which in view of their predicament didn’t seem to make much sense. Maybe it was something to do with Boxx’s ministrations. Not that she was ungrateful; her body had clearly needed the rest.
Shann went over to their makeshift barricade, jumped up and grabbed hold of the top of one of the cabinets, hauling herself up so that she could look over the top. Outside it was dusk. She could see no more than indistinct shadows, but her ears detected a distant growl. Murghal. She hopped down lightly and decided to hunt for Rael.
As she ascended the stairway, she found herself engaged in a grim debate–eke out their last few days before finally succumbing to cold and starvation, or make a break for it in a futile attempt to reach the avionic. Personally, she favoured the quicker end. The thought of going down fighting did have a certain appeal. Still, she couldn’t make a decision like that without discussing it with the others. What Boxx’s reaction would be, she couldn’t guess. However, she was quite sure that Rael would resist the notion–at least at first.
She found him on the third level, bent over a bank of instruments. He seemed oblivious to her presence. “This is incredible,” she heard him say. “It’s a laboratory of some kind. These circuits are getting power somehow. I’d love to know where it’s coming from.”
For a moment he reminded her of Alondo. The last time they were inside one of these towers, Alondo had wanted to stop and examine everything. Then there had not been time. Now they appeared to have all the time in the world. “No-one has ever gained access to the Tower of Akalon,” he continued. “Archaeologists could never penetrate its structure. This…this is the most important ancient find ever made. I could spend a lifetime trying to figure all of this stuff out.”
Which is precisely how long you have, she thought wryly. In a way she had to admire him. Faced with their situation, many people would have either broken down or shut down emotionally. Rael seemed to have found a third way. Denial. No, not denial. Obsession. He was like a child who suddenly found themselves in a room stuffed with every toy they could possibly wish for. “Found anything interesting?”
Rael turned and smiled at her. “I see you’re awake.”
“Sorry about that,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you’re here. What do you know about ‘vacuum displacement’?”
Shann looked at him blankly. “Nothing. I don’t even know what it means.”
“Hmmm. I was afraid of that.”
“Why? What does it mean?” she asked.
“I wish I knew.”
Shann had fully expected to be discussing their impending doom. She found this subject infinitely preferable. Perhaps there was something to be said for having an obsession, after all. “The only thing I know is that Annata’s people built these towers to transport people instantly from one place to another.”
Rael pursed his lips. “A ‘vacuum’ is produced when air is removed.”
“Air…removed?” she queried.
“The air we breathe consists of oxygen and a mixture of other gases. If you remove the air you get a vacuum.”
She cocked her head to one side. “So a vacuum is…nothing,”
“Not exactly. You still have the space that the air occupied.”
“I see,” she said, although she was not at all sure that she did.
“It’s just that moving an object in or out of a vacuum wouldn’t transport it anywhere.”
“What if it was a different sort of nothing?”
Rael looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Well, what if there was a nothing where the space wasn’t there? Wouldn’t the object be pushed out again?”
He raised his eyebrows, giving him a comical appearance. “Now that’s a fascinating suggestion, Shann. You know, you wouldn’t make a bad scientist.”
If that means working with Hannath, I think I’ll pass. “Sorry, you have the wrong person. Now Alondo–he loves this stuff. You two would get on really well.” It was an easy prediction to make. Alondo got on with everybody.
“He was the engineer and musician who was travelling with you, wasn’t he?”
“That’s right.” She chuckled. “I remember our first night at the Calandra, when he beat Keris at shassatan. Now that was funny.”
“Shassatan?”
“It’s a game. When we get out of here, remind me and I’ll teach you the basics. Of course, you’ll have to see Alondo for the master class.” Now who’s being the unreasonable optimist?
Rael ran a hand through his dark, brush-like hair and bowed his head. “Did you…like him?”
It struck Shann as a most peculiar question. “Like him? Yes, of course I liked him. Everyone likes Alondo. It’s the way he is.”
“Oh…right.”
“What’s the matter with you?” He kept staring at the floor. Shann didn’t know what was suddenly wrong with the boy, but she wished he would snap out of it. He was making her feel uncomfortable. “I’m going to check on Boxx.” She put her nose in the air, turned on her heel and left the room. At the stairs, she halted. She didn’t really want company right now. Changing direction, she headed up the stairs toward the top of the tower.
<><><><><>
Chapter 18
Shann stood atop the ancient tower, watching the last light of day fading from the eastern sky. From her vantage point she could see the highest peaks of the Cathgorns, their snowclad flanks a roseate hue. Cimmerian clouds floated in a sky of indigo. Soon the first stars would make their appearance–once an object of both fear and fascination. The fear had vanished now, but the fascination remained.
A brumal wind knifed through her, causing her to wrap the cloak tightly around her body. It didn’t make sense for her to stand here out in the cold. She ought to be sensible and go inside. Her legs didn’t move. Somewhere inside the tower there was a boy who was clever, confusing and annoying, and she didn’t want to face him right now.
Dominating the platform was the same huge silver globe she remembered from the tower on the Eastern Plains. She cast her mind back to their abortive escape attempt and her aerial duel with the boy Nikome. It was Keris who had come to her rescue. The raven-haired woman had tried to reason with him, but the boy had misjudged his trajectory and fallen over the parapet to his death. He was Keltar, of course. She tried to tell herself that he deserved it, but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to feel that way.
She flexed the neck control of her cloak experimentally, and felt the familiar push of lodestone. It came from all directions. Like the one on the Eastern Plains, the roof of the tower was constructed of lodestone, allowing the sphere to rise into the air on command. However, this time she had no access to it. There was no escape from either the tower or the boy within it.
Shann had a sudden urge to soar into the air–to feel the unprecedented freedom that the lodestone platform afforded someone equipped with a flying cloak. She extended the lodestone layer of her cloak and sprang upward as high as she could go, then spiralled down before leaping off once again. It was exhilarating. She reached the apex of her leap and began descending, pirouetting slowly as she did so. The tower rotated beneath her. Suddenly she became aware of a figure standing on the platform. Watching her. Rael. The feeling of pure liberation shattered, and she sank to the ground as if suddenly burdened by heavy chains.
“I’m…s-sorry,” he stammered. She wasn’t sure whether he was apologising for disturbing her private aerial ballet or for his attitude earlier. It hardly mattered. In either case, the moment had passed.
“Forget it.” She turned away and walked slowly to the parapet, gazing down at the snow-covered rocks far below. He joined her, following her gaze. He was wearing his brown fur jacket once again–retrieved from the ground floor where she had discarded it after she awoke. The memory of that small act of kindness gave her a pang of conscience. Maybe she had treated him a little harshly. However, she didn’t feel ready to return his apology. She decided to share a question with him instead. “Have you thought why Annata’s people would build a tower in a place like this?”
Rael looked at her with an expression of surprise. It was evident from the expression on his face that he hadn’t. “M-maybe they wanted to hide it for some reason?”
Shann recalled posing a similar question to Lyall about why the fortress of Gort had been built in the middle of a desert, and his intriguing answer. She decided to share it with him. “Or maybe this place wasn’t always as inhospitable as it is now.”
Rael nodded. “Climatic change. That would make sense. With all the murghal in these mountains, it’s difficult to see how the site would ever have been safe.”
The conversation lapsed into silence once again. The mountain was being engulfed by deep shadow. Stars began to appear in the darkling sky.
“They’re still out there, aren’t they?” The tall boy’s voice was almost a whisper.
Shann sighed, her breath condensing in front of her face. “I’m afraid so.” She paused for reflection, then asked, “Is there nothing that would adversely affect the creatures?”
Silence descended once more. The boy’s face was half hidden by shade. Finally he spoke. “Heat, I suppose.”
Heat. “You said there was power available here.”
“Yes.”
“Could that be used to create fire?” she asked.
“The power is electrical. Anything electrical can be shorted out–made to produce a spark. So yes, we could create a fire. But I don’t know what that would get us, other than a way to stay warm.”
“You said heat would work against them,” she reminded him.
“I meant excessive heat, Shann–as in an explosion of some kind. Waving a firebrand in their faces would be pointless. It would only attract them. But a sufficiently powerful incendiary device would have an effect. I doubt it would kill them, but it would almost certainly overpower their heat senses, blinding them. Of course, the effect would probably only be temporary.”
Lodestone grenades. If only she had just one of those. But no. “This is all Keris’ fault,” she blurted out.
She could hardly see Rael’s face now, but she could sense his confusion. “Keris–she was another one of your travelling companions. What’s she got to do with this?”
Shann took a deep breath. “You remember me telling you about lodestone grenades? Well at Gort, the desert fortress, she managed to obtain a cache of them. But she wouldn’t allow me to have any. If she had, then I might have been able to use them to get us out of here.”
“Tell me about them again,” Rael inquired. “How do they work?”
“They’re round,” she replied, “about…this big. To activate one, you twist the hemispheres like this. Then throw it at the target.”
“Is there anything else you remember?”
Shann thought carefully. “They make a whining sound that increases in pitch until they explode. They produce a lot of light and heat.”
“And you say these devices use lodestone?”
“That’s what I was told,” she said.
“Mmmm.” He was silent for a moment. She could see his hand was on his chin. “It sounds like a chemical reaction of some kind. The twisting action might cause two different substances to mix. But for that to happen, they would probably have to be liquid…or gas.”
“Perhaps it mixes together different sorts of lodestone?” she offered.
“Or maybe it’s simpler than that. Like…like lodestone and ordinary matter.” He suddenly grabbed her wrist. “Shann, come with me.” She was about to object, but there was something in his voice–an earnestness that stilled her protest. His long stride outpaced hers, so that she was half dragged across the stone platform. They passed through the door to the tower and proceeded down the stairs. At the first level they reached, he conducted her to the nearest room and activated the panel lights in the ceiling. There were banks of machinery and some odd looking glass and bronze instruments, all dormant. He ignored them all. Instead, he went to one of the blank walls, pulled out his writing implement, and began writing rapidly. This is odd behaviour–even for him.
She sat on the floor and watched him curiously. The symbols didn’t appear to be Kelanni, or any other language she recognised. He stopped a moment as if deciding something, then began scribbling furiously again. Eventually, she could stand it no longer. “What are you doing?”
“Calculating the results that would be obtained by a commingling of lodestone and ordinary matter in gaseous states.” He continued writing on the wall, utterly absorbed in his work. She wondered idly how Hannath would react to his defacing ‘the most important ancient find ever’. She decided not to make an issue over it. Instead, she pointed to an icon at the beginning of his script. “What does that mean?”
“What?” Rael turned his head and she pointed again. He glanced at the character she was indicating. “Kinetic energy,” he said, then turned his attention back to his work. Shann was none the wiser. Half the wall was now filled with unintelligible scrawl. She was getting bored. Perhaps she should just leave him to it and go check on Boxx as she’d originally intended? She got to her feet and prepared to leave.
He stopped, underlining the final set of characters with a flourish, then stood back, putting a hand to his mouth. “Oh, my…”
What is it?” she demanded.
“There is lodestone in this tower?”
You saw me leaping from the roof. “Yes.”
“Then if I can find a few more materials, I should be able to put together one of those grenades of yours, and…I think I know something else now.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“I think I know how the Unan-Chinneroth intends to destroy the world.”
~
Shann stared at the fragment of lodestone in the palm of her hand. As she shifted her perspective, dark whorls on its surface shifted and coalesced like eddies in a midnight stream, concealing whatever lay beneath the surface.
Rael’s voice pulled her back into the real world. “We should be able to use these.” He held up a small canister for her to examine. “They’re made of some sort of metal. I’m not sure what it is, but it doesn’t seem to include iron. Fortunately for us, or it would have rusted long ago.”
Shann looked over the simple cylinder. “You can really make a grenade out of that?”
Rael nodded. “Uh-huh. Assuming I can get the furnace to work in the laboratory we found earlier, then we can use it to convert some lodestone into gas.” He picked up another cylinder and brought the two together. “I can connect these by a tube with a simple valve. We put lodestone gas in one, positive gas in the other. To activate it, you just open the valve. It’s crude, but it should work.”
“And you learned all of that from your writing on the wall?”
Rael laughed. “In a way, yes. I work with numbers. They can teach you a lot.”
Shann didn’t see how, but if the grenade actually worked…well, she couldn’t argue with that. For the first time since they arrived at the tower, she dared to hope. “All right. Let’s see if we can get that furnace of yours to work.”
They gathered the canisters and the fragments of lodestone they had managed to chip away from the roof platform. To her great relief, his earlier awkwardness seemed to have evaporated in the heat of a new challenge. She was keen to maintain that momentum. “You said you know how the Prophet is going to destroy the world,” she prompted.
He nodded. “I think so, yes. At least, the equations point to an astonishing result; one that will excite Hannath as much as the discovery of this place, I would think. It seems that when you mix lodestone and positive matter together as gases, heat is transferred from the lodestone. The positive matter gets hotter and hotter. The only limiting factor would be the strength of the containment–the canister.”
“So when it gets hot enough, it explodes.”
“Right,” he said. “However, the really surprising thing is that there’s no limit to how hot it can get. If you used a sufficiently strong lodestone container, you could in theory construct something powerful enough to destroy a whole city…or more.”
The thought was horrifying. “And you think that’s what the Prophet is doing now?”
Rael nodded. “It makes sense. It would explain why he needs so much lodestone.”
Shann tried to imagine something so powerful it could destroy a city. “Annata assured us that the instrument she has hidden for us in the past can disarm the weapon safely. How would that work?”
He smiled. “Sorry, Shann, I haven’t addressed that one yet. I would need to do some more…writing. For now, the priority seems to be to escape from these mountains.”
You’ll get no argument from me.
They reached the room Rael called “laboratory” and the boy busied himself about the strange equipment. Shann emptied the pouch of lodestone fragments onto a bench and picked one of them up once more, feeling the familiar resistance to her pull. She held it between her thumb and forefinger. There was beauty and grace here, the gift of soaring above the world. Yet there was also terrible power. The power to destroy that same world.
She scooped the fragments back into the pouch, clutched them to her chest and carried them to the furnace, as if preparing to consign her dreams to the fire.
~
Ail-Kar and Ail-Gan were approaching the western horizon as Keris reached the outer limits of the ancient ruined city of Kynedyr. She roamed through broken streets between remnants of once proud edifices and broken spires. Even in its dilapidated state, there was a stateliness and a magnificence to this place.
Other than the flock of white birds with grey tipped wings that she disturbed on entering what was once a wide plaza, there was no life here. Nothing remained that could pose a threat. Nevertheless, she could not ignore the fact that she had been given two distinct warnings. Those misgivings appeared to be based on little more than superstition. Nevertheless, Keris had not risen to the position of Keltar by treating warnings lightly. Her eyes flicked between shadows and her fingers flexed, ready to claim her staff at a moment’s notice.
At the centre of the plaza was a broken statue. At one time it had been a representation of a Kelanni in flowing robes, an image of…pride? Victory? It was hard to tell, as the head was missing. Whoever this eminent person had been, whatever acts of bravery or heroism or self-sacrifice he or she had performed, they were all forgotten; rendered irrelevant by the death of the society in which they had had meaning. It was as if she were looking at her own end. All her efforts would ultimately come to nothing, eroded away by the implacable winds of time. Had she saved a world, or had she damned it? In the end, would anyone know or even care?
An explosion of light and sound. Keris wheeled around, staff at the ready…and her jaw fell open. Towering above her, a gigantic flat image hovered in midair. It flickered gently, reminding her of the likeness of Annata that had appeared to them from the machine. Yet there was no machinery in sight. The apparition hung with no visible means of support. A scene was being played out in front of her. She struggled to make sense of it. Kelanni were speaking with one another: a man, a woman, a child. The backdrop showed huge curved buildings and large flying craft drifting across a bright blue sky. Writing or symbols appeared, of a type she had never seen before. Then, just as suddenly, the incarnation winked out and was gone.
Keris stood transfixed to the spot. What was it that Thork had said? There are illusions there. Impressions of those who have died. She steeled herself. Illusions were not going to make her crawl away in fear. She needed answers. With her staff gripped tightly in both hands, Keris plunged deeper into the ruined city.
<><><><><>
Chapter 19
The modest fire crackled and sputtered, giving forth as much in the way of noise as it did in the way of heat. Flames from kindling gathered in the midst of the dead Forest of Atarah licked at brushwood she had cut down from where it clung to cracks, here in the ruins. The green wood began to smoke. After a while and a fair amount of work, she had a respectable blaze going. Aside from the stars that shone overhead, her fire was the only light in the abandoned city. Keris leaned forward, rubbing her hands.
The ancient city of Kynedyr was huge; she didn’t yet have a clear view how far it extended. As a young girl she had been brought to the keep at the great city of Chalimar. It was magnificent. Overwhelming. Colossal facades of grey stone towered over her. She feared that if she wandered too far, she might get lost in the maze of interconnecting streets. And yet in its heyday, this city would have made Chalimar seem like a village by comparison.
She reached for another branch and placed it carefully in the flames. As she did so, she sensed movement behind her. There it was again. Her stalker was back.
Soon after leaving the deserted plaza, it had become evident that she was being followed. A scraping of stone here. A dislodged pebble there. The unmistakeable feel of eyes boring into the back of her neck. Too wary–too careful to be an animal. A single individual. Someone skilled in stealth but not skillful enough to escape her notice.
Keris did not break her stride or turn her head as she calmly debated what to do. She was in no immediate danger. Their only chance of a successful assault against her would have been the element of surprise, and they had already lost that. In any case, they did not appear to be seeking a position of tactical advantage. Whoever it was seemed content merely to shadow her. Very well, then, time for introductions later.
Now the watcher had returned, lurking somewhere in the deep shadows, beyond the circle of firelight. Keris allowed her Keltar training to kick in. She cycled through various strategies, couched in the shorthand of shassatan. River and Dam. Channel the enemy down a single path, then close it in front of them. Bread and Dagger. Present them with a supposed advantage to draw them out, then take that advantage away. Variations on a theme. However, in this case, she wanted to test this person’s motivation, their reasons for following her. Bread and Dagger it was, then.
She rose from her haunches in a deliberately unhurried fashion and stretched, feigning tiredness. I hope you’re watching my little performance. She pulled her single blanket from her pack, freeing it with a flourish. Then she moved around to the opposite side of the fire, laid out the blanket and pulled the stopper from her canteen full of melted snow. Preparations complete, she shut her eyes tightly and began to count.
One…two…three…The intruder would wait until they could be reasonably sure she was asleep. Time enough to put her plan into effect. As they watched, light from her fire would have entered the tracker’s eyes, causing their pupils to contract, cutting down night visibility. Twenty-one…twenty-two…twenty-three…behind her eyelids, cut off from the light, her own pupils were dilating. Thirty-seven…thirty-eight…thirty-nine…allowing her to see and move in the dark; to enact her little subterfuge while the enemy would still be blinking away afterimages on their retina. She readied herself…fifty-eight…fifty-nine…sixty.
Keris sprang into action. She opened her eyes and quickly doused the fire with her canteen, plunging the area into darkness, then shoved her pack under the blanket and set off at a low run toward a broken down wall. In moments she had dived over the wall and concealed herself behind it. There was no movement from the amorphous shapes beyond the far edge of the camp where her quarry was hiding. Soon the intruder’s eyes would adjust to the lower light conditions and they would see exactly what she wanted them to see, the remains of a campfire and a blanket with a bulge beneath it. Bread and Dagger. The trap was set. Your move. Keris permitted herself a small smile of satisfaction and settled down to wait.
It occurred to her that there was something faintly ridiculous about two people skulking in the darkness, watching an empty blanket. She tried to speculate who her unwelcome guest might be. It seemed inconceivable that someone had trailed her here all the way from the house in the highlands near Kieroth. Most of the time she had been travelling through open country, with little enough in the way of cover. As a trained Keltar, she would surely have spotted any signs of pursuit long before this. She was quite certain that no-one had been following her before she had reached the ancient city.
Thork. The avionic pilot she had encountered just outside the dead forest had offered to send someone to “rescue” her. She had declined, but maybe he had ignored or misunderstood her reply and dispatched someone to check up on her, regardless? No, that couldn’t be it. The flying machines were large and noisy. She didn’t see how one of them could approach without her noticing. Thork had warned her about Kynedyr, but she had told neither him nor anyone else that she actually intended to go to the ancient city. So how would they have known to follow her here? Then again, if it really was someone concerned about her welfare, why not simply walk up and announce themselves? Why hide in the shadows?
Across the camp, something was stirring. Perhaps some answers at last. A silhouette rose soundlessly and started to approach the extinguished campfire. Keris moved rapidly, sidestepping to her right and staying low. She skirted around till she could see the intruder’s back. His attention would be focussed on the unmoving blanket. As she crept up behind the shadowy figure, she drew her staff. The sinews in her arms knotted in response to the smooth feel of the darkwood. As the dark shape started to bend over, she exploded into action. One hand whipped out, grabbing the intruder’s arm and twisting it to the point of breaking; the other slid smoothly up the haft, bringing the diamond blade to bear against the throat like a dagger. Her quarry let out a gasp, then a grunt of pain. Finally she heard him swallow as he felt the keen edge pressing against his jugular. She might already be drawing blood. For the moment, she neither knew nor cared. “Did no-one tell you it’s rude to creep up on people unannounced?” she hissed into his ear.
He tried to speak, but seemed unable, possibly fearing that in the act of doing so, he might inadvertently cut his own throat. She subtly eased her pressure on the blade. At last he spoke. The voice was dry and cracked, but there was something about it…something familiar.
“Keris,” it said.
~
Keris threw caution to the winds and spun the intruder around by his shoulders. Her eyes flicked over the long face, the sharp angular nose, the long dark matted hair. “Patris? In the name of the Three, what are you doing here?”
Patris put a hand protectively to his released throat and massaged it. “Making a fool of myself, apparently.”
“What did you think you were trying to do?” she pressed him.
The sailor-thief looked down at his boots. “I was just curious…I…” She glared at him. He looked up and met her eyes. “All right, I was trying to rob you. Are you happy now?”
“Why?” she demanded. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“It’s my trade, remember? It’s what I do for a living in Sakara.”
“Well, it may have escaped your notice,” she said acerbically, “but we’re no longer in Sakara.”
Patris’ voice was gloomy. “Don’t remind me. Look, I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to do. But I was desperate.”
Keris remembered the staff resting in her hand. She sheathed the darkwood weapon. “Why not just come up and announce yourself? Why all this…this creeping about in the shadows?”
“I didn’t know how you would react to seeing me again,” he said. She retrieved her pack, located her tinderbox and set about resurrecting the fire, waiting patiently for him to elaborate. “At the beach, after I found out that Sakara had fallen and that everyone I knew and loved was now fighting for their lives, I…I guess something in me snapped. I blamed Lyall for stranding me here in this benighted place. All I knew was that I had to get back somehow. So I walked off on my own. For a while I simply wandered, not knowing what to do. I saw their strange flying machines from time to time, but there were no people, no roads, nothing to indicate what I should do or which direction to travel. Then I came across a narrow valley–a gap in the mountains.”
“The Meurig Divide,” she informed him.
Patris looked at her strangely, but continued. “Anyway, I noticed that a number of the flying craft took a line through that valley, so while I wasn’t sure I wanted to meet the people who inhabited things like those, I was running out of options, not to mention food. So I crossed the valley and carried on eastward, following the course of the flying machines. Eventually I reached one of their towns. It was…well, peculiar. Nothing like the towns in our world. Strange lights and weird floating carriages. I was scared, but I was also cold and starving. So I just knocked on one of their doors until they opened up. Their speech was strange and they didn’t understand me at first, but they must have taken pity on me because they took me in, gave me food and allowed me to stay. They told me their town was called Lechem. They were a kindly family, with three lovely children. Anyway, after several days–”
“You stole from them, didn’t you?” she interjected.
Patris frowned. “How did you know that?” Keris looked at him askance. “All right, yes, I stole from them. Redistribution of wealth is essential in any healthy society. It stops exploitation and counteracts poverty. I would have thought that any society as advanced as this one is supposed to be would appreciate basic economics.”
Keris looked up at him. One side of her face was bathed in the yellow-orange glow of the revived campfire. “Let me guess. They didn’t appreciate your reasoning.”
Patris huffed. “You’re right there. I tried to explain it to them, but it was hopeless. ‘Look’, I said, ‘I arrived here with nothing but the clothes I’m standing in, through no fault of my own, I might add. I have no money or whatever it is you people use for money. I have the same right to life as you do. So how am I going to live? Theft. Basic wealth redistribution. I set up a business and make so-called profits. Buy low, sell high. What’s that? Theft. I make someone work for me, pay them for a part of what they produce and pocket the rest. What’s that? Theft. It’s all the same thing, whatever you call it. It’s the way every civilised society works.’ I told them straight, ‘You should be thanking me,’ I said. But it was like trying to lecture a bunch of ignorant children. They were incapable of seeing the obvious.”
“Imagine that,” Keris said dryly.
“Exactly,” he continued. “Well to cut a long story short, they summoned a pair of their watchmen–drach, they called them. Surly fellows. No sense of humour whatsoever. There was a lot of chit-chat. In truth, I don’t think they knew what to do with me. Finally, they escorted me across town to a basement room–a kind of jail, I suppose it was. I’m not sure what they had in store for me, but I don’t think it was anything good. So I let myself out and escaped.”
“You stole the key.”
Patris shrugged. “Naturally. For all their advancements, they seem pretty slow on the uptake. During my discussions with the family, I’d learned of an ancient ruined city to the north. They seemed pretty irrational about it. Rumours of fearful sights and dire warnings to stay away. Sounded to me like the perfect place to go into hiding. So I headed here. Figured it would allow time for the hue and cry to die down and for me to work out what to do next. Then I spotted you moving through the ruins, and…well the rest you know.”
Keris pursed her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what I can do to help you. I am in the middle of a very important investigation right now. I can’t afford to take the time to straighten out your mess–assuming that’s even possible. I’m afraid you’re on your own.”
“You could take me with you,” he suggested.
Keris weighed the alternatives. Her first reaction was to turn him down flat. Leaving aside for the moment that she normally worked best on her own, he was by his own admission a wanted criminal in this world. If they ran across the drach, her association with him would mark her as an accessory after the fact, which could seriously compromise her mission. In a worst-case scenario, she might have to fight her way out of a situation and end up being branded a renegade by the people of this world. Then again, what would she say to Lyall and Alondo when she got back? “Did you see anyone on your travels?” “Sure, I ran across Patris.” “Where is he?” “Oh, I just left him out in the wilderness.”
She cursed under her breath. “Very well, do what you want. Just…don’t get in my way.” She set about reorganising her blanket and her pack.
“Have you heard any more about what’s happening in Sakara?” he asked.
“When I left, Oliah was still in daily contact. There is a strong resistance movement, headed up by the Thief Guild. They have the distinct advantage of knowing the city, with all of its nooks and crannies. According to Oliah, they’re running rings around the new administration.”
Patris grinned. “My people will make them rue the day they ever set foot in the free port.”
“Lyall appears to agree with you. He believes that taking Sakara may have been a tactical error on the part of the Prophet, that the Prophet’s forces may have bitten off more than they can chew. I hope he’s right. I need time to pursue this investigation.”
“So…what is it you’re investigating?” he asked conversationally.
“I am attempting to determine the whereabouts of the Chandara in this world,” she said. “I am also trying to find out where a certain ancient artefact is hidden.”
His black eyes narrowed. “You’re serious. Well, you lost the Chandara you brought with you. Although what you would want with those primitives is beyond me. An ancient artefact. Hmmm. Is it…valuable?”
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly.
“And after you find these things, you and the others intend to return to our world?”
Keris had to admit that she hadn’t given much thought to how they were going to get back. “That’s the general idea, yes.”
“Sounds as if you could do with my help,” he offered.
Keris forced herself to be polite. “I’ll manage. Thank you.”
“Are you sure?” He sat down across the fire from her and began laying out his bedding. “You know, in Sakara, most people who are in need of something unusual approach the Thief Guild. We specialize in securing those…hard-to-locate items.”
“I don’t think I need that kind of help.”
“Well, you know, that’s interesting,” he said, “because it happens that if you’re in the market for an ancient artefact, I might just know of something that could help you.”
Keris felt that he was testing her patience. “What are you talking about?”
“I discovered something here. It’s a…library, hall of records, information archive–something like that.”
“You mean a place with books?”
Patris grimaced. “Not exactly. To be frank, it would be easier to show you than to try and explain it.”
Keris felt her practised scepticism reasserting itself. “I’m warning you, Patris. I’m not in the mood for your fabrications.”
“Oh, I assure you, dear lady, the information is quite genuine,” he insisted. “I would never attempt to deal in information unless I could personally guarantee its veracity. Honesty is a core principle of the Thief Guild. We have a reputation to maintain.” Keris snorted, but he ignored her. “The library exists. I cannot guarantee that it will provide you with what you are seeking but I can show you where it is…for the right price.”
“Are you out of your mind?” she cried.
Patris shrugged. “If you prefer, you can scour the ruins yourself. I would be happy to accompany you and share your fine company. I imagine it would take a number of days for you to make the same discovery. However, if I understood you correctly, then time is of the essence.” Keris was beginning to fear that allowing the thief to accompany her might turn out to be the worst mistake of her life. “I ask for little enough in return,” he continued. “Protection from the misguided law enforcement agencies of this world, passage home when the time comes, plus…a modest amount to reimburse me for my time, expenses, that sort of thing.”
Keris lay down, turned her face away from him and pulled the blanket over her savagely. “We’ll discuss it in the morning.”
Behind her, across the dwindling fire, she sensed him grinning expansively. “Outstanding,” he said.
<><><><><>
Chapter 20
Shann yawned and stretched, then pushed herself up from the cold stone floor. Early sunlight filtered in through the gap at the top of the rough barricade and splashed over her. Next to her, Rael was still sleeping. They had worked together late into the evening and had managed to cobble together four lodestone grenades from the canisters Rael had found. He had wanted to test one to make sure they worked, but she had vetoed the suggestion. Wasting one would cut down their chances of a successful escape, she argued. However, the truth was that even if none of them worked, a quick end would be preferable to the lingering death they would endure at the tower. She refrained from sharing that possibility with him, however. Better to keep hope alive until the last possible moment.
By the time they had finished their nocturnal labours, they had both run out of energy and words. The heat from the furnace had dissipated rapidly, and by the time they returned downstairs and bedded down, Shann could feel the cold night air enveloping her. So when Rael had drawn closer, sharing body heat, she had not objected.
She looked back at Rael’s sleeping form. Boxx was lying motionless in the far corner, although she wasn’t sure whether it was asleep. They would make the attempt to reach the avionic this morning, weather permitting. Already, she could feel herself growing weak from lack of food. Any delay would leave them weaker still and reduce their chances of survival even further. It was now or never.
She bent down and touched his shoulder. The boy stirred. “Hey, time to go,” she said in a tired voice.
Rael sat up and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Is it morning already?”
Shann ignored the question. “Come on. You’ll need to gather your stuff and give me a hand with these.” She indicated the cabinets that formed the heart of their hastily constructed barricade.
Rael got to his feet. “Are you sure about this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, maybe we should wait a little longer,” he suggested. “There must be people out looking for us.”
“How many of those avionics of yours have you heard passing overhead?” she challenged. Rael shook his head. “This place has lain undiscovered for what…three thousand turns or more?” she continued. “What do you think the chances are that two different sets of people would accidentally run across it, two days in succession?”
“You mean mathematically?” he asked.
“Whatever way you want.”
Rael paused. “Not very likely. Well nigh impossible, in fact. It’s just that…” The gangly youth was looking down at his feet again.
Shann knew enough about him to know that that was not a good sign. “What? What is it?” she demanded.
“Shann, you have to understand that we put these grenades together crudely, using antique equipment and untested ancient materials. They may not produce enough of a blast to deter the murghal. Or they may blow up in our faces. They may not even work at all.”
What would Lyall and Alondo do in this situation? Rally the troops with a little humour, no doubt. “Well if we don’t make it out of here alive, I’ll never speak to you again.” She turned to the far corner. “Boxx.”
The creature raised its head. “We Go Now?”
“Yes, that’s right,” she said. “When we leave here, stay close to us. Don’t get lost.”
“Do Not Get Lost,” it trilled. Shann couldn’t tell if it was agreeing or giving her the same advice. However, she had no desire to get into a pointless discussion with it. She carefully gathered up the canisters and handed them to Rael.
“You’re giving me these?”
“Sure.” She smiled at him encouragingly. “You designed them. You know how they work.”
“Of course, but–”
“And you can throw, I take it?”
“I…I’m not very good.”
“Well if these things work as they’re supposed to, then you won’t need to be very accurate,” She began tying on her pack. “Just don’t throw one at me, all right?”
Rael was looking at the floor again. “I…I’m not sure I can do this, Shann.”
“Nonsense,” she said briskly. “I and my staff will be the first line of defence. Anything that wants to reach you and Boxx will have to get through me. However, if you can use our grenades to blind–stun them–whatever, then it will make my job a whole lot easier. If I should go down…then throw a grenade, run for the avionic and don’t look back.”
“Shann–”
She shut her eyes. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Rael looked as if he was going to be sick.
“Then let’s go.” She went to the barricade and motioned for him to assist her.
Rael walked over slowly, as if he were having a battle within himself. “At least Boxx will be all right. It can always roll up into a ball.”
That’s no guarantee it’ll be immune from attack by the murghal. Still, he doesn’t need to hear that right now. “Sure, it’ll be fine.”
In a few moments, they had shifted enough items to squeeze through. Shann poked her head outside. There was no sign of murghal. The sky was overcast; a light snow was falling. Farther up the mountain, darker clouds were gathering. The weather was closing in. They could be looking at a blizzard by late morning, and from discussions with Rael, she had learned that this high up, snowstorms could last for days. There was no chance they would be able to find their way to the avionic in such conditions. They had to go now. “Follow me and stay close,” she instructed.
They hurried through the whirling white flakes of snow and squeezed through the fissure in the rocks where they had first stumbled upon the tower. Shann helped the others through the gap, then her heart froze. A distant growling. She glanced back and saw the terror in Rael’s eyes. “Come on. Quickly,” she urged. It was like trying to run in a dream state. Her boots sank into the covering of fresh snow, impeding her every step. Behind her, Rael trudged and Boxx scrabbled through the gathering snowstorm. Shann cut an oblique trail across the mountainside in the direction where she knew the avionic lay. Maybe it was buried in snow by now. Or maybe it wouldn’t start up. Too many things that could go wrong with this plan. She tried not to dwell on them.
The brutish growls gathered in intensity. Once again, they seemed to be coming from every direction. Shann dug her staff into the deepening drifts of snow and ploughed on. A hibernal wind whipped around her, depositing flakes of snow in her hair and on the shoulders of her cloak, as if claiming her as its own. There was a gentle pressure on her shoulder. She glanced around to see Rael pointing off to their right. Several of the creatures were shuffling rapidly toward them, jostling with one another in their urgency to absorb…heat. Time to give them what they wanted.
“Use a grenade,” she urged.
Rael grabbed a pair of the canisters from his pack, flicked open the connecting valve and tossed it toward the approaching murghal. The grenade landed on the snow directly in front of the shambling beasts and began to hum. The hum rose in pitch to a whine, then almost immediately died away. A small plume of useless smoke wafted from the device. Shann cursed and waded forward, flaring her cloak in search of lodestone.
“Shann.” Rael’s cry sounded behind her.
“Don’t stop. Keep going,” she called over her shoulder. She pushed off a small deposit to her left and leaped to her right in an effort to outflank the murghal, and at the same time draw them away from the others. Hold the beasts back as long as possible. Every moment she bought increased Rael and Boxx’s chances of survival. Shann landed on a black stone outcrop that jutted from the snow, slipping on its rime covered surface before regaining her balance. The murghal were ambling toward her through the snow flurries. She swung her staff in a wide arc. The blade connected with what she took to be the head of one of the things and almost bounced off. A bludgeon would be more effective. Their guttural sounds filled her ears. She made a direct thrust at the middle of the nearest creature, then leaped backwards, twisting in the air as she did so. Her boots made contact with the snow once more and she began backing away slowly, staff held out before her. The murghal resumed their relentless advance.
All of a sudden, her foot gave way. The covering of snow behind her disappeared and she felt herself sliding, then falling backwards. Her back struck something hard and she jerked to a halt. She was wedged between the sides of a narrow crevasse. Walls of ice stretched above, framing a narrow strip of sky. She tried to shift position, but appeared to be stuck fast. She could still hear the murghal snarling with frustration, deprived of their prey. Right now, they were the least of her worries. She would never know whether Rael and Boxx had made it to the avionic, but at least she could die in the knowledge that she had done everything she could. Shann closed her eyes and waited for the remorseless cold to claim her.
~
Sleep. The body divesting itself of the burden of pain and slipping into the solace of unconsciousness. But there was something that would not let her sleep. A noise. A high-pitched warbling that drilled into her brain and re-intensified the agony in her back and her ankle. She forced her eyes to open. A round head peeked over the top of the crevasse. In the middle of the head, a wide mouth rippled.
“Boxx, what are you doing?” Her tongue was thick in her mouth. A second head joined the first–thinner and topped with a brush of dark hair. “Rael…go. Get out of here.”
“No.” The boy’s head disappeared.
Shann sagged. Why? Why won’t you just go?
The Chandara suddenly ceased its ululation. “Shann. You Must Come. It Is The Key.”
A loud bang. A flash of light overhead. Then she heard Rael’s voice from somewhere above. “It…it worked. Th-the murghal. They’re not moving…it actually worked.” His head reappeared. “Shann…Shann.” One of his long arms reached down. “Give me the other end of your staff.”
She pushed the staff weapon up the side of the crevasse as far as it would go. Rael stretched farther down. He touched the diamond blade and reached for the darkwood shaft. His fingers closed around the wood, and he began to pull. Shann felt as if her arm was being wrenched out of its socket, but her body was still held fast by the ice. “Leave me,” she pleaded. “Those murghal could revive at any moment. You must get out of here, now.”
“Wriggle,” he said.
“What?”
“Try wriggling back and forth.” Shann complied, twisting her body. As she did so, she felt her back renew its protest. “Grab the staff with both hands,” he instructed. Obediently, she reached up with her other hand and grasped the wooden haft. She could see the strain on Rael’s face. The determination. The desperation. Without warning, her body jerked free. Rael pulled the wooden staff up, hand over hand. Finally, their hands touched. Rael grabbed her palm and pulled her up over the rim of the crevasse.
Shann lay facedown in the snow, her heart pounding. She struggled to her knees. The murghal were milling around a short distance away, in apparent confusion. She got to her feet and winced at the pain in her ankle–the same one she had injured in her flight from the soldiers in Corte.
Rael took her by the arm and steadied her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine…” She waved him on. “Go. Go.”
They started down the mountain once again, this time with Rael in the lead. She was limping. An angry wind buffeted her and flakes of snow did their utmost to fill her mouth and eyes. Shann fixed her eyes on Rael’s back and poured every ounce of concentration into the effort of putting one foot in front of the other. She had no perception of how long they had been walking or how near they were to the avionic–or even if they were still travelling in the right direction. She had only one purpose, one imperative. Keep moving.
The howling wind gathered and deepened in pitch–only something at the back of her mind was nagging at her, insisting that it was not the wind. She hazarded a glance behind her. Nightmarish visions, covered in white and grey fur and encrusted with ice, were advancing down the mountain toward them. Two…four…seven…There was something she needed to remember. Something important. She shook her head angrily. Grenade. Use a grenade. “Rael,” she called.
“I see it,” he said. She caught up to him, but he was not looking back. He was looking forward. There, nestling in the snowfield where they had left it, was the flying machine. Snow had drifted and piled up on one side, but otherwise it seemed intact. She tugged at his shoulder and pointed behind them. Rael turned, and his eyes grew wide. The monstrous forms were bearing down on them. Rael snatched a grenade, activated the valve and tossed it toward the nearest group. The twin canisters began their familiar whine; then died almost immediately before being trampled underfoot. The murghal were almost on them.
“You and Boxx get to the avionic,” she yelled. “I’ll hold them off.” She stepped forward to face the creatures once more.
“I won’t leave you behind.” Rael’s voice behind her was resolute.
“Go and start it up. I’ll be right behind you.”
Gaping mouths filled with knife-like teeth. Gelid breath freezing the mountain air. Prehensile arms waving toward her, seeking out her body heat. Rime Slayers. That was what Rael had called them. Well, she was not dead yet. Shann gritted her teeth and whirled her staff in a defensive figure of eight–a move Lyall had taught her. Her options were limited. She couldn’t use the cloak to leap away; she had to keep between the creatures and the avionic. However, all that was necessary was slow them down, to buy Rael the time he needed to lift off. She would do her best to join him, but…
She opened up the lodestone layer of her cloak and leaped into the air, no more than three times her own height, then extended bronze and accelerated toward the ground, hacking and slashing at the ragged line of murghal. Her diamond blade made multiple contacts. The line swayed. Hesitated. Then began surging forward once again. Shann started to back off, cutting and slicing as she went. Her diamond blade sliced off small lumps of hair and ice, but there was no blood. She could not tell whether the creatures were being hurt or even affected.
There was a sudden roaring behind her. Rael had started up the engines. In a few moments he would have enough power to lift off–or so she hoped. There was a movement at the corner of her eye. She hazarded a glance to her right. Half a dozen more of the murghal were coming at her. She was about to be outflanked. More importantly, the avionic would be overrun before it became airborne. As she continued jabbing and thrusting with the staff, her mind was working furiously. The fans. It meant taking a real risk, but it just might work. Shann broke off her assault and ran the short distance to the avionic, heedless of the pain in her ankle. She flared the cloak and leaped once more, alighting near the rear of the cockpit. Rael grinned–obviously relieved to see her. She shouted into his ear above the roar of the engines. “The fans.”
“What?” he called back.
“Can you bring the fans to bear on the murghal?” Shann saw realisation dawn on the boy’s face. He made an adjustment. The starboard fan pivoted in its housing and began to fire a steady blast of air at the creatures. Their advance slowed in the artificial gale. Shann crawled forward and squeezed into the front seat next to Boxx. “How long?” she asked.
“No more than a couple of dahns. But I can’t lift off in this configuration,” he declared.
“Give me the last grenade.” He handed it to her. “Let me know when you’re ready.” The murghal battled against the windstorm. They were still moving forward–ice covered fur blown back, arms outstretched, tubule-like fingers questing for heat. Come on, Rael. Get a move on.
“Ready,” he hollered.
“All right–on three,” she called. “One…two…three.” Rael adjusted the control and the starboard fan began pivoting back toward the horizontal takeoff position. The howling gale died. The creatures surged forward once more. Shann flicked open the valve, allowing the lodestone gas in one canister to intermix with the air in the other. A familiar whine–low at first, then growing in pitch and intensity. The ravening horde swarmed against their aircraft, fingers scrabbling against the smooth metal, seeking purchase. She drew back her arm and tossed the last of the handmade grenades into their midst. The whine grew into a shriek, audible even over the whir of the engines. The cockpit cover descended over her. The avionic rose, hesitated as if shaking off a mantle of sleep–then lifted into the air. Boom. An incandescent flash. The air detonated around their tiny craft. Shann was thrown this way and that, as Rael fought to bring their machine back onto an even keel. She looked down. The mountainside beneath them had turned dayglow beneath a pall of grey smoke. Of the murghal, there was no sign. Boxx had stood and was peering over the other side. “Pretty,” it said.
Shann was too tired and relieved to argue. “Yes, it’s pretty.”
Behind her, Rael said something. “What?” she called.
“I said, I think that one worked.”
Shann laughed, feeling the tension flow from her body. “That was amazing.”
“Two failures out of four. I think Hannath would say it was only half amazing.”
Shann didn’t care. They were alive and right now, that was the only result that mattered. The warmth of the cockpit enveloped her. She had to fight the temptation to curl up and go to sleep. “When we set down, I think I’d like a warm bath and a hot meal.”
“I think that can be arranged,” he said.
The site of the conflagration grew smaller and disappeared behind them. The avionic gained height as it prepared to clear the peaks of the Cathgorns. The port engine sputtered. She leaned over Boxx and pointed toward it in an exaggerated gesture.
“I know,” Rael cried. “I’m getting some odd readings. I think it’ll hold out if I don’t push it too hard. It should get us off this mountain, at least–maybe even as far as the recharge station at Lechem.
“Will they be able to repair it?” She did not want him to think she was denigrating his efforts. “So that we can continue our journey,” she added.
“Not easily or quickly,” he responded. “Fortunately, though, I know where we can borrow another machine in Lechem. Although it will involve dealing with some folk that you may find more formidable than the murghal.
“Who are they?” she asked, filled with curiosity.
“My parents,” he replied.
<><><><><>
Chapter 21
Keris and Patris picked their way carefully up the broken steps of a once impressive building. The wide portico was supported by spiral columns, chipped and scored by the ravages of time, but still largely intact. Rough brambles had broken through the stone and wound their way protectively up the formerly white walls. At the entrance, immense double doors stood open, covered with what were either patterns or unknown glyphs. Keris led the way through the doors, into a massive atrium. Above them, a high domed ceiling was broken in places, admitting shafts of sunlight. Dominating the centre of the open space, a round column rose to five or six times head height before being topped off by a large white globe. Distributed in a circle about the central column were a series of partitioned areas, with a pedestal before each. Keris made her way cautiously to the column, with Patris following at a respectful distance. Their steps echoed on the grey stone floor. She put a hand to the column and felt its perfect smoothness, untouched by the passage of time.
She turned around slowly, allowing her eyes to take in the vast interior. “I thought you said this was a library. I don’t see any books.”
Patris gave a wry smile. “Patience, dear lady.” He angled his head slightly, indicating for her to follow, then led her across the wide floor, avoiding a few sections of fallen roof and broken masonry. They reached the far wall. There were further glyphs at regular intervals. Patris located one, then pressed against a spot on the wall to the left of the symbol. A panel slid outward, revealing a small box. Patris retrieved the box and handed it to her. “Books,” he declared.
Keris looked down at the box she was holding. Within it were perhaps two dozen translucent spheres. They reminded her of Vision Spheres, except that they were smaller and were suffused with subtle shades of green, yellow and blue. “These are books?”
“Of a sort,” Patris said. “They produce…images, when you place them in those pedestals over there.”
Keris pick up one of the spheres between her thumb and forefinger and stared into its depths as if challenging it to give up its secrets. “How did you find them?”
“Ah, well,” he began. “In the Thief Guild, we are skilled in acquiring a wide variety of rare and hard to obtain items…” Keris sighed and shook her head. “All right, I found them by accident. I just leaned on the wall there and that tray popped out.”
Keris raised her eyebrows. “And you didn’t steal them?”
Patris shrugged. “No point.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you. They’re operated by the pedestals. Take them out of this building and they’d be little more than bits of coloured glass.”
Keris wasn’t so sure about that. The mention of images suggested that the resemblance to Vision Spheres might not be so superficial after all. As far as she was aware, Vision Spheres could only be used to relay images, not store them. Still, Annata’s people were undoubtedly advanced. If these devices were in fact lodestone, the same kind that was used to make the Vision Spheres, then it could be an extension of lodestone technology. Something for Alondo to ponder later, perhaps. She looked about her. “And these are the only ones you found?”
“I spent an afternoon going through them. After that, I didn’t bother to look.”
Keris looked at him strangely. “Why not?”
Patris pursed his lips. “Tell you what. Why don’t you run through them yourself and then see if that answers your question?” He led the way back toward the centre and went to one of the pedestals. Selecting a sphere at random, he placed it in a hemispherical recess. The sphere was a perfect fit.
For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then a low hum started up behind her. She turned and looked up to see that the great orb surmounting the central column had changed from dull white and was now exhibiting a roseate glow. The sphere set into the pedestal gave off a soft, lutescent radiance, as if in sympathy. All of a sudden, the area encompassed by the booth filled with light. She was looking at a scene suspended in midair. A large crowd of people dressed in robes of crimson, white and yellow were gathered in front of a platform where a man in black was speaking. Keris strained to listen, but she was not at all familiar with the ancient language. The only word she could make out was “Kelanni,” which he spoke several times.
The vision was unlike the one she had witnessed in the plaza the previous day. That had been flat, two-dimensional, like a floating picture. This was in three dimensions; ethereal, yet at the same time real in a way she could not explain. All of the people here were long dead. Yet they had lived, and their lives had had meaning. She could be looking at her own ancestors.
Keris found that she could move completely around the image, even walk into it and become a part of it if she so wished. However, when she reached out to touch one of the assembled throng, her fingers met only emptiness. She looked into their faces. They looked happy–serene, even. This must be from before the period that the people of this world referred to as the Goratha. The dark time.
She returned to the pedestal and removed the sphere. As soon as she picked it up, the yellowish light went out and the globe at the top of the column faded back to opaque white. Patris had taken up a position cross-legged on the floor a short distance away and was watching her. “Some of them are a bit…grainy,” he commented. “A few–three, if I recall correctly–don’t work at all. Hardly surprising after all this time.” She selected another sphere–a blue tinged one–and set it in the pedestal’s recess. “It seems appropriate at this time that I should remind you of the terms of our agreement,” he continued. “I did say that I wasn’t guaranteeing that you would find anything useful here.”
The area in front of her burst into illumination once more. This scene featured a fair-haired girl, all smiles, in front of a series of brightly coloured backgrounds. As she spoke, a series of objects appeared–some familiar, others strange, with symbols next to each. Keris quickly concluded that this was a child’s educational tool. She plucked it from the pedestal and the light died once more.
She activated another of the spheres and found herself looking at a succession of scenic vistas, most of which she didn’t recognise. An unseen narrator droned on in ancient. She was about to put it aside when the scene changed to one that immediately caught her attention. It was a Great Tree; whether here in the place these people called the Atarah Lowlands, or the one on the other side of the Great Barrier, near her home, she couldn’t tell. The vast trunk lifted itself up above the surrounding forest, vibrant with purple, orange and yellow foliage. Then, just as suddenly, the view shifted and she was looking down on a sparkling blue river that wound lazily across a vast plain of waving yellow grass. She shut it off.
The next sphere featured a man in a harlequin suit, talking animatedly and then playing a musical instrument. There was laughter and applause from a hidden audience. Obviously a form of popular entertainment, although the suit looked absurd to Keris and the humour was lost on her.
Other spheres were even more confusing, and some appeared to make no sense whatsoever. One showed a series of rapidly flashing images and put forth a sound so raucous that Keris concluded that it must be malfunctioning, and disconnected it immediately.
She was beginning to see what Patris was talking about. The spheres were interesting, but did not appear to offer any useful information. She could only make out snatches from the commentary. Lyall claimed to know more of the ancient tongue than she did. It was possible that he might be able to glean more from these “books”.
She was about three-quarters of the way through the collection when she came upon a sphere that was quite unlike the others. It began innocuously enough. The view was from the flat roof of a large building in the midst of a city–perhaps Kynedyr, perhaps not. The angle of sight moved upward to show a number of flying machines sailing across a cloudy sky. They were larger and more impressive than any she had encountered in her travels. One of them descended and touched down on the roof. A door opened in the side of the aircraft, and people were carried out on stretchers. The craft’s occupants, dressed in green overalls, were met by others from the building dressed in strange white suits. Their faces were grave.
The scene switched to a room of pure white walls, where many people were laid out. Masks over their faces were connected by long tubes to unknown machines. She had a closer view of one of the patients; a fair-haired girl, very like the one in the teaching sphere earlier. Her face was ravaged by some sort of wasting disease. Next to her, a couple were clinging to each other. The woman was weeping profusely. Could this be the plague that Annata spoke of, the one that had destroyed her people? And now she was seeing it happen all over again; reliving the horror.
Keris forced herself to watch to the end of the recording, then cycled through the remainder of the spheres, finding nothing of interest. She stood in silence for a while–hand over her mouth, the images of the plague victims replaying over and over in her head.
It was Patris who finally snapped her out of her reverie. “I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you.”
She had to find the Prophet’s weapon and destroy it, or a tragedy like this will happen again. And this time, no-one might survive. She desperately needed a lead. Information. Something.
She turned slowly, taking in the pedestals, the central column, the empty vastness of the atrium. Then she looked at the small box of spheres. All of this, for two dozen of these things? It wasn’t possible. There must be more. It could be that these ruins had been excavated, and the other “books” removed, but as Patris had pointed out, they were useless without the pedestals, so that didn’t seem likely. Perhaps Annata’s people, knowing that they were facing disaster, had removed them for safekeeping. But if that were the case, then they still had to be somewhere. Maybe they would give her the clues she needed? Keris returned to where Patris had found the box of spheres. She placed the box back in the receptacle, then began a circuit of the atrium wall, probing the surface with her eyes and her fingertips.
Patris had strolled over and was watching her curiously. “What are you looking for?” Keris didn’t answer. He smiled without humour. “I never realised what happened to those people back then. It’s pretty awful to watch. I mean, it’s one thing to face an enemy that’s standing in front of you, but when your enemy is a disease, how do you fight a thing like that…?”
Keris wasn’t listening. She moved slowly along the wall, examining every inch. The only features were the unexplained symbols she had noted earlier, and an occasional circular depression. She pressed the wall at intervals, but no mysterious panels opened. The exercise was beginning to look futile. Patris was relating a conversation he had had with the people in Lechem about the dark time. How the survivors in this world had braved harsh conditions and terrible privations during the period following the disaster. Many had died before the recovery began. But those few, who through determination and fortitude had founded a new society, were revered almost as legends.
Keris stopped in mid step. There was something. Something familiar. Something that nagged at her from the farthest corners of her mind. It was in a different place and a different time. She stepped back from the wall, then began to retrace her steps.
Patris broke off from his soliloquy. “Have you found something?”
She ignored him, fixing her eye on the section of wall before her. Then she saw it. One of the indentations was not circular. It was an odd triangle, the same size and shape as…She reached into the pouch at her side and extracted a smooth flat object. She turned it over in her hand, gazing at the multicoloured workings within. It was the access module that Boxx had retrieved from the base of Annata’s machine–the device that she had used to gain access to the great globe at the top of the tower on the Eastern Plains. Could it be…? On impulse, she aligned its irregular sides to the niche in the wall and pushed it home. It was a perfect fit. Immediately it lit up with a bright yellow hue. There was a faint hum, then the light changed to crimson and a door slid open.
Patris gasped. “How did you do that?”
Keris retrieved the access module and peered into the newly revealed space beyond. It was black as pitch. There was no way of telling how deep it was or how far it extended, but she couldn’t back out now. She needed answers. Warily, she took a step across the threshold. She couldn’t make out anything of the interior. She hesitated. Patris sounded a note of alarm. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.” Keris said.
“Be careful, it might be dangerous.”
For all her distaste of Patris and the principles he stood for, Keris reluctantly had to admit that she did trust his instincts. Yet in this instance, something told her that his fears were unfounded. No-one would place a trap in a library. But more than that, why would the device Annata had entrusted her with open this particular door, unless there were something behind it that she needed to see? Thrusting her habitual caution aside, she stepped farther into the darkness. She heard the thief’s steps behind her.
There was a gentle humming sound. She whirled around just in time to see the door slide shut behind them, plunging them into total darkness. Then, just as suddenly, bright light exploded all around. Patris gave an anguished cry. Keris’ mind reeled, struggling to take in the scene before her. They were standing on a spacious patio, high above a cityscape, the like of which Keris had never seen before. Above them, huge flying machines drifted lazily across a cerulean sky, adorned with a few wisps of high cloud. In the distance, impossibly tall buildings vied with spires of white, silver and gold for dominance of the skyline. Tiny silver craft darted between them like angry insects buzzing around the stamen of an immense flower. How did I get here?
The patio was laid out with broad-leaved trees, no more than head height; some laden with yellow and white blossoms, others with purple and green fruits. Between the trees, a slight young woman with flowing dark hair and clad in a plain dress of pure white stood with her back to them, her tail moving lazily back and forth. She turned slowly to face them and smiled warmly. “Hello, Keris,” she said simply.
Keris looked at her with disbelief for several moments before she finally found her voice. “Annata…you are Annata.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 22
“I am not Annata.” The young woman took a few steps toward them, stopped; then smiled again reassuringly. “I was created by Annata as a computer generated representation of her. My program consists of adaptive heuristic algorithms, keyed to her personality profile. There will be a six point three percent variance factor in the interactive responses. It’s good to see you again, Keris. How have you been?”
I must be dreaming. This person was not Annata…and yet she was. None of it made sense. “Where am I?” Keris asked.
The figure in white laughed lightly. The sound was almost musical. “Well, I suppose there are two answers to that question. In a physical sense, you are still in the designated projection room at the city’s central archive. However, I have recreated a setting appropriate to our meeting.” She extended a small, perfect hand and swept it before her, taking in the patio area. “This is my home. I thought you would enjoy seeing the city as it was in my time. What do you think of it?”
It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen in my life. “It’s…nice,” she said.
There was that same tinkling laugh again. “Tell me, who is the other one with you?” Annata asked.
“He is called Patris,” Keris said.
Annata gave a slight bow. “Be welcome in my home, Patris. I honour those who would risk their lives to save our people.” Keris blinked. Patris said nothing. “I had this terrace planted to remind me of home. When I first came to live in the city, I fell in love with it right away. It’s so…alive. But at the same time, I found that I missed the farm where I grew up. I longed for the scent of growing things. Did you grow up in the country, Keris?”
“Yes I did,” she replied. “My childhood years were spent on the Dagmar Manse.”
“Then you’ll understand what I mean.” Not really. My parents were indentured farm workers with too many mouths to feed. They sold me off into service the first chance they got. “Now I can get up each morning, upload my work files for the day in my apartment; then go outside, pick a karel fruit and imagine myself strolling through the orchards near my home. Is that vanity?” Annata’s eyes twinkled. The woman was shorter than Keris. Her dark hair was only of shoulder length in contrast to Keris’ long tresses, but her face was softer, less careworn. It was the face of someone who had led a contented life–a life of privilege. Keris stifled an irrational twinge of resentment.
Keris turned to look at her surroundings. She could feel the gentle caress of the wind; smell the scent of the blossoms. This was nothing like the images produced by the spheres. They had been insubstantial, diaphanous. This was real in every sense of the word. Yet Annata had said they were still in the library building in the heart of the ruined city. She walked past the woman in white, to a balcony where she could get a better view of the huge metropolis. They were near the top of a stately tower, broad at the base and tapered at the top. Far below, wide streets were thronged with tiny people and machines, moving purposefully as if they were the city’s lifeblood. “So this is…Kynedyr?”
Annata had moved to stand beside her. “That’s right.”
“How many people live here?” Keris asked.
“Two million, four hundred and seventy-three thousand, eight hundred and twelve, according to the latest figure on the date my program was stored.” She pointed out across the cityscape. “There is the great Ardath Spire…and over there, the Tellyn Carillon…and there is the Institute where I work.” She turned, and Keris noticed for the first time that the other woman’s eyes were a soft shade of green. She had never seen anyone with eyes that colour before. “How has my city fared in your time, Keris?
It’s nothing more than a massive ruin of abandoned buildings, broken down walls and encroaching vegetation. She scrabbled to think of something positive to say. “There was a moving display that came on when I passed through one of the public squares.”
Annata chuckled. “So the only thing to survive of the mighty Kelanni civilisation turns out to be the automated advertising hoardings. I’m sure comedic artists in the theatres on Dalantyne Street would have a field day, if only they knew.” Her face grew serious once again. “To be truthful, I chose this setting for another reason, Keris. I wanted to show you not only your past, but your future as well. This is what your people–the Kelanni–have built through hard work, ingenuity and enlightened thought. This is what our people were and can become again. Only this time, it is my hope that you may go on to even greater things. If not you, then your children or maybe your children’s children’s children. To that end, we must defeat the Unan-Chinneroth. Together.”
Patris was standing behind them. He seemed to have recovered from his initial shock. “So you really do exist. They said you were an old friend. I see they weren’t exaggerating. Did you know they named a ship after you?” Annata looked puzzled. “Never mind,” he said.
Keris could hear the faint hustle and bustle of the city far below; the heartbeat of a living thing, dead now for three thousand turns and more. “I’m not sure I understand. Annata sent a machine to the Chandara in order to communicate with us from the past. I certainly didn’t expect to find you here. How…”
“I was created as a failsafe, after your first contact at the Great Tree,” Annata said. “Time slows down in the vicinity of the White Sun relative to time here. A message sent from our time around the white sun can be received by you. But the signal has to move a tremendous distance in space as well as time, which in turn takes a great deal of energy. There was a considerable degree of uncertainty as to whether we would be able to sustain the necessary power requirements for open communication with the future. So if the link failed, then Boxx was instructed to bring you here, as soon as the conditions had been met.”
“Conditions?” Keris queried.
“At the Great Tree, Annata told you that four were needed to operate the instrument we have designed for you, and that those four would need to face a test of suitability. The reason is that the instrument is very dangerous in its own right. Too dangerous for any one person to control. And for the same reason, it must be destroyed as soon as it has been used. The four controllers must each be trusted to do that. To that end, Boxx has been…collecting data. Information on you and your companions.”
“What sort of information?” Patris demanded.
Annata looked down at the floor of the patio. “I’m sorry, I cannot tell you that. If I did, it could taint the results. When it has sufficient data, Boxx is to bring a minimum of four candidates to Drani-Kathaar. It means ‘proving ground’. It is the place we have designated where the final testing will take place.” She looked up and smiled. “And to answer your next question, no, I cannot tell you anything about the testing either, because in truth I do not know. We have built and preserved the place we call Drani-Kathaar, but I cannot say what manner of trial you will face there. That will be up to Boxx.”
“The Chandara?” Patris said in disbelief.
Annata strolled to a table near the balcony and sat on a silver metal stool, inviting the others to join her. “When we created the instrument you would need to counteract the Prophet’s weapon, we knew of its potential for harm, and that if it fell into the wrong hands, then the results could potentially be worse than the weapon itself. Kelanni are emotional creatures. The judgements they make are not always rational. Chandara are different. Boxx is flesh and blood, but in many ways it is more like me. Its chemical makeup allows it to record information and assess it dispassionately, so that its assessment is always accurate. At the same time, its nucleotide chains cannot be altered or falsified, unlike a computer program. So it was felt that the only safe course was to entrust our future to them.”
Keris frowned. “If the Chandara are more trustworthy than Kelanni, why not ask four of them to operate the device?”
“I did not say that Kelanni were not trustworthy,” Annata corrected. “It’s just that the consequences of failure were so dire, there could be no room for error. But to answer your question; first, getting to the weapon will not be easy. Chandara do not have the physical capabilities or the manual dexterity that Kelanni do. Second, they are taking a great risk by helping us as it is. If their actions were discovered, the Unan-Chinneroth could choose to eradicate them, and they would be defenceless. We cannot ask them to do more on our behalf. And third…well, if we cannot find four trustworthy people among our own kind, do we deserve to survive?”
Keris went over the woman’s story in her head. “You said Boxx was to bring us here, if the machine you were using to communicate with us failed.”
Annata nodded. “That’s correct.”
“Why?” Keris asked.
Annata smiled beatifically. “I am to give you your final instructions for the testing.”
~
“May I offer you some refreshment? Do you like karel juice?”
Keris and Patris exchanged a look. “I thought you said we were still in the library building,” Keris said.
Annata had a faraway look, as if she were considering some abstract problem. “If I were to combine the molecules necessary to produce karel juice, would it be any less real than if I had picked the fruit and squeezed it out with my own hands? A question for the sages and philosophers at the Institute, perhaps. As for me…” The air above the table swirled, and there was a bright flash of light. Keris and Patris flinched. In its place stood a pitcher filled with a bright blue liquid and three tumblers. “…I just enjoy the juice.” Annata lifted the pitcher with a delicate hand and began pouring.
Keris took up the tumbler and cautiously brought it to her lips. It was cool, with a delightful sweetness. She had been living on short rations for the past several days. She thought of asking Annata if she could whip up some raleketh steaks and a side order of baked moba, but decided against it. There were more important things right now. “You spoke of final instructions?”
Annata looked from Keris to Patris and back again. “There should be four of you.”
“The others stayed behind in Kieroth, trying to fix the machine,” Keris said.
Annata looked undecided for a moment, then appeared to come to a decision. “Well, it doesn’t matter, provided you are capable of relaying the instructions accurately. Really, there are only two things you must know. The first is that from the moment you enter Drani-Kathaar, you must do exactly as Boxx tells you without question.” The woman from the past did not know–could not know–that Boxx was gone. Should she reveal that particular truth? Better to wait until she had extracted the information she needed.
The second,” Annata continued, “concerns the trials themselves. You will be tested individually, but whatever happens, you must not under any circumstances discuss your experiences with each other until the trial is concluded.”
Patris had not touched his drink. “May I ask why?”
“Again, it would taint the results,” Annata said. “I must ask you to trust me on this. If one of you reveals the nature of their trial, then the entire testing will be compromised–with disastrous results.”
Patris looked distinctly unhappy. Keris had to admit that she shared his misgivings. But there was no turning back now. “Assuming we pass your…Boxx’s tests, then we will gain access to the instrument we need?”
“The instrument has been divided into four. The four parts are…linked. When four individuals have passed, then one component will be given to each. Those four must then find the Prophet’s weapon and hold their respective parts against its outer casing. When all four components shine red, then the weapon will have been neutralized. Once you have accomplished that task, the components must be destroyed. After that, you can use the vacuum hole transporter to return to your side of Kelanni. That must be at least ten days after your arrival. The power source at the base of each tower draws on vacuum energy, but they are currently working only at low power, so it will take at least that long for the tower to store sufficient energy to enable a person to make a successful transport.”
“So, where is this proving ground of yours?” Keris asked.
Annata cocked her head slightly. “I do not understand.”
Keris drew out each word. “The proving ground. Where is it?”
“Boxx was to be told the location of Drani-Kathaar as soon as you arrived at the vacuum hole displacement tower on this side. Where is the Chandara?”
Keris took a deep breath. “We lost Boxx in…an accident.”
Annata’s mouth opened and closed. In an instant she seemed to have been transformed from an all-powerful being into a forlorn child. “How…?”
There seemed little point in concealing the truth any further. “The tower you sent us to was destroyed before we could use it. We had to cross the Great Barrier by ship. Boxx was swept overboard during the crossing. I’m sorry.”
“Then all is lost. I have failed,” Annata said.
Keris stood up suddenly, knocking her stool over in the process. She glared at the woman in white. “You are right. You’re not Annata.”
Annata’s eyes were pleading. “I don’t…”
“I know Annata,” Keris declared. “She was prepared to risk everything while her people were dying to give us this chance. She would never just give up. You are a coward. You’re not worthy of her name.”
The other woman’s face became impassive. “I’m sorry. This scenario is beyond my programming.”
“Tell us where the instrument is hidden,” Keris demanded.
“It would not do you any good,” Annata said. “Access to it is only possible with the help of the Chandara. We designed it that way so that the instrument could not be appropriated by anyone else.”
“Then tell me where the Chandara are in this world. I have been to their Great Tree near here. There has been some kind of disaster; the entire forest is dead. Do you know of this?”
Annata nodded. “I know of the tragedy, yes. But we have no idea why the forest died in your time. Sadly, our biologists have been too caught up in their own problems to address the issue. But we believe that it was not a natural occurrence.”
Her instincts were right. It seemed inconceivable, but by some Machiavellian means, the forest had been murdered. “Do you know where the rest of the Chandara went?”
“Yes,” Annata said. “But it is a closely guarded secret. No Kelanni of your time are permitted to know their location. It is the only way we can guarantee that they will be safe.”
Keris leaned forward. Her white knuckles rested on the table. “You have to tell us.”
Annata shook her head. “You do not understand. Boxx has been accumulating the necessary data. It was…designed for that very purpose. To designate another Chandara as Key would take far too long.”
“We have to try,” Keris insisted.
“I cannot tell you their location.” Annata’s expression was going through rapid changes, as if there were some titanic inner struggle taking place within her. She looked up at Keris, her face in earnest. “No Kelanni of your time are permitted to know it. That is the override condition.”
She is trying to tell me something. Keris came to a decision. She turned to Patris. “You need to leave. Now.”
“What?” Patris said.
“Can you send him back to the library?” she asked Annata.
“Yes,” Annata replied.
Patris stood up. “Now wait a moment–”
A section of air shimmered on the patio and an opening appeared. Through it, the atrium could be seen. “Please leave,” Keris’ voice was level. “It’s for your own safety.”
Patris’ eyes narrowed. “Why? What are you going to do?”
“Just get out of here,” she ordered. Patris looked as if he were about to say something, then clamped his mouth shut and walked through the open portal. It closed behind him and vanished, restoring the unbroken view of the patio and the bustling city beyond. Annata was looking at her expectantly. “Do you believe that the Unan-Chinneroth are responsible for the destruction of the forest?” Keris began.
“We cannot prove it. But, yes. There is no-one else who could have achieved the…effect.”
“Then you have hidden the Chandara in order to safeguard them?”
The woman in white nodded. “Yes.”
“However, circumstances have now changed,” Keris pointed out. “Boxx is gone. If I cannot contact the Chandara, then the instrument you have preserved for us will be useless. The Unan-Chinneroth will ultimately destroy both races, Kelanni and Chandara. Do you think that is the outcome Annata would have wanted?”
“No,” Annata agreed. “Nevertheless, I am still a machine. I cannot exceed my programming. The override condition must be met.”
“But when the Unan-Chinneroth has been defeated, the threat to the Chandara will have passed.”
Annata clasped her hands together and stared at the table. “Not good enough. The Unan-Chinneroth could return from the stars and exact vengeance on the Chandara. And we would be responsible.”
“Then I will meet your condition,” Keris declared. “If we do not succeed, then I will be dead and your knowledge will die with me. If we do succeed, then I will take each of the four parts of your instrument and destroy them one by one. Then finally, I will destroy myself. And again the knowledge will be lost.”
Annata looked up from the table and regarded the other woman intensely. “You would do this?”
Keris smiled. “To save two races? It’s a small enough price to pay, wouldn’t you say?”
“Very well.” Annata closed her eyes and her face became impassive.
Keris waited. She could hear the drone of flying machines far above and the rumble of the city far below. A faint wind rustled the leaves in the trees laden with their purple fruits. Finally she broke the silence. “Are you all right?”
Annata opened her eyes. “The override program is being rejected.”
Before Keris could speak, the air on top of the table congealed to form a sheet of paper, and a writing implement appeared in the smaller woman’s hand. She began writing at preternatural speed, her hand a blur. Suddenly, she froze, her eyes wide as if she had just been run through with a sword. She screamed. A blinding flash of light. Then Keris found herself standing in the room in the library once more–bare grey walls lit with a soft illumination emanating from the ceiling. Annata, the patio, the fruit trees, the stately towers and elegant spires of the great city of Kynedyr–all gone. Then she saw it. A single sheet of paper fluttering to the ground. Keris walked forward and picked it up. It was a map. A map to the last secret refuge of the Chandara in this world. Keris blinked tears away. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I called you a coward. I was wrong. You were indeed worthy of the name…Annata.
The door to the room slid open. She turned to see Patris standing beyond the entrance. Keris composed herself and stuffed the map into her tunic, then strode out into the immensity of the atrium once more. “What happened in there? What did you do?” Patris demanded.
Keris ignored his question. “I’m sorry, but it is necessary for me to continue my present journey alone. I would suggest that you make for the town of Kieroth on the other side of these mountains. There is a building just outside of the town called ‘observatory’. Ask for Lyall and Alondo. You will be safe there until I return.”
Keris proceeded across the floor of the atrium and out through the open doors, leading to what was once a proud and beautiful city. Patris hurried after her, halting at the broken library steps. “Where are you going?” he called out after her.
Keris did not break her stride or look back. “To get what I need to finish this.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 23
A silver dart flashed over the Atarah Lowlands. Course erratic. Losing height. One of its engines sputtered and coughed. A thin trail of grey smoke tapered from its port side. It came in low, narrowly clearing a small rise, then swooping down. Its nose impacted the ground with a dull thud, sending up a cloud of snow. The craft skidded a short distance before coming to rest. The engines died away to silence. Moments later, the cockpit popped open and a slight figure climbed onto the engine housing, then hopped lightly to the ground, followed by a smaller shelled creature.
The figure turned to face the aircraft’s other occupant, hands on hips, head jutted forward. “What was that?”
Rael, boy mathematician and pilot of their stolen transport, stood and stepped over the side of the cockpit. “We’re down in one piece, aren’t we?”
“Barely,” Shann retorted. “I feel like I just spent the afternoon getting bounced around in a washtub. What are the chances of getting us airborne again?”
“What, you mean mathematically?”
“Don’t try and be clever,” she snapped.
He jumped down beside her. “Sorry.” He walked around to the port side with Shann dogging his steps, waved away a cloud of residual smoke, and began to poke inside the engine housing.”
Shann waited until she could stand it no longer. “Well?”
His head reappeared. “How do you feel about taking a walk?”
“You’re kidding,” she said.
“I told you before, I’m not an avionics engineer. My jury rigging has reached its limit. It’d take a team of engineers to get this thing flying again.” He pointed northeast-wards. “Lechem is that way. Based on our current position, I estimate it will take us about two ornahs. If we leave now, we should be there before dark.”
“Terrific.” Shann turned and stomped away in the direction the boy had indicated, Boxx trotting along beside her.
Rael had to run to catch up. “I don’t understand why you’re so annoyed.”
“I am ‘annoyed’, as you put it, because you insisted on trying to fly that thing yourself, rather than turn the controls over to me like I asked.”
The lanky boy threw his arms in the air. “But you’ve only piloted it once before.”
“Yes, and on that occasion, if you recall, I ended up outmanoeuvring an attacking vessel and saving both our lives.”
“I remember,” he said.
“Then how is it that you suddenly think I’m incapable?”
Rael trudged after her across the thin covering of snow. “I don’t think you’re incapable, Shann. It’s just that I’ve piloted avionics over thousands of met-ryns. The engine was damaged. I just thought–”
“Yes, well let me tell you, your piloting skills leave a lot to be desired. I don’t recall you pushing off lodestone once since we cleared the mountain.”
“I didn’t think it was necessary,” he said. “We were safe by then. Besides, we needed to land out of sight of the town to begin with.”
She stopped to face him and put her nose in the air. “And why is that?”
“Have you forgotten about Boxx? We can’t just walk into Lechem with a Chandara in tow. Remember the uproar that ensued when you and Boxx first arrived in Kieroth? Of course, that’s probably nothing compared with what my father would say.”
She looked down at the little creature at her feet. It did not appear concerned that its fate was being discussed. “What do you intend to do with it?”
“There’s an old barn on my cousin’s property not far from the town. I used to play there as a child. I know a place where it will be warm and safe. It should only be for one night. I want to get going again as early as possible tomorrow.”
“So you say.” She turned and marched on, making small footprints in the thin, crisp covering of snow.
Rael caught up to her with his long gait and walked alongside. “You know what your problem is? You just can’t stand not being in control.”
“That is not true,” she protested. “I was content to follow Lyall. But he trusted me and didn’t treat me like a child. Your trouble is that you think being clever with numbers makes you an expert at everything else. It doesn’t.”
“I know that.”
Shann had been expecting some quick riposte, but instead, the boy suddenly deflated as if there were no fight left in him. She felt a pang of guilt. “What’s the matter?”
He was silent for some moments. She was on the point of repeating her question when he suddenly spoke. It was the last thing she expected him to say. “I want you to teach me how to use your cloak and staff.”
“What…? Why?”
“Before…on the mountain, when the murghal attacked. I was…helpless. I had to have a girl protect me.”
“What does my gender have to do with it?” she asked.
“Nothing, nothing. It’s just that I felt useless, that’s all.”
Shann looked across at him. He was studying the ground as usual. “Rael, it was you who figured out how lodestone grenades work and then proceeded to make them out of broken artefacts and bits of ancient machinery. If you hadn’t done that, we would still be up in that tower, slowly freezing to death.”
“I know. But I would still like to learn. Will you teach me–please?”
She sighed. “Well, I only have the one cloak and staff. And my own skills are…limited. I didn’t train for very long.” He was looking down at her. She could see that he was in earnest. “All right, all right. Maybe we’ll find some time for training during our journey. How much farther is it to the place Boxx indicated?”
Rael considered. “Twenty-five met-ryns–thirty, maybe.”
“How far is that?” she asked.
“A ryn is the length of a pendulum whose period of arc–the time taken for one swing–is one tenth of a dahn. A met-ryn is a thousand of those,” Rael said.
“Wouldn’t the speed of the pendulum depend on the weight you put on the end of it?”
Rael smiled. “No, Shann. It wouldn’t.”
Clearly there were some things about this world she would never understand. Rael himself being one of them. There were times when he behaved strangely, and other times when he could be smug and irritating, but Shann had to admit that she did not know what she would have done without him. Truthfully, she was glad to have him as her guide–her friend. “So, tell me about your parents.”
Rael’s smile vanished like the suns passing behind a dark cloud. He continued walking beside her in silence across the featureless white landscape.
~
It had been a short detour to the smallholding owned by Rael’s cousin. Rael was right, of course. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of the scene that first morning in Kieroth when she and Boxx had been discovered. Nevertheless, she hated the thought of leaving it out here on its own, even though Rael kept insisting that it would be quite safe.
“Won’t your cousin be curious?” she asked.
Rael smiled. “I’m sure he would, if I had any intentions of telling him.”
“You’re not going to tell him?”
“If I told him, he’d want to know everything. And a day later it’d be all around town. Trust me it’s better this way.”
“But what if he goes there and finds Boxx by accident?” she protested.
“It’s the middle of winter. The barn isn’t being used right now. There’s no reason for him to visit it.”
“What about children?”
Rael shook his head. “No children would be playing this far out of town, especially after sunset. Boxx will be fine here. You just need to explain to it that it needs to stay put.”
They opened a crack in the wide double doors and squeezed into the slatted wooden structure. It was ramshackle but dry. A ladder gave access to an upper level.
“Can it climb ladders?” Rael asked.
“It’s a forest dweller,” she pointed out. “They climb trees.”
“Of course,” he said. “Silly question.”
Rael ascended the ladder first, testing the aged rungs one by one. He disappeared over the top, then reappeared and signalled for the others to follow. Boxx scampered up the ladder, followed by Shann, who accepted Rael’s helping hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. A wide loft extended out onto an empty forebay, covered by nothing more than a few piles of golden straw. The floorboards creaked under their weight. Boxx stood up on its hind legs, looking up at Shann expectantly. She got down on her haunches and addressed the creature on its level. “You have to stay here tonight, all right?”
Its round face was devoid of expression. “I Must Stay Here.”
“That’s right,” she said. “We will be back for you tomorrow morning.” She looked up at Rael, who nodded his head in confirmation. “We have to leave it something.” She started rummaging around in her pack. “Do you have any food at all?” she asked him.
“Kelanni Fear What They Do Not Understand.”
She looked up at the Chandara. “What?”
“It Was A Place Like This. With Animals. Keris Told Me, ‘Kelanni Fear What They Do Not Understand’. Young Kelanni Dragged Me Out. Threw Stones. Keris Rescued Me.”
“What’s it talking about?” Rael asked.
“I don’t know. Something that happened during its time with Keris.” She placed a hand on its carapace and frowned. “It’s shivering.”
Rael got down on his haunches next to her. “Is it cold?”
“I don’t think so. I think it’s frightened.” She pulled her blanket out of her pack and wrapped it firmly around the creature. “It’s all right,” she soothed. “No-one will hurt you. We will come for you as soon as we can.” Boxx laid down and put its head on the floor. Shann glanced at Rael. “Is there no way we could take it with us?”
Rael shook his head. “It wouldn’t be safe in Lechem.”
“Then I’ll stay here with it.”
“You can’t,” Rael objected.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t understand,” he said. “I need you with me if we are going to get the replacement avionic.”
“But why–?”
“Because my father would never lend it to me if I turned up on my own. However, I don’t think he would refuse if you were there.”
Shann felt confused. What father would refuse their son help, yet freely give it to a stranger? She sighed. “All right, but whatever happens, we come back here first thing tomorrow, agreed?”
Rael stood up. “Agreed.”
~
The suns were close to setting by the time they entered the town of Lechem. Shann judged it to be somewhat smaller than Kieroth, but there were the same globe-shaped lights set on poles at the side of the street, the same floating carriages and the same fur-clad people. She couldn’t help but be reminded of the time she had first arrived in Kieroth with Boxx. Then she had been alone and afraid. It felt like a lifetime ago.
She was drawing one or two stares. The flying cloak and staff were important tools–assets that she was reluctant to dispense with. Nevertheless, it might be wise to acquire clothing that would allow her to blend in a little more, at least when she happened to be in a populated area. As they turned a corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. Coming toward her were two individuals in distinctive blue suits with oddly shaped silver staffs slung across their backs. Drach.
Shann grabbed Rael by the arm and pulled him back around the corner. “What are you doing?” he protested.
“Shhhh, didn’t you see them?”
He pulled his arm away. “See who?”
“The drach. They’re here.”
“Well, of course they’re here,” Rael said. “They protect people from the beasts that live in the hills, remember?”
“But they might be looking for us,” she hissed. Rael turned away from her and rounded the corner once more, eluding her grasp. “Stop. Where are you going?”
She threw her hands up in the air and ran after him. The blue coated watchkeepers were standing outside a glass-fronted clothing shop. They regarded the tall boy and the girl in the black cloak curiously. One said something to the other, but they made no move to approach. When she and Rael had passed by and were out of earshot she let her breath out slowly. “That was close.” She smacked him on the shoulder. “Why did you do that?”
“I told you before. I’m not running from them.”
“But what if they should recognize us? We can’t afford to be taken back–not now.”
He rounded on her. “Look, Shann. I’m not like you. I can’t do all this cloak and dagger stuff.” He looked her up and down, realising what he had just said. “Sorry, no offence.”
She looked down at the ground. “No, I’m the one that’s sorry–for involving you in all this.”
His face brightened. “That’s all right. If I hadn’t come with you, I would never have discovered a major ancient site or opened up a whole new area of lodestone technology. And…I enjoy your company.” She had no opportunity to reply. “We’re here.”
They were before a wooden door in a side street off the main thoroughfare, away from the bustle of townsfolk and the hum of passing phaetons. Rael knocked lightly. The door opened, and a slight woman with silver grey hair and a harried look answered. When she caught sight of Rael, her frown only deepened. “Rael? What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Mother,” he said.
~
Shann was growing more perplexed by the moment. Here was a mother who had not seen her son in…how long? Yet there were no cries of welcome, no hugs, no happy smiles. She felt as if she had suddenly barged in on a solemn commemoration of hariath-sharana, or whatever ritual these people observed for those that had died. The woman led them through a narrow hallway to a sparsely furnished sitting room with plain wooden walls. It was warm, but the atmosphere was distinctly chilly. “This is not a good time.” The woman sounded as if she were rebuking Rael.
“It never is, Mother,” Rael returned. “Where is Father?”
“He’s at the workshop; he should be home soon. Please try not to antagonise him. Work has been difficult of late.” She seemed to notice Shann for the first time and attempted a smile. “Who is your lady friend?”
“She is not my ‘lady friend,’” Rael corrected. “This is Shann. Shann, my mother, Espen.”
Shann bowed slightly, adopting the formal custom of her world. “Greetings and honour be to you, Lady.” Rael’s mother appeared nonplussed.
“Shann is…we are engaged in research,” Rael added by way of explanation.
“I see. Well, best not mention that to your father. You know how he feels about your work.”
Another door opened and another young man entered. He was as tall as Rael, but more filled out. “Rael, what are you doing back here?” he asked.
Rael turned to Shann. “This is my elder brother, Adrak,”
“You never told me you had a brother,” Shann blurted out.
“That’s right,” Adrak said. “He’s ashamed of us and what we do, aren’t you, Rael? He thinks he’s better than us.”
“Th-that’s not true. I…” Rael shrivelled up before her. It was as if he were suddenly back at the observatory, being lectured by Hannath. Shann’s impulse was to take Rael by the arm and leave right away. But they were here for a purpose.
“So this is your girlfriend? Interesting costume. Is that the fashion in Kieroth these days?” Adrak was leering at her in a way that made Shann take an instant dislike to him. She longed to draw her staff weapon and cut him a new smile. “How come a pretty girl like you has taken up with a waster like Rael?”
Rael’s mother intervened. “Please, please don’t fight. Your father will be home soon.”
Adrak ignored her. “Why are you here, Rael?”
Rael looked trapped. “I…I just–”
“We need to borrow an avionic,” Shann broke in.
“Why? Where are you going?” Adrak demanded.
Shann had a moment of inspiration. “If we can borrow the aircraft, we will be gone tomorrow morning.”
Adrak shrugged. “Good enough for me. Personally, I’ll be content to see you on your way. But you’ll have to ask Father. Well, I must go. Some of us have real work to do.” He turned on his heel and left.
Rael’s mother stood rooted to the spot, her eyes flicking back and forth. She looked like a trapped animal. “I…I’m sorry. Your father will be back soon. I’m sorry.” She retreated from the room in disarray.
Shann tried to face Rael but his eyes were still fixed on the floor. “What’s going on? What’s wrong with your family?”
Rael met her earnest gaze. “Nothing…everything…I’m sorry, Shann, it may have been a mistake to come here. I don’t know that I can face Father again.”
She placed an arm on his shoulder and smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ll face him together.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 24
“You want to what?” The big man rose out of his chair, looking like a vara-cat ready to pounce. “You want to borrow our avionic? Are you mad, boy?”
Rael looked as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible. “No…you see, I…”
Adrak rose from his stool to stand beside his father. “Ask him what he did with the avionic he came here in.”
“I…there was a-an accident,” Rael stammered.
The older man made an unpleasant sound in his throat. “Did you hear that? An ‘accident’. You certainly have your share of accidents, don’t you, boy? Everything you touched when you were here was an accident.” It was horrible–like watching an animal being baited. Yet that was not the worst of it. In the eye of the maelstrom, Rael’s mother sat, looking down at the hands folded in her lap as if they didn’t belong to her. Saying nothing. Shann’s sympathy for the woman’s plight was rapidly being replaced by a growing feeling of anger at her cowardice, that she could sit and do nothing while her son was being torn to pieces. The old man continued to rant. “You are useless, boy. You never made the effort to learn any practical skill. You were content to live off the rest of us while you pursued your high and mighty ideas. You never gave anything back to this family. Now you come here making demands?” He glared at the boy from beneath thick brows. His tail swished back and forth. “Well, say something.”
“I’ve had enough of this.” Shann stood up. “Come on, Rael, we’re going.”
“Shann, we need–”
“We’re wasting our time. There’s nothing for us here.” She headed for the door. Rael followed meekly.
“So you’re just going to run out on your family responsibilities again,” Rael’s father called after him. “You’re no good for anything, boy.”
Shann turned to face him. Thick set and barrel-chested, with arms like thick hawsers, the grizzled old man towered over her menacingly. Shann planted her feet wide in a defensive posture. I’ve faced worse things than you.
Rael’s expression turned from one of hurt to one of alarm. “Shann, don’t…”
But she was not going to be denied. “You. You are his father? You should be ashamed of yourself. You don’t even know who he is. You are jealous of him because he’s smarter than you are. He is kind and compassionate, and one day he’s going to be a great man–greater than anything you could ever hope to be. You don’t deserve him. None of you do.” She turned away and headed for the door. “Come on. Rael, let’s get out of here.”
The boy followed her out into the street. It was cold and the stars were out. She gazed up at them. What were once terrifying points of light had now almost become familiar friends. She began to retrace their steps.
Rael caught up to her. “Where are we going?”
“For a walk,” she said. “To clear my head.”
They strode between lambent pools cast by streetlights, and then out into the main thoroughfare. It was almost deserted. “I’m sorry,” she heard Rael say. “I should never have taken you there. I thought…”
She placed a hand on his arm. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll make it somehow. We don’t need them.”
He smiled down at her. “You were amazing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think anyone has ever spoken to my father like that…ever.”
“Well, it’s about time somebody did,” she retorted. “He’s rude and abusive. Sorry, but I had to say something.” She picked a direction and began walking. “I don’t understand how you ever managed to live there.”
Rael matched her stride. “It wasn’t always like that. I can remember some happy times when I was younger. But Father’s work began to go sour. He became more and more frustrated. In time he started taking his frustrations out on my mother and me. He was right about one thing–I have no practical skills. I tried to help at the workshop, but…I don’t know. I made a mess of everything I touched, and that just seemed to make him angrier. At the same time Mother became anxious–withdrawn. It was as if she was dying a little more every day. Then something unexpected happened. Without my knowing it, the educator had sent my work to the Scientific Directorate in Kieroth. I was suddenly invited to take up a position as Hannath’s apprentice. Father strongly objected to my leaving. I almost turned it down.”
“Why didn’t you?” Shann asked.
“It was Mother. She came to me and begged me to leave. I remember how she clung to me and wept. That same afternoon I left for Kieroth. I haven’t been back–before today, that is.”
Shann smiled grimly. “When it comes to family, it looks as if we’re both on our own.”
“You mean because you’re trapped in Skell?”
“I don’t remember my father and mother,” she said. “They were taken by Keltar when I was very young. I don’t even remember their faces clearly. The relatives who took me in were kind enough, though. Gall was everything to me that a mother could be. I miss her a great deal.”
“I’m sure you’ll see them again before too long,” Rael reassured her.
“Poltann is dead,” she declared. “He was executed by the Prophet’s men because I intervened to help Lyall. When I left, Gall was missing. I don’t even know whether she’s still alive.” Lyall and Alondo were like family. I lost them, too. I never seem to be able to hang on to anyone.
“I’m sorry.” He paused for reflection. “Come on, let’s get you out of the cold. There are one or two boarding houses in this direction. We can stay there for tonight. We’ll worry about the rest tomorrow.”
“Fine.” She pulled the cloak tighter around her neck and followed him up the empty snowblown street.
~
For the first time in ages, Shann felt like a whole person. She smiled as she reflected on the miraculously restorative effects of a warm bath and a hot meal. She had luxuriated in the rising steam, feeling the aches and pains from her exertions of the past few days melt away, until Rael had finally banged on the door, demanding to know if she was still alive in there. Supper was communal with the other guests, and consisted of a delicious broth, similar to that prepared by Meira at the observatory; slices of meat that Shann insisted was raleketh, although their jovial cook claimed not to know what a raleketh was; the habitual black bread that they seemed to serve with every meal, and a selection of vegetables. Their host appeared to have an inexhaustible supply of amusing anecdotes, so that it was a challenge to find sufficient time to chew and swallow amongst all the laughter. However, that didn’t stop her eating enough for twelve people. At last, her stomach insisted that she was finally full.
She had just recovered from a punch line at the end of a story about some wandering traders, when she turned around and noticed that Rael had slipped out. She glanced at the timepiece on the wall. Rael had taught her how to read those devices. It was late, and she realised that she was tired. She excused herself and went up to her room. She let herself in and saw that an elegant robe had been laid out on her bed. Rael was always considerate–that was one thing she liked about him. She changed into it. It was loose fitting, yet warm. She hugged herself, revelling in the way it caressed her skin. Tomorrow morning they would have to set about obtaining another avionic from somewhere. That could take a while, if it were even possible. Her black tunic and trousers were being cleaned and her flying cloak was safely folded away in her pack. Replacement clothing. She knew there was something she meant to discuss with Rael, but with everything that had been going on, she had never quite gotten around to mentioning it. If they were going to be here a while, then she should ask him to get her something that would help her blend in a little easier.
There was a door adjoining their rooms. She went to it, raised her hand to knock, and hesitated. He could well be asleep by now. She knocked lightly and heard a muffled “come in” from the other side of the door. She entered. At the far end of the room, a large board was propped up on an easel. Rael was scribbling rapidly, the same way she remembered him doing on the walls of the ancient tower.
She watched the curious marks and symbols flow from the end of his marker. “What are you doing?” she asked.
Rael stopped his flow, considered the board for a moment, then went back and rubbed out some of the marks with his sleeve. He turned and smiled at her. “Hello, Shann. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. What are you doing?” she repeated.
“I’m carrying on my calculations from before. Trying to determine what destructive force a large lodestone device might have, and how to go about disarming it.”
“And you’re doing that now? After all we went through today?”
Rael scratched his head. “Believe it or not, it helps me to relax.” He went back to his scrawl.
“How is it coming?” she asked at length.
“Not very well,” he confessed. “It occurred to me that we might not be able to find the Chandara, or the device Annata concealed might turn out to be missing or damaged after all this time. I thought that if I could determine a method of disarming such a weapon safely, I might be able to recreate her device.”
“You can do that?”
“It’s a machine, Shann, nothing more. Any device can be built if you understand the principles involved and have the right materials. However, right now I can’t see a way to do it. Puncturing the weapon or causing a leak would be too dangerous–you would be more likely to set off the explosion than stop it.”
Shann cast an eye over the confusing hodgepodge of glyphs and diagrams. “I wish I could help you.” She sat on the bed and watched him for a while, willing the symbols to reveal their meaning. But the more she looked at them, the more confusing they became. Finally, she stood up. “You have work to do. I should go.”
“No, stay please,” he said. “Talk to me.”
Shann sat back on the bed obediently. All right, what should she talk about? She did not want to bring up family again. She felt all talked out on that subject, and it seemed to her that bringing up unpleasant memories would only serve to make his task harder. Lodestone. She knew little enough on the subject, but…“Where I come from, it is said that the original lodestones did not fall from the sky, but were native to our world. They are of a kind that always points south.”
Rael did not look up from his writing. “We call them magnets.”
“Magnets,” she repeated. “Well, after a while it was discovered that some metals, like iron, could be made into lodestone and used to make wayfinders. Travellers in my world use them to find their way. I remember being told that the process is also reversible–that original lodestone can be converted back to ordinary iron.”
“That’s true,” Rael said. “If you heat it past a certain temperature. Or if you use an alternating magnetic field.”
“So you can turn iron into lodestone and back again,” she concluded.
The boy’s eyes flicked over the board, checking his shorthand. He appeared to be only half listening. “I suppose so.”
“So could we do the same here?”
He turned towards her and shook his head. “What…pardon?”
“Could we do the same here?” She saw the confusion in his expression. “The Prophet’s weapon is basically like the lodestone grenade. It works by combining lodestone gas with ordinary gas, right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” he said.
“So could we do the same thing to the lodestone gas that you can do with a mag-net? Turn it back into iron?”
Rael shook his head. “No, no…Look, Shann, magnets and meteorite lodestone may share the same name, but they’re quite different. Meteorite lodestone can’t be turned into ordinary matter.”
“Why not?” Shann persisted. “What makes them behave differently from one another?”
Rael put a hand to his chin. He looked deep in thought. The interlude was so long, she began to think she must have said something wrong. Suddenly he began. “We believe it has to do with gravity waves…Gravity waves.”
He was no longer talking to her. He turned back to the board and began frantically rubbing out whole sections of his work with his sleeve–attacking it as if it were a mortal enemy. She watched in astonishment as he began again, labouring as if he were possessed. She did not dare to speak for fear of breaking his concentration. At length, he finished with a flourish, drawing a circle around one group of icons. He took a step back and examined his handiwork. “Remember when I said before that you would make a good scientist? I really think you ought to consider a career in science, Shann. You’re a genius.”
“I am?” she said in disbelief.
“Come here,” he invited.
Shann got to her feet and walked over. He put an arm around her shoulder and faced the board. “You see there…and there.” Shann had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but she smiled up at him encouragingly. “The sign is positive whether the radiating mass is positive or negative,” he continued. “That means that in theory, both positive and negative matter can radiate away energy in the form of gravity waves.” He turned to face her, holding her by the shoulders. “You can’t transform lodestone into ordinary matter, but you can transform ordinary matter into lodestone.”
Shann’s mind staggered under the weight of new possibilities. “The ordinary gas–the air–inside the Prophet’s weapon would become lodestone. There would be no explosion. But that means…”
“Exactly,” he said. “Such a gravity wave device could be used to nullify the hu-man weapon. But it would also allow anyone who controlled it to manufacture lodestone at will. They would possess absolute power.”
As Rael released his grip, Shann had to make a conscious effort not to sink to the floor. “Annata said that the instrument we would need is highly dangerous–too dangerous for one person to hold.”
Rael’s expression became grave. “Indeed. If I am right, then that instrument would be far more dangerous than the weapon itself. I have no idea how to build such an instrument, but if it does exist, then it must be destroyed without fail.”
~
That night Shann slept fitfully, adrift amid a murky sea of dire consequences. She finally came to with a start. The knock on the connecting door that had brought her to wakefulness sounded again. It was still dark outside. She hauled herself out of bed, found her robe and wrapped it loosely about her. A distant part of her mind wondered what Rael could possibly want at this time of night. Had he somehow managed to uncover an even more terrifying secret on that wretched board of his?
She opened the door. Rael was standing there with a smaller figure next to him–a woman with silver hair and a careworn face. Espen–Rael’s mother. Shann was still foggy from sleep. “Wh…what’s going on?”
The older woman seemed to avoid her gaze. “I’m sorry to wake you, dear. I just wanted to apologise…and to give you this.” She pressed something into the girl’s hand. Shann looked down at it, uncomprehending.
“It’s the security key to our avionic,” Rael explained.
Shann rubbed her eyes. “I don’t understand. You father refused to let us borrow it. What made him change his mind?”
“He didn’t,” Espen said. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Then what changed your mind?” Shann asked.
Espen flashed a secret smile. “You did, dear.”
Shann stood back, inviting them both in. She sat on the bed while they settled themselves onto two guest stools. Rael’s mother looked different somehow. Gone was the haunted look of a harried animal, and in its place…serenity? It was almost as if she were not the same person. Shann half wondered whether this might be a dream.
“Rael has told me a great deal about you,” Espen began, “including the reason for your journey across the Great Barrier and your fight for survival in the Cathgorn Mountains.” Shann opened her mouth to speak, but the older woman raised a hand. “It is all right. I have sworn to my son that I will not divulge to anyone the true nature of your journey, or the threat to this world. Rael tells me that you are a young woman of great courage, strength and loyalty. Following your visit to my home yesterday evening, I believe that to be true. Your words…shamed me. I have failed my son in the past. I cannot change that. But now fortune has graced me with the opportunity to make amends in some small way. The avionic is yours. Take it and use it to find the Chandara.”
Shann was fully awake now, but still felt stunned. “What will you tell Rael’s father?”
“I will tell him the truth,” Espen replied. “And I will also tell him that Rael is our son and deserves to be treated as such.”
Shann’s acquaintance with Rael’s father had been all too brief, but he did not seem to her to be the type who would listen to reason–or who would take kindly to being overruled.
She looked to Rael, who responded to her unspoken question. “Mother insists that she wants to do this for us. It is…her gift to me.”
Shann felt lost for words. She stood and repeated her salutation of earlier. “Greetings and honour be to you, Lady…and thanks.”
Espen rose slowly to her feet. She suddenly looked…old. “I am very happy that you are Rael’s friend and companion. Look after one another and be safe.” She took a few steps toward Shann. The two women met in the centre of the room and hugged each other in silence. Espen turned and hugged her son, her tears staining his tunic, then turned to leave.
When they were gone, Shann sat on the bed once again and stared at the slip of metal in her hand. What would this woman’s act of bravery cost her? Shann made a personal resolution that when all of this was over, she would return here to find out. There was a light knock on the inner door and Rael poked his head around it once more. “It’s less than an ornah before dawn, Shann,” he announced. “I suggest we head for the avionics field so that we can leave at first light to pick up Boxx.”
Shann sighed. Her body wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed, but Espen’s sacrifice demanded a response. And she did not want to leave the Chandara on its own a moment longer than was necessary. “I’ll get dressed.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 25
“All right, now push…no, I mean extend your lodest…no, the other one…careful…no ease it gently…gently, I said. Brake…brake.” Rael landed in an ungainly heap, arms and legs flailing in a belated attempt to regain his balance. He came to rest on his back in the snow, breathing hard, sending puffs of condensing vapour into the frigid morning air. Shann shut her eyes and gritted her teeth, then walked over and extended a hand to help pull the boy to his feet. He accepted gratefully and brushed off the loose snow.
“How am I doing?” he asked cheerfully.
How do you go about telling someone who already lacks confidence that their efforts are pathetic, the results comical, and that they would have more chance of mastering the art of flight if they stood still and waited to sprout feathers?
She forced a smile. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”
Four days out from Lechem, and she was beginning to regret bitterly her promise to teach him the lore of flying cloak and staff. During the next two hops; first to Alveth and then to the outer settlement of Koen, which was little more than a jumble of huts and a recharge station, she had managed to stall him on the grounds that the daylight hours were taken up with flying their avionic, and that training in the dark wasn’t viable. Not to mention the fact that they both needed their rest. However, on the third day when they set down on the plateau and continued their journey on foot at Boxx’s direction, she found she had run out of excuses.
It was not that she didn’t want to teach him exactly. But something in her was reluctant to give up her cloak and staff to anyone. The staff and cloak were all that she had of value in this world. They were tools, enabling her to survive and protect others. Yet it was more than that. In some insidious way, they had become a part of her. They represented who and what she was. Handing them over felt like handing over an arm or a leg. Her original darkwood staff had already been snapped in two during the battle with the Kharthrun serpent, and it was only by dint of the wildest good fortune that she had been granted Saccath’s staff as a replacement. If it or her flying cloak were to be damaged in this world…
There was also the fact that by Rael’s own admission, these uplands were by no means free of predatory species. He assured her that they were unlikely to encounter any murghal; the rime slayers tended to infest the high mountain slopes where it was coldest. However, there was the ever-present danger that they could suddenly be surrounded by a pack of valthar, or worse. So Shann settled on a compromise. She would lend him the cloak or the staff, but not both at the same time. That way, she could feel safe to some extent, and at the same time retain at least a part of her identity.
She started the way Lyall had with her: learn how to avoid a fight before you learn how to get into one. Use the cloak to escape trouble and to gain a decisive advantage in height and momentum. She helped him adjust the collar, then stood back to view her handiwork. The cloak was too small for him, making him look faintly ridiculous. However, she doggedly persisted, taking him through the control basics. After his first few inept attempts she was reminded of her own early training. She had got better with time; so would he. Patience, encouragement and a touch of humour to put the student at ease–that was all that was needed.
Only he did not get better. By the middle of the second morning on the plateau, it was becoming evident that the boy had severe problems with coordination. It seemed as if his limbs had a mind of their own. He was trying his best, but it was hopeless. At this rate, the only way he would ever manage to defeat a Keltar would be if the unfortunate fellow laughed himself to death.
Boxx sat upright, regarding their antics with an air of detached incomprehension. Then it dropped down on all sixes and led the way forward once more. A freezing wind had blasted the trees and bushes of their leaves like bones flayed of their skin. Overhead, dull grey clouds offered the promise of more snow. By midday the promise was fulfilled, and the air was blowing snow into their faces. Rael called a halt and they sat, huddled under a hastily erected lean-to, waiting for the worst of it to pass.
Boxx lay next to Shann with its head on the ground. Rael, still wearing her cloak, was seated on her other side. He began speaking in low tones. “Shann, do you know where we are going?”
“We are going to find the Chandara–Boxx’s people,” she replied.
“No, I mean, where exactly.”
“No,” she admitted. “We are following Boxx. It knows where it’s going.”
“Are you sure of that?” he challenged.
“What are you talking about?”
“I have been checking our course using the wayfinder,” Rael whispered. “You see that hill over there?”
“Uh-huh.”
“We passed by it late yesterday,” he said. “By my reckoning, for the first few ornahs we headed northeast from the edge of the plateau where we landed. But since then, we have been travelling in circles.”
Shann frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Shann, I’m sure. I can’t help but wonder if…”
“What?” she demanded.
“I can’t help but wonder if it is too old–too senile to separate fact from fiction. Does it really know that its people are here? Or is it just engaged in wishful thinking?” Shann was silent for a moment, digesting the implications. “Shann, look around you. There’s nothing up here. No signs of a Chandara community, and certainly no Great Tree. Nothing. Look, I’ll continue to follow for as long as you think it’s necessary. I just thought you should be aware, that’s all.”
It was true that the creature did not even seem to know how old it was. Could it be that it was so aged that its mind had gone? “Hey, Boxx,” she said cheerfully.
It lifted its round head. “Yes, Shann?”
“How much longer till we meet up with your people?”
“I Do Not Know.”
“But you know where they are, right?”
“Yes, Shann. But They Do Not Know Where We Are.”
Here we go again. “I’m not sure I understand,” she said.
“We Are Here. They Are Here. We Cannot See Them. They Must See Us.”
Shann could feel the old headache returning, the one she always seemed to get when she got into an extended conversation with the Chandara. “Could we…let them know that we’re here somehow?”
“No,” it replied. “To Speak To Us Is Of Their Choosing.”
They had food supplies with them, but not enough for an extended stay. “Boxx, we can’t stay here forever,” she pointed out.
It looked up at her, its tiny black eyes unreadable. “Patience, Shann,” it trilled. Then it laid its head back on the ground.
She turned to Rael. The boy returned her look, then hugged his knees and stared out across the snow-white upland.
~
By the following morning, the wind had eased up but the snow was still falling gently. They took down the shelter, gathered their belongings and resumed their weary trek. Shann felt as if she were being pulled in two different directions. Their search for the Chandara was beginning to look increasingly fruitless. However, abandoning it would mean abandoning all hope of finding Annata’s instrument. Their only other hope would be if Rael could build his “gravity wave” device, as he called it, but he had already told her several times that he had absolutely no idea how to do that. “It would be far beyond our current level of technology,” he insisted. In that case it seemed to her that the only thing to do was to continue the search till their supplies ran out–then leave, re-stock and return. She could think of no other option.
They were entering a cut in a small line of hills. Snow had accumulated in the gap, so that their boots sank farther into the deepening drifts. Shann could feel both the numbing cold and the growing paralysis of despair. She had come all this way, journeyed across two worlds and faced untold dangers–and all for what? To end up going round in circles? Rael was right. There was no Great Tree here. She had grown to care for the Chandara, was even fond of it in a way, though so many of her own race despised the creatures. But if indeed its mind had gone, then they were all wasting their time. They might as well all go back to Kieroth and wait for the end. At least there they could spend their last few days warm and well fed, rather than trudging through the snow, frozen cold and starving.
Rael’s voice from behind jerked her back to the present. “Look.”
Her eyes followed to where he was pointing and then she saw it. A tiny lone figure stood a short distance ahead of them, blocking their path. It was covered in a ragged brown cloth, which was folded around its body and swept over its head as a hood. It was grasping some kind of a stick or a staff, which it had planted in the snow. She followed Boxx, struggling through the deep drifts, whilst not taking her eyes off the creature. It continued to stand there regarding them–neither advancing nor fleeing. It appeared to be waiting for them. Now that she was close enough to see, there could be no doubt what the creature was. Chandara.
However, it was like no Chandara she had ever seen before. Aside from its coverings, it appeared gaunt–emaciated. As she approached, it raised its staff in the air and made a warbling cry. Shann stopped in her tracks and peered through the flurries of snow. Above and behind them, dozens of small figures appeared out of nowhere, bearing staves or spears. They were all clad in the same rough hooded garb.
Shann raised a flattened palm, signalling Rael and Boxx that they should hold their ground. She fixed her gaze on the lone figure ahead, being careful to keep her other hand well away from her staff. The next move was theirs.
She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. A crudely hewn spear landed flat in the snow at her feet. Shann did not move. She had not come all this way to fight Boxx’s people. She raised her voice so that the whole assembly could hear. “We mean you no harm. We are here with one of your kind.” She indicated Boxx with a slight movement of her head. “We only wish to talk.”
The creatures stood immobile, like statues frozen amid the falling snow. Did they hear me? She was about to try again when she saw something approaching. It was tall, easily twice the height of the shelled creatures and dressed in all black attire. The tall figure came up behind the Chandara that was standing in their path and spoke to it. There was a brief exchange; the Chandara responding with its familiar chirping. Then the tall figure moved forward, approaching their position. There was something familiar about the bearing–the elegance of movement. The stranger stopped and pushed back the hood. Long raven tresses spilled forth, framing angular features and eyes the colour of midnight. Keris.
Shann opened her mouth, then closed it again. Finally, she managed to gather her wits. “Keris? What are you doing here?”
“That was going to be my question,” the tall woman replied. “I am gratified to see you are still alive. However, I am engaged in some difficult negotiations right now. Your arrival complicates matters.” Her eyes flicked over Shann’s shoulder, taking in Boxx and Rael. “That boy you have brought with you, can he be trusted?” Shann had exchanged no more than a few words with Keris, but already the woman’s arrogance and overbearing attitude were causing her hackles to rise.
Shann raised her head, meeting the challenge head-on. “I trust Rael completely.”
Keris gazed at her for a long moment, as if weighing her statement. “Very well. Follow me closely.” She turned and headed up the divide, not waiting for a response.
Shann could see no other alternative other than to comply. She waved the others forward and hurried to catch up to the other woman. There was something she had to know. “Lyall, Alondo. Are they…?”
“They live.” The tall woman did not turn or speak further.
Shann’s heart leapt at the news. There was so much more she wanted to ask, but now was clearly not the time. She glanced left and right. The Chandara stood on their hind legs like ragged sentinels, watching them, but making no move to hinder their passage. After a short distance, they reached a narrow cave entrance in the hillside. Keris led the way inside, brushing the snow from her shoulders. Rael caught up and touched Shann on the shoulder. “You know this person?”
“Yes.” She raised her voice, making sure that the other woman could hear. “This is Keris. She was formerly Keltar–servant to the Prophet. She crossed the Great Barrier with us.”
Keris made no reaction. “This way.” The cave became a passage that angled downward. The walls were smooth, too regular to be natural, and adorned at regular intervals with glowing vines that suffused this subterranean world with a soft, cold luminescence. After a short distance the passageway split left and right. Keris headed left. A few Chandara they passed eyed them distantly. Finally, they reached an adjoining chamber and Keris ushered them inside. “All right, I don’t have much time, so listen carefully. You will need to stay here for the time being. I would advise against trying to leave. There are no guards, but the Chandara know everything that goes on here somehow, and they will prevent you. They call this place ‘The Warren’. Its layout is similar to a wheel. This is the Outer Warren. The centre or Inner Warren is barred to all creatures except Chandara. Under no circumstances should you attempt to go there.”
“Why? What’s there?” Rael asked.
Keris looked him up and down. “I have no idea. All I know is that Kelanni are strictly forbidden from going anywhere near. If you do, I will not be able to guarantee your safety. These Chandara are very different from Boxx or his people. They are…traumatised. I cannot say more for now. My best advice is to do exactly as they tell you. I have to leave now, but I will return as soon as I can.”
Boxx scuttled over and tugged at Keris’ flying cloak. “I Must Speak To My People. I Have A Gift.”
Keris’ voice was kindly but firm. “Maybe later.” Her cloak whirled about her as she turned and re-entered the passageway.
“Where are you going?” Shann demanded.
Keris looked back, her face a mask of stone. “I’m going to try and get you a stay of execution.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 26
“She was kidding, right?”
Shann was sitting on the floor of what had now become a prison, despite the fact that there was no door. There was also no furniture. The Chandara it seemed, had no use for such things. She roused herself from her inner thoughts and looked up at Rael. “What?”
“The crack about getting us a stay of execution. That was a joke, wasn’t it?”
Shann lowered her eyes. “Keltar never joke.”
“But what about Boxx?” he argued. “It’s one of their own.”
Shann shook her head. “I don’t know. These Chandara are not the same as the ones in our world. It’s hard to say what they might or might not do.”
Rael stood and began to pace the chamber. “This is not right.”
Shann sighed. “What do you mean, ‘not right’?”
He indicated the stone walls. “This…their living here, underground. They’re supposed to be forest dwellers. They’re also supposed to be extinct.”
Shann recalled their conversation from before. “You told me that the forest they used to live in was some way north of here.”
“That’s right, although…something happened to it just prior to the war with the hu-mans. The whole forest died somehow.”
“Died? How can an entire forest die?” she asked.
Rael shrugged. “Disease? Drought? I don’t know. Plant biology was never my speciality.”
“So when their forest died, the Chandara came here.”
“Yes but why here?” He raised his arms, appealing to the heavens. “You would think that forest creatures would move to another forest; not start burrowing into the ground. It’s like…I don’t know…murghal moving to the desert. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Maybe we should ask an expert. “Boxx?”
The creature perked up. “Yes, Shann?”
“What is this place?” she enquired.
Boxx replied without hesitation. “It Is A Hatchery.”
“It’s a what?” Rael exclaimed.
“It Is The Beginning. The Start Of All Things. Yet These Are Not Hatchlings. Hence It Is Also The End. Only A Gift And A Promise Can Prevent It.”
“A gift and a promise?” Shann repeated.
“Mine Is The Gift; Yours Is The Promise.”
Rael had stopped his pacing and was deep in thought. “Hatchlings…this place has to do with their reproductive cycle.” Shann remembered a humorous discussion she had once had with Alondo concerning Chandara reproduction. They had speculated on it, but neither of them had had the courage to actually ask Boxx the question. “They are a long-lived species–much longer than us, by all accounts,” Rael continued, “but they do not live forever. So they must have a reproductive method of some kind. Maybe…maybe the destruction of their natural environment triggered it?”
“No,” Boxx returned.
Rael was not going to be put off. “A hatchery implies eggs. That would explain why these Chandara are so…protective. It’s natural for a species to defend its eggs.”
“No. There Are No Eggs Here,” Boxx insisted.
“How could you know that?” Shann asked.
“There Has Been No Change. We Change. We Eat. We Remember.”
“That was what it told me before.” She looked up at Rael. “I still have no idea what it means.”
Rael addressed Boxx. “So you’re saying this is a hatchery with no eggs?”
“Yes, Rael,” the creature replied.
Rael threw up his hands in resignation.
“Yes, well right now we have more immediate problems,” Shann pointed out. “Chief among which would be staying alive.”
“You don’t trust your friend to come through for us?” Rael asked.
“Let’s just say it wouldn’t hurt to have a contingency plan in place. If it looks as if things are going badly, then we should look for an opportunity to make a break for it. Keep your eye on me and wait for my signal. As for right now…” She pulled her blanket out of her pack. “…I’m going to get some sleep.”
Rael blinked. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” she answered. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. Whatever our captors intend for us, I’m fairly sure we are safe, for the moment at least. This place is the first warmth and shelter I’ve known in two days, and I intend to make the most of it.” Shann bedded down and watched as Rael and Boxx followed her lead. Boxx simply lay with its head on the floor. The last thing she noticed before she drifted off was that the Chandara had what looked like a tear in the corner of its eye.
Later, when she finally came to, she raised herself up and looked around their open cell. Rael was curled up in one corner, still asleep. Of Boxx, however, there was no sign.
~
Keris stood in the middle of the largest chamber of the Outer Warren, surrounded by Chandara. She could not help but be reminded of the Great Tree in the Forest of Illaryon where she had received the message from the past. But these were not the quirky forest-dwelling creatures of her world, jostling and climbing over one another like impatient children. These Chandara were stoic, standing erect on their hind limbs, decked in rough coverings and still as statues.
She had spent the last two days learning about them–trying to gain their trust. It had been an uphill struggle. Her first encounter had been similar to that of Shann and the others; confronted, then surrounded by the creatures. Their distrust of anything on two legs was evident. Keris had shown them the map and explained about Annata.
“Annata Helped Us When The Great Tree Withered,” explained a wizened Chandara that seemed to have been nominated as their spokesman. “Led Us To Where We Could Build The Warren. Then She Told Us Of You; That You Would Come To Our World.”
Keris crouched so as to bring herself down to the creature’s level. “I have come here now because I need your help. I need to know the location of the instrument that Annata concealed.”
“I Cannot Help You,” it stated flatly.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because It Will Make No Difference. This Is The End. The End Of Our Race. Nothing Can Change That. I Cannot Help You.”
Keris was an investigator, not a diplomat. She was the first to admit that she was not skilled in the art of negotiation. But she could not leave it at that. There was too much at stake. She had been told that she was free to come and go, but that on no account was she permitted to enter the area known as the Inner Warren–the hub of this wheel-like complex. Her investigator’s curiosity was naturally aroused, but she was disciplined enough not to risk wrecking these discussions and incurring the wrath of her hosts by flouting the older Chandara’s instructions. Somehow she had to convince them, and the key to that seemed to be to try and understand their current plight. Clearly the loss of their Great Tree had something to do with it. It seemed that the Tree was more than just their home–they depended on it somehow. “The Great Tree Stores Our Essence–Our Memories Of Who We Are, Throughout All The Generations,” it croaked sadly. “Now All Of That Is Gone. Gone Forever.”
“But you said Annata brought you here to preserve your race,” Keris pointed out.
It looked at her, its eyes black points set deep in a wrinkled face. “Annata Does Not Comprehend. The Tree Is In The Chandara And The Chandara Are In The Tree. Each Cannot Exist Without The Other. The Tree Stores Our Essence During The Change. Now There Will Be No Change. It Is The End Of All Things.”
In the library of Kynedyr, Keris had told the image of Annata that she was prepared to end her own life to keep the location of this place a secret in order to preserve the Chandara as a race. Yet it now seemed that Annata had been wrong. There was more to their survival than simply keeping them hidden–much more. Unfortunately, however, Keris could think of no way to help them. The only living Great Tree that she knew of was the one in her world, and there was clearly no way to transport dozens, maybe hundreds of Chandara across the Great Barrier. Even if it could be done, it might not be a good idea. If the Tree was indeed essential to their survival, then it seemed reasonable that it would support a given number of Chandara. Introducing a massive new influx of the creatures to the Forest of Illaryon could potentially threaten the delicate balance there and destroy both populations. She had to face the fact that this group of Chandara might indeed be doomed, as they believed. Sometimes, whole herds of animals would die out due to changes in climate or other circumstances. It was sad, but it was the natural order of things. Still, the fact remained that she needed the information these Chandara possessed. Perhaps if she made an appeal to compassion. “Without the instrument, my people, the Kelanni, will cease to exist,” she told it. “It will be ‘the end of all things’ for us.”
“Kelanni Came. Cut Down Our Forest. Our Forest Died. We Should Not Preserve Those Who Destroyed Us.”
Keris’ mind suddenly went back to her conversation with the crazy old-timer in Kieroth. He had said something about being involved in logging operations in the forest of Atarah. The Chandara had come to view what they were doing. They had even objected, but the loggers had chosen to ignore them. Not long after, the forest had begun to die. Could it be that the Chandara saw those events as connected somehow? “Kelanni did not destroy your forest,” she countered. Yet even as she was saying it, Keris realised that she could not know that for certain. Many Kelanni here shared the same distaste for the Chandara as did the people of her own world, and they were capable of feats that her people were not. It was tempting to blame the Unan-Chinneroth; that would certainly serve her purpose if it were true. But again, she had no proof. Annata had said that she did not believe that what had happened was natural, but she could be wrong. In the final analysis, it was Kelanni who had been seen cutting down their forest. She could hardly blame the Chandara for their conclusion.
She had retired to marshal her arguments. Then the last thing she could have anticipated happened–Shann and the others had turned up. She had been delighted to see that Boxx had survived–the girl too. But it was not the time for overt displays of emotion. She needed a way to keep them in check while she figured out her next move. There is no more effective paralysing agent than the fear of impending death. Yet now as she cast her eyes around the dimly lit cavern and the silent ranks of Chandara, she was reminded the threat was real and that it was hanging not just over those three, but over all of them. It was the price of failure.
The aged Chandara emerged from the ranks of the other creatures and stood before her, leaning on its gnarled staff. “You Have Brought Strangers Among Us.”
“I know two of them,” she admitted, “but I did not bring them here. They…I believed them to have perished on our journey here across the sea.”
“Then Why Have They Come?” the creature asked in its thin, high voice.
“They are here for the same reason I am. To learn the whereabouts of the instrument. Annata preserved it here for us–for the Kelanni to use.” Keris raised her voice so that all in attendance could hear. “I ask that you reveal its location in deference to her memory, and out of respect for all that she tried to do for your people.”
There was a high-pitched murmur among the assembled throng. Finally it was the older Chandara that spoke again. “Root And Branch Are Not The Same. Kelanni Of Before Are Not Kelanni Of Now. One Is A Preserver. The Other A Destroyer.”
“The ‘Kelanni of now’ do not seek your destruction,” she insisted. “What has happened to you is…a great sadness. But I do not believe my people are responsible.”
“Kelanni Despise Chandara. Does Keris Deny This?”
It was neither the time for deception, nor for false promises. “I admit that some among my people do not treat Chandara with kindness or respect. Yet that is because they have not come to know your people as I have. The only future for both of our races is for us to work together and learn to trust each other, as we have in the past.”
“Before Is Lost To Us.” The old Chandara’s voice quivered. “Gone With The Death Of The Great Tree. There Is Only Now.”
“Before Is Not Lost.” Keris started at the voice from behind her. She spun around to see Boxx standing erect, eyes as bright as coals. “I Am Sent By The Chandara Of My World. I Bring A Gift.” Boxx shuffled past Keris before she could react and took up a position before its wrinkled counterpart. Slowly it raised its upper forelimb, hand outward, three digits splayed open. The old Chandara raised its forelimb and placed its palm against Boxx’s palm. Keris took a step back as a soft luminescence appeared where their palms met. Their mouths rippled silently. The creatures surrounding them stood stock still, watching the display without reaction. Then, just as suddenly, the light died and the two Chandara from different worlds parted hands. Keris was filled with a strange feeling of reverence, as if she had just witnessed a miracle.
The old Chandara addressed her. Its voice sounded stronger, somehow. “I Would Speak With Boxx. I Ask That You Wait Outside.” Keris bowed once and exited the chamber. She did not relish the thought of losing control–of placing her destiny in the hands of another person. But it was apparent that Boxx had somehow made more of a connection to these creatures with a “handshake” than she had managed in two days of fruitless negotiations. Keris was astute enough to realise that she should not attempt to interfere. Yet merely making a connection was not enough. They needed the location of Drani-Kathaar, the place of testing.
Aeons passed. Finally, Boxx emerged alone. It stood erect on its hind limbs and cocked its round head to one side. “Keris, Please Follow.”
Keris fell into step. “Where are we going?”
“First We Go To Collect Shann And Rael. Then I Wish To Show You All Something.”
“What are you going to show us?” Keris asked, intrigued.
“Something No Kelanni Eyes Have Ever Beheld.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 27
As soon as they turned into a connecting tunnel that represented one of the spokes of the wheel-shaped network, Keris realised their destination–the Inner Warren, the very hub of the Chandara complex.
“Boxx,” Keris hissed, concerned as to whether any of the creatures might be listening. “The…chief of your people warned me. No Kelanni are permitted here.”
“It Is All Right, Keris,” Boxx trilled. “We Have Agreed. Kelanni Must See If They Are To Understand. Each Must Trust The Other If We Are To Survive.”
And you communicated all of that with a handshake? Some handshake. Their footfalls sounded hollow against the smooth stone walls. Several of the shelled creatures shuffled past, but did not react to their presence. The passage bent gradually to the right. A light appeared ahead of them, which grew into an opening, and they finally stepped out into a high chamber.
Keris squinted in the dazzling illumination that flooded down from above. Set into the ceiling were a profusion of the light-bearing vines, ending in bulbous appendages that shone like tiny suns. As her eyes grew accustomed to the brightness, she looked to the centre of the immense chamber and was unable to stifle a gasp. Occupying the middle of the cavern was…a Great Tree. It was far smaller than the full-grown Trees in the forests of Illaryon and Atarah, but it was here, unmistakeable. Growing in the midst of an underground cave.
Luxuriant purple foliage shone in the overhead illumination. Dozens of Chandara were moving around and over the spreading Tree, climbing its trunk or scurrying along its leafy branches, like courtiers attending their sovereign. As she watched with a growing sense of wonder, she saw the boy Shann had called Rael move out into the chamber ahead of them, eyes as wide as the cavern itself. “This is…incredible,” he breathed.
“It’s beautiful,” Shann said.
“This That You See; This Is Our Beginning.” Boxx extended its forelimb, taking in the wide chamber. “Seed And Eggs Are Placed In The Warren. The Eggs Hatch. The Seed Breaks Forth. Hatchlings Sustain The Tree. The Tree Sustains The Hatchlings. The Tree Grows; Pushes Up Into The Sun’s Light. Chandara Move With It, Plant The Forest. The Tree And The Forest Are One. The Chandara And The Tree Are One.”
“Symbiosis,” Rael blurted out. The others regarded him curiously. “It’s talking about symbiosis. Like…like flowers and insects, for example. Flowers provide insects with nectar, and at the same time, rely on them for pollination. Some flowers even rely on particular insects. Yet…something’s not right here.” He turned to Boxx. “These are not hatchlings, are they?”
“No, Rael,” Boxx answered.
“What does that mean?” Shann asked.
“I’m not sure, but the life cycles of the Chandara and their Great Tree are intertwined somehow.” Rael gazed at the subterranean tree and the shining nodules overhead. “The young Chandara nurture the seedling, provide it with light energy. But symbiosis is two-way. What benefit do the Chandara receive?”
“The Tree Is Memory. All The Memory Of The Chandara From Before. From The Deep Lore Of The Forest To The Movements Of The Stars. From The Passing Of The Seasons To The Flow Of Heat And Cold. From The Times Of Ice To The Times Of Fire.”
“You mean your racial memories are stored within the Tree?” Rael probed. “How far back? From before the Goratha?”
Boxx raised its head. “From A Time Before The Kelanni Existed.”
Rael looked as if he had just been poleaxed. “Th-that’s impossible.”
“Why?” Keris demanded. “How long ago are we talking?”
“Thousands of generations. Millions of turns…if what it’s saying is true. But even so, there must be something else,” Rael mused. “Memories are important, but they are not essential for survival.”
“They Are, For We Chandara,” Boxx chimed in.
“How so?” Rael asked.
“We Change. We Eat. We Remember.”
Rael put a hand to his forehead. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”
“My Time Approaches. You Will Know Me No More.” Boxx said.
Shann looked stricken. “You…you mean you’re going to die?”
“Chandara Stay By Their Tree. It…Sustains Us–Lengthens Our Existence To Match The Span Of The Great Tree Itself–So That Our Cycles Coincide. If We Are Away From Our Tree For More Than A Small March Of Days, Our Cycle…Moves Faster. My Time Will Come Soon, Before That Of The Others. And There Will Be No Great Tree For Me. My Essence Will Be Lost.”
“If you need a Great Tree, why can’t you use the one here?” Rael suggested.
“This Tree Is Immature. It Will Not Possess The Ability To Preserve Essence For Many Turns. When The Time Arrives For These Chandara, Their Tree Will Not Be Ready. They Too Will Die.”
“Then why did they plant it?” Keris regretted the question as soon as she asked it. It sounded somehow irreverent.
Boxx however, did not seem to be disturbed. “The Tree And The Chandara Are One,” it piped. “Chandara Have Lived With The Tree Since The Beginning. It Is Our Way.”
Keris looked at the others. Rael, the tall wiry boy from this world who seemed to be full of answers, suddenly had none. He was frowning, staring at the floor of the cavern. Shann’s eyes were averted. She seemed close to tears. Keris too felt the sadness welling up in her chest. She, who found it so difficult to relate to members of her own race, had somehow formed a connection to this odd creature of the forest. The idea that it might soon be gone…“Is there anything we can do to help?” she asked.
“Yes, Keris.” Boxx dropped to all sixes and trotted toward the middle of the chamber. The others looked at each other, then followed in silence. The creatures tending the Tree stopped at their approach as if responding to an unspoken command. Boxx stood on its hind limbs, reached up and touched the bole. It was smooth, new wood–far different from the ancient folded bark of the Tree in the Forest of Illaryon. It found a particular spot, then its mouth began to ripple slightly. A soft glow appeared between its palm and the trunk of the Tree. At length, the lambency ebbed and Boxx withdrew its forelimb.
Keris stepped up to the shelled creature. Instinctively, she knew what had happened. “You have given this Tree your memories.”
“Not Just My Memories, Keris. The Memories Of My Tree. That Is The Kablos–The Gift.” It looked at each of them with an expression Keris could not read. “Annata Told Us How The Great Tree Here Had Died Along With The Forest And How She Led Chandara Here To Preserve Them. But Annata Did Not Know–Did Not Comprehend–That The Cycle Had Been Broken. That The Chandara Could Not Survive Without Their Tree And The Memories Within. I Was Designated Boxx To Save Kelanni. But I Was Also Sent By My People To Help Chandara Here. To Carry The Gift.”
Shann smiled, though her eyes were still wet. “So the Chandara here will survive, now?”
“No, Shann.” Boxx cocked its head to one side. “Two Things Are Needed For Life. One Is A Reason To Live. The Other Is The Means. I Have Given Them A Reason. Kelanni Of This World Must Give Them The Means. When The Time Comes, Kelanni Must Promise To Provide What The Tree Cannot.”
“And how do we do that?” Keris asked.
Kelanni Must Put Aside Fear And Distrust. They Must Take In Chandara. Nurture Them. Feed Them Their Essence.” It looked at each of them in turn. “I Have Told Chandara Here You Will Make The Promise.”
Keris was beginning to see where this was heading. “And in return, they will reveal the location of Drani-Kathaar.”
“No, Keris.” It felt like a mild rebuke. “Chandara Here Have Already Told Me The Where Of The Place Of Trials. They Will Provide Food For The Journey And An Escort As Far As The Edge Of The Plateau.”
“But, how do they know whether we–whether the Kelanni will agree to help them?” Rael asked.
“I…Shared My Memories Of You All. The Fellowship. The Trust. My Trust Is Now Their Trust.”
“Yes, but what about the rest of my people?” Rael continued. “How can you be sure they will cooperate?”
“You Will Share Your Memories With Them.”
“I’m not sure that will be enough to convince them. But I will do everything in my power to try,” Rael declared.
Shann stood next to the boy and raised her head. “As will I.”
Boxx turned to the tall woman. “And You, Keris?”
Keris gazed over the wide grotto, the vegetal lights shining down from above, the native six-limbed Chandara and the living miracle of the hypogeal Tree. By the time her eyes alighted on the little forest creature once more, they were resolute. “I will make the Kelanni here cooperate,” she said, “even if I have to beat their heads together to do it.”
~
Keris, Shann and Rael stood together in the cavern and watched as the Chandara resumed caring for the Tree.
Boxx stood on its hind limbs and addressed them. “We Must Travel To Drani-Kathaar. Where Are The Others?”
“Others?” Rael asked.
“The Others Of Your Kind. Lyall, Alondo And Patris.”
“They are quite safe,” Keris replied. At least they were when I left them. They should all be waiting in Kieroth.”
“All Must Travel To Drani-Kathaar. Time Is Short.”
“Yes, well there we could have a problem,” Rael called from behind. “My father’s avionic has only two seats, but there are four of us. We managed to bring Boxx here by having it squeeze into the front seat next to Shann. But I’m afraid transporting four is out of the question.”
“Then Boxx and I will travel directly to Drani-Kathaar on foot.” Keris declared. “You and Rael should return to Kieroth and bring the other three to the place of trials. Boxx and I will be waiting for you there.”
“So, where is this place?” Rael asked.
Keris reached inside her tunic and pulled out a folded paper–Annata’s map. She crouched down to Boxx’s level and opened it out in front of the little shelled creature. “Can you show us on this?”
Boxx regarded the map briefly, then extended a forelimb. The middle of its three fingers touched the paper. “Drani-Kathaar,” it said.
Keris made a mark on the spot, then handed the paper to the boy. “Here. Do you know where that is?”
Rael studied the map for some moments. “Yes, I believe I do. This is fascinating.” He turned his attention to Shann next to him. Shann scowled, as if anything that came from Keris must be contaminated somehow. Rael ignored the reaction. “This is the ancient ruined city of Kynedyr, and this here is the Warren, where we have just come from. So this–way to the south across the Vannath range of mountains–must be the Tower of Akalon; the twin of the one that you and I discovered, deep in the Cathgorn Mountains. The ‘Place of Trials’ seems to be right by there. And if I’m not mistaken…”
“What?” Shann demanded.
“Well the location seems to coincide with a place we know simply as ‘The Dais’,” Rael explained. “I read about it once. It’s nothing more than a raised metal platform, about a hundred and fifty ryns across. It dates from ancient times, but it isn’t classed as an ancient site because there’s nothing there–other than the platform, that is. Archaeologists say it was probably used for ceremonial purposes, but they say that about anything when they haven’t a clue what it is.” He turned to Keris. “Where did you get this?”
“I…encountered an old friend. That’s how I found out where the Chandara were.”
“Really,” Rael said. “I’d like to meet your friend some time.”
So would I, Keris mused. So would I.
~
The Chandara of the Warren were as good as their word to Boxx. Waiting for them in their cubicle, they found a stockpile of food, from which the three Kelanni were able to fill their packs. As they made their way back through the cave network, Chandara moved to allow their passage. At the entrance, four Chandara waited, standing erect on hind limbs, dressed in homespun brown coverings and carrying short spears. Their promised escort. One of them cocked its head to one side and addressed Boxx. “Kablos. You Honour Us. We Will Accompany You And Kelanni. You Will Be Safe With Us.” Keris marvelled at the creatures’ altered disposition. With a single touch, Boxx had transformed despair into hope. Keris was absolutely determined that that hope should not be disappointed. We owe them at least that much.
However, it seemed that trust did not come as easily to Kelanni as it did to Boxx’s people. Since Keris and Shann had been reunited, they had spoken little beyond the bare essentials. Both women wore the same ebon tunic and trousers–the same dark flying cloak which flapped gently in the wind. Their uniform marked them as allies, yet there was an unmistakeable gulf between them. The boy had looked from one to the other curiously as they walked, but said nothing.
Keris was genuinely glad that the girl had somehow survived their tempestuous passage through the Great Barrier, along with Boxx. Yet when Shann glanced at her, Keris felt once more the cold flash of resentment. Perhaps it’s my fault. When she had first joined the party near the desert fortress of Gort, she had seriously questioned Lyall’s selection of travelling companions. A musician and a kitchen hand. She had made her disdain all too clear in the way she had dealt with them both. However, as time went on, she had gained a grudging respect for both Alondo and Shann, and had been forced to admit that there had been wisdom in Lyall’s choices. She had found Alondo’s irrepressible cheerfulness irritating at first, yet that cheerfulness had held their party together through thick and thin. And through his apparent physical weakness, she failed to discern a tactical sense at least as keen as her own, one that had proved decisive during the skirmish at the tower on the Eastern Plain.
Similarly, it had been easy to dismiss Shann as a petulant child, but the girl was intelligent and learned quickly. What she lacked in height and reach, she more than made up for in speed and agility, and in grit and determination. At the tower, she had held her own against a trained Keltar. And during the encounter with Saccath on Annata’s Reach, she had fought with uncommon bravery, armed with nothing more than a paddle. She reminded Keris more than a little of herself at that age, though without the girl’s fiery disposition. Had Keris still been in service to the Prophet, she might well have recommended her to the keep at Chalimar for training as Keltar.
Yet Shann clearly wanted neither her admiration nor her respect. During their voyage on the Reach, she had made it known that she held Keris responsible for the excesses committed in the Prophet’s name. Yet it seemed deeper than that–as if she held Keris responsible for some personal tragedy. No doubt there would be many who would feel the same way toward a former Keltar. Even if I succeed in defeating the Prophet, I will probably have to deal with those kinds of attitudes for the rest of my life. And who is to say that I don’t deserve it?
Keris had no idea how to reach out to her. The best thing to do seemed to be not to try, but rather to allow the girl her space. Hence the return journey to the edge of the plateau was conducted largely in silence. Keris took the lead along with two of the Chandara escort. Shann and Rael followed, with Boxx shuffling along beside Shann. The remaining two Chandara covered the vanguard. The snow had stopped falling, but there were no suns visible. They marched together under a leaden sky.
Finally, they reached the spot where the avionic rested. Keris stood with the Chandara and watched Shann and the boy, Rael, climb aboard the tiny flying craft. It looked far too fragile–too precarious to bear a person aloft into the far reaches of the sky. Rather you than me. Rael started the machine up, and then shouted above the growing whir of the fans.
“Safe journey. We will meet you at Drani-Kathaar.” The girl in the front seat turned her head and said something to Rael that Keris could not hear. Then the cockpit canopy came down and the fans rose in pitch. Moments later, the flying machine lifted off the ground, turned one hundred and eighty degrees and shot away toward the west. Keris watched until the sound of the engines died away and the avionic was a distant point against the clouds.
She turned to the little shelled creature that was looking up at her expectantly. “Time to go.”
“A Moment,” Boxx chirped.
It scuttled over to the other four Chandara that made up their escort. The five of them stood erect on their hind limbs in a circle and touched hands. Then they lifted their round heads, closed their eyes, and their mouths began to ripple. Harmonious voices filled the air, growing in pitch and varying in cadence. The Chandara were…singing. Their voices were ethereal, like nothing she had ever heard before. Keris listened in awe and wonder as the air was filled with the achingly beautiful melody. Snowflakes began to drift down lazily over the high plateau. Could it actually be that this madrigal had first sounded forth at a time before Kelanni had appeared in this world? Finally, the song died away and the creatures lowered their heads once more. The Chandara escort slowly turned away, and Boxx made its way back to where Keris stood.
“Time To Go,” it said.
<><><><><>
Chapter 28
Their sleek silver craft swooped in low over the snowy plains. Shann watched as the familiar structures of Kieroth grew in her vision. She spotted the recharge station with its single squat construction, surrounded by slumbering avionics, glinting in the late afternoon suns. The landing field passed beneath them, and their flying machine continued on toward the town.
Shann called out to the boy seated behind her. “Where are we headed?”
“I’m going to set her down at the observatory,” he said.
“You’re going straight to Hannath?”
Rael chuckled. “I may as well. I’d rather not run into Ravid right now. The last time I saw him, I knocked him to the ground and stole one of his machines. I imagine he’d probably wish me ‘good day’, then knock my teeth out.”
And you think the reception from Hannath is going to be any better? Shann had known this day would come. With all that had happened since their hasty departure from Kieroth, it had been easy to forget that one day they were going to have to come back and face the music. Rael had told her that he didn’t think it was likely that he would lose his position at the observatory, but Shann was astute enough to realise there was no guarantee of that. The boy had placed his career, his future on the line to help her. It was something that had bothered her ever since they had left. Now, if he were censured, she didn’t think she would forgive herself.
The high dome of the observatory came into view, dominating the snow-covered hill west of the town. Shann could see the thin ribbon of road, and the strange cylinders that stood in the fields to either side. Rael took the avionic in a wide arc, making for the side of Hannath’s dwelling, where there was a flat area. As their craft descended, her eyes were fixed on the approaching ground. It felt odd, but she had almost come to think of this place as home. Suddenly, she caught sight of two tiny figures running from the house toward the landing ground. They were too far away to make out, except…one was wearing a distinctive red hat.
“Alondo.” she screamed. “It’s Alondo.” She began waving madly. He probably wouldn’t be able to see her inside the cockpit, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered right now other than the two people below. Their hair and clothing were being blown about madly by the downdraught from the twin fans, although impossibly, the red hat stayed firmly on. The avionic touched down and settled back on its landing struts. Shann gestured to Rael for him to pop the cockpit cover, but he seemed to take forever switching off and locking down the controls. Finally, the canopy lifted and she scrambled out and dropped to the ground. Alondo and Lyall were waiting expectantly. She ran and hugged each of them in turn. Alondo held on as if he were going to crush the breath out of her.
She hammered on his shoulder with her tiny fists. “What happened? Where were you all this time? I waited and waited. Where were you?”
Alondo tried half-heartedly to fend off the assault. “I…I’m sorry. We never gave up hope. By the time we found out you and Boxx were alive, you had already left, and no-one knew where you’d gone…Where is Boxx?”
“Boxx stayed with Keris,” she answered.
Lyall’s eyes widened. “You met up with Keris?”
“Yes, and we found the Chandara. We know where Annata’s instrument is. We have to go there together–all of us.”
Lyall put a hand on her arm. “I want to hear all about it.” He looked over her shoulder. “You must be Rael.”
Shann had not noticed the boy standing behind her. She shut her eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry. Rael. This is Lyall…and Alondo.”
The tall young Kelanni bowed formally to them in turn. “I am honoured to meet you. Shann here has told me a great deal about you–your journey here and your mission.”
“Come on, let’s get inside,” Lyall suggested. “We can get better acquainted in the warm.”
In spite of the frigid air, Shann already felt a cosy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. Lyall and Alondo were here. Now everything would be fine.
She linked arms with Alondo, and the four of them made their way across the landing field.
As they turned the corner to the front of the house, Shann saw a phaeton lying empty just inside the gate. Rael’s voice sounded just behind her. “Oh my.”
Shann twisted around. “What is it?”
“You see that crest?” Rael said, pointing to an emblem emblazoned on the carriage door. “That’s the Scientific Directorate. Hannath is receiving a visit from one of the Directors.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
Rael pursed his lips together. “Nothing. Besides, there’s no turning back now.”
~
“…and so, with all the hull damage, we were taking in too much seawater. So Patris decided that our only chance was to run the ship aground.” Lyall’s explanation was punctuated by the rhythmic ticking and whirring of the instruments that lined the walls of the sitting room.
“I know,” Shann said.
She sat in a close circle with Lyall and Alondo. Standing off in the corner, leaning against a wall, was Patris. Keris had said that they would find the sailor-thief at the observatory along with the other two, but Shann was still surprised to see him. He had not moved from the position he occupied when she had entered the room.
Rael had invited them to make themselves at home. Then he had excused himself, saying that he had to report to Hannath. Shann had almost offered to accompany him, but something stopped her. Somehow she had a feeling that her presence would probably only make things worse.
Lyall frowned. “You know?”
She nodded. “They found the wreck of Annata’s Reach. I persuaded Rael to take me there. It was obvious that she had been deliberately beached, but there was no sign of the rest of you.”
“We were attacked,” Alondo explained.
Shann leaned forward. “Attacked? By whom?”
“We don’t know,” Lyall replied. “An avionic chased us. It fired some sort of lightning. Keris’ quick thinking saved us, but I was badly injured. We had to seek shelter.”
“Where did you go?” Shann asked.
“Well,” Alondo began, “Keris found a dwelling house and kicked in one of their windows like she usually does. So they invited us to stay for supper.” Shann looked at the musician dubiously. He turned to Lyall, his hands wide in a gesture of appeal.
Lyall shrugged and smiled. “Don’t ask me. I was unconscious at the time. They were kind, though. They looked after me while I recovered.”
“Later I saw you in one of those flying carriage things,” Alondo told her.
“I knew it was you,” she said excitedly. “But by the time I returned, you were gone.”
Alondo lowered his eyes. “Keris dragged me away. She didn’t believe me. And she was afraid I would draw too much attention.” Shann scowled. The musician raised his eyes. “It wasn’t her fault, Shann. We had to be careful as we didn’t know who it was who had attacked us earlier. She was just looking out for me, that’s all.”
Go ahead. Make excuses for her.
The door opened, and Rael’s untidy mop appeared, followed by the rest of him. She stood up when she saw the boy’s studious expression. “Are you all right? What happened?”
Rael ambled over in his ungainly style and pulled up a stool. Shann moved to admit him to the circle. He tucked his legs awkwardly behind the legs of the stool. “I saw Hannath. Director Thordan was also there. Hannath spent the first twenty dahns or so yelling at me. Then it occurred to him to ask where I’d been. So I told him about the tower.”
“Tower? What tower?” Alondo put in.
“Rael and I discovered another of the vacuum displacement towers,” Shann explained, “like the one on the eastern Plains.”
“Thordan didn’t believe me,” Rael continued. “Hannath insisted that whatever I might have done, I wasn’t a liar. They started arguing. Then I showed them a small device I found there. I don’t even know what it is exactly, but I knew it would be recognised as ancient technology.”
“What did they say?” Shann asked.
Rael leaned back and laughed. “Well, for the first couple of dahns, Thordan just kept opening and closing his mouth. He looked rather like a fish out of water. I went on to tell them about my findings on the interactive properties of lodestone gas. I also said that I had another lead on an ancient site near the Tower of Akalon. I told them I needed to travel there with you all. There was immediately another argument. Thordan said I should be given leave to go. He is head of the Archaeology Division. Hannath insisted that I stay here and work on the new lodestone theory. Eventually, they reached a compromise. The Scientific Directorate will put an expedition together in the spring to investigate the tower at the location I gave them. I am to take you to the site of Drani-Kathaar, along with a drach escort. Before I leave, I will hand over my lodestone calculations to Hannath.”
Shann shook her head “I…I don’t understand. What about the avionic we…borrowed? What about Ravid?”
“After I told them of our discoveries, they didn’t seem to care about any of that. Thordan told Hannath that it was probably all just a misunderstanding.”
“That seems incredible,” Shann said.
“What can I say?” The boy shrugged. “The Science Directorate is revered here in Kieroth. If they say it was all a misunderstanding, then that’s what it was. No-one is going to contradict them, certainly not an avionics engineer. That said, I am going to go and apologise to him when all of this is over. I owe him that much. For now, though, we need to prepare. We will be setting out for Drani-Kathaar at first light tomorrow.”
“How far is it?” Lyall asked.
“It’s about a hundred met-ryns southeast of here,” Rael replied.
“That sounds a long way,” Lyall commented.
“We travel by avionic,” Rael informed them. “We should be there in five days.”
“But your machine only carries two people,” Shann pointed out. “There are five of us.”
“Actually, there will be eight people travelling. We will be taking three drach with us. So we will need four avionic craft. Plus an extra one for Keris and Boxx that we will pick up on the way.”
“They let you have four machines?” Shann’s voice expressed disbelief.
Rael smiled. “I presented them with a major advancement in our understanding of lodestone physics, not to mention the greatest ancient discovery in living memory. If I’d asked for a troupe of dancing girls, I think they’d probably have given it to me.”
“Maybe there’s a chance you could go back and request one of those?” Alondo’s straight face creased as Shann dug him in the ribs. “Oooof.”
Lyall’s eyes twinkled. He turned to Patris, who was still leaning against the wall. “You haven’t said much, Patris. Are you fine about coming with us?”
“We’re going to meet Keris, right?”
“That’s right,” Lyall affirmed.
“Then I’m definitely coming with you,” the thief said. “We have an arrangement. She owes me money.”
~
Alexander McCann sat on the dusty wooden floor of a freezing garret in a disused building in Kieroth’s workshop district. Across from him, an elderly Kelanni in a smart coat of short fur was propped up against a chimney breast, his legs splayed out in front of him. A wrap-around metal band covered his eyes, coloured lights playing across its inner surface. The Kelanni was semi-conscious. McCann checked his watch. Five more minutes for the psychotrope to take effect.
As McCann’s stubble had grown thicker and longer, his patience had grown thinner and shorter. He was fed up with shifty-eyed informants, dank basements and dark alleys. I’m an engineer, not an infiltrator. I should be back at Helice helping Lafontaine fix the QDE drive so we can get off this rock, not fooling around with these primitives. Still, carping about it wasn’t going to help. He had taken an oath to his Captain many years ago, and as an experienced spacer, he knew what that meant. In the vacuum of space, death was never more than a few metres away. Quintessence dark energy was unstable and could lead to unforeseen emergencies. Survival often depended on following protocols–on unquestioning obedience to authority. In truth, he was whoever his Captain said he was at any particular moment.
That meant that today, he was a man who had kidnapped the alien official of a planet they had been trapped on for sixteen years in order to extract information. He leafed though the creature’s paper identification. He was called Thordan, a Director no less, of one of their ruling institutes. This individual had met with Hannath and a representative of the rebel faction some hours ago, and his information was that they had discussed a major discovery. “Find out what it is they’re up to and report back.” Wang’s orders were unequivocal. In his opinion, the Captain was becoming paranoid about these people. There was nothing they could possibly have come up with that would justify this investment of time and resources. But as usual, his opinion stuck in his throat, the words unspoken.
Instead, he had trailed the official to his place of residence, then as soon as the Kelanni had alighted from his transport and dismissed the driver, the engineer had introduced him to the business end of a neural tranquiliser. McCann had some reservations as to the possible long-term effects of such powerful drugs on alien physiology, but he knew better than to voice those concerns to his Captain. Wang was interested in his getting the job done–nothing more. Fortunately, Wang had left open the question of what to do with him after the interrogation. McCann found unnecessary killing, even of these creatures, to be quite distasteful. Fortunately, he had a good reason to keep this one alive. The unexplained murder of a local dignitary would attract way too much attention. McCann intended to deposit him near where he had been taken, comatose but alive. The good Director would wake up with a sore head and no memory of why he had passed out in the street. A curious mystery–but nothing more.
McCann glanced again at his watch. It was time. He got up and went to the quiescent form, checking the readings on the headband, then he took the Kelanni’s head between his hands and turned it to face him. “Who are you?”
Flickering patterns of light from the headband fed directly into the alien’s eyes, enhancing the effect of the drug that had been pumped into his system. The Director forced his eyes half open as if they had been pasted together by sleep. “Wh…wha?”
“What is your name?” McCann urged.
“Unghhhh…”
“What…is…your…name?” he repeated.
“My…name…Th…Thordan.”
McCann cursed under his breath. This was a sledgehammer to crack a nut. The old fool would probably have spilled his guts anyway if McCann had just looked at him the wrong way. The engineer adjusted a remote control so that the fluctuating images pouring into the subject’s eyes slowed, and his breathing became more regular.
“You met with the scientist Hannath earlier today,” McCann continued. “You discussed a new discovery. What was it?”
There was a pause, as if the alien’s mind was processing the question. Then he spoke in a voice that was deadpan. “Lodestone.”
“Lodestone? What about it?” the engineer probed.
“N…not know. Not my speciality. Involves…weaponization.”
“The weaponization of lodestone?”
“Yes.”
That was disturbing news indeed. If it were true that they had somehow discovered the secret of how to construct an accumulator device, then Wang had been right to be concerned. McCann leaned forward. “Who made this discovery? Was it Hannath?”
“Not Hannath,” the old Kelanni breathed.
“Who then?”
“The boy, Rael.”
“A boy?” McCann exclaimed. “Who is he?”
“Ap…apprentice.”
“Was he the other person you met with?”
“He arrived unexpectedly. He is…with the others.”
So this boy was a member of the Kelanni rebel faction. It got worse. “What is this group going to do next?” McCann demanded.
“Akalon…Dais.”
McCann shook him by the shoulders. “What?”
“Akalon…D…Dais,” the creature repeated. He appeared to be slipping towards unconsciousness.
McCann cursed to himself again. He wasn’t going to get much more out of this subject. Still, perhaps it was enough. He released the Kelanni’s shoulders, and the alien sagged back against the brickwork. The engineer returned to his former position next to one of the roof trusses and pulled out a datapad from inside his fur jacket. The flat rectangular instrument glowed into life. “Inquiry,” he said.
A smooth, harmonious voice issued forth from the device. “Applications working.”
“Access Kelanni linguistic and cultural database,” he commanded. “Search for the term ‘Akalon’.”
There was hardly a pause before the pad answered. “Akalon. Two entries found.”
“Run results.”
“Akalon. A Proper Noun. Name given to region of Kelanni-Skell lying south of the Vannath range of mountains and bordered by the Arlan Sea. Following the planet-wide disaster known as the Goratha, the region was re-settled by Kelanni. Annual temperatures vary from a high of–”
“Stop. “Run second entry.”
“Akalon, Tower of. A Proper Noun. Name given to ancient site in Akalon region of Kelanni-Skell. Site consists of a sealed tower; height one hundred and seven metres. Two identical towers have been identified in Kelanni-Drann; one at the Dagmar Manse near Chalimar, the other on the Eastern Plains. Original purpose of towers is unknown–possibly defensive. Kelanni archaeological investigations into the nature of the tower at Akalon have proved inconclusive. The last such expedition, conducted seven standard earth years ago–”
“Stop. Show distance and optimum route from this location.” The printed readout on the small screen vanished, to be replaced by a topographical map, showing the vale where the town of Kieroth sat. The view receded, and a red line blazed a trail south across mountains and plains before zooming in once more to show a flashing symbol where the line terminated. “Create new file named…‘Kelanni threat’ and save,” he ordered. “Commence second inquiry. Kelanni linguistic and cultural database. Subject ‘Dais’.”
“Dais. Twelve entries found.”
McCann paused, feeling the roughness of his stubble. “Correlate with previous inquiry and report.”
“One entry found.”
“Run result.”
“Dais, The. A Proper Noun. Name given to ancient site in Akalon region of Kelanni-Skell. Ancient Kelanni records give alternative name ‘Drani-Kathaar’; exact meaning uncertain–possibly ‘contest place’ or ‘place of challenge’. Site consists of a raised circular metal platform: height eighteen metres; diameter three hundred and twelve metres. Original purpose uncertain, but may have been in connection with popular entertainment; possibly a form of ritual combat.
“Distance and optimum route from this location. Overlay with previous search.”
The map reappeared on the datapad and a green line tracked the previous red one, finally departing from it to end in a flashing green icon. Less than one kilometre from the Tower of Akalon. McCann sat staring at the display. Something didn’t add up. If these insurgents had discovered the principles governing construction of the lodestone accumulator, then why were they not working on their own device? Why would they waste time travelling all the way down there to what was nothing more than a large open platform?
McCann’s beard itched. He had an unsettling feeling that whatever the answers turned out to be, he was not going to like them. In any event, his next actions were clear. He glanced up at the elderly Kelanni. The Director’s eyes were closed and his head had lolled to one side. Out cold. McCann shut off the datapad, got to his feet once more and gently removed the psychotrope. Then he returned the alien’s identification papers to the inner pocket of his fur jacket, pulled him up by one arm and draped the bony form unceremoniously over his shoulder.
First, deposit the unconscious body where it would readily be found, then on to the “place of challenge”
<><><><><>
Chapter 29
Keris was a dark sentinel leaning on her staff, cloak flapping in the fresh breeze that blew in from the grey-green sea farther south. Next to her, Boxx stood on its hind limbs, waiting patiently as the avionics descended from an overcast sky toward the raised metal platform that the Kelanni of this world called the “Dais”. The ancient Tower of Akalon dominated the rolling landscape to the west. This far south, the covering of snow was lighter–patchier, yet somehow, the Dais remained completely clear.
Boxx turned and looked up at Keris. “They Are Ready.”
Keris’ gaze did not waver from the incoming craft. “No…no, I don’t think they are.”
The whine from the engines was as deafening as five of the great silver birds settled back on their landing struts. Keris walked forward. Her long black tresses blew in front of her face, and she pushed them back. The transparent covers lifted and the occupants climbed out. She was surprised to see Shann in the pilot seat of one of the aircraft. Two of the three drach were solo; she realised suddenly that the spare seats were for her and Boxx. Keris did not relish the prospect of taking to the air in one of those things. Perhaps she could think of some excuse to travel back by flying cloak?
The boy Rael was giving a series of completely unnecessary instructions to the drach, who were largely ignoring him and setting about the business of unpacking and erecting their tents. Keris waited for the others to gather around her and Boxx. They all looked much as when she had last seen them: Lyall the self appointed leader, willing to sacrifice himself to atone for past mistakes; Alondo the loyal follower, hiding his fear of failure behind a light, breezy façade; Patris the principled thief, with a fierce desire to protect those who were his own: Rael, a boy born of this world, who seemed to carry the entire weight of the knowledge of his world on his narrow shoulders; and Shann. Shann, the orphan. Shann the child. Shann the fighter. Shann, whose eyes filled with hatred whenever they looked in her direction. No. None of you are ready for what awaits you. But it was too late now. All of them, herself included, were committed to a path. They could not turn back.
“I am pleased to see you all made it here safely,” she began. “This place was called Drani-Kathaar–the ‘proving ground’–by the Ancients who built it. I have been told that each of us will be tested individually.”
“Tested how?” Lyall asked.
“I do not know. Patris has no doubt told you that he and I found a message from Annata in the ruins of Kynedyr, the ancient city that was once her home. She left it for us in the event that she was unable to communicate with us through the machine. It gave instructions as to how the testing here is to be conducted. The first thing she told me is that from this point on, each of us must follow the instructions that Boxx gives us to the letter. The second is that we must not discuss our individual experiences with each other until the testing is concluded.”
“And what happens if we do?” Rael inquired.
“Then Annata said that the whole test would be invalidated–I’m not sure how, but she was very insistent on that point.” Each of them nodded in turn. Finally, Keris looked at Shann, who nodded and looked away. “Good. Boxx, what should we do?”
The Chandara raised its round head. The diminutive creature was dwarfed by the Kelanni standing around. “Trials Commence Tomorrow At Suns Rise. Four Must Pass. I Am The Key. You Are The Key. Four Must Pass.”
Rael moved forward. “Boxx, is it permitted to ask questions?”
“Rael, what are you doing?” Shann hissed.
“I want to try something…call it a line of deductive reasoning. Boxx, may I ask?”
Keris stepped between him and the Chandara. Her cloak whirled about her. “No.”
“No? What do you mean, no?” Rael said.
Her eyes were flint. “This is not the time for your foolish questionings. The risk is too great.”
“You said that we were to follow Boxx’s instructions,” Rael reasoned. “You said nothing about questions.”
Keris stood immobile. “No.”
The boy was almost as tall as she was. He stood his ground and spoke quietly. “Do you speak for the Chandara now?”
Shann had moved next to the boy, willing him on as if she had found a new champion. Patris stood off, seeking an opportunity to turn to his advantage. Alondo merely looked upset and confused. Here was the only group that had a chance of stopping the Prophet. And it was fracturing before her very eyes. Not ready. Not by far.
Lyall stepped between Keris and Rael. His tone was carefully weighted. “Maybe we should ask Boxx?” The tension held a moment longer. Finally, Keris gave the briefest of nods and moved back. Rael relaxed. The moment had passed, but the emotional dynamic had not changed. Each of them was hostage to their own feelings, prejudices, resentments. How long would it be before these spilled out into a new conflict? Keris was struck by a new and troubling thought. If they could not find a way to work together, then it really did not matter what happened here. In the end, they would surely fail.
Lyall addressed the Chandara. “May Rael ask you a few questions?”
“You May Ask. I May Answer,” Boxx chirped.
“What is ‘the key?’” the boy began.
“I Am The Key. You Are The Key.”
Rael turned to Shann. “You said that Boxx would only reveal the key to Keris, and when it did, it quoted a string of numbers.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Shann confirmed.
“Boxx, please state the key.”
“I Speak The Key Only To Keris.”
All eyes turned to her. Reignite the argument or cooperate? Keris pursed her lips. “Boxx. Please state the key.”
“Two One Zero One Zero Two One One Two Two Zero One Two Zero Two…”
Rael had pulled a tablet from his jacket and was scribbling as Boxx spoke. “Pause,” he commanded. The boy ran his marker up and down the figures, deep in thought.
“Do you know what it means?” Lyall asked.
“What it means?” Keris echoed. “It doesn’t mean anything. They’re just numbers.”
Shann leapt to the boy’s defence. “You don’t know Rael. He has a special talent when it comes to numbers. Numbers can be significant.”
“Shann is right,” Rael declared. “About numbers having significance, that is. In this case, I am fairly certain that these numbers represent information.”
Alondo frowned. “Information about what?”
“Not what,” Rael replied. “Who. It’s collecting information about us.” Boxx has been collecting data on you and your companions. Annata had said as much when she appeared to her and Patris at Kynedyr. She did not understand the boy’s reasoning, but she could not deny the depth of his insight. “Boxx told us, ‘you are the key,’” he continued, “and we are the ones who are being tested. It’s the only reasonable explanation. Still, let’s try something. Shann, can you lend me your staff?”
A flicker passed over Shann’s face, as if she were concerned that he might poke someone’s eye out. “All right.” She pulled the weapon from its sheath and handed it to him.
Rael walked over and took up a position behind Alondo. Then without warning, he grabbed the musician in an arm lock and put the diamond blade to his throat. Shann gasped.
“What the…let me go.” Alondo pleaded.
“Rael, what do you think you’re doing? Put that thing down, now.” Lyall ordered.
Rael complied at once, ignoring the furious stares and turned his attention to Boxx. “Did you observe?”
“Yes, Rael,” it said
“Is the key affected?”
“Yes, Rael.”
“This action was a test only. No serious attack was intended. Do you understand?”
“I Understand.”
“Are you able to reset?” Rael asked.
“Test Affirmed. Condition Reset,” it said.
Shann closed her eyes. “Excuse me. What just happened?”
Rael smiled at her. “I just conducted a little experiment, that’s all. I think there can be no doubt. Boxx is observing and recording our reactions toward one another.”
“To what end?” Patris demanded.
“That I cannot say,” Rael admitted. “It may be assessing us for a particular quality or set of qualities. Exactly what will become evident over time, I would imagine.”
“Couldn’t someone disguise or falsify their actions as you just did?” Lyall suggested. “Create a false impression?”
“Possibly,” Rael acknowledged. “I suspect that’s where the tests we’re due to face come in.”
“But…how can a string of numbers carry information about us?” Shann queried.
Rael turned to face her. “Do you remember back at the tower in the Cathgorn mountains? There were machines there called computers.”
She looked up at him. “You said they were used for counting, right?”
“That’s right. Hannath and I have designed rudimentary versions of them. Computers generally count in zeros and ones, because that’s the easiest way to build them. It’s called binary code. It signifies two states–on and off, yes and no, like a simple language.”
Keris had a detached look. “At the library…Annata used the word ‘computer’. I remember now. She compared Boxx to it, although I didn’t know what she meant at the time.”
“Boxx is doing something similar,” Rael said, “although in a more sophisticated way. It’s recording zeros, ones and twos in a form known as a ternary code. In theory, ternary code can record more complex actions, particularly those involving uncertainty. Think of it as yes, no and…maybe.”
“How does that relate to us?” Alondo asked.
Rael put a hand to his chin, making him appear far older. “If I was a member of a technologically advanced society and I wanted to record something as complex as Kelanni interactions, I might well use a program based on ternary code.” He regarded the Chandara. The small creature cocked its head to one side, but its expression was unreadable. “It has three digits on each hand…I think it naturally counts in base three. And I think I can solve another puzzle now. Boxx, how old are you?
“I Am One, One, One, Zero, Two, Two, Zero, Zero turns.”
Rael’s lips moved as he made a mental calculation. “That’s three thousand, two hundred and thirty-one in base three.” Keris looked round and saw her own confusion reflected in the eyes of the others. “We count in tens–one, ten, a hundred, a thousand. It counts in threes–one, three, nine and so on.”
A thought was lurking somewhere in the back of Keris’ mind, a distant memory. Suddenly it jumped out and hit her like a slap in the face. “You said three thousand, two hundred and thirty-one turns…that’s the exact age of Annata’s first message to me. She told me that she was speaking to me from three thousand, two hundred and thirty-one turns ago. That can’t be coincidence.”
All eyes turned to the little creature that was watching them with its tiny black eyes. “It Is Not Coincidence,” Boxx said. “She Is My Mother.”
Patris threw his hands up in the air. “How can Annata be its mother? It’s a Chandara. Annata was Kelanni.”
“Actually,” Rael commented, “It kind of makes sense–if you define a mother as the person that gave you life. I would guess that Boxx was hatched or maybe cloned, and then programmed to do what would be needed in the far future. Observe and record us. Boxx is a living biological computer. Think of the possibilities.”
Keris could not think of one. Rael’s analysis was interesting, even insightful in its own way. But it did nothing to alter their current situation. “Boxx has told us that the testing is to begin first thing tomorrow. We should all rest and prepare ourselves.”
“So, which of us is to go first?” Shann inquired.
“Alondo Will Go First,” Boxx announced.
The musician looked as if he had just been struck in the face. “Wh…why me?”
Lyall stepped forward. “It’s all right old friend.” He turned to face Boxx. “I’ll go first.”
The Chandara looked past him. “Alondo Will Go First,” it insisted.
“We must do exactly as Boxx says,” Keris reminded them.
“It’s all right,” Alondo said. “Maybe the test will involve singing songs and telling stories. In that case, the rest of you are in big trouble.”
~
Dawn leeched slowly into a sky burdened with lowlying clouds. The atmosphere felt thick, oppressive. Shann stood with Rael and Alondo contemplating the view across Akalon. The tower rose like an obelisk from a bank of lowlying mist.
Alondo had been concealing his apprehension behind a ready smile and a breezy manner, but she knew him too well to be fooled. “So, you think there’ll be some monster for me to fight?” he speculated.
“I doubt it,” Rael assured him. “There aren’t too many dangerous creatures in these parts that I know of.”
“You can borrow my staff if you like,” Shann offered.
“No thanks,” Alondo said. “I’d probably just trip over it.”
Shann rubbed his back. “You’ll do fine.” She glanced behind her. Their small encampment sat in the shadow of the parked flying machines, an untidy scattering of tents marring the flat perfection of the great metal platform. The three blue-coated drach formed a loose guard near their transports. Protection from wild beasts seemed unnecessary this high up; Shann put it down to old habits. She turned back to Alondo. “Boxx will make sure you are safe.”
“You seem certain of that,” Rael remarked.
Shann smiled up at him. “Yes I am. Because whatever Boxx is–a Chandara, or one of those computer things you talked about–he is also our friend.” She stared out at the patchy fog which rolled across the undulating plain. “On the Reach, when the huge wave swept me over the side, I must have hit my head or something, because the whole world went dark. The next thing I remembered was waking up on the beach, with Boxx’s face looking down at me. I don’t know how, but it got me to the shore. It saved me. Then there was the time when we were attacked by the Kharthrun Serpent. Alondo, you were badly injured, but Boxx wouldn’t let you die. It nearly exhausted itself bringing you back to health.
“Boxx left its Great Tree–the Tree it depends on for its life–to help us. It may even die as a result. I don’t believe it would allow any harm to come to us now.”
Lyall emerged from one of the tents, followed by Keris, Boxx and Patris. Lyall called Alondo over. Shann made to follow, but felt a pressure on her arm. Rael whispered in her ear, “…if it’s in control of what happens.”
Shann turned toward him. “What are you talking about?”
“All I’m saying is, a computer can only process the information that is put into it. If I’m right, then the input that these tests are based on comes from us–from our interactions with each other. Boxx may have no more idea of how things are going to play out than we do.”
Shann shook her head. “That’s absurd.” Yet even as she said it, she had a worrying feeling that he could be right. In that case, there was no way of telling what kind of danger Alondo might be facing. She hastened to join the others, with the boy in tow.
Boxx was standing on its hind limbs facing Alondo. “Are You Ready?”
“Ah…I suppose.” He shuffled from one foot to the other. “Sure, let’s get it over with.”
“Wait a moment,” Lyall intervened. “Is Alondo allowed to take anything with him?”
“He May Take Anything He Can Carry,” Boxx trilled.
“Why not take your vortex arm?” Lyall suggested. He addressed Boxx. “Might that be of help to him?”
“I Do Not Know,” Boxx replied. Shann glanced at Rael. The boy returned her look, but said nothing.
“I’ll get it.” Lyall disappeared into a tent and returned bearing Alondo’s instrument.
The musician accepted it gratefully. He ran his hand over the curved body, the taut strings, the fluted neck, and smiled to himself. He slung the vortex arm over his shoulder. “Ready,” he announced. He accompanied Boxx toward the middle of the empty metal platform, the others following close behind.
Boxx stopped short of the centre, raised a three-fingered hand and spoke in a clear high pitched voice. “Drani-Kathaar.” Shann stepped back instinctively as a crack appeared in the seamless surface of the Dais and a pedestal rose silently, stopping at a point just below the height of the Chandara. There was a large convex bulge on the top of the pedestal. Boxx placed its hand on the bulge and it began to glow a dull red. As the colour deepened, the air in front of them started to thicken and swirl, like a mist forming before their eyes. Rael stared open-mouthed as the amorphous mass slowly congealed and became completely opaque. The centre of the Dais was now occupied by a grey dome of fog, about five times head height. Yet this was like no fog Shann had ever seen. Its surface was flat, but with an undefined quality, so that the more you tried to look at it, the more your eye seemed to slide off it. It reminded her of the whorls and eddies that moved over the fuliginous surface of lodestone as you changed perspective.
Rael began walking toward the apparition. He stopped before it and reached out a hand to touch its surface. “Rael. No,” Shann shouted. “Boxx, tell him to stop.”
“I Cannot,” it replied.
“Rael, get away from it, it may be dangerous,” Lyall warned.
The boy stood for a moment with his hand outstretched, as if mesmerised, then slowly withdrew his arm and stepped back. Shann clamped a hand around his arm to hold him in place.
Lyall addressed Boxx. “What happens now?”
The Chandara turned to Alondo. “You Will Come With Me.” It waddled toward the dome of fog without waiting for a reply. Alondo looked at Lyall, who nodded gravely; then he started after Boxx.
Shann released Rael and ran toward the musician, throwing her arms around him. “Be careful,” she said.
Alondo smiled warmly. “I’ll be fine, remember?”
She returned his smile. But what if Rael was right? What if Boxx really has no control over what happens? He could be walking into…
Alondo turned and followed Boxx. Shann blinked away a tear and watched helplessly as the two of them carried on walking until they were swallowed by the forbidding mist.
<><><><><>
Chapter 30
Grey. Alondo’s eyes darted up and down, right and left, but all around him the view was the same. The sky and the Dais had somehow disappeared and been replaced by a world of uniform greyness. There was no distance, no perspective. Already, he was completely disoriented. If there was a way out, then he had no idea in which direction it lay. The only single feature was Boxx. The Chandara was looking up at him like a small child waiting for guidance.
Alondo flashed a smile. “Wow, I love what you’ve done with the place. Minimalist, you know…not too much clutter…very nice. Actually, the decor it reminds me of an Inn at Sakima that I played once. They had just opened and were supposed to get new furniture, but-”
Boxx’s wide mouth rippled one word. “Begin.”
The grey world shifted. Alondo found himself standing in a cobbled street. People and carts rumbled on by. He could feel something in his hand. Reins. They were attached to a morgren that blew and stamped its feet impatiently. He could smell the beast’s fetid breath. A second morgren stood close by. Its reins were held by a small figure, her head covered by a cowl. Shann. This was Lind. Alondo’s mind reeled. It was impossible, but somehow he was back home. They were standing just outside the stables. He remembered this day. It was just before they had set out on their epic journey. Lyall had sent him and the girl into Lind to obtain supplies. He had just purchased two of the disgusting beasts from Fudoro, the stableman, for half an astria. It was to be their last stop. Except that Alondo had one more call to make. Alone.
He glanced down to see that Boxx was still regarding him. That was not right. They had not been introduced to the Chandara until much later, when Keris had met them in the desert outside Gort. Was all of this some kind of illusion? The smells were real; the raucous sounds of barrog swine and street vendors; the feel of the reins in his sweaty palm. His throat suddenly felt dry. “Why have you brought me here?”
“I Did Not. You Did,” Boxx replied.
“What am I supposed to do?” he pressed.
“What Are You Supposed To Do?”
Before Alondo could respond, the Chandara vanished in a flash of light. Great. Now what? How was he going to get back to the others at the Dais? Maybe that was the test. Figure out a way to get back.
The girl who looked like Shann threw back her hood. “What’s the matter? You look ill.”
Alondo found his voice. “No…no, I’m fine.” Perhaps that was what was expected of him. Retrace his steps. Alondo thought hard, remembering the sequence of events. I left Shann to tend the morgren and went to see Ennas. Lyall had asked me to check in on the blind man and to inquire about the news from Corte, to see if there was any sort of pursuit. His boy Malan was still out in the fields. I gave Ennas half an astria. “I’m sorry, I have to go somewhere. Can you watch the morgren and the rest of our things for a while? I won’t be long.”
“You’re going to find an Inn, aren’t you?” Shann’s eyes were narrowed. It was exactly what she had said, there in the past.
Alondo gave the response he remembered. “No, not this time.”
He headed off, threading his way through the narrow streets toward the eastern canton. The district that housed Lind’s disadvantaged and downtrodden was just the same as before. Run down hovels jammed together alongside filthy alleys where half-naked children played alongside starving gundir, ribs showing through their bellies. The few adults he saw shuffled past with downcast eyes and faces etched with despair, too tired or hungry to pay any attention to a travelling musician with a gaudy red hat. Why am I being made to relive this? Is this also part of the test?
He was standing in front of the tiny one-room shack where blind Ennas lived with Malan, his only surviving son. The boy had escaped after Persillan, and so had been spared the fate of his two older brothers. He ducked his head and entered the open portal. Ennas’ wasted form was seated on a stool near the same empty fireplace. Across the bare wooden floor, the familiar pair of pallets lay next to the same worn-out leather chest. I put my hand on his shoulder. Alondo strolled over to the old man. “Hello, Ennas. How are you?”
Ennas responded to his touch. “Alondo. It’s you, isn’t it.”
“Yes, it’s Alondo. Are you well?”
“I am just fine. Malan is not back from the fields yet. How is Hedda?” Exactly the same as before. But why–what’s the point? Alondo could think of nothing else to do but to play along and see where this trip into the past would lead.
“Mother is still the same.” He pulled up a stool and sat opposite the old man.
“It’s kind of you to visit an old blind man. Malan will be sad to have missed you. He often speaks of you and Lyall. Are you two still together?”
“Er…yes, yes we are. Ennas, I came to ask you about something. There was an incident in Corte the other day. I was wondering if you had heard anything about it.”
“We’ve all heard about it.” The voice was not Ennas’s. Alondo swivelled on the stool to see an outline limned against the sunlight streaming in from the doorway. A Kelanni in stained farm labourer’s coveralls stepped across the threshold. His jet-black hair was thick with dust and his face was lined, prematurely aged by overwork, but it was unmistakeably Malan. This was not right. In his version of the past, Malan had not returned by the time he left. Alondo felt his flesh crawl. Something is wrong here–terribly wrong.
Malan strode toward them, faded boots creaking on the floor of the shack.
Alondo stood up to meet him. “It’s been a long time, Malan. How have you been?”
Malan’s face was set. “What are you doing here, Alondo?”
“Er…Lyall asked me to stop by and pay respects to your father…and to ask about something that happened in Corte three days ago.”
“You mean the attack on the Keltar?” Malan said. “Why would Lyall send you here to discuss something he was responsible for?” How could Malan know that? Ennas had told him in the past–his past–that the assailant had not been identified. Alondo felt a rising sense of panic, as if the situation were spinning out of control. “The fool is at it again, isn’t he? Making trouble, putting us all in more danger. And you–you come here like some wretched gundir, ever eager to do his bidding.”
“I…I don’t understand,” Alondo stammered.
A floorboard creaked behind him as Ennas rose to his feet. The old man’s sightless eyes were staring directly at him, as if his blindness were suddenly revealed as a sham. His voice held a bitter edge the like of which Alondo had never heard before. “I lost two of my sons at Persillan because of Lyall’s self-deluded arrogance, his egotistical belief that he was the one to overthrow the Prophet; that he could not fail. I watched as my dear Tullia withered away from grief and died not a turn later. See the way we have been forced to live, all to satisfy Lyall’s selfish ambition. And now he wants to begin all over again–to reave me of my last remaining son?”
Alondo felt as if he were being pummelled in the stomach. He gathered up the shards of his shattered courage. “Lyall…Lyall is doing his best to…to free us. Persillan wasn’t his fault. No-one could have known that the Prophet would set off some kind of a trap.”
Malan spat on the floor of the hovel. “And yet he made sure that he got out safely. How could he do that if he didn’t know what was going to happen? Maybe he and the Prophet are working together to root out and destroy opposition.”
“That’s ridiculous. Lyall would never betray his own people,” Alondo protested.
“Are you quite sure of that?” A small figure walked through the doorway. Slight. Short fair hair. Wide blue eyes. Sensitive features. Oliah. She looked beaten and dishevelled, white blood staining the side of her face. Alondo could feel himself being swept over the lip of an emotional waterfall, desperately clinging to a branch that represented his last shred of sanity. How could this be? He had not met Oliah until many days later, when they reached the port city of Sakara. She could not possibly be here. “Lyall provoked the conflict that led to the fall of my home. People are suffering and dying. Members of the Thief Guild. My family. How can you let it happen, Alondo?”
Alondo stretched a hand out to her. His eyes filled with tears. “Wh…why are you saying these things?”
“Because Lyall is leading us on a path that will destroy us all,” she said. “He betrayed us at Persillan and left us to die. He will betray us again. You must forsake him. It is better for us to live peacefully under the Prophet’s rule than to die without hope.”
“You must forsake him.” Ennas’ voice was strangely firm and steady.
“You must forsake him.” Malan echoed.
“No,” Alondo cried out. “You are wrong–all of you. Lyall is risking his life to end the tyranny, but it is not just about him. All of us have to fight–to resist.”
Oliah’s eyes were accusing. “You do not love me, then? You would let me die?”
Alondo felt his heart wrench inside him. “I do love you. But we have to break the Prophet’s power before he destroys us all. Even…even if I have to lose you, I must stay loyal to the others and to myself. If you love me, you will know that.” Her eyes were frigid blue mountain lakes, tinged with fire. He gazed into them, searching desperately for a response.
She opened her mouth, but the voice was not hers; it was the high pitched timbre of the Chandara. “I Know.”
The air swirled about him, the hut vanished in a blinding flash of light and he was standing once more in the midst of a dull grey nothingness. Boxx stood before him, moving its head from side to side. “Follow,” it instructed.
~
Shann sat on the metal platform, arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the dome of swirling grey fog. Somewhere inside, Alondo was with Boxx, facing…what? She blinked, then rubbed her eyes, wiping at her dried tears. It was so unfair. Alondo was not a fighter. He was a person who brought peace and reconciliation through joy. He should not have to face this trial–whatever it was–alone.
It was now fully day, yet paradoxically, it had grown darker as fuliginous clouds loomed overhead. A light mizzle began to fall, spattering against the silvery metal surface of the Dais. Before long, the damp started to seep through to her skin, but she made no move toward the relative warmth and dryness of the tents behind her. She continued sitting at her post, her heart as heavy as the lowering sky.
“Enjoying the weather?” She turned her head to see Lyall standing behind her. He smiled. “Sorry. It just seemed like something Alondo would say.” She saw that he was carrying a steaming stoup in each fist. “Here.” He sat down beside her and offered her one. “And before you ask, no, it’s not horge. Keris would have thrown a fit if I’d tried serving intoxicating liquor. It’s just a vegetable broth. Your friend Rael made it. Turns out he’s quite the cook. Did you know that about him?”
“No…no I didn’t.” She accepted the mug gratefully and took a sip, feeling her insides respond to the warmth.
“He’s a nice lad,” Lyall continued. “Clever, too. I can see why you like him.”
“He’s just a friend,” she said defensively.
“Of course.” They sat together in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Shann spoke out loud. “Alondo’s been in there too long. We should go in and get him.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Lyall advised. “Keris would skin you alive.”
“What does that matter?” Shann declared. “Anyway, she doesn’t scare me.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Lyall said. “Still, the rules that govern these tests seem quite specific. I think we have no choice other than to wait and see how this thing plays out. In any case, I’m sure Alondo is fine.”
She turned to face him. “How can you be sure of that?”
Lyall’s smile was enigmatic. “Alondo is stronger than he looks.” She was waiting for an explanation. Lyall took a deep breath. “He and I have been together for as long as I can remember. I remember one time, we were–I don’t know–twelve, thirteen turns maybe? Anyhow, I was always the loudmouthed one, always getting myself into trouble. Alondo–well, he was the quiet one.”
“Alondo was the quiet one?” she said in disbelief.
Lyall laughed. “You wouldn’t think so to look at him now, would you? But back then he was. Anyhow, we were walking home together, and a group of youths made some insulting remark or other. Well, there were six or seven of them, but only two of us, so the sensible thing to do would have been to just ignore them, but I was young, arrogant and stupid, so I let off a torrent of abuse back at them.”
Shann’s eyes went wide. “What happened?”
“Well, the next thing I knew, they were all over me and I was fighting for my life. They knocked me to the ground pretty quickly and then piled on top of me, punching and kicking. I managed to get a few blows in, but I was hopelessly outnumbered. I was getting beaten up pretty badly. Then, above all their heads, I suddenly saw this red hat, bobbing up and down.”
Shann giggled. “You mean he wore the same red hat back then?”
“Weeeell, I don’t think it was exactly the same one. It looked the same. Maybe his head and his hat have grown together over the years? I guess that’s just one of life’s little mysteries that we may never solve.” Shann giggled once more. “Anyhow, there he was, pulling the other boys off me, one by one. We both got away, although we were a real mess. Hedda was really annoyed–so was my mother. I think we both got sent to bed with no supper. But my point is; although Alondo will do anything he can to avoid getting into a fight himself, when those he cares about are threatened, he will always stick up for them, no matter what the odds.”
Shann caught movement out of the corner of her eye. The fog parted and Alondo emerged with Boxx. Shann stood up, dropping her mug in the process. The remaining broth spilled onto the surface of the platform. She ran toward the musician, then stopped short. His head was bowed. He looked…different. As if he had prematurely aged somehow. “What happened to you? Are you all right?” she asked.
“Be careful.” The voice behind her was that of Keris. “He must not speak of his experiences.” Patris and Rael were hurrying to join them.
Alondo held up a hand. “It’s all right…I don’t think I could explain it anyway, even if I had to. I’ll be fine.”
Boxx waddled forward. “Alondo Has Passed The Trial.” The air was suddenly filled with sighs of relief and words of congratulation. Yet Shann noticed that Alondo seemed just as pale and drawn.
Lyall stepped forward and clapped him on the back. “Well done, old friend. Come, you must be hungry. There’s a bowl of broth waiting for you.”
Alondo stiffened. “Maybe later. Actually, I think what I need to do right now is to lie down and rest for while, if nobody minds.” There was a chorus of assent. Shann felt a strong sense of disquiet. They had encountered many stressful situations, faced many dangers during their journeys together, and yet she had never seen the musician like this. What did Boxx do to you?
She watched him pass through their midst and head toward his tent. He was hunched over and seemed to be walking painfully. She wanted to run after him and offer support, but instead, she simply stood helplessly with the others and watched his receding back. Something told her that he needed to be on his own for a while.
The rain was coming down harder now. Shann began to shiver.
“So, who is next for trial?” Lyall asked.
The Chandara turned toward Patris, who was lurking behind the others. The sailor-thief’s face registered alarm. “Oh, no. There’s no way I’m going in there,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “especially after what just happened to him.”
“You knew that the purpose of coming here was to undergo these trials,” Keris pointed out.
Patris adopted an air of exaggerated patience. “Our agreement–if you recall–was for you to provide protection for me until we return to our world. Not for me to undergo some kind of ritual test.”
“You would rather see the Prophet destroy our world?” Keris challenged.
Patris shook his head. “I can’t…I won’t be responsible for the problems of an entire world. My job is to protect my crew, my guild and my city–that’s it.” He looked around at the accusing faces. “Look, as I understand it, you need three more…custodians. There are four of you. You don’t even need me.”
Lyall stared at him, then turned to Boxx, “Can one of us take his place?”
“No,” Boxx replied.
“Why?” Patris demanded. “Why do I have to go?”
Boxx looked directly up at him. “Ordinal Sequence Is Determined By Recursive Algorithm.”
Patris squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. “What…What did it say?”
Keris stood toe to toe with him. “That’s enough. You will leave Boxx alone.”
“Fine.” Patris threw his arm up. “Fine, I’ll leave it alone. Just so long as it leaves me alone.” He stormed off toward the collection of tents.
Lyall watched him leave. “Boxx, what happens if Patris refuses the trial?”
“Then The Trials Are Concluded.”
“And we will have failed?”
“Yes,” Boxx said.
“What are we going to do?” Shann asked.
Lyall’s expression was grim. “Stay here. I’ll take care of it.” The rain was steady now. An onshore breeze buffeted their backs. Lyall followed Patris into one of the makeshift shelters. Shann heard raised voices. Moments later, Lyall reappeared. Shann’s jaw dropped. He was half carrying, half dragging the dark-haired sailor. Patris grunted and protested, his arms flailing, but he could do nothing to prevent his being propelled across the platform.
She could hear his strangled cries. “Get off me…I won’t…you can’t make me.” He hauled the thief past them and on toward the nubilous grey dome. “Arrrgghh.” Lyall grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hurled him into the fog.
He turned back and addressed Boxx, breathing hard. “He’s in there.” Boxx cocked its head to one side, then headed in after Patris.
Keris approached Lyall. There was a wry smile on her face. “Well done. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Lyall ignored her. He began walking back toward the tents. “I’m going to check on Alondo,” he called over his shoulder. “Let me know when he reappears.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 31
Patris lay face down on the ground while his feeling of shock ignited into burning fury. He hauled himself up and saw Boxx looking down on him. Behind the Chandara there was nothing but a uniform grey flatness. The thief got to his feet and cast his eyes about him. There was nothing but the grey mist. “Show me the way out of here now,” he commanded.
The Chandara’s eyes were smouldering coals. “Begin.”
The fog vanished along with Boxx, to be replaced by smoke. Patris coughed as the acrid fumes caught in his throat. His eyes were stinging from the smog. Fire. He cast about wildly. Wisps of smoke curled about his head, and he could hear the crackle and roar of flames coming from somewhere nearby. He was in a large room with stone walls and a wooden staircase leading to the next level. Wherever this place was, he had to get out, now.
Patris stumbled in the direction where he thought the door was likely to be. He tripped over an obstacle on the floor and fell forward, banging his knee. Cursing, he turned around and saw a body lying face down. He crawled back on hands and knees and turned the motionless form so that he could see the face. His stomach turned over as he recognised Arrogo, a member of his own thief crew. Blood covered the side of the man’s head, and his eyes were fixed open. In the name of all that’s holy, where am I?
He got to his feet and staggered on till he found a wall. He felt along it, coughing as the smoke continued to invade his lungs. Suddenly, a section of wall swung open, and he spilled out onto a cobbled street. He fell to his knees, gasping for air. Smoke billowed into the night air from the windows of the three-story stone building behind him. He stood up, slowly and painfully. The street wound its way downhill, giving him a panoramic view of the town, the wharf and the inky black sea beyond. The town was dotted with fires. They seemed to be raging out of control. Out in the harbour, he could see ships aflame. This was without doubt the Port City of Sakara. His city. And it was being destroyed before his very eyes.
How can I be here? How can all of this be happening? Oliah had been communicating regularly through the Ring that Alondo carried. She had reported that the Prophet’s troops had been consolidating their hold on the city, and that they were doing their best to hunt down Skippers from the Thief Guild, with little or no success. However, there had been no mention of reprisals as yet, and certainly no indication of the widespread destruction he was witnessing. This had to be some sort of a dream–but he could feel the pain in his knee. No, this wasn’t a dream. It was all too vivid…too real.
A shadow moved against the maroon tinged clouds in the night sky and alighted on the street directly in front of him. The pitch-black outfit and flying cloak were unmistakeable. Keltar. Patris took a step backwards as the stranger pushed back the hood to reveal a visage of beautiful severity, framed by long raven tresses. The thief squinted in the dimly reflective light. “Keris?”
The tall woman’s smile held a twist of cruelty. “Patris. So we meet again. I was wondering which corner of this filthy hole you would be cowering in.”
“What’s happening?” Patris demanded. “What are you doing here? Where are the others?”
“Others? …Oh, you must mean Lyall and his band of miscreants. Dead. Or in hiding. It hardly matters. The Prophet now rules everywhere. He is due to arrive here in person shortly. However, it turns out there are rather a lot of vermin in this city. I was asked to do a little…housecleaning, prior to his arrival. What do you think of the results so far?”
“But…you no longer serve the Prophet. You turned your back on all of that and joined Lyall and his party.”
Keris laughed without mirth. “Really, Patris. I thought you were more intelligent than that. You must know that Keltar never leave the service of the Prophet.” Patris’ head was swimming. None of it made sense. Unless…unless this was some twisted vision of the future? Some warning of what would, what could happen. But why? Why was he being shown all of this? The woman looked at the ground, then up at him again. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”
“I…I don’t know,” Patris replied carefully.
“Oh, come now,” she retorted. “Honesty is the key principle of the Thief Guild–you told me as much yourself. You despise the values that I stand for. They are so different from the ideals espoused in your beloved Sakara. Still, that shouldn’t prevent us working together. ‘It’s not the dealer; it’s the deal’. Isn’t that what they say here? Well, I have a proposition for you. But first I thought we might enjoy a little sport. If you survive, I will give you the opportunity to save both yourself and this city. The alternative would be to kill you here and now, but then, where’s the fun in that? So what do you say? Do we have an agreement?”
Patris had never felt more helpless in his life. He nodded.
Keris smiled. “Excellent.” The smile vanished and her eyes blazed, reflecting the fires from the burning buildings. “Now run.”
~
Patris pelted through the city, glancing back over his shoulder for signs of pursuit. The street seemed clear, but he was astute enough to realise that meant nothing. Keris’ flying cloak gave her access to roofs and housetops, alleys and shortcuts. He was like a small rodent running for its life. His only hope was to go to ground. It seemed prudent to assume for now that all of the regular safe houses had been compromised. That meant making it to a sewer entrance or one of the other boltholes that, as a member of the Thief Guild, he had burned into his memory.
It was completely absurd. One moment he had been on an ancient metal platform; the next, he was in a flaming city halfway across the world, fleeing for his life. And yet that was far from the only thing that did not make sense. Patris prided himself that he was a pretty good judge of people. You simply didn’t get to rise to the position of Skipper within the Thief Guild without that particular talent. He had spent more than enough time with Keris to know what made her tick, and there was absolutely no way that she had been secretly serving the Prophet all this time. Which meant that either she was lying, or…or that was not Keris. At least, not the Keris he knew.
However, there was another trait that was absolutely essential in the Thief Guild, and that was an instinct for survival. He knew that whatever this was–this purgatory into which he had suddenly been thrust–it was no illusion. In a very real sense, his life was at stake.
He passed another burning building to his left. The structure was fully ablaze, its windows aflame. One side of the building had fallen in, sending sparks coruscating into the night sky. A wooden cart had been ignited, blocking the route. Next to it were two more broken bodies lying on the cobbles. Patris skirted around them and hurried on. His path was taking him toward the wharf area. A little farther on, a narrow side road branched off to the left. About halfway along, a storm drain led down through a culvert and out through sluice gates to a stone covered beach near the harbour wall. If he could make it there, perhaps find a small boat…?
The fires were like spotlights, picking out his position. Patris did his best to keep to the shadows. His gaze swept over the roofs opposite and his heart sank as he saw a hunched shape on one of the gables, eagerly tracking his movements like a ravenous bird of prey. The dark outline spread its cloak like a single great wing and glided toward street level. Ignoring the pain in his knee, Patris sped on. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the side street he recognised and turned onto it, slipping on the slick cobblestones and falling onto his side. Keris was closing on him. It felt as if she were breathing down his neck. He scrabbled to his feet and stumbled on. Just a few more yards.
In front of him, doors slammed shut and terrified townsfolk watched from behind shuttered windows. Very likely, there was a curfew in operation. It was clear he could expect no help from these people. Finally, he reached the grating. He dropped to his knees and looked back. There was no sign of his pursuer. Patris did not stop to question. He threw back the catch and pulled on the iron ring. Metal grated against stone as the drain cover gave way and he dropped down onto the floor of the cloaca, his boots splashing in the brackish rainwater. He ducked and entered the downward sloping watercourse.
Away from the drain opening, gloominess rapidly descended. he felt his way along the curved damp walls, ignoring the side tunnels that fed into the central channel. If he were evading a mark, following a theft, he would have had his escape route clearly mapped out. He would also have all of the necessary equipment with him, including a knife for protection and a lamp to light his way. Thanks to Lyall, he had been pitched into this situation with none of those things. For the nth time, he cursed the self-styled rebel leader. The city’s foul-smelling runoff swirled around his boots. Something moved in the inky water, then slithered away. He gritted his teeth and sloshed onward. The tunnel widened out into a culvert. He put out his hands to steady himself on the threshold and froze. Bobbing lights were moving up the passage toward him, accompanied by raucous shouts. The way to the sea was cut off. How could they know that I would be coming this way?
There was no time for speculation. Patris retreated into the tunnel and hurried back toward the last intersection. He would have to follow the route and climb back up to street level, to find another way around. There was a passage leading off to the right. He kept his head low and swashed along the gently rising conduit. Behind him, he could hear the chasing group growing closer. He surged forward as rapidly as the darkness would permit. At last, he saw a patch of dull red light up ahead, where another drain gave access to the surface. He stood underneath the metal grille and pushed his fingers through the slats to operate the latch. He pushed the cover open and hauled himself to his knees. Panting with exertion, he raised his eyes to see a pair of boots, long legs and a cloaked figure standing before him. Darkwood spun and sliced through the air like a keening wind. He felt the diamond blade at his throat.
“Stand up.”
He obeyed the command. Her blade moved with him, threatening to end his life with a flick of her wrist.
Patris pushed his matted black hair back from his face and met her gaze. Show no fear. “All right, would you like to tell me what’s going on now?”
“What do you mean?”
“How could you know where I would be?” he asked levelly.
A strange look flitted briefly over her face. “Let’s just say that nothing goes on in this city without my being aware of it. I said before that we could work together. But first I needed to demonstrate the futility of your position, and that of the Thief Guild. I apologise if you suffered any discomfort. Still, the truth can be liberating at times, wouldn’t you agree?” She withdrew the staff from his jugular, holding it ready at her side. He glanced around at the street in which they now stood. It was called Tarpeia, and it was only a few yards from the terraced home where he had been born. Behind Keris, Rhomana’s the bakery and confectioners he remembered fondly from his childhood was now on fire, burning freely with no-one attempting to douse the flames. He could only pray that the owner was not inside.
“The Prophet has given me absolute authority over this city,” she continued. “I have effectively quelled any organised resistance. The fate of Sakara and its people are now in my hands. However, I have decided to defer that decision to you.”
Patris had an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s simple. I am appointing you as Guild Master. The position is…currently vacant. I believe that you have the skills necessary to unite this city under a new administration–one that will help to convince the people here of the wisdom of acceding to the rule of the Prophet. I need hardly mention that it is an extremely lucrative position.”
“You’re out of your mind,” Patris declared.
Keris raised her eyebrows. “Strange words, from someone who has been conferred with such an honour. I can see that you need a little more persuasion.”
The drain cover behind Patris jerked open with a clank. He turned to see six individuals climb out. Three wore the studded leather armour of the Prophet’s soldiers; the other three were dressed in the bright green livery of the Asoli–the city watch who were supposed to be loyal to the Guilds. Oliah had told them through the Ring that there were rumours of the Asoli having come to an arrangement with the Keltar during the initial takeover of the city. However, being paid to look the other way was one thing; actively cooperating and participating in such devastation and loss of life in the Free Port was quite another. Seeing the two groups working together like this, it was…shocking.
The detachment of soldiers and watchkeepers advanced toward Patris. The soldiers’ hands were on their weapons. Keris made a cutting gesture with her hand and the company stepped back, taking up position at a discreet distance. She was smiling faintly. “Tell me.” She held up her right hand and pointed to the ring on her index finger. “Do you know what this is?”
“It’s one of those Speaker Rings,” he replied.
“Quite correct,” she said. “It is also the means by which I am coordinating the purge of this city. With a single word of command, I can bring the destruction to a halt–order our combined forces to stand down.”
Patris was sceptical. “Why would you do that?”
Keris lowered her hand and shrugged. “Despite what you may have heard from Lyall and his associates, the Keltar are not monsters. Our goal is maintain order and enforce the Prophet’s rule. If you accept the role of Guild Master and pledge your allegiance to the Prophet, then all of this,” she swept her hand expansively, as if to encompass the fire-wracked city, “would become unnecessary.”
Patris put a hand to his head. His home–everything he had ever known–was being burned before his eyes. And as if that were not enough, the entire weight of responsibility–the guilt–over everything that was happening, had suddenly been placed on his shoulders.
“We would assist you with the rebuilding,” Keris was saying. “You would even be allowed to retain your quaint traditions…with one or two exceptions.” He looked up at her, his tongue paralysed by doubt. “Look, I know you, Patris. You have pointed out many times that you care only about this city and its people, not the rest of the world. This is your chance to secure their future.”
Patris’ tongue felt thick in his mouth. “What must I do?”
Her smile grew. “Come. There is someone I would like you to meet.” She put the back of her hand to her mouth and spoke something into the Ring that he could not hear. There was a clattering sound from the other end of the street. A carriage pulled by striped graylesh and flanked by foot soldiers pulled into view. As it drew alongside and came to a stop, Patris saw the emblem on the door of the carriage–three concentric circles; one red, one white, and one yellow, and over them all, the red flame symbol. The Three and the One. A soldier stepped up smartly, opening the door and extending a set of folding steps. A tall figure in a hooded black robe emerged and stepped down from the carriage. The figure turned towards Patris and Keris, face hidden in shadow.
Keris turned slowly, addressing all of those present. “The Prophet has arrived.” She indicated Patris. “Behold the new Guild Master of Sakara. He is to work with the Keltar to free the city of corrupting influences and return its people to the true faith.” She strode up behind Patris and placed a hand on his shoulder. The pressure was firm and insistent, forcing him to one knee. “Swear your allegiance to the Prophet.”
Patris could feel pairs of eyes burning into him like red-hot pokers. On the opposite side of the street, the roof of the bakers collapsed, sending columns of sparks into the night air. Sweat beaded on his brow. At this very moment, the people of Sakara–his people–were suffering. Dying. Only he could make it stop. How many lives was his collaboration worth? Ten? A hundred? A thousand? He raised his head. “I swear.”
Beneath the shadow cast by the cowl, the Prophet’s mouth distorted into a smile. He reached up and pushed back the hood. Patris’ eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he gazed into a face that was familiar. Too familiar. The face was his own.
The world disappeared in a blinding flash of light.
<><><><><>
Chapter 32
Lyall sat on the edge of the Dais, his legs dangling over the vertical drop to the ground below. Off to his right, the Tower of Akalon rose toward a brooding sky. The early downpour had stopped, but patches of mist lingered in depressions on the rolling plain. Rainwater beaded and pooled on the smooth metal surface of the Dais. Waiting. That was the hardest part. Knowing that others were undergoing unnamed hardships, and that you could do nothing to help them or change the outcome. Of course, in the case of Patris, it was he who had cast the thief bodily into the mysterious bank of fog and whatever fate awaited him there. There had been no choice–it had been a simple matter of survival. However, for some reason, that didn’t make him feel any better. Already, Patris had been in there a lot longer than Alondo. He had no idea whether that was a good sign or a bad one. Whatever the outcome, Lyall was quite sure that he would incur the thief’s wrath when he finally emerged. It was a price he was resigned to pay.
He sensed a movement behind him and made to stand. Turning, he saw Shann and Rael waiting for him. The boy was shuffling his feet. Lyall shook off his grey mood and smiled at them warmly. “What can I do for you?”
Shann poked Rael in the side and spoke in hushed tones. “Go on.”
“How is Alondo?” Rael asked.
“He’ll be fine,” Lyall assured them. “He seems tired, mostly.”
“Is he sleeping?” Rael inquired.
“Not when I last saw him,” Lyall returned. “I think he just needs some time to himself. I would suggest leaving him on his own for now. He knows where we are if he needs company.”
“How about–” Rael winced and turned on Shann. “Owww, will you please stop doing that?”
Lyall adopted a bemused expression. “Is there something going on between you two?”
They answered simultaneously. “No,” said Shann; “Yes”, said Rael. They looked at each other.
“No,” Rael assented. “It’s just that…well, Shann and I made a discovery earlier–”
“Well, it was really Rael rather than me,” Shann put in.
“Yes, but it was your reasoning on magnets that gave me the idea of looking at gravity waves.”
“I was just rambling,” she insisted. “I don’t even know what a gravity wave is.”
“Stop.” Lyall held up one hand and shut his eyes. “Look, I have no idea what either of you is talking about.”
“No,” Rael acknowledged. “Look, I’ll start from the beginning. During our journey to meet the Chandara–”
“After we escaped from the tower,” Shann interrupted. The other two looked at her. “Sorry,” she said, lapsing into silence.
“Anyway,” Rael continued, “the weapon that the Prophet is constructing, we found out how it works. Shann told me about Annata’s warning that the instrument that she had concealed here for us to render the weapon ineffective was highly dangerous. That led me to theorize about how such a weapon might be safely disarmed. What I discovered was…so disturbing that Shann and I have been debating ever since about who to tell. She finally insisted that I come and talk to you.”
Lyall nodded thoughtfully. “I see. So what’s your conclusion?”
Rael glanced at Shann, then took a deep breath. “In simple terms, the Prophet’s device combines lodestone gas and ordinary gas in such a way that it would generate limitless energy, resulting in an explosion of unlimited power. There is one way and one way only that such weapon could be safely neutralized, and that would be to use an instrument that causes gravity waves to radiate away, thereby converting the ordinary gas to lodestone gas and rendering the weapon inert.”
Lyall felt a cold shiver run through him. “Wait a moment. Are you saying that you can make lodestone artificially?”
“Not me,” Rael returned. “I would have no idea how to make such an instrument. It’s way beyond our technology. But if Annata’s people have been able to construct one and have left it here, then the one who possessed it would be able to create lodestone at will. They would, in effect, have absolute power.”
“Are you certain about all of this?” Lyall asked.
“As certain as I can be,” Rael replied. “I’ve checked and re-checked the equations. The theory is sound.”
Lyall was staring into space. “All of this…all of the elaborate testing–the division of the instrument into four separate components. It all makes sense now.”
“Rael doesn’t believe it’s enough,” Shann broke in. “He believes that as soon as it has been used, Annata’s instrument must be destroyed without fail.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Lyall said. He paused for reflection. “Perhaps we ought to keep this from the others, for now. They have enough to worry about. If we succeed in destroying the weapon, then we can discuss how to dispose of the instrument safely. If not–well, it won’t matter very much, will it.”
Shann and Rael both nodded.
There was a sudden shout from the middle of the Dais. The three of them turned to see two figures emerging from the dome of fog.
~
“Patris Has Failed The Trial.” Boxx’s sing-song voice carried a note of finality.
The party had gathered around Patris. Their faces were a mixture of fear and concern. The thief had a haunted look. His long dark hair was matted, and his eyes were wild. “Well, what did you expect?”
“It’s all right,” Keris appeased. “I’m sure you did your best.”
Patris snorted. “Did my best…you people don’t have a clue. None. I’m not supposed to talk about it, right?”
“That is correct,” Keris confirmed.
“Then I will tell you one thing, and one thing only. The Prophet must be stopped. Whatever it costs–whoever has to be sacrificed–he must be stopped. He must be…” Patris pushed past the others and headed for the tented area. They all watched him go.
Shann looked up at Lyall. “Well, at least he didn’t hit you.”
Lyall’s face was grim. “I think I might have been happier if he had.”
Keris turned to Boxx. “Who is next for trial?”
The Chandara raised its head. “Rael Is Next.” All eyes turned to the boy. He was doing his best to appear brave.
“You can borrow my cloak and staff if you like,” Shann heard herself say.
Rael smiled at her. “No, thanks. I have a feeling they won’t be of much help.” He turned to Boxx. “Let’s go.”
Shann held her breath and watched as the tall boy and the little shelled creature walked forward until the dense barrier of fog swallowed them up.
~
The grey emptiness vanished, to be replaced by a peaceful meadow. Rael saw that Boxx too was gone. Yellow grass extended in all directions, scattered with splashes of cyan, white, crimson and purple flowers. Summer insects buzzed, preoccupied with their various tasks. A fence was visible a short way off, and some distance beyond it, a farmhouse. He recognised this place. It was his cousin’s smallholding near Lechem, where he used to play as a child.
A girl in a light pink dress sailed through the golden pasture, swinging a large basket. Rael instantly recognised the shining russet eyes, the small button nose, the deep brown bob of hair. “Shann, what are you doing here?”
She looked up at him and her eyes narrowed. “Very funny.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on.”
Rael turned his head and scanned his surroundings once more. “Boxx,” he called out.
She frowned. “What’s a ‘Boxx’?”
High overhead, a green and crimson lupa-hawk shrieked, seeking out the small creatures that scuttled between the densely packed stalks. Of the Chandara, there was no sign. Rael allowed himself to be dragged through the open field and away from the farmhouse. The suns blazed down from an unbroken, azure sky. It was getting warm. He removed his fur jacket and unfastened the top of his tunic. Up ahead, a grove of luxuriant purple trees offered the promise of cool shade. As they passed beneath the first of the overhanging branches, Shann flopped to the ground. She smiled up at him, and Rael eased himself down next to her. The girl pulled a patterned cloth from the basket and laid it on the ground, then began busying herself with the basket’s contents.
What’s happening to me? Rael began to cycle through the possibilities. Could all of this be a dream? Everything seemed much too real for that. He could feel the warmth of the suns on his face, smell the heady scents of growing things. Still, let’s test the hypothesis, shall we? If it were true, then inducing peril or pain ought to be enough to wake him up. He stood up and began searching the copse. There was some kind of bramble a short distance away. Shann eyed him curiously as he walked over to it. He snapped off a long spine and dug it into his palm until the blood flowed.
Shann was on her feet, running toward him. “What are you doing?” she cried in alarm. Suddenly, his hand was in hers once again as she dabbed at the wound and cleaned it off with a handkerchief. As Rael felt the tenderness of her touch, confused feelings began to well up within him. Their relationship up to now had been one of friendship–nothing more. It was not that he was repelled by the sudden change, he was just totally unprepared for it. And yet…and yet this person was not Shann. She talked and sounded like Shann, but she was not the infuriatingly bossy firebrand that he knew. This Shann was warm, caring and affectionate. And she did not seem to know who Boxx was.
Rael thrust the thought aside for now and resumed his analysis while the girl worked. Could he be under the effect of some hallucinogenic drug? It seemed unlikely. Apart from the fact that he could not remember ingesting anything or being stuck with any kind of a syringe, the effect had been immediate and complete. He was no expert, but he was fairly certain that there was nothing chemical that could bring about such a vivid, drug-induced state so instantaneously. However, it should be reasonably simple for him to assess his own mental state. He began by reeling off in his mind the first twenty prime numbers, then calculated pi to ten decimal places. Clearly his mind was logical and well ordered, even if the rest of the world wasn’t.
That left…an illusion of some kind. But an illusion that afforded such complete visual, auditory and tactile senses, that it was completely indistinguishable from reality? It would require a level of technology so far ahead of anything he could conceive that it hardly seemed possible.
She finished dressing his hand and led him gently back to their spot. She sat on the ground, tucked her bare legs attractively under her and smiled at him once more. “Have something to eat?” He accepted a round pastry from her hand and bit into it. As the fruit juices burst onto his tongue, his eyes widened. His mother used to make pastries just like this…no, not just like this. They were exactly as he remembered. There was a pattern here. He was on the farm he remembered fondly from his youth, with an idealised version of the girl from Kelanni-Drann, eating his mother’s sweetmeats. It was as if…as if something had reached into his mind and constructed an entire world out of his own fantasies.
A test. This was all supposed to be a test, but he could not imagine what. When Alondo and Patris had emerged from their particular trials, they had seemed disturbed, even traumatised. Yet there was nothing here that was vaguely distressing. He lay back in the grass. As he did so, the girl moved over and began stroking his forehead. He looked up into her soft brown eyes, saw the delicate curve of her neck, felt the caress of her fingertips. Her face lowered toward his. His hand moved up to her slender waist, and their lips met for what seemed like an eternity.
Suddenly the girl pulled away, her eyes aflame. She drew her hand back and slapped the boy full across the face. Pain and shock lanced through him, but before he could react, there was a blinding flash and he was laying on the cold hard metal surface of the Dais. Rael massaged his cheek, then clambered unsteadily to his feet. What was all that about? Had he failed somehow?
The sky was still overcast and he was already starting to feel a damp chill. He reached down and pulled on his coat. There was something nagging at the back of his mind. The others. Where are the others? He spun around, taking in the view from every direction. There was nothing. The parked avionics, the huddle of tents, all of it. All gone.
He was utterly alone.
<><><><><>
Chapter 33
Rael fought a rising sense of panic. The platform was completely deserted. He turned slowly, taking in the view from every direction. To the north he could just see the outline of the Vannath range of mountains. To the south, the undulating plain rolled away, terminating in a distant line that was the Arlan Sea. Close by, the majestic Tower of Akalon was the only sign of civilisation, though sealed and abandoned more than three millennia ago. He was a man both out of place and out of time.
Rael walked to the edge of the Dais. What could possibly have caused Lyall and the others to abandon him? An emergency of some kind? Had they been attacked while he was undergoing his experience in the dome of mist? That didn’t seem likely. He could imagine that they might be forced to board the avionics to escape, but he could not conceive of an emergency that would allow them the time to neatly pack away all the tents and other equipment. Yet there was not even a pot or a utensil remaining.
The grey dome was no longer there. It was possible that Boxx had shut it off, except that there was no sign of the Chandara either. Rael reached the rim of the Dais and peered gingerly over the edge. Silvery pools of rainwater had collected in lowlying areas of the rough heath land. At higher points, gnarled and stunted trees stood, clinging to the thin, bare soil like stubborn old men. It was a sheer drop to the surface–seven, maybe eight ryns. With a fall from that kind of height, even a flying cloak would be of little use. Rael calculated the probable impact velocity, assigning values for his body mass and likely drag coefficient. A little more than nine ryns per dahn. There was a possibility that he might not be killed instantly, but he would almost certainly be in no condition to walk away. If they had only left one of the tents, a few blankets, anything that he could use to construct a makeshift parachute…
He gazed up at the dense covering of low clouds. His best chance was probably to do nothing. If Lyall and the others had been forced to leave unexpectedly, then they wouldn’t have forgotten him. They would obviously come back for him the first chance they could. He might even be spotted by a passing avionic. The Dais was some way off the regular flight paths; the only people who generally ventured down this way were sightseers interested in viewing the ancient sites. The fact that it was wintertime made such casual traffic less likely, but not impossible.
Best to wait it out, then. Rael eased himself down and sat cross-legged, facing the distant sea. If he was careful, he could survive here on his own for some time. He was pretty confident that he could rig up something from his own torn clothing that would collect rainwater. The main problem up here would be lack of food. How long could a Kelanni survive without food? Rael found himself wishing that he had paid more attention during the educator’s biology lectures, instead of factoring polynomials in his head or figuring out how he could get the girl two rows back, with the laughing eyes and waist-length hair, to notice him. Fifteen to twenty days? That sounded about right. He guessed that for the final third of that time he would probably be too weak to do anything. Sleeping more would conserve energy, but would increase the chances that he might miss help when and if it flew by.
A light rain began to patter against the metal surface. Rael pulled his coat tighter around him. How long had he been in the dome of fog, with the illusion of Shann? He reached inside his tunic and pulled out his timepiece. He had only been gone for about two hundred dahns. It seemed inconceivable that the rest could pack up and leave in so short a period of time. Time. He was suddenly struck by a wild thought. What if…what if they were still here, but he had somehow moved in time? He had no idea whether travel through time was actually possible, although he did know of some pretty out-of-the-way theories. The surrounding plains and the tower would probably have looked exactly the same three thousand turns ago as they did in the present. And they would probably look the same, three thousand turns into the future. He could be any…when.
Rael shook his head. Speculation. Right now, he needed to maximize his chances of staying alive. He could figure out the rest later. Ignoring the damp and the cold, he removed his coat and tunic and began ripping off a large section of cloth to make a rain catcher.
As he worked, he registered a movement in the corner of his eye. Rael dropped the torn garment and stood up. Something was flying through the air toward him from the centre of the Dais. It was a translucent sphere, small–not much wider than the palm of his hand. It approached his position and stopped, floating in front of his face like a disembodied eye.
Rael took a step back. His mind crowded with questions. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before, and yet there was something…something he had read once, or…Shann. She had mentioned something that existed in her world–a different kind of technology based on lodestones. Vision Spheres, she had called them. Could that be what this was? He peered into the depths of the device, but all he could see was a distorted reflection. What was it Shann had said? The image was generated one way only. Someone was watching him. “Er…hello?” he said tentatively.
The sphere hovered a moment longer, then shot away in the direction it had come. Rael followed its trajectory. It came to a stop once again near the middle of the platform. The boy began walking toward it.
As he got near, he heard a steady whirring. All of a sudden, the surface of the platform parted and a round section rose up in front of him, stopping at just above head height. A door slid open to reveal an open cylinder. Rael approached it cautiously. The glassy sphere buzzed behind his left shoulder and hung there as if waiting to see what he would do. It could be a trap.
The interior of the cylinder appeared featureless. He stepped back and turned to address the sphere. “Who are you?” There was no response. If the sphere was indeed some kind of observation device, then the emergence of the cylinder could not be coincidence. It was clearly an invitation of some kind. But an invitation by whom? And to what?
Another high pitched hum. But this time it was behind and above him. He swivelled around and scanned the clouds. There. A silvery grey dart was heading straight for the platform. Rael ran forward, waving his arms frantically, the twin enigmas of sphere and cylinder forgotten. “Here…over here.” Common sense told him that there was no chance the pilot could hear him at that range, but he carried on yelling regardless.
The nose of the flying machine dipped toward him. They’ve seen me. Without warning, a burst of light emanated from the craft and the platform next to Rael exploded. The boy was thrown sideways to the ground. He hauled himself up and shook his head. Smoke rose from the spot next to him, and the metal surface was charred and blackened. That was meant for me. Rael could hear the rising hum of the engines. He scanned the sky frantically, searching for his attacker. His eye finally caught a reflection on the aircraft’s flank as it banked against the clouds, coming in for another pass.
He scrambled to take a position behind the newly emerged cylinder, the only available cover on the level platform. The avionic swooped in low, and another bolt of lightning impacted close by. Rael could feel the heat of the blast. If the cylinder were to retract back into the Dais now, there would be nowhere left for him to hide. He could hear the drone of the avionic high above, readying another strike. Thrusting caution aside, Rael made for the open door and hurled himself into the cylinder. Instantly, the door slid shut, a light snapped on and the cylinder went into freefall.
~
Rael reached out and pressed his palms against both sides of the narrow compartment as it plummeted downward. I wouldn’t recommend this for anyone with a weak heart.
Based on the time elapsed and the rate of descent, Rael concluded that he must already be far below the surface. Little was known about what lay beneath the surface of their world. Clearly, this coffin-sized carriage was conveying him somewhere. But where? It was difficult to believe that even the Ancients could construct something so deep underground.
The cylinder began to slow and finally came to a gentle stop. The door opened silently. Rael could see nothing but darkness beyond the opening. He waited a moment for his heart to stop pounding, then risked a peek outside. The meagre illumination from within the cylinder did nothing to dispel the gloom. He took a tentative step outside. There was a rapid succession of clicking sounds as a series of overhead lights came on. As he watched, they curved away in either direction, meeting up again in the far distance to form a perfect circle. Rael gasped.
He was standing on a ring-shaped walkway overlooking a vast chamber. Lining the walls were what looked like giant condensers of some kind. Behind plate glass, huge bubbles formed and drifted lazily up toward a ceiling somewhere out of sight. Far below, covering the floor of the chamber, he could see banks of unknown machinery. Rael took a deep breath. The atmosphere here was as fresh as on the surface. Even the simple task of providing air this far down would be a major feat of engineering. He stood there, dressed in his undershirt, trying to take it all in. Somewhere far above his head–maybe a met-ryn, maybe more–his torn tunic and fur coat were presumably still lying discarded on the metal platform. He envisaged the frustrated pilot of the avionic that had attacked him, desperately trying to work out how he had managed to vanish into thin air.
Rael began making his way around the perimeter, watching the view below as his perspective gradually changed. He could see arrays of tiny lights, but there did not seem to be any movement. A quarter of the way around, he came across an open metal cage jutting out into the expanse. It seemed to be another elevator, designed to provide access to the floor below. How many turns had it stood idle? Do I really want to trust my life to this thing? Still, he had to know what was down there.
He stepped onto the metal grille that was the floor of the cage. It creaked slightly, but held steady. He swallowed. It was not unlike the elevators at the launch site at Takala Flats. Rael had no particular love for those either. There were two buttons, red and green. His hand was shaking slightly as he moved to press the green one. Nothing happened. He pressed the red button. Again nothing. Then, with a lurch that sent Rael scrabbling for a handhold, the cage began moving downward.
As he descended, the great machines filled his vision. Fear was soon replaced by wonder as he began to speculate as to the purpose of this place. What grand vision had driven its builders to bring forth such wonders? The cage juddered once more as it moved through the last ryn, before finally coming to rest at the bottom of the chamber. Rael exhaled slowly and stepped onto the chamber floor.
His boots echoed as he strolled through a cathedral of technological marvels. He was a tiny child, moving across a hall filled with immense toys that he did not comprehend and could not play with, but which filled him with intense excitement nonetheless. Gradually, he wound his way toward a circular bank of instruments that dominated the centre of the immense hall. He stopped before a console and ran his fingertips reverently over the array of panels and switches.
A voice just behind him made him jump. He whirled around and saw a figure standing before him. An elderly Kelanni in long white robes was speaking in urgent tones. Rael did not understand the words, but he recognised them as Ancient. “Hello…can you understand me?” he replied.
The old man looked at the floor and frowned, creases accentuating his bald forehead. He seemed to be concentrating intently on something. Finally the creases vanished and he raised his eyes, addressing the tall young visitor once again. “It’s about time.”
~
Rael stared at the sprightly individual. His eyes were alive, though his worn olive skin was peppered with freckles of age. “Wh…who are you?” Rael stammered.
“Don’t they teach you people in maintenance anything? I suppose you must be new. I am Rashid. I run this complex.”
“But you’re…you’re a…”
“An AP? Of course. Artificial Personality. Much more sophisticated than your common Artificial Intelligence, naturally. I had to have the computer make copies of myself.” Rashid waved an arm expansively. “How else do you expect me to keep track of everything that goes on in a place this size?” This creature seemed as much of an enigma as the rest of the apparatus that surrounded them. “You can start by dealing with the power transfer systems. The elevator at the loading dock isn’t working. We have outages in three more sections and fermionic capture is only operating at forty-three percent efficiency. I don’t know how they expect me to maintain quotas under these conditions.”
Rael shut his eyes. “Look, I think you’ve made a mistake. I would have no idea how to repair these machines of yours. They are far beyond our technology.”
“You’re telling me you’re not with maintenance?”
“No…sorry.”
Rashid threw his hands into the air. “Wonderful. So what were you doing on Drani-Kathaar?” The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me Annata sent you.” Rael’s jaw fell open. “I knew it. Follow me.”
The man in white turned without waiting for a response. Rael trailed after him. He was beginning to feel as if he were in the grip of events he could not control. He was led across the floor of the great hall to a round table, topped by a clear transparent hemisphere. Within the hemisphere were four identical devices shaped like flat diamonds. They appeared to be made of a blue glass substance, embedded with complex circuitry. Four of them. Annata had said that the instrument was divided into four parts. Could these be…?
Rashid touched a button, and the hemisphere retracted silently, exposing the display. “Go ahead. Take them.”
Rael felt as if his brain were wading through treacle. “These are…”
“The components of the gravity wave device, yes,” the old man said testily.
“Aren’t there trials that the bearers of these things have to pass?”
Rashid threw his hands up once again. It seemed to be something that he did a lot. “How should I know? Annata insisted on storing them here for some people to use at some future time. They are nothing to do with me. I told you–I have enough to do just trying to keep this facility up and running.”
“What is this place?” Rael asked.
“You don’t know?” the old man sounded incredulous. “This is a neutrino collector, of course. I assume you know what a neutrino is?”
Neutrinos. To Rael, they existed only in theory. However, if their power could be harnessed, then their weak interaction would allow one to probe the deepest secrets of the universe. This place was a dream come true.
A high warbling sound.
Rael jumped for the second time. “Now what?” Rashid tut-tutted. “This is turning out to be a very trying day. Very trying indeed.” He stalked off, muttering to himself.
Rael lingered before the open table. The power to turn any ordinary matter into lodestone. It was his for the taking. All he had to do was scoop them up. The diamond-shaped components glistened under the hard artificial lighting. Rael’s heart quickened. He was a scientist first and foremost. Should he not at least examine them–experiment to see if they actually worked? He reached toward the nearest of the four. It was as if his hand no longer belonged to him. Suddenly, he pulled it back as if he had unknowingly plunged it into fire.
Absolute power. Its seductive quality shook him to the core. He let out a ragged breath, then turned his back on the four components and hurried after the self-appointed guardian of this cave of wonders.
<><><><><>
Chapter 34
Rael finally caught up to the elderly custodian. He was back at the central instrument bank, still muttering away to himself. The warbling had stopped, but a bright green light was winking on the console in front of him.
“Is there a problem?” Rael asked conversationally.
“You tell me.” Rashid moved his hand over a panel and a large screen appeared overhead. Rael recognised right away the image of the Dais, far above them. The picture drifted slightly. “The lookout has detected some further visitors. Friends of yours, perhaps?”
It suddenly occurred to Rael that he was looking through the same floating transparent globe that had observed him on the surface–similar to the Vision Sphere that Shann had described. The view moved to the left, and the image of a parked avionic swam into view. It had to be the one that attacked him earlier. “No, I don’t think they’re very friendly,” he mused.
As the view continued to pan slowly, Rael caught sight of a second avionic. And a third. Figures moved between the flying machines, too distant to make out. “Can you move the…the lookout in closer?”
Rashid turned a bony wrist and the image shot toward them. Rael had to suppress a sudden queasiness as the front of one of the craft filled their vision. As he watched, a head and shoulders appeared. The lookout backed off slightly to reveal an odd-looking creature. It was broad and unnaturally stocky, with a pasty, sickly looking face. And it had no tail. Rael had never seen one before, yet he knew instantly what it was from descriptions he had heard–tales told to frighten little children. Hu-man.
The mouth moved and an oddly accented voice came over the speaker. “Who are you?” Rael stared in fascination at the strange form of the creature in front of him. “Who are you?” It demanded again.
“Would you like to make a reply?” Rashid offered.
Rael’s face was set. “Absolutely not.”
~
The hideous creature was soon joined by two others. They stared into the device. A thick-set individual with unnaturally bushy eyebrows spoke into the ear of the first one. His voice was a growl. “I don’t like it.”
“Pull yourself together,” the first one snapped. Then he addressed the lookout. “Listen carefully, whoever you are. We know about this place and we know what is concealed here. Allow us access to the gravity wave device and no-one will be harmed.” There was a pause. “I know you can hear me. You were seen disappearing into this structure. Open up now.” As Rael continued to watch, the first one turned to his right. “Bring the female.”
The thick-set one disappeared off screen. Moments later he returned, dragging a far smaller figure, bound and with short dark hair. Shann. She still wore the flying cloak but her face looked bruised and swollen. She was forced to her knees. “I will count to ten,” the first one declared. “If you do not reveal the entrance, then this one will die.” Rashid looked sideways at Rael, but said nothing. The creature began counting down. “Ten…nine…” If I let them in, then it’s all over. “…six…five…four…” Rael felt his heart clench within him. He shut his eyes tight. “…two…one…”
A sickening thud. The sound of it went through him like a blade. He forced his eyes open. A crumpled form lay on the platform. Shann. She was not moving. Rael gritted his teeth and felt his eyes water. How could this be happening?
The scene shifted slightly so that Rael could now see three more captives lined up: Lyall, Alondo, Patris. Of Keris and Boxx there was no sign. The first creature moved forward so that his revolting pink face filled the screen. “Open up now, or one of these will be next.”
“Oh no,” Rashid let out. Rael glanced at him, but he was not looking at the screen. His eyes were fixed on the console, his hands moving frantically over the multicoloured panel.
Rael took hold of his grief with both hands and thrust it away in a deep dark place. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s the elevator,” Rashid said. “It’s headed back to the surface.”
“What?” Rael exclaimed. “Stop it and bring it back down.”
“What do you think I’m trying to do? It’s not accepting my commands.”
“Why not?”
Rashid’s brow knitted. “It’s not a software problem. I think the mechanism is…physically jammed. This is what happens when maintenance doesn’t do its job. Who are those people? They’re not Kelanni.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Rael said. “They mustn’t be allowed to get in here.”
Rashid’s attention was still fixed on the control panel. “Well, I don’t know what I can do to prevent it. The elevator is already at the top.”
Rael’s eyes turned back to the screen as the lookout recorded the first hu-man and his thick-set companion crowding into the elevator. The third creature–grizzled, with odd reddish hair on his scalp and face–had been left to guard the captives.
“Is there another way out of here?” Rael asked.
“Only the elevator at the loading dock. It’s not working–I told you that.”
Rael grabbed the older man’s elbow. He could feel the hardness of bone as if he were a skeleton beneath the sleeve of his robe. “Then we have to destroy the four components. Now.”
Sympathy passed across the custodian’s features. “That’ll be difficult. The casing is made from synthesized lonsdaleite. It’s nearly twice as hard as diamond.”
“You have a material harder than diamond?” Rael shook his head. “Never mind. Where is the other elevator now?”
“About halfway down. It’ll be here any moment.”
“They can’t be allowed to get their hands on those devices,” Rael declared.
Rashid shook his head. “I knew those things were going to be trouble from the moment Annata stashed them here. I only allowed it because…because everything was falling apart, and she said it was the only way to ensure our race’s long term survival. Now she’s gone and I’m left to clean up the mess she left behind. Look, if you want to destroy all record of the technology right now, then the only way would be a reactor overload.”
Rael’s eyes widened. “You mean…blow this place up?”
“I’m afraid so. If you’re sure that’s what you want. I am nothing more than an advanced AP–I have no conscious existence as you understand it. You, however, would be killed, I’m afraid.”
Not just me. They were too far underground for any conceivable blast to reach the surface, but it might well be felt up there. Rael had no illusions as to the fate his friends would suffer when their guard realised what had happened. On top of that, the device that Annata had concealed here would be lost forever. And the Prophet would still be building his weapon. He could only hope that Keris and Boxx were still alive and free somewhere. It’ll be up to you now.
Rael met the older man’s curious stare. “Do it. Do it now.” Rashid bowed slightly, then made off around the circle of consoles. Rael hurried after him. A third of the way round, the old man settled at a new set of controls and began making adjustments. There was a commotion from the circular walkway far above. Boots resounding on metal. Distant voices. They were here. “How long?” Rael pressed him.
The alarm began to sound once more, only this time the note was higher–more urgent. Rashid let his hands drop. “Reactants are set. Critical mass will occur in twenty dahns.”
“Thank you,” Rael said. The cage lift was descending towards the chamber floor.
Rashid suddenly seemed even older. “How long…how long since I was last activated?”
“More than three thousand turns,” Rael answered.
The old Kelanni looked as if Rael had struck him with a blunt instrument. “Rashid…the real Rashid, I mean. He is dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Then I am all that is left of what he was.”
Rael tried to find some words of comfort but could find none. In the end, he simply nodded.
The old man looked up at him, his eyes pleading. “I don’t want to die.”
Rael thought of his mother and brother. Of Hannath and Meira at the observatory. Of Solvi, his childhood friend. Of Lyall, Alondo, Keris and Patris, who had journeyed from Drann, across the Sea of Storms. Of Boxx and its remarkable people. And of Shann. Shann the courageous. Shann the annoying. Shann the strong. Shann the impatient. Shann, the girl in a pink dress who had led him by the hand through a golden pasture, who had dressed his wound and then kissed him. Which of them was truly her? All or none? He would never know.
The cage had reached the bottom and disgorged its occupants. But now they had grown insignificant; tiny, scurrying creatures lost in a vast mechanical forest. About to be stepped on. Rael felt suffused with a strange sense of calm, as if his life had suddenly been brought into focus. And with clarity came insight. “I think Rashid would understand. And he would approve of his…Artificial Personality.”
The two of them stood side by side to face the approaching hu-mans. Rael heard the creatures bark out a challenge. He watched as they stood and looked at each other, then levelled stubby instruments that appeared to be weapons of some kind.
A searing light. But strangely, there was no pain. And then he was standing in the midst of a grey expanse. In place of Rashid, there was Boxx, looking up at him. “Follow,” it commanded.
Rael had no strength left in him for questions. He bent down, picked up his coat and the tattered remains of his shirt, and stumbled after the Chandara.
As they emerged from the fog bank, Rael saw the pitched tents and the parked avionics–just as he remembered them. He spotted Lyall and Shann, and a surge of relief washed over him. Somehow, he was alive and back with the others. His mind struggled to make sense of it all. He had seen, felt, touched–everything. Had it all been an illusion? Yet it was as real as anything here.
Shann came running toward him with Lyall close behind. She stopped short and her eyes ran him up and down. Haunted expression. Torn clothing. I must look a sight. “What happened to you?”
You did. Rael had no idea how to answer her. You are no more or less real than that other Shann. How can I be sure that you are not just another illusion?
“No questions,” Lyall reminded her.
Shann surged forward and threw her arms around the boy. Her touch felt unreal, otherworldly. Rael stiffened. She released him and stepped back, looking upset and confused. Rael’s heart felt like a stone weight in his breast. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know who any of you are.
Keris had appeared next to Lyall. She was watching the exchange with cool detachment. Finally, she broke the silence. “Boxx, has Rael passed the trial?”
The little creature stood on its hind limbs and looked up at her. “Rael Has Passed.”
A collective sigh of relief passed around the gathering. It seemed to touch everyone except him.
Lyall stepped forward. “Time enough for congratulations later. Rael is exhausted. Shann, help him to a tent and see to his needs, would you?”
The girl hesitated for a moment, then came forward once more and supported his arm. Rael allowed himself to be led away toward the sweet release of sleep. Please…please don’t let me dream.
~
Lyall watched the backs of the two young people as they headed toward the makeshift shelters. Over by the avionics, the three drach observed the proceedings, but made no move to approach. Two down. Two to go.
Keris let out a deep breath. “I’m not sure I like the turn this is taking.”
The former Keltar had a talent for turning victory into defeat. However, it was vital for all members of the group to feel they had a say, especially in Keris’ case. It was her tendency to act on her own that had caused problems in the past, culminating in the crisis between her and Shann during their journey through the Pits of Kharthrun. Tension still hovered in the air between the two women, like a brooding perridon. But he had the respect of both of them, so he had been able to serve as a bridge whenever it mattered, holding the party together.
He also had to admit that her skills and experience were a valuable resource–one that any competent leader would be foolish to ignore. He turned toward her, waiting until he had eye contact. “What’s troubling you, Keris?”
Keris flicked her head, indicating the tents. Her long raven hair shifted, then settled about her shoulders once again. Her dark eyes were hard and intense. “Alondo and Patris are both still flat out. The boy looks as if he’s been in a battle for his life.”
“We only need two more to qualify to operate the components of Annata’s instrument,” Lyall pointed out. “There are three of us who have still to undergo trial–you, myself and Shann. We are on track for a successful outcome.”
“Yes but success in this phase of the operation is no good if we end up with a bunch of invalids,” Keris pointed out.
“No-one appears to have been injured, at least as far as I can tell. Still, maybe it would be wise to ask Boxx to look them over when all of this is finished.”
Keris pressed her lips together. “Their injuries may not be physical, but I can see them a mile off. Each of them is not the same person they were when they went in. And there’s something else.”
Lyall waited while she collected her thoughts. “Patris, for all his annoying traits, is highly capable–intelligent, resourceful and probably the most cunning of all of us. He’s a survivor. I would have put money on his ability to withstand any trial that could be devised for him. Yet somehow he failed. The boy, on the other hand, has little experience of life and even less of battle. Yet he came through.”
“Not every test is a test of battle, Keris.”
“Well, I hope that mine is.”
“Why do you say that?” Lyall asked.
Keris looked him squarely in the eye. “Because I know that’s a test I can win.”
~
When Shann returned a short while later, Keris was surprised to see her accompanied by Alondo. The musician appeared better. Shann was giggling in response to some witticism that he had whispered to her out of earshot. From the way the girl kept glancing her way, Keris had a strong suspicion that she was at the point of Alondo’s barb, but she let it ride. She was just relieved to see him back to a semblance of normality. If Alondo could bounce back, then there was hope for all of them.
At the sight of his old friend, Lyall grinned for the first time in a long while. “I see you’re back with us.”
Alondo smiled back faintly. His voice was quiet. “For the most part.”
A flicker passed over Lyall’s face as if he were recalling Keris’ words. With an effort, he turned to Shann. “How is Rael?”
Shann’s face grew grave. “I…don’t know really. I made up a blanket for him. He just lay down staring into space. I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t answer. I’m worried about him.”
Lyall nodded thoughtfully. “He’ll be all right, I’m sure. Just give it time.”
It was now mid-afternoon. The wind had dropped, the drizzle had left off and the dense clouds had belatedly begun to part, revealing patches of azure sky. There was the promise of a clear, settled evening over the Plains of Akalon. Time to move forward. Keris turned to the Chandara. “Boxx, who is to be next?”
“You Are Next, Keris.”
Keris nodded. Good. Let’s get this over with.
Lyall addressed her. “Do you need to make any preparations?”
Keris felt the weight of the flying cloak draped about her shoulders, the slight pressure of the diamond bladed darkwood staff at her back. “No. I am ready.”
Lyall bowed his head slightly and she returned the gesture, then turned, cloak fluttering in the breeze, and followed Boxx into the dome of grey fog.
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Chapter 35
Keris trailed after Boxx through a featureless grey landscape. She maintained herself at full alert, ready to react instantly to any threat that might emerge out of the flat mist. Whatever beast or berserker inhabited this strange place would feel the edge of her blade. But there was nothing. No enemy to overcome. No-one to fight. And no answers.
The Chandara stopped and turned to face her. “I Speak With Keris.”
She looked down at the shelled creature. Its wide face was like a child’s. “You wish to talk? Why here?”
“We Are Away From The Others. Alone.”
Keris reflected a moment. “Is this a part of the trial?”
“It Is Not A Part Of The Trial.”
“Very well,” she said. “What do you wish to speak of?”
“Do You Recall Your Promise, Keris?”
“Promise?”
“At The Warren. I Showed You The Great Tree. You Promised To Aid Chandara–When The Time Came.”
She nodded. “Yes, I remember.”
“My Time Is Short. I Must Give You Essence.” The little creature reached inside a fold in its underbelly with its upper forelimb. Keris had never noticed a pouch there before. Either she had missed it, or it was a feature that the Chandara had newly acquired somehow. Slowly it withdrew something, holding it out for Keris to see. It was a vial of what appeared to be transparent skin. The vial contained a milky substance, like thin blood. “Essence,” it trilled. “I Must Give. You Must Take.”
Keris reached out hesitantly and took the vial from Boxx. It sat in the palm of her hand, still warm to the touch. “What is this?”
“That Is…Me.”
Keris’ brow creased. “I…I don’t understand.”
“You Must Do What The Tree Cannot. First For Me, Then For All.”
“Do what?” she pressed. “What do you want me to do with this?”
Boxx looked up at her with a serene expression. “You Will Know. When The Time Comes.”
The vial suddenly seemed unnaturally heavy. Keris placed it with the other items in her pouch. She looked up again and saw the Chandara’s mouth ripple. “Begin.”
Boxx disappeared and along with it, the amorphous backdrop, to be replaced by a barren hillside. It was night. The sky was suffused with a dull red colour that seeped from the red sun. Ail-Mazzoth. She was back. Back on the other side of her world. But how? A trick of some kind? Keris drew her staff and held it at the ready as she circled, performing a total surveillance of her surroundings while she allowed her Kelanni eyes to adjust to the gloom. At first, it was hard to make out anything. All was deathly silence. Yet there was something…something familiar about this place.
She glanced again at the static red sun. Its orb filled the western sky, casting inky shadows over the maroon painted heights. That meant she must be well to the east of Chalimar–probably east of the plains. The Gilah Hills? The only time she had ever been this high up in the Gilah had been that fateful night when she had come face to face with Mordal for the last time. If she was right, then the corrie where she had clashed with her former mentor lay only a short distance ahead.
A test. This whole thing is a test of some kind, she reminded herself. Her instincts told her that any confrontation would likely take place at the site of that encounter. That left only two choices. Advance or retreat. If she hoped to prevail, then retreat was not an option. She sheathed her weapon and started up the rise.
Soon, Keris saw the ancient bowl of rock rising up to meet her. There could be no more doubt–this was the place. She stepped out onto the wide stone floor. The headwall reared up in front of her. In the midst of a slight depression, the bed of a long dried tarn, stood a lone robed figure, half hidden in shadow. Keris’ forehead began to bead with sweat, but it was not from the exertion of the climb. It can’t be…
She walked forward slowly. It all felt like a dream. As she approached, the figure cast back its cowl, to reveal the bald, full-fleshed head of her former overseer. “It’s good to see you, Keris.”
Sweat was rolling down her temples despite the cool night air. What was this…deception? The man was dead. There could be no mistake–she had seen the body with her own eyes. He could not be the person he was pretending to be. And yet…
Keris shook her head. Someone was toying with her, playing some twisted game for their own amusement. Boxx? It didn’t seem possible. Besides, the creature had placed its life in her hands only moments before. Someone else, then? Someone with a personal grudge, perhaps? Following her defection from the keep, there were far too many of those to count. Yet she knew none who would have the power to do…this. Of one thing she was certain. When she discovered the identity of the one responsible, she would promptly separate their head from their body.
Keris set her jaw. “You are not Mordal.”
The man smiled quizzically. “Why would you say that? Because I died here?” Keris felt her resolve crumble like a castle made of sand. “Or…am I about to die here? At your hand.” He touched his chin thoughtfully as if considering how to simplify an explanation for the benefit of a small child. “Life and death. Past and future. Right and wrong. They can all become so confusing, don’t you think? I told you of my efforts to cover up your transgressions, invited you to return so as to take up your rightful role as my successor. I…loved you, Keris. And you betrayed me.”
Keris fought back the tears welling inside her. “You left me no choice.”
“We all have choices,” Mordal countered. “You chose to abandon the Prophet and your oath.” He took a step forward. “I must admit, that was a clever move of yours–pushing off a deposit in the side wall up there. I had not allowed for that contingency. You overturned my clear advantage. I was taken by surprise and knocked to the ground. I fell–” he pointed to a spot towards the back of the corrie, “–there. My neck broken.”
Keris stared at the spot, remembering the sight of his crumpled form. Unmoving. Her heart shattered and her tears flowed. “I’m sorry. I…didn’t want to hurt you. I…was just trying to survive.”
Mordal raised his eyebrows. “Is that an expression of regret? But you are Keris. You never turn away from a battle. What is it your new friends are calling you? ‘The Heroine of Gort’? At the keep, you challenged the boy Torinn. Even as a girl, you thrashed the bully who had stolen Alerain’s spinner.” Keris wiped her cheek dry with the back of her hand. Her brow furrowed. The incident with the spinner had taken place long before she had met Mordal, and she had never mentioned it to anyone else. How could he know about that? “It was inevitable that you would eventually seek to defeat me,” the overseer continued. “However, the real question is this–” he reached behind and drew his staff weapon, “–can you do it a second time?”
Keris blinked. “You expect me to fight you again?” In answer, the elderly Keltar leapt high into the air with a terrible grace that belied his age, and then plummeted toward her. Keris’ reflexes kicked in and she sidestepped the descending blade, then rolled away to her left. She sprang to her feet like a vara-cat, staff held out defensively to parry any follow-up attack.
Mordal walked toward her slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. “You know, one good thing about being dead is that it gives you a lot of time to think.” His laughter sounded like a razor sharp diamond edge being dragged across stone. “I got to wondering, what would have happened if the Great Keris finally suffered defeat? Oh I’m not talking about the beating Torrin gave you. He inflicted injury, but he couldn’t make you bow down. I’m talking about surrender. The unconditional relinquishing of oneself to the will of another. You have never tasted such a thing, have you? Have you?”
Mordal punctuated his challenge with a lightning swing at her head. Keris jerked backwards, then flared her cloak, pushing off the small lodestone deposit that she recalled was near her position. She twisted her body to propel herself back, landing several feet away, putting some distance between her and her former mentor.
Mordal advanced once again, still in no hurry. He appeared to be relishing the encounter. “Let me tell you what it tastes like. Bile. Ashes. Flakes of rust sprinkled on water. Sweet wine laced with poison. That is the true taste of defeat. And it is a cup that I am going to make you drink, Keris. Here. Now. Because, make no mistake–whatever you do, whatever strategy you employ or trick you devise–this time, you will lose.”
Keris shut out his taunts and centred herself. The main lodestone deposits were behind Mordal, beyond her for the moment. There was the further deposit, high up in the side wall, but the element of surprise that she had relied on before was lost. She did not even have the option of using grenades this time. Those she had brought with her from Gort had all been used battling the Kharthrun Serpent. In terms of shassatan, the board game, there was only one strategy open to her. ‘Fool and Dagger’. Adopt a non-offensive role and hope that her adversary would make a mistake, leading to an opportunity for a counterattack.
Mordal had already displayed a degree of overconfidence, a desire to prolong the conflict for his own enjoyment. Perhaps that was something she could exploit? “You always taught me, ‘revenge makes you the subject of exploitation’.”
That same unpleasant laugh. “I told you–this is not about revenge. This is about seeing how you deal with defeat.” He stepped back and flared his flying cloak once more, leaping into the night sky.
His positioning gave him near total control of the lodestone and the power it afforded: superior height, better speed, greater power, more options. It was like battling uphill. If she could not find a way to gain the advantage, then his dire prediction would come true–she would ultimately be overpowered.
Don’t get caught on the ground again. Keris dashed back across the corrie floor and extended her cloak, pushing off the smaller deposit once more. She adopted a trajectory at right angles to his. If I can just get behind him…
He saw what she was attempting and angled down to meet her, shutting her off from the major deposits one more. He blipped his bronze layer as he fell to increase momentum, then met her in midair, letting loose a concatenation of staff blows that rang out against the ancient rocks. Keris parried with her own staff, but was forced backwards and began dropping toward the ground. Mordal continued his assault, battering her down, eyes wild with exultation. Keris gritted her teeth as she descended. She could feel her defences crumbling. A burst of agony erupted from her leg as Mordal’s diamond blade connected with her calf. She lowered her staff protectively and Mordal’s blade swept upward, then sideways toward her head. Keris caught the blur of motion and turned her head aside at the last moment. The keen edge flashed before her, slashing her cheek. She fell to the rocky floor, tumbling away before coming to a halt, face down.
Keris grimaced. A dozen or so lacerations and abrasions screamed for attention, but she ignored them, pushing herself up and clambering to her feet. She could feel blood trickling down the side of her face. Her legs wavered under her. She reached for her cloak’s neck control, but Mordal was already on the ground and bearing down on her position. He swung his darkwood staff, adding his full weight to the force of the blow. Keris raised her own weapon to meet his once again.
A resounding crack echoed around the bowl-shaped depression. The force of the blow reverberated up her arms and drove her down on one knee. He shoved, forcing her down farther. Your first mistake. Instead of shoving back, Keris suddenly pulled back and rolled to one side, causing the elderly Keltar to overbalance and pitch forward. She veered around and swung her staff so that the wood struck him squarely on the back, knocking him face first to the floor.
The move had bought her vital seconds. She set off on a limping run, making for the rear of the corrie. Breathing hard, Keris took up a dominant position in front of the two larger deposits. She blipped the upper lodestone layer of her cloak, and felt the familiar push. Now it was she who had the decisive advantage in height and power. I have to make it count.
Mordal had picked himself up off the floor. He was applauding slowly. “Well done, Keris. I would have expected nothing less.” He spread his arms theatrically. “The stage is yours.”
Keris winced, then extended her upper lodestone layer and leapt into the air on her good leg. Almost immediately, the upward pressure faded and she fell to the ground once more, stumbling forward. My flying cloak–it must have been damaged.
Mordal had not moved from his position. He simply stood with his staff held in one hand, pointed toward her. He appeared to be concentrating. Why is he not adopting a defensive posture? All of a sudden, he seemed to notice her. “Is there something wrong? Lodestone not working? Oh, that’s right, I forgot to tell you. I nullified it.”
Keris screwed her eyes up against the pain. Her mouth felt dry. “You did what?”
“I nullified it. This is my world, Keris. Haven’t you realised that yet? My world. My rules. You gained the advantage; I took it away. I told you–you cannot win. I can take anything in this world and bend it to my will. I will wear you down, sap your energy, rob you of your strength bit by bit until you have nothing left. And in the end will go down whimpering. You will beg for the chance to be reconciled to the Prophet, to submit to his will once more.”
“Wh…what are you?” she croaked.
“What I am is of no importance,” Mordal replied. “The real question is, what are you?” He ambled toward her. “I have no desire to prolong your suffering. Shall we make a quick end of it?”
Keris stood her ground. “I will never submit to the Prophet. I would sooner die first.”
Mordal came to a halt a few feet from her. “But you are Keris–The Heroine of Gort. Would you die here? Unmourned? Forgotten? No-one to tell stories of your fame or sing songs of your great deeds?”
Keris’ head began to swim. She was getting tired of the sound of his voice. “Whatever you are going to do, just get it over with.”
A smile played over his lips. “Very well.” The elderly Keltar stood unmoving for a moment, then his outline began to change–become something less than Kelanni. Fingers lengthened into claws. Teeth spilled out into fangs. Arms thickened. Torso bulged and sprouted pitch-black scales. The creature that had been Mordal filled out, expanded, rose high above the uneven corrie floor. Dwarfing her. It raised a massive foot and brought it down against the stone, making the entire floor of the corrie quake. Keris staggered backwards. What are you?
Vinaceous eyes stared down at her from beneath heavy-set brows. Keris recovered her wits and held out her staff in front of her with both hands. What do you expect to do against that? She chided herself. The monster sounded forth a bass growl. “Last chance, Keris. Capitulate now. Swear allegiance to the Prophet and save yourself.”
Trapped. The high walls of the corrie blocked her retreat, and with the lodestone deposits mysteriously vanished, her cloak was useless. Keris raised her grimy, bloodstained face to the monstrosity. In shassatan, when you no longer have enough pieces to form a strategy, then it is Kadda-Lorran–victory and defeat. To the depths of Kharthrun with that. “No. I will never go back to the person I was. And I will never yield.”
She let forth a guttural cry and charged the giant, stabbing and slashing at the thick hide and unyielding scales covering its lower limbs. The corner of her eye caught a huge shape swinging toward her; the back of an immense clawed hand. She felt the crushing impact momentarily–then it was all gone. The gigantic beast that had been Mordal, the high walls of the corrie, the dark crimson sky. She was standing once more in a field of unending grey. The Chandara stood erect on its hind limbs as if it had been waiting expectantly for her return.
“Follow,” it said, turning away.
Keris swallowed and finally found her voice. “Wait.” The small creature turned back obediently and faced her, eyes like black flames. “Why? Why did you put me through all of that?”
Boxx’s round face was wide with innocence. “I Did Not. I Gave You My Essence. The Thing That You Showed Me–That Was Your Essence.”
Keris had no more fight and no more words left in her. She made a futile attempt to wipe away the mixture of dirt, blood and dried tears that stained her cheeks and trailed after the Chandara.
<><><><><>
Chapter 36
“In the name of the Three, what happened to you?”
Keris leaned on her staff and glared at Alondo as if daring him to restate his question. Lyall stepped in front of his friend, appraising her state. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” she rasped.
“Nonsense,” Lyall said. “Boxx, can you take a break from the trials so as to tend to Keris’ injuries?”
“That is not necessary,” Keris maintained.
Lyall stepped up to her, emphasising his superior height. “You are bleeding from various wounds. Without early treatment, there is the chance of infection. What was it you told me? We cannot combat the Prophet’s forces if we end up as invalids.” Keris bowed her head and bit her lip. Lyall felt a wave of sympathy. The woman looks near to breaking point.
“Boxx, can you take the time to treat Keris?” he repeated.
“I Can Treat Keris, But…”
“But what?” he pressed.
“It Will Take Time. There Will Be Delay. Trials Will Not Be Completed Before Night Falls.”
Lyall glanced upward. The clouds had all but blown away, revealing twin suns lying low in a sky that was fading to purple. The suns would be setting soon. “I understand. Boxx, please take the time to heal Keris. Let us know when you are finished.”
“Yes, Lyall.” The little creature beckoned to Keris and led her in the direction of their smattering of tents. It turned back long enough to announce, “Keris Has Passed The Trial.” The woman did not stop or turn around. She was limping painfully.
Shann watched Keris go, making sure she was out of earshot. “I never thought I would see the ‘Iron Woman’ crumble like that.”
“That’s not funny, Shann,” Lyall rebuked her.
“Sorry,” she said. Her repentance had a less than genuine ring to it.
Patris stood at the back of the group, observant as ever. Alondo grinned. “That makes three of us who have qualified. We only need one more to carry the fourth component, and you and Shann have yet to go.” His eyes widened. “Hey, if you both qualify, then one of you can take my place.”
Lyall’s voice was grave. “No. Considering what the others have gone through, I won’t make one person undergo trial who doesn’t have to. Once we have our four bearers, then we pack up and go.”
“That’s very generous of you.” They turned to see Patris walking away.
“What’s the matter with him?” Alondo asked.
Lyall shook his head. “Never mind. Don’t worry about it. I think we should all get some rest while Boxx treats Keris.” The others bowed their heads in acquiescence and began dispersing toward the tents.
Behind them, the flat grey miasma brooded while it waited for its next victim.
~
Shann turned slowly back and forth, trying to peer through the mist. There was something…unnatural about it. Even the thickest fog had patches, subtle variations in texture and density. This was uniform–homogenous. However far she walked within its bounds or reached out to touch it, it always seemed to be beyond her.
Shann set aside the strangeness of her environment and recalled the warmth of her recent parting. When Boxx had announced that she was to be next for the trial, she had felt a wave of trepidation. However, she had no thought of refusing.
Alondo hugged her until she was forced to fight for breath. Lyall offered a stream of advice and encouragement that she only half heard. Keris stood like a statue, trying to disguise the fact that she was leaning on her staff for support. Boxx had strongly urged the woman to lie down following her treatment, but she had ignored the creature. Patris was hanging around the periphery of the gathering as usual, watching the proceedings but offering no comment. But it was Rael’s absence that bothered her the most.
He had not emerged from his tent since she had conducted him there following his trial. Lyall had discerned her anxiety from the set of her face and the way she continually glanced in the direction of the place where he lay. “He’ll be fine. Give it time,” he reassured her repeatedly. She flashed him a smile in return, but her concern was undiminished. Now that she was preparing to enter the grey void herself, she felt sure that he would turn out to offer support, but the flap of his tent remained firmly closed. What happened to you in here?
The dull mist enveloping her offered no answers.
Boxx stopped and faced her. “Are You Prepared, Shann?”
“Prepared for what?” she asked.
The Chandara paused, then its wide mouth formed a single word. “Begin.”
The mist was gone and she found herself standing in an alleyway. It was dark. Pools of rainwater reflected the sky like dull embers from long-forgotten fires. She glanced up at the smouldering face of Ail-Mazzoth, the red sun. What the–
She spun around. “Boxx. Boxx, where are you?” There was no sign of the creature. Shouts from behind her. A crash, followed by the sounds of cursing. This is…Corte. My home. This is the night I aided Lyall. The night the soldiers chased me. But how –?
The sounds of pursuit grew closer. Shann took to her heels. Her feet pounded on the rain-soaked ground as she rounded the crates and other obstacles littering the alley. She needed to try and figure out what was going on, but her first priority was to escape the soldiers. She recalled her escape route from last time–left at the next intersection.
Shann found the place and slipped into the narrow passageway that ran behind the houses facing Arian Street. They’ll try and cut you off, she reminded herself. The alley bore left. Shann skidded to a halt, paralysed by uncertainty. That’s not right. I must’ve taken a wrong turn somehow.
She retraced her steps, trying to gain her bearings from the backs of the buildings, but the fence was too high for her to get a decent view. Suddenly, nothing looked familiar.
Shann felt a rising sense of panic. It seemed impossible, but somehow she had managed to get lost in the back alleys of her own hometown. She could no longer hear the soldiers chasing her, but that was no cause for complacency. She might round a bend and run smack into them at any moment. There was another intersection up ahead. She slowed, put her back to the fence and peeked around the corner. It appeared to be a dead end, but it was not empty. A figure was seated calmly on a stool, holding an odd-looking musical instrument in both hands and sporting an absurd red cap. Alondo?
Shann felt as if she were losing her grip on reality. She turned the corner. “Alondo? What are you doing here?”
Alondo looked up and smiled warmly. “Hello, Shann. I’m glad you made it. We don’t have a lot of time, though.” He turned his attention to tuning his instrument, belying his previous statement.
“Look, I’m being chased. The Prophet’s soldiers are after me.”
He continued making adjustments. “I am aware.”
“Then why are you here? This night–the night I first met Lyall–happened before I even met you. How is it that you know me?”
He smiled to himself. “I am not really Alondo. Boxx created an interface in order to communicate with you. It encouraged your subconscious mind to interpret the interface in a form that it would readily trust.” He looked up and grinned. “That’s me, apparently.”
“An…interface? If Boxx wants to speak to me, why doesn’t it do so directly?”
“Boxx says that it’s not allowed to interfere,” Alondo said. “It cannot break the rules. It can, however…bend them, within certain limits.”
“Why would it want to bend the rules?” Shann asked.
“Boxx inquires whether you had wondered why it was that you and Lyall had been left till last to undergo the trials.”
“Not really,” she said. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Boxx says that the reason is that your inner pain is much deeper than any of the others. It hoped that the four carriers could be determined before you would have to be put through trial. It does not like the thought of causing hurt, if it can be avoided. So it is offering you a way out, if you cannot face the pain.”
Shann wondered what pain it could be talking about. “What do you mean, ‘a way out?’”
Alondo waved a hand toward the end of the alley. Shann followed with her eye. What she had taken to be a dead end was in fact a fence in which there were two doors, set side by side.
“The left door is your way out,” Alondo explained. “It will take you straight back to the Dais. You will not become a bearer, but neither will you have to face your pain.”
Shann steeled herself. “What lies behind the other door?”
“Boxx says it is not permitted to tell you, exactly. However, if you enter the right-hand door, then three things will happen. You will meet a person you do not wish to meet. You will remember that which you would rather forget. And you will uncover a truth you would prefer not to have known.”
“What does all of that mean?” Shann asked.
“Boxx says it cannot say any more. Even by revealing this much, it is…bending the rules to the breaking point.”
Shann rolled the three “clues” around in her head. They were cryptic, but to be honest, they didn’t really sound that bad. Not when you considered what the others must have gone through. Alondo and Patris suffering from borderline exhaustion–Rael with his ruined tunic and stunned expression–Keris with her multiple injuries; they each looked as if they had come through a battle of some sort. By contrast, the experiences Alondo was describing did not seem to go much beyond harsh words. If that was all it involved, then she had faced far worse.
Alondo had mentioned a “deep pain” that she and Lyall shared. She didn’t like the sound of that. However, the fact was that they only needed one more component carrier. If she could manage to pass her particular trial, then Lyall would not have to face his. I can’t let him down.
Alondo struck a series of chords on his sabada, yanking Shann out of her reverie. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Shann,” he said, “but the soldiers will be here any moment. The place where you are now is like an artificially created eddy–a backwater of this reality. You are about to be swept away again downstream. You must decide your path.”
Her mouth was a determined line. “I have decided. I must go through the right-hand door.”
Alondo nodded slowly. “Boxx says it is not surprised at your choice. It wishes you success. It says for you go through now. Quickly.” Alondo’s attention returned to his instrument. He picked out a tune, humming it to himself as he played.
Shann heard raised voices once more. She glanced over her shoulder. The voices were drawing closer. In front of her, the doors at the end of the alley were of plain overlaying slats of wood, quite unremarkable. She quickly stepped up to the door on her right, placed a hand on the latch and then hesitated. Her journey had begun in Corte. Yet this “eddy” was not Corte; at least, it was no part of her hometown that she remembered. When I step through this door, where will I be?
She turned back to him. “Goodbye, Alondo. And thank you.”
The musician did not raise his head or reply. Her heart felt a slight wrench as she lifted the latch and stepped through.
~
She was standing in a small upstairs room. The effect was most disconcerting. How can a door in a back alley lead directly to an upstairs room in a house? Still, Alondo had told her that the other door led directly back to the Dais, and that made about as much sense, so perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised. What was just as perplexing was a strong undercurrent of familiarity–a feeling that she knew this place from somewhere. The memory was an insect, fluttering at the edges of her consciousness, yet tantalisingly just out of reach.
The décor of the room was simple. Homely. Rough, unadorned plaster walls. A wooden floor. A single chest. A single small bed. A child’s bed. The door creaked, making Shann jump. She spun around to see a tall figure dressed in black. Keris.
‘You will meet a person you do not wish to meet’. Well, that part of the prediction has come true, at least, Shann thought wryly. “So,” she began, “what’s your part in all this?”
The woman’s eyes were bright points in a perfectly proportioned face. She ignored the question. “Do you know where you are?”
Shann took one further look around the tiny bedroom. “No,” she confessed.
“This is your parents’ house where you were born,” Keris informed her, “and this is your room.”
She’s right. This was my room. Her distrust of the former Keltar reasserted itself. “Why have you brought me here?”
She knew as soon as she said it that it was a ridiculous question. No-one had forced her to choose the door that led to this place.
Keris looked her up and down once, making Shann feel as if she had just been closely examined and found wanting. “Follow me.” The tall woman whirled around and exited the room without waiting for a response. There seemed nothing to be gained by obduracy. Shann let out her breath slowly, then joined Keris on the upper landing.
There was a loud commotion coming from downstairs. Shann wanted to ask about it, but she held her tongue. As they reached the foot of the stairs she saw that the central living area was filled with people. There were eight or nine of the Prophet’s soldiers in their distinctive iron-studded leather armour. Shann reached for her staff instinctively and felt a restraining pressure.
Keris’ long, slender fingers clamped around her wrist. “Wait,” she commanded.
Shann’s flash of resentment was extinguished by a woman’s cry. Her eyes darted between the soldiers’ legs. A man and woman had been knocked to the ground and were being roughly manhandled. The woman was slender and spare-boned, her face screwed up and her arms held out in supplication. The man’s arm gripped her shoulder protectively. He had a lean, haunted look. Shann’s voice cracked. “Wh…what’s happening?”
“Do you not recognise your parents?” Keris said matter-of-factly. “This is the day they were taken–the day you were left alone.”
The soldier band milled around, ignoring the woman’s pleas. Shann felt her throat constrict. “I…I don’t understand. Why don’t they see us?”
“They will not react to you unless you react to them,” Keris explained. “That is how this place works.”
Shann heard a whimper off to the side. A scrawny girl. Short, dark hair. Puffy eyes. Tears streaking her face. Is that…me?
The soldiers dragged the two adults to their feet. “Please…my daughter,” the woman was saying. A burly soldier standing nearby seemed to notice the tiny figure in the corner for the first time. He raised an arm and cuffed her with the back of his glove. The little girl staggered back, clutched her cheek and howled, her whole body wracked with sobs. Shann raised a hand to her own cheek. You will remember that which you would rather forget.
The group of soldiers shoved the girl’s parents toward the front door. Moments later, the child was left all by herself. Her eyes were screwed shut and she wailed uncontrollably. Shann felt her heart melt. She desperately wanted to throw her arms around her younger self, to comfort her. She started toward the sobbing little girl, but Keris got ahead of her. “Come, there is something else you must see.”
Shann impaled her with a look of pure resentment. The tall woman’s face softened. “She will be cared for. There is nothing you can do for her. Come.”
Reluctantly, Shann turned away from the disconsolate waif and allowed herself to be led out of the house and into the bright light of the afternoon suns.
The detachment of soldiers was standing by a wooden cart with three bound “tribute” captives seated in it. Rough hands held the girl’s parents securely. Her mother was weeping silently now, her face a mask of resignation. The soldiers appeared to be waiting for something. Suddenly, three figures rounded the corner–two more soldiers, and at their head, a tall athletic figure clad in the ebony tunic and flying cloak of a Keltar. The face was fresher, but there was the same severe expression framed by a dark flowing mane. “She is you,” Shann exclaimed.
“A younger me, yes,” Keris said.
Shann’s fists opened and closed. Her breathing grew short. You will uncover a truth you would prefer not to have known. “You…you were responsible for taking my parents away.”
Keris was standing at her shoulder. “I was a newly appointed Keltar. Fiercely zealous. Driven by higher ideals, or so I thought.”
The young Keris had taken charge, and was shouting instructions at the soldiers who were pushing the two latest tributes in the direction of the cart.
“My parents,” Shann demanded. “Where did you take them?”
“They will be taken to one of the ore camps in the Southern Desert,” Keris replied. “You mother will die two turns later–your father, not long after.”
Shann’s eyes blazed with fury. She reached over her shoulder and drew her staff. “Not if I set them free.”
Keris leaned forward and whispered closely into Shann’s ear, so that Shann could feel the woman’s breath. “Now listen to me. Listen very carefully. If you attempt to save them, there will be…consequences. If you are killed, your parents will still die and you will have sacrificed yourself for nothing. If I die or am disgraced by losing tributes, then I will never rise to a position of prominence at the keep. I will not be sent on the mission to track you down, and so will not encounter the Chandara or receive the message from the past. You, Lyall and Alondo will all die in your attempt to free the captives at Gort and the Prophet will complete his weapon, leading to the extinction of the Kelanni people. The only safe course is for you to do nothing.”
“I can’t just watch while they are dragged away to their deaths,” Shann rasped.
“You cannot save them.” Keris’ voice sounded in her ear like a death knell.
“Get away from me.” Shann began running toward the cart. She expected the older Keris to give chase–to try to stop her by force. But the former Keltar made no move to restrain or follow her.
I cannot let you do this again. Not again.
<><><><><>
Chapter 37
Shann sprinted toward the contingent of soldiers. Her hand was at her neck control as she ran, scanning for lodestone deposits. You cannot save them. Of course, the woman would naturally try to protect her former self, to dissuade Shann from acting. Yet she was the same person who had been responsible for the deaths of her parents and so many others. Shann had clearly been brought here for one purpose, the chance to free her parents and to right a terrible wrong. You will not stop me.
The soldiers turned their heads, seeming to notice Shann for the first time. Their hands went to the hilt of their weapons and stopped, frozen by indecision. The girl bearing down on them bore the cloak and staff, the trappings of Keltar, the sworn servants of the Prophet. To disobey was inadvisable. To attack one would be unthinkable.
“Restrain her.” The soldiers had no time to react to the young Keris’ order before the girl barrelled into them, swinging her staff.
The words of Lyall penetrated Shann’s determined anger. “Use the wood and the flat of the blade.”
She struck one soldier in the midriff, knocking the breath out of him, then brought the other end of her staff up and struck another–a woman–across the temple. Shann’s cloak flared and she leapt away before either of them had hit the ground.
She gained height, then pushed against a second deposit behind her and sailed over the cart, pirouetting in the air as she did so. She did not want to make the prisoner cart the focus of the battle. There was too much of a risk that some of them might get hurt.
With the flush of combat, Shann’s wrath subsided and her mind began to think more clearly. Her initial surprise attack had been effective, but her advantage was gone. The soldiers now had their wits about them, and they had orders to take her down. She was safe as long as she remained airborne, but as soon as she engaged them on the ground, she could easily be outmanoeuvred and swamped by so many. Their Keltar. She was the key. If Shann could defeat her, then the remaining soldiers would probably scatter, and she could free her parents and the others without further opposition.
Shann touched down and then raced up the deserted street, making a beeline for the young Keris.
The tall girl sized her up and down, and then held up one hand. “Leave her to me.”
Shann pushed off a deposit to her left and leaped to her right in an attempt to outflank her opponent. Keris leaped to her right, keeping her face to the smaller girl. The two of them landed a few feet apart and began to circle one another.
The Keris she knew was highly skilled–Shann’s chances of besting her in a one on one confrontation would be slim indeed. But this girl…this girl was different. Despite her height, Shann judged her to be approximately the same age as herself. She was thinner than her older counterpart, lissom, yet somehow lacking the other’s grace and economy of movement. Fresh out of the keep, she would have the benefit of the keep’s formal training, which Shann lacked. However, Shann fancied it was she who could claim greater actual battle experience. Shann would take experience over training any day. The other girl could claim superior height and reach. That could be a problem. However, Shann was determined to free her parents at any cost. All in all, she judged it to be an even match. Except that she could not afford to lose. She could only hope that it would be enough to tip the balance.
Keris took a long stride forward and lunged with her staff. Shann dodged the thrust easily and knocked the other girl’s staff away. The young Keris was courageous and aggressive, but lacked caution. Ironically, that was a quality Shann had learned from the girl’s older self. All right. Let’s see what you have.
Shann darted off to the side, flaring her cloak and took to the air in a high arc, landing on an adjacent rooftop. The young Keris seemed to experience a moment of uncertainty, then ran back and launched herself skyward, alighting on the pitched roof opposite. In the street below, one of the soldiers was still lying on the ground where she had been felled by Shann. Two of their number were kneeling next to the prone figure. The rest stood by the cart, transfixed by the scene being played out high above them. A little way off, the older Keris looked on unnoticed, still standing in the place where Shann had left her.
Shann dashed along the eaves, scanning for lodestone and mapping out the configuration in her head. She was careful not to take her eye off Keris. Again, there was that same split second hesitation, then the girl began moving over the rooftop, maintaining a parallel course. Shann jumped the gap between two gable ends, sprinted across another section of stone tiles and hauled herself up the next gable to a slightly higher roof. A push on her shoulders told her that there was another sizeable deposit beneath the street just below her. The other girl was moving rapidly along the rooftops on the opposite side of the deserted thoroughfare, lagging only a short distance behind. She would make the same discovery at any moment. If Shann was going to seize the advantage, it would have to be now.
She launched herself from the rooftop. Find the lodestone deposits, then “own” them. No doubt the young Keris had been taught the same thing. However, when your heart is pounding, your adrenaline is pumping and a real life opponent is out to destroy you, things look rather different. Shann angled her body toward the large deposit, extended her cloak again in midair and allowed the massive push to carry her toward the roof opposite.
As she descended, she realised that something was wrong. Her quarry had vanished. Shann’s eyes flitted rapidly over the ground and the sloping roof. There was no sign of the young Keris. Shann alighted on the overhang, staff at the ready. Where are you?
All of a sudden, a figure rose from behind the ridge above her. How did she get up there so fast? Before Shann could decide her next move, the young woman twisted something in her hands. A dull whine rose rapidly in pitch and a silver ball bounced down the stone tiles. A blast of light and sound. Shann felt herself falling. As she hit the cobbled street, the breath was knocked out of her and pain lanced through her left shoulder. Saccath’s staff bounced against the cobblestones and skidded to rest several yards away.
She struggled to her feet just as Keris dropped lightly to the roadway in front of her, cutting her off from where Saccath’s staff lay. The young Keltar bore a twisted smile of triumph. Shann fought for breath and braced herself for the inevitable assault. Keris removed one hand from her staff and reached into her pouch for another grenade. Shann saw her chance and pounced. Before the tall girl could recover, Shann had covered the ground between them and grabbed the smooth darkwood with both hands.
Shann gritted her teeth as the two of them grappled for the staff. Her chest still hurt and her shoulder ached, but she fought through the discomfort as they strained against each other. The young Keris was strong–wiry like a vara-cat–but Shann was no weakling either. And she was determined.
They swayed together back and forth, grunting from the effort, finally dragging each other to the ground. Soldiers and captives alike looked on in rapt silence as the two figures in black scuffled together, clutching the staff between them like a point of bitter contention.
Unable to wrest the weapon from her opponent, Keris manoeuvred on top and began to push down toward Shann’s face. Shann brought her legs up and kicked savagely. Keris’ eyes widened and her mouth opened as she was propelled up and over her opponent’s head, losing her grip in the process. She landed on her back, sprawled against the cobbles.
Shann sprang to her feet and whirled, the staff in her hands, bringing the diamond blade down against the prone Keris’ throat. The keen edge pressed against her olive skin, bringing forth a thin line of white blood. One slight thrust…
Her young adversary looked up at her with a curiously calm expression. “You cannot save them.”
Shann felt her muscles tense. No, I won’t accept that.
A bright flash. The street, the prostrate figure of Keris and the staff in her hands all dissolved and she was suddenly back in the midst of the uniform grey fog. “Nooo.”
~
Alondo glanced up to see Shann come careening out of the dome of fog as if she were being pursued by a ravening horde of scaran beasts. He could see no sign of Boxx. The musician had been seated near the threshold, keeping vigil so that he could be the first to greet her on her return. He got to his feet, only to see her go rushing past as if she were oblivious to his presence. Something was very wrong.
Lyall had begun walking toward her, and his walk now became a run. Shann skidded to a halt with her staff held before her in attack posture, although there was no visible enemy. Her eyes were wild and her face was streaked with grime and dried tears. “Where is she?”
Lyall stopped short. “Where’s who?”
“Keris.” Her voice cracked. “Keris, where is she?”
Alondo cast an eye around the flat metal surface of the Dais. At first he did not see the former Keltar, but then he spotted her, kneeling down near the tents. She looked as if she were examining something. She stood up and began walking toward them, her pace unhurried. Shann saw her and her expression became a twisted mask. “It was you–you took them away to die.”
Keris stopped in her tracks and her eyes flicked from one to the other. “What’s she talking about?”
“I don’t know,” Lyall confessed. “Shann? What’s the matter?”
Shann made a strangled cry and rushed the other woman. Keris calmly drew her staff and gripped it in both hands, blade pointing outward.
“Keris. No,” Lyall yelled.
Shann raised her weapon as she hurtled toward Keris, aiming for the other’s head. Keris sidestepped neatly and made a low pass with her own staff, sweeping Shann’s legs from under her. The girl fell, tumbling over and over, carried by her own momentum. As soon as she came to rest on her back, Keris was over her. The tall woman sheathed her own weapon, then reached down, grabbing and twisting Shann’s arm painfully. In a moment, she had wrested Saccath’s staff from her grasp and tossed it away. The girl sagged against the metal platform. Her eyes squeezed shut and her body convulsed, but there was no sound. It was as if all of the tears within her had already been shed.
Keris stepped back, allowing Alondo to take over. The musician spoke quietly into her ear, then picked up her limp, frail looking body and carried her towards the sanctuary of the tents.
When he returned a while later, Lyall was still waiting in the same place. Of Keris there was no sign.
“How is she?” Lyall asked.
Alondo scratched his head. “I don’t know. She’s resting now. She still seems pretty traumatised. Whatever her experience was in there, it’s clear that Keris was at the centre of it. It would do her good to talk about it, I think, except that…”
“Except that we’re not allowed to do that,” Lyall completed. “Maybe when this is all over, we can get together and help each other to heal. One more piece of bad news, I’m afraid–Boxx says she failed her trial.”
Alondo’s face fell, then he pursed his lips. “Well, maybe it’s for the best. She’s in no condition to deal with anything right now. We still need one more component carrier, so I guess it’s all up to you.” He smiled. “No pressure or anything.”
“Thanks,” Lyall said. “Oh, one more thing. After you and Shann left, Keris handed me this.” He held out a folded piece of paper. The musician regarded him curiously, then took the paper, unfolded it and read: Lyall. Meet me behind the tents when darkness falls. Bring Alondo, Rael, Patris. Above all, do not speak about this note openly. Keris.
Alondo read the note twice, re-folded it and handed it back to Lyall. His smile twisted. “Is it my imagination, or does it seem to you that the females on this expedition are getting stranger?”
~
The suns had fled from the sky, revealing a firmament studded with thousands of twinkling stars. Lyall rounded the collection of tents with Alondo and saw that the other three were already assembled. Keris had not called for Shann to be present, but perhaps that was just as well. After the events of this afternoon, it seemed best to allow the girl time to rest. If anything of importance came out of this meeting, he could fill her in later. Besides, it seemed to Lyall that there might be a more subtle explanation for her being excluded.
Lyall had been contemplating the purpose of Keris’ cryptic note. He had to agree with Alondo that this was odd behaviour, even for her. However, it had been obvious for some time that there had been a continuing problem between her and Shann, so he strongly suspected that this might be an attempt by the former Keltar to oust Shann from her position within the party, following the latest incident. No doubt she would cite the girl’s inability to pass the trial as well as her inherent instability as reasons why she should perhaps be returned to Kieroth. She might even argue that it was unfair to put a youngster under that kind of pressure, figuring that might sway those who felt most protective towards her–Alondo and Rael. With Patris unlikely to oppose the will of the other three, that would leave Lyall isolated and in a tough position.
The girl had saved his life twice. He was not about to see her cast off. That meant taking the initiative. “Shann has been through a bad experience,” he began, “but she will come through for us. We just need to give her time and support.” He looked pointedly at Keris.
The tall woman blinked. “I assume you’re referring to her outburst earlier?”
“That’s right,” Lyall said. “We have to be patient.”
Keris waved a hand. “The girl will just have to come to terms with her experience like the rest of us have. Right now we have a much bigger problem. Alondo and Patris, I want you to go over there and start an argument.”
Patris’ eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Look, just humour me, all right?” Keris said. “All will become clear shortly.”
Alondo gave Lyall a questioning look. Only one way to find out where this is headed. Lyall nodded once. The musician turned back to Keris and shrugged. “What do you want me to argue about?”
Keris appeared flustered. “I don’t know…anything. It doesn’t matter. Complain about Rael’s cooking if you like. Just make it fairly loud.”
“Why me?” Patris demanded. The others looked at him. “All right, all right.”
As they wandered off, Alondo was shaking his head. “…definitely getting stranger…”
Keris’ brow furrowed as she watched him go. “What’s he talking about?”
Lyall wiped the smile from his face. “Nothing. I wouldn’t worry about it. Now, what’s all this about?”
Sounds of a full-blown altercation drifted towards them. Keris turned back, opened a fist and held out her hand to Lyall. “Do you know what this is?” Sitting in her palm was what appeared to be two halves of a flat, silver coloured ring.
Lyall picked up one half, examined it briefly and then put it back. “I’m sorry, no.”
Keris sighed. “I wondered whether they might date from after your time at the keep. They are known as ‘eavesdroppers’ or ‘eaves’. They are a type of lodestone listening device, based on the same principle as the Speaker Rings. The Keltar used to use them, although I haven’t seen one in many turns.”
“Where did you find it?” Rael asked.
Keris pointed to her feet. “Right here.” There was silence as both of them digested the implications. “I destroyed this one deliberately, so it should be safe to talk on this section of the Dais. However, I thought it best to set up a noisy distraction, just to be sure. I have counted eighteen more of these devices, set into the platform at regular intervals.”
Lyall stroked his chin. “Someone has been spying on us.”
“Correct,” she said.
Rael shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Those things would have to have been installed before we got here. How did someone know we were coming?”
Keris looked thoughtful. “We made no effort to keep our destination a secret. They could have overheard our plans in Kieroth and then travelled here ahead of us.”
“But who are they?” Rael demanded. “Who would want to spy on us like this?”
“Now that may be a more interesting question than you realise.” Keris pressed her lips together. “Eaves were introduced as standard issue equipment for Keltar about twelve turns ago, but were withdrawn not long after. There were…problems.”
“How do you mean?” Lyall asked.
“The keep has a complex political structure. There are factions, power struggles, intense rivalries. There were a number of bloody incidents. Soon afterwards, the devices were outlawed.”
“They used them to spy on each other, didn’t they?” Lyall concluded.
“Yes,” Keris said. “But the intriguing question is, who would have access to forbidden devices?”
“If we know what and where they are, why can’t we just smash them all?” Rael suggested.
“I think that would be unwise. Right now we have an advantage in that our friend doesn’t know he has been discovered.” She held up one of the broken pieces between thumb and forefinger and stared at it, as if willing it to give up its secrets. “He may readily believe that one of his devices could have accidentally malfunctioned, but any more than that and he will grow suspicious. Destroying any more of them would tip our hand, and we would lose the advantage.”
“You’re assuming it’s one person.” Rael remarked.
“Missions like this one depend absolutely on concealment. The more people there are involved, the greater the chance of discovery. I would be most surprised if there are more than two operatives. One is much more likely.”
Lyall’s expression had become grave. “Anything said during our stay here would have been overheard.”
“We must assume so, yes.” Keris’ eyes narrowed. “There’s something you haven’t told me, isn’t there?”
“Rael believes he has discovered what it is about the instrument Annata concealed here that is so dangerous. I was intending to tell all of you later–when the trials were complete.”
Her voice was like the edge of her blade, “I would suggest that now might be a good time.”
Rael opened his mouth, but Lyall waved him to silence. “Suffice it to say that if anyone were to gain control of the four components, then no power would be able to stand before them.”
“Then our spy cannot be allowed to escape with that information.” Keris’ eyes became unfocussed. “Right now we have the element of surprise. We also have a window of opportunity. Whatever our friend is planning, he must wait until we have gained possession of the components. Our best option is to act quickly to forestall him.”
Lyall nodded. “A pre-emptive strike.”
“Precisely,” she said.
“But…where can he be?” Rael asked.
Keris turned slowly, taking in the starlit landscape of Akalon. All around were indistinct shapes and tenebrous shadows. How can she possibly make anything out? Suddenly, Keris pointed decisively. “There.” She was pointing directly at the tower that loomed over the brooding plains, occluding the stars behind it.
“Are you certain?” Lyall probed.
“Somewhere reasonably close by, yet offering total concealment. It’s the only possibility,” she declared. “He’s there.”
“The tower has been sealed since before the Goratha,” Rael pointed out. “There’s no way in.”
“Annata showed us how to gain access to the towers,” Keris said. “As for our friend, most likely he piloted one of your avionics to the open platform at the top. If we enter at ground level and go up through the floors, we should catch him unawares.”
Lyall nodded his assent. “Whom do you want to take with you?”
“Stealth and speed, those are the necessary qualities. That means the cloak and staff. Alondo and Patris are not trained in their use. I gather that the girl has given Rael here a couple of lessons, but he has nowhere near the skill and experience required to undertake a mission such as this. You have to undergo the trial shortly, so you cannot come. That leaves the girl and me.”
The corners of Rael’s mouth turned down. “She is still in a bad way after her experience. I don’t think…”
“You don’t think she will agree to come with me,” Keris finished.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” Rael maintained.
Keris raised a placating hand. “It’s all right. I know she has issues with me. I don’t pretend to understand it. I will go on my own if I have to, but the girl is quick and capable. We would stand a better chance working together.”
“I’ll have a word with her,” Lyall said.
Keris turned and led the way to the tents. “I’m going to gather my things. You will be required to undergo your trial soon, so we don’t have long. If all goes well, then we will dispose of the spy, you will become the last component carrier and we will finally be able to leave this dreadful place.”
~
Alondo sat with Rael and Patris on the flat metal surface of the Dais. Mostly full bowls of vegetable and grain stew lay scattered amid discarded utensils. Even hunger had fled from them.
Waiting. It was never something Alondo had been very good at. Whenever circumstances required sitting around and waiting for something to happen or someone to do something, Alondo was accustomed to filling the moments in between with a song or a story or an anecdote or two. Yet for once, his heart was empty.
Overhead, a magnificent procession of stars wheeled. Deep inside the dome of grey mist, Lyall was undergoing the final trial, being made to confront his worst nightmares. Far off at the tower, Keris and Shann were locked in battle with an unknown enemy. None of them could afford to lose.
“I suppose it no longer matters.” Alondo and Patris both looked up from their inner deliberations. Rael seemed taken aback by his own outburst. “Ah…what I mean is, I suppose it no longer matters if we discuss our experiences in there. We can no longer influence any of the results.” The other two men went back to staring at the floor. “Can I ask,” he pressed on, “did either of you encounter…another member of our expedition?”
Patris was tracing a pattern on the metal surface. “I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”
“I did,” Alondo heard himself say.
“Whom did you see?” Rael asked.
Alondo felt as if he were allowing himself to be dragged over a precipice. “I saw Shann. And…I saw Oliah as well.”
“That must have been difficult,” Rael sympathised.
“Yes…yes it was. How about you?”
Rael swallowed. “I saw Shann too. But she was…different.”
“Different how?” Alondo queried.
Rael’s eyes fell and his face grew pale. “I don’t know. She was more…affectionate.”
Alondo raised an eyebrow. “Really. Was that how you got roughed up?”
“No, of course not.” The boy’s panicked expression melted as he caught the twinkle in Alondo’s eye. “Look, it was nothing like that. I saw her twice. The first time she was…well, friendly. The next…”
“The next, what?” Alondo pressed.
“The next she was…killed.”
Alondo’s throat constricted. “I’m sorry.”
The following days were clearly going to be painful for each of them. It was as if a dark hand had reached down and touched their soul to the very core. The emotional wounds were plain to see: in their speech, the way they walked, the way they sat, the way they avoided eye contact, the way they snatched glances when they thought the other was not looking. Lyall is right. We have to support each other, help each other to heal. It will take time, but–
There was a shout from beyond the tents where the drach were keeping watch. Alondo jumped to his feet, followed by the other two. Together they hurried over the Dais towards the sound. “Look. The tower,” one of them was saying. As they gazed out across the shadowy plain to the Tower of Akalon, they could see sparks cutting through the night air. A great silver globe was rising from the top of the tower. Blue lightning crackled all around it, lighting up the parapet.
Rael’s eyes were wide. His arms moved in agitated fashion. “The tower. It’s been activated.”
“What does that mean?” Patris demanded.
“It means,” Alondo said, “that either someone is arriving or someone is leaving.”
Patris turned to him. “But that wasn’t part of the plan.”
“No. No, it wasn’t.” Alondo felt a gathering sense of unease as he watched the fulgurant display. What is going on over there?
<><><><><>
Chapter 38
Shann flew across the darkling plain in great leaps, keeping pace with the tall dark shadow that was Keris, making straight for the Tower of Akalon. Cold anger sat in the pit of her stomach like a coiled serpent.
When Lyall had first entered her tent earlier that evening, she had felt like telling him to get out. She wanted to rail at him, to pour forth her bitterness over Keris. Instead, she turned her face away and nursed her pain in silence. You will uncover a truth you would prefer not to have known.
Lyall sat watching her back. It was as if he was communing with her in the silence. A silence that said, ‘I feel your pain. I am here’. At length, she turned back to face him. His soft blue eyes were reminders of the trust they had built between them. She felt a calm come over her.
“We need your help, if you are well enough,” he began.
She sat up and rubbed her puffy eyes. “What do you need me to do?”
For once, his eyes could not meet hers. He looked more nervous than she had ever seen him. There was a problem that had to be taken care of–a problem that could threaten them all. Keris had agreed to handle it. She had asked for Shann to go along with her.
“You do not have to do this, Shann. If you refuse, no-one will think any less of you.”
As she listened to his appeal, Shann had a curious sensation. It was as if she was looking at herself from outside. A pathetic, crying wreck–that’s what she has reduced me to. What are you going to do, Shann? Are you going to give up–to just lie here and die? Are you going to acknowledge that you are powerless and that she has won? Are you just going to let her get away with destroying your parents and now you? Or are you going to get up and fight back?
Shann rubbed her face again, got up and hastily rearranged her clothing. “I will go.”
As the tower grew in her vision, it mirrored her growing sense of foreboding. At its top sat a creature that had been listening to their deliberations and now knew the terrible secret of Annata’s instrument. After the drach had set them on the ground below the Dais and promised to wait for their return, Keris had explained fully to Shann the reasons for Lyall’s request and the dire threat that now faced them. The spy, whoever he was, could not be allowed to escape with that information. Shann nodded gravely, accepting the weight of the responsibility now on her shoulders. In spite of her desire for justice, she was not about to let the others down. Her personal agenda and the other woman’s moment of reckoning would have to wait until their enemy had been dealt with and Keris had fulfilled her role as controller of one of the four components. Only then…
Several hundred yards from the structure, Keris touched down on a small rise and raised her hand. Shann landed just behind her. Stars shone steadily down on them like a thousand staring eyes. Watching. Judging.
Keris scanned the tower and the undulating ground in between. “We continue on foot. Keep low,” she commanded. The tall woman set off at a gliding run, as if she were one with the landscape. Shann followed, stretching to match her stride. They traversed the distance together in silence. The tower loomed above them as they hunkered down beside the ancient stone. Keris raised herself up and began feeling along the wall, looking for the door and the triangular recess that would allow them entry.
Two thirds of the way round, she stopped. Reaching into her pouch, she found the access module and located an identically shaped niche in the tower wall, lined the device up and carefully pushed it home. The module lit up, casting a gentle amber illumination on their faces. There was a low, purring vibration and a smooth metal door slid open, revealing a pitch dark interior.
Keris drew her staff and cautiously moved past the threshold, peering into the gloom. This place has been deserted, sealed for more than three thousand turns. Who is she expecting to find?
Shann silently followed the older woman’s lead. Dim starlight barely penetrated the umbral shadows within. The air was musty like a tomb. As she stepped inside she recalled the panel in the wall of the identical tower on the Eastern Plains that had activated the lights in the ceiling. Her hand moved, then she thought better of it. They could not risk alerting the enemy to their presence.
Keris satisfied herself that the entrance room was indeed deserted, then turned to face Shann. The dim light picked out her lean features. Her voice was a harsh whisper. “From hereon in, verbal communication should be kept to a minimum. We climb the stairway to the top of the tower. At the top, you will wait while I locate the avionic and disable it.”
“Avionic?”
“It’s the only way they could have gained access to the top of the tower,” Keris maintained.
“How do you know that someone didn’t just drop them there?”
“And leave them stranded with no means of escape? Unlikely. After I destroy the flying machine, you and I will determine the position of the scout and engage them.”
“Aren’t we going to give them an opportunity to surrender?” Shann asked.
“No,” Keris replied. “No, we aren’t. Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Shann hissed.
Keris turned back. “What is it?”
Shann felt a cold feeling of wrath–a desire for retribution well up within her. She nursed it, then tucked it carefully away for the moment. “As Keltar, you selected people to serve as tributes.”
“You want to talk about this now?” Keris rasped.
“Did you pick out those who were to be taken away?” Shann ploughed on.
“Not usually. But sometimes, when we had to meet a certain quota. What has that got to do with anything?”
“Did you take tributes from Corte nine turns ago?” Shann pressed.
“Maybe. Look, can we deal with this later?”
Shann felt her voice crack. “You took them, didn’t you. My parents. You took them away as tributes.”
Keris paused. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Your trial. You saw your parents being taken.”
“I saw you take my parents,” Shann corrected. “Is it true? Did you take my parents away to die in the ore camps?”
Keris’ sigh held a note of frustration within it. “What kind of an answer do you want?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shann demanded.
“‘The truth lies at the bottom of a pit of serpents’. Have you heard that saying? A lie, even a small one, can provide a morsel of comfort. The truth, on the other hand, can be painful. And whatever you may think of me, Shann, I do not want to cause you any more pain. So which is it to be? The soothing balm of a lie? Or the truth?”
Shann felt the bile rise in her throat. “I want to know the truth.”
Another pause. “Very well. The truth is that I don’t know. Nine turns was a long time ago. It would have been about the time I started service as Keltar. I did visit the towns close to Chalimar, including Corte. At that time, there was not the same casual brutality among the Prophet’s servants that there is now, but a great number of people were taken against their will, nevertheless. I was naïve and idealistic. So yes, it is possible that I impressed your parents into service as tribute. You said before that you don’t recall clearly what they looked like. In any case, I would be unlikely to remember one couple among so many. I…tended to avoid looking at their faces, even back then.”
Shann scowled. “You don’t remember?”
“I’m sorry if it is not the answer you wanted. I told you, the truth can be painful. If what you say is true and they were sent to the ore camps, then nothing can bring them back. Now, what do you wish to do? Kill me?”
“No,” Shann lied.
“Then we have a task to perform. One for which the others are relying on us. I suggest that we execute that task. Then you may exact revenge. If that is what you want.”
You cannot save them. The words struck Shann again like a slap in the face. Whatever she did–whatever price she made this woman pay–it would never bring them back.
Keris turned away, locating the stairway largely by touch, then began her ascent. After a moment, Shann followed. Silence fell between them once more. Shann shoved her turbulent thoughts to the back of her mind and channelled every ounce of concentration into the effort of climbing through the darkness. The tall woman’s back was a shadowy outline ahead of her. Vague. Ill defined. She could almost forget that it belonged to the woman who had sent her parents to their deaths. Almost.
The spiral staircase wound around and around, as if it went on forever. The air was cold and dank, with that same long-dead smell. Although she could not see the floor clearly, she fancied that she trudged through dust that had lain undisturbed for millennia. Then, abruptly, the climb ended. Keris crouched down in front of the door that barred their path, feeling for any indentations or irregularities with her slender fingers. She found a latch and pulled it. There was a small clunk, but the door stayed fast shut.
Shann cursed her own lack of foresight. If she had been thinking clearly and not been so wrapped up in her own problems, then she might have foreseen this. Both the tower on the Eastern Plains and the one she had discovered in the Cathgorn Mountains had been left open. However, Rael had told her that the tower here on the Plain of Akalon had remained sealed. She should have anticipated that the exit to the roof would also be closed off.
Keris was performing a fingertip exploration of the wall around the doorway. Shann sat on her haunches and thought back to the time when she was at the Cathgorn Tower with Rael. There was an area on the topmost level full of strange machinery that operated the great silver globe. Maybe it operated the door, too? She backed up, descended the first flight of stairs once more and began looking for the room she remembered.
She entered an open doorway and found the familiar panel on the wall. Lights in the ceiling clicked on. Keris would no doubt object, but there was no way Shann was going to be able to figure out anything in the dark. There were the same banks of machinery and consoles set with a myriad of different switches, dials and screens. If I were a door release switch, which switch would I be? If only Rael were here. He would be the one to figure this stuff out.
She ran her eyes over the array. Pushing things at random did not seem to be a very good idea. Then she spotted it, a lone pedestal at the end of the room with the familiar shape of a scalene triangle set into its surface. She ran her hand lightly over the indentation. It seemed to be the right size.
“What are you doing?” The tall figure of Keris loomed in the entranceway.
“Do you have the access module?” Shann held her hand out. Keris walked over, reached inside her pouch and placed the transparent device with its intricate workings in the girl’s palm. Shann fit it into the pedestal. The initial saffron glow switched to bright red. “Try it now.”
The other woman opened her mouth, then closed it again and headed back up the stairs. Shann retrieved the module and followed, keeping her distance.
When she reached the outer door once again, Keris already had her hand on the latch and was turning it gingerly. Clunk. The same dull mechanical sound. Keris winced. This time, however, the door moved outward a crack. Keris stopped and turned to the girl behind her, holding out her palm. Shann placed the access module in it. Keris closed her fingers around the device and nodded once, then she pointed down at the floor with a thin forefinger. Wait here. The dark-haired woman pushed the door a little further open, slid through the narrow gap and was gone.
~
Keris crouched in the corner of the parapet nearest the door, blending into the shadows. She scanned the roof of the tower. The great silver globe rested at the centre of the platform, held in place by four huge clamps. In front of it she recognised the sleek outline of an avionic. The spy was here, just as she had anticipated. She began to move, gliding along the low wall, keeping to the dark places. As her perspective shifted, another shape became visible past the globe, on the other side of the stone roof–a tent.
Keris crept silently across the platform and hunched down next to the canvass, straining her ears. After some moments, she detected a faint shuffling. He’s inside. The spy would be using the ‘eaves’ to monitor developments at the Dais, probably planning to make his move as soon as the party had garnered all four of the components. Perhaps he was going to call in reinforcements to take the components by force? Or maybe he planned to escape with the knowledge and then pilfer them at some later time. Sorry. Your little scheme ends here.
The strategy was simple enough. In Shassatan terms–Dam and Dagger. Cut off the enemy’s line of retreat. Then strike. The tower’s lodestone platform was the perfect setting to make full use of the flying cloak’s capabilities. Two armed with flying cloak and staff against one ground-bound spy who had no idea that he had been compromised. It was going to be a short fight.
Her first target was the flying machine. Disabling it was a simple enough matter. She had effectively put one of them out of action at the isolated house in the hills above Kieroth, shortly after their arrival in this world. The panel containing the delicate control mechanisms was just forward of the cockpit. Keris used her staff to carefully lever it open, making as little noise as possible, then ripped out as many parts and severed as many of the multicoloured wires as she could access. Satisfied, she turned back to the roof exit where Shann was hiding–and froze.
A steady drone–like an insect, only too regular. Keris’ fingers flexed on her staff, and her eyes flicked over the stone platform, but she could not see the source of the sound. Then a sudden movement. A bronze sphere flew from the direction of the tent, coming to a stop and floating in the air a few feet in front of her. It had an irregular, indented surface and was set with a clear orb at its centre, giving it the appearance of a large mechanical eye.
Keris dodged to her left and shot past the eye toward the exit door. She pulled it open and beckoned to the girl crouching behind it. “We’ve been discovered. Quickly.”
Keris led the way back toward the tent. The eye had gained height and was tracking them from high above. As they approached the tent, the flap opened and a figure emerged. Keris skidded to a halt, uncertain what to make of the creature. It was unlike anything she had seen before. Kelanni furs seemed to enhance the unnaturally broad shoulders. But this was no Kelanni. Pallid skin. Round face. Piercing blue eyes. However, the thing that caught her eye most of all was the strange profusion of facial hair.
The hair parted to reveal a gaping mouth and a gruff voice. “Visitors. I assume you are with the group over there. You discovered the eaves and traced me here. Well done. When I set a watcher all the way up here, Susan accused me of being paranoid. However, I have learned over the years never to underestimate your people. I am called McCann. My friends call me Mac–so I suppose that means you will be calling me McCann. I would be fascinated to discover how you made it all the way up here.” He looked from one to the other with an expression of detached amusement. “I hope you’re not going to tell me that you flew?”
Keris thrust aside her revulsion of the creature before her and refocused on her task. “You have been spying on us.”
“Yes, well, I don’t suppose an apology would suffice?” His eyes searched hers. “No, I suppose not.”
“You know the power of the four components,” Keris accused.
“You mean the odd theory of your scientist friend that they can convert ordinary matter into lodestone? Well, I wouldn’t be inclined to put too much store in that, if I were you. Your level of scientific knowledge on this planet is…quite rudimentary. No offence.”
“Rael knows what he’s talking about,” Shann said from behind Keris’ shoulder. Keris twisted her head and fired a look that said ‘shut up’.
“Having said that,” McCann continued, “I will have to take the ancient devices from you–whether or not they do what you say they will. Wang would expect no less. We will see what Lafontaine makes of them. I don’t suppose you would be prepared to simplify matters by just handing them over? I can assure you, it will be easier for you in the long run.”
Keris listened carefully for a weakening of his voice, a flaw in his self-assured façade, and found none. The creature was brazen–she’d give him that. However, confidence doesn’t alter the truth of your position. It was still two against one. And with their flying cloaks and staffs, theirs was the overwhelming superiority.
“I’m sorry, but we cannot allow you to leave here with that information.”
“I see,” McCann said. “Well then, let’s see how you handle this.” With one fluid movement, he reached behind his back and levelled a burnished silver staff with peculiar bulges along its length. He flipped a control, and lightning shot forth from the end of the weapon, splitting the air between the two women. They dived to either side. The bright yellow streak impacted the parapet behind them, sending shards of stone flying into the air.
Keris scrabbled to her feet and extended her cloak, leaping away toward the cover afforded by the globe that sat in the platform’s centre. To her relief, she saw that Shann had the same idea and was angling through the air, making for the other side of the globe. Keris touched down and circled around the globe until she saw the girl backing toward her. She grabbed the girl by the shoulders and pulled her down, desperately trying to think what their next move should be.
“Electrolaser,” Shann hissed.
“What?”
“Rael told me about them. They’re what the drach use to drive away wild animals. But they’re used only to stun, never to kill.”
Keris glanced over at the ruined parapet and the bits of stone strewn nearby. There was a lingering smell of ozone in the air. “I wouldn’t count on it.” From a tactical point of view, their best move would be to retreat. However, under the circumstances, that was not an option. This…individual could not be permitted to escape with the knowledge he had. However, every other gambit she could think of carried extreme risk. Their only remaining advantage was that there were two of them. If she could distract him, maybe even provoke him a little… “Stay here,” she commanded. “Keep out of sight. I’ll try and give you an opening.”
Without waiting for a reply, Keris backed up, flared her cloak and launched herself skyward, then leaned forward and flew over the smooth metal surface to land on top of the immense globe. She immediately spied the creature. He had hardly moved from his previous position–he seemed to be waiting for them.
“Impressive weapon,” she taunted. “Not very accurate, though.”
“Accurate enough,” he called back. “Why not come down from there and see for yourself? By the way,” he said, looking round, “where’s that companion of yours?”
He’s not stupid, she thought. I’m going to have to play this very carefully. “This is between you and me. I destroyed your flying machine. Surrender now.”
“And if I do, you will let me live? I don’t think so.” Keris caught a slight movement of the silver staff he held in front of him. A split second later, a searing bolt of lightning sprang forth, blackening the top of the globe where she had been standing.
The tall woman dropped from the sky, her cloak spread out wide behind her. She landed gracefully on the platform in front of the avionic. She was fairly certain that McCann wouldn’t risk damage to the aircraft by firing directly at it. That gave her some breathing space. Keep him talking. “You are not Kelanni. What are you?”
“You don’t know? Memories of the last conflict between our peoples must have grown dim. Ah, but of course–you must belong to the group that traversed the storm barrier from the other side of the planet.” The creature was advancing on her slowly. Cutting down the range. Reducing her escape window. She was starting to run out of options.
Whoosh. Keris started at the unexpected sound. It came from behind McCann. Tongues of fire leapt up from his tent, sending sparks coruscating into the night air. Shann. Keris’ eyes flicked either side of the tent, but the girl had melted into the shadows once more. Brilliant.
McCann turned back, eyes and mouth wide open, lit by the orange flames. Keris saw her chance. Leaning forward and extending her lodestone layer, she shot forward through the air, closing the gap between them in an instant. He turned toward her as her staff was descending, barely managing to raise his own weapon in time to ward off the blow. Darkwood and metal clashed together, ringing out across the open rooftop of the stone tower. Keris pressed home her advantage, letting forth a flurry of blows designed to drive him back and keep him from using the lightning weapon. He fended her off but did not give ground. He’s strong.
Keris disengaged to give the impression that she was pulling back, then feinted to her left and sliced the staff low and to her right. The diamond blade bit through cloth and deep into McCann’s leg. He cried out–pain mixed with rage–brought his own weapon to bear and fired blindly. Searing heat brushed Keris’ shoulder and she felt a sudden flash of agony. Her nostrils caught the smell of burning cloak and flesh. She staggered backward, clutching her arm while trying to clear her head. McCann was stumbling away toward the burning tent, leaving a dark wet trail on the smooth stone.
The fire was starting to take hold, its flickering radiance dancing among the shadows–pushing back the cold starlight. Keris stared down at her diamond blade, and at the shining pool before her. Red. The creature’s blood was red. His skin is white and his blood is red. Those were the words of Annata at the Great Tree. She felt a cold chill run through her despite the growing heat from the fire. You are the Unan-Chinneroth.
Keris fought down a wave of nausea. Her shoulder screamed for attention. She consoled herself with the fact that he was worse off. He was on one knee, one hand propping up his weapon, the other exploring his injury. Loss of blood would soon take its toll: lethargy, blurred vision, loss of concentration–ultimately, loss of consciousness. All she had to do now was keep out of the way of that weapon of his and bide her time.
She made to turn away, but her eye glimpsed a movement from beyond the light of the fire. A black-cloaked figure was arcing through the air on a direct line toward the creature. Shann. No.
McCann tried to raise himself, turn and fire one-handed all at the same time. A jagged bolt burst forth from the weapon, which veered mercifully just wide of the incoming girl. Her feet impacted the platform and she fell forward, pressing her eyes shut and shaking her head.
McCann grabbed the blinded and disoriented girl from behind and thrust the bulbous end of his staff at her head. “I appear to have found your friend. Stand aside or she dies.”
The girl bared her teeth and struggled, but the creature’s meaty arm held her fast. He jabbed the weapon against the side of her face to reinforce his point. Keris cursed under her breath. You brave, stupid girl. Still, what was done was done. She urgently needed to buy time. “If you harm her, you will pay.”
“Your threats are meaningless,” he croaked. “Stand aside now.”
“I cannot allow you to leave with the girl,” she called back. “However, if you release her, I will allow you to leave through the tower.”
“You managed to unseal it somehow. That’s how you got up here.”
“Yes,” Keris said. “Let the girl go, and I will allow you to depart peacefully.”
“Unacceptable. You have your own avionics. Out on the plains, you would pick me off with ease. No, the girl stays with me. She is my insurance.” There was a silence. The strong whiff of ozone from McCann’s staff weapon hung heavy in the air between them. “You have no choice.”
Shann squirmed in his grip, her face a mask of rage. “Finish him,” she yelled.
McCann tightened his arm around her. “Quiet,” he ordered.
She wriggled again defiantly. “Finish him. I am not a component carrier. It doesn’t matter what happens to me. Finish him now.”
McCann ground his teeth. “I’m warning you–”
“Wait. There’s another way out of this,” Keris cut in.
His eyes were wild, fixed on the girl. “Speak.”
“I have the ability to activate the ancient technology in this tower. That is how we gained access to the interior. There are…several such towers on Kelanni. They are essentially transport devices, capable of transporting a person from one part of the world to another instantaneously.”
“You are attempting to deceive me,” he accused.
“I can prove the truth of what I say. Watch.” Keris spread her arms theatrically, then bent down and placed her staff on the ground in front of her. Turning her back, she walked slowly toward the great silver globe. She ran her fingertips over its smooth surface and made her way around its circumference until she found the place with the telltale triangular indentation. Pray that this works.
Keris reached into her pouch and extracted the access module. Lining up the corners, she pushed it firmly home. Instantly, the transparent device lit up with a golden glow and there was a barely audible hum. Keris held her breath. The light changed to bright crimson, and a door slid open, revealing a dark interior.
McCann raised his eyebrows. “Impressive.”
“Inside you will find a control panel and two sets of levers. The red ones will take you to the towers on the other side of this world. One lies on the Eastern Plains and is destroyed–it will no longer work. However, the other is the Dagmar tower near Chalimar.”
“No,” Shann spat. “You must not allow him to escape.”
Keris ignored her. “There are two conditions. First, you must release the girl before you enter the globe. And second, you must let me have your Speaker Ring.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
So that you cannot immediately Ring your compatriots and bring them down on us. I figure it will take you at least a day to cover the distance from the Dagmar tower to Chalimar and raise the alarm. By then, we will be long gone.”
Tears rolled down Shann’s face. “Don’t. Don’t do this.”
Keris kept her eyes firmly on McCann. “I am Keltar. The servants of the Prophet live by a code of honour. I give you my solemn oath that you may use this machine to get away safely. Do we have an agreement?”
The conflagration behind McCann was dying down; tattered remnants of blackened canvass flapping in the wind, glowing embers sailing up and vanishing into the night sky. The ‘watcher’ overhead suddenly fell to the platform, smashing its glass-like interior. It bounced once, then rolled to a dead stop. There was nothing left for him here.
“Very well.” He raised himself, pulling the girl to her feet. Keris backed off slowly, giving him free access to the opening in the globe. Putting all of his weight on his good leg, McCann limped toward it.
Keris waited until he was just a few yards away. “That’s far enough. Release the girl and remove your Ring.”
“If I do that, how do I know you will not try and stop me?”
Keris steeled herself. “I have stated that you can leave freely. I cannot break my oath.”
McCann met her steady gaze, then shoved Shann forward, sending her sprawling to the platform. He tore off his Speaker Ring, held it in his palm for her to see, and then closed his fist around it, turned and hurled it beyond the parapet so that it disappeared into the night. He began hobbling the last few yards to the globe’s entrance.
“One more thing,” Keris said. “More to satisfy my curiosity than anything else. Are you the Unan-Chinneroth? Are you the Prophet?”
The creature turned his head toward her. To Keris’ surprise, he was chuckling to himself. “Is that what you think? Well, I suppose a little honesty wouldn’t hurt. I am what you call ‘Unan-Chinneroth’–what we call ‘human’. But I am not your Prophet. His real name is Charles Wang. I think you will likely meet him very soon. But I should warn you–he is not nearly as pleasant to deal with as I am.” Still chuckling to himself, McCann hopped inside the sphere.
Keris went over to Shann, knelt down and helped her to her feet. “Why? Why did you do it? Why did you let him go?” Shann wailed.
“Shhh,” Keris soothed. She supported Shann as the two women moved away towards the parapet. A faint light shone from the globe’s opening. The doorway slid shut and there was a low reverberation as the four clamps disengaged and the massive orb began to lift into the air. They watched, transfixed, as it rose above the roof of the tower, blotting out the star-filled sky. Bright blue lightning crackled over the globe’s silver surface. The atmosphere shivered momentarily, then the globe imploded silently and vanished. An instant later an identical globe popped into existence and slowly settled back to the stone platform. The four clamps extended like talons, securing the enormous sphere in place. Ten days. That was the minimum period Annata had said before the towers could be used again. I don’t think we will be seeing him again for a while.
“I…owe you my life,” Shann said. “But you should not have allowed him to go free. I told you I was expendable. Sometimes you have to sacrifice individuals for the sake of a greater cause.”
Keris’ face was grim. “I’m sorry. I don’t do that anymore.” She strode over to the silver globe in order to retrieve the access module.
Shann followed her. “But…you sent him back to the Prophet, to the safety of his people. With the knowledge that we are coming, and of the power of Annata’s instrument.”
“Did I?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Keris smiled faintly. “‘Know your enemy’. That’s one of the key principles I was taught. Very often, it’s the difference between victory and defeat. Thieves and spies rely on deception and subterfuge. It is their greatest asset, but it is also their greatest weakness because they judge everyone else by their own standards. They can easily become entangled in their own web of deceit.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Shann said.
“Inside the globe, McCann would have found two sets of levers–red and blue.”
“You told him to use the red ones–the ones that would take him back to Dagmar.” Shann’s eyes turned away as if seeing something new for the first time. “He would assume you were lying. He would have used the blue ones.”
“Correct.”
“But that would mean that he would have been transported to…”
“Precisely.”
Shann shuddered. “That’s why you made him give up his Speaker Ring–so he couldn’t call for help.” She shook her head. “Slow starvation, freezing to death or being overwhelmed by the murghal…but there’s still a chance that he could escape from the tower in the Cathgorns. Or he might have selected the red levers after all.”
“That’s true,” Keris acknowledged. “But the risk in either case was slight and…not worth your life.”
Shann’s eyes were downcast. “I…I’m sorry. I have misjudged you greatly since our first meeting. Even if it was you who took my parents away, you…you are not the same person as you were then. I realise that now.”
Keris felt a strange mixture of confusion and remorse. Had she wrested this child’s parents from her? She forced herself to recall the slender, severe girl from those days–the newly appointed Keltar who had set about her task with such zeal and determination, such self-assuredness and arrogance, the conviction that her way–the Prophet’s way–was the only right one, and that it didn’t matter who got hurt along the way. The girl was right. She was no longer that person. But then who was she? Back on Annata’s Reach, Shann had asked her “What are you?” Perhaps, when all of this was over, she would finally have an answer to that question.
Keris gave a slight bow. “Come. The others will be waiting for us.”
She turned, cloak whirling about her, and headed for the roof exit.
~
Alexander McCann stood on the tower’s open platform, trying not to put weight on his roughly bandaged leg. The gelid mountain wind buffeted his fur coat and numbed his cheeks. This was not Dagmar.
Immediately he had returned to the sphere and tried to activate the red levers. Then the blue. Nothing. A rising sense of desperation settled into a feeling of fury in the pit of his stomach. Somehow, the tall female alien had outwitted him. If he met up with her again, he would tear off her green skin and hang it out to dry.
McCann limped to the parapet and peered at the surrounding landscape. The ground below was a jumble of broken glaciers, icefalls and snow-filled crevasses. Jagged peaks with snow clinging to their sides surrounded the high tower as if sealing his fate.
He had no way off this mountain, and no Speaker Ring to summon assistance.
Far below, a chorus of bestial growls echoed across the ice fields, reverberating from the mountainsides. The unearthly monsters that inhabited this cold, unforgiving place were waiting.
Waiting for him.
<><><><><>
Chapter 39
The avionics bearing Keris and Shann settled back onto the Dais and the two women clambered out, following the drach. Two figures were hurrying to meet them, handheld lamps bobbing up and down, casting a soft radiance which pushed back the night. Shann smiled as she recognised Alondo and Rael.
Alondo held Shann by the shoulders, looking her over. “How are you? Are you all right?”
“We’re fine,” Shann assured him, “although Keris requires Boxx’s ministrations.”
“Later,” Keris said from behind her.
“We saw the tower’s transporter being activated,” Rael added. “Did you find the spy?”
“Yes,” Keris said.
“What happened?” Rael asked anxiously.
Keris stepped forward and the two women shared a look. “He’s been dealt with,” Keris replied.
Alondo breathed a sigh. “Well, at least that’s one piece of good news.”
“What do you mean?” Shann asked.
“It’s Lyall,” Alondo said. “Boxx says he failed his trial.”
“How is he?” Shann demanded.
“Resting. For now,” the musician answered. “He came out of it pretty badly, like the rest of us.”
Keris raised her hand to her mouth. “That’s bad news. Very bad. We only have three component carriers. It’s not enough to disable the Prophet’s weapon.”
“So what do we do now?” Rael asked.
Keris shook her head. “I wish I knew.”
As the brooding silence descended, Shann remembered something. Something that had happened during her own trial. Was it possible…? It was a pretty wild idea. Still, there was nothing to lose. Not now. “Where’s Boxx?”
“Still over by the dome of fog, I think,” Alondo said. “Why do you ask?”
“I need to see Boxx.” Shann strode past Alondo and Lyall and headed toward the centre of the Dais. She turned to see that the others were following her. “Alone. I need to see it alone.” She turned away once more. A small voice from within was yelling at her. What are you doing? I have to do this. I have to at least try.
She found the Chandara lying with its head on the flat metal surface. It raised itself at her approach and stood erect on its hind limbs. Keris needs healing, she reminded herself. That would have to wait.
She stood squarely in front of the little creature. It looked up at her–as usual, its expression was unreadable. “I want you to test me again,” she said. There was no answer. “Please. Let me go in there. Let me take the trial again.”
“No,” it squeaked in its thin, high voice.
“Why not?”
“It Is Not Permitted.”
“Why?
“Cognitive Architecture Requires Subject To React Without Knowledge Of What Is To Come.”
“You mean I can’t repeat the process?”
“You Cannot Repeat The Process.”
“But…I never finished. I was pulled back before I could…take action.”
“When The Decision Matrix Shows Sufficiently High Probability Of Success Or Failure, The Scenario Terminates Automatically. That is The Rule.”
The rule–that was her opening. “During my trial–when you appeared to me as Alondo–you said that you could not break the rules, but you could bend them. You told me what I would be facing and gave me a way out, if I chose.”
“Your Pain Was Great.”
“But I chose to face that pain. I admit that I could not deal with it then. I would have made a terrible mistake. But things are different now. I know how to control my pain rather than letting it control me. I know how to let it strengthen me to face the real enemy. You must allow me to prove it to you…and to myself. You have to allow me to complete my trial.”
The Chandara swayed its head from side to side in a gesture that Shann could not fathom. Finally it trilled, “If I Allow, It May Cause You More Pain.”
Shann let out a ragged breath. “I know. Please, Boxx, I have to do this.” As much for myself as for the greater cause.
Boxx stared at her a while longer with its beadlike eyes. Then its wide mouth undulated. “Follow.”
She thought of asking it to wait a moment so that she could explain to the others–to let them know what she was doing and why, but she feared that if she saw the concern in their eyes, then her courage might desert her. I have to do this now.
She marched forward and followed the Chandara until both of them were swallowed by the flat mists.
~
Shann stood amid the greyness. Her heart beat fast and her chest felt heavy. She half expected Alondo and the others to come running out of the mist toward her, pleading with her not to go through with it. But there was nothing. The uniform surroundings seemed to deaden both sight and sound. She was truly alone.
Boxx faced her as if it were checking her resolve. “Resume,” it said.
She was standing in the cobbled street in Corte once more. The aches in her chest and shoulder had returned. Her hands gripped a staff, its diamond blade at the throat of a tall slim girl who lay helpless on the ground. Its razor-sharp edge was already drawing blood. The tall girl swallowed and her eyes knew fear.
Shann’s hands were slick with sweat. The staff felt unnatural, as if it were a serpent that might come to life at any moment and strike her. She pulled away from the other girl and stepped back.
The young Keris propped herself up on one elbow, massaged her neck and regarded Shann uncertainly. An impressionable girl, duped into performing the will of a tyrant. You are as much a victim as I am.
Shann flicked her head. “Go now. I release you.”
Keris got to her feet. A confused expression passed over her face. Then she turned away and began walking toward the prisoner cart as if Shann no longer existed. Shann went over to where the older Keris was still standing, and they both looked on in silence. The injured soldier was on her feet, supported by two of her comrades. The younger Keris waved an arm and bellowed as if nothing had happened. “Let’s get this cart moving.”
Shann looked into the eyes of her mother and father. Tears welled up and flowed down her cheeks. Behind their haunted appearance, they seemed…kindly. Did they realise they were looking at their only daughter, all grown up? She desperately wanted to run to them and hug them, to tell them that she was going to be all right, that they need not worry.
A soldier struck the striped graylesh on its side, and the cart started up with a jolt. It trundled off up the street, flanked by the soldiers, the young Keris way off to the side, holding her staff as if it were a symbol of power.
Shann watched the cart carrying her parents until it passed out of sight.
Goodbye.
The scene faded to grey and she was standing once more amid the mist with Boxx in front of her.
“Trial Is Complete,” the Chandara announced. It raised its round head and looked directly upward. Shann followed its gaze…and gasped. High above them, a hole had appeared–a small patch of starlight. It grew bigger, slowly at first, then faster and faster as it rolled back the grey to reveal the magnificence of the night sky, the Dais, and the plains of Akalon bounded by the Vannath range and the glittering line that was the faroff Arlan Sea.
Alondo, Rael and Keris were running toward them now. Behind she could see Patris and Lyall. They surrounded Shann and Boxx. “Are you all right? What happened?” Alondo demanded.
“Trial Is Complete,” Boxx repeated. “Alondo, Rael, Keris And Shann Are The Four Controllers.”
“You passed,” Rael exclaimed. “But how–?”
Lyall stepped forward. His voice sounded hoarse. “It doesn’t matter. We have what we need.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Well done, Shann.” There were murmurs of assent, but Shann was not paying attention. She looked into Lyall’s blue eyes and for the first time saw an emptiness there, as if the light of his life had suddenly passed behind a cloud. She gave him a look that said ‘I want to help’. The moment passed, and Lyall turned to Boxx. “Where are the components?”
Boxx led them back to the pedestal. The circular bulge in its upper surface was still giving off a steady crimson light. The Chandara raised its head and spoke again in a high clear voice. “Urien-Kathaar.” The light was extinguished as the pedestal lowered itself into the surface once more.
Shann’s eyes grew wide as the section of the Dais that had been occupied by the dome of fog split into curved segments like the spokes of a wheel, which then retracted, leaving a perfectly round hole. A set of stairs followed its circumference, spiralling down into the interior of the structure. “The Controllers Will Follow,” Boxx instructed.
Shann’s eyes turned to Lyall once more and saw that same empty expression. He smiled at her with some effort. “Go ahead.”
Reluctantly, she followed the others down the metal stairway and into the depths of the opening.
~
It doesn’t matter. That’s what Lyall had said. And yet it did matter. It was Lyall who had set her on a new course, who had given her life meaning and purpose–he who had trained her in the cloak and the staff, had watched over her, had made her feel like a grown woman and not a child. Everything she was, she owed to him. Yet now it felt as if she were leaving him behind forever. Which was crazy, because he was there, only a few feet above her and they would surely be reunited in a few minutes. So why did parting from him feel almost as painful as leaving her parents behind? You’re being foolish, she told herself. These are nothing more than mechanical devices. Soon all of this will be over and things will get back to the way they were before.
The four of them and Boxx were standing at the bottom of an open circular pit made of the same silvery metal as the Dais. In the centre of the pit was a plain metal cube, topped with a four-sided pyramid. “You Must Each Take A Side,” Boxx directed.
Shann took up a position facing one side. Alondo took the place on her left, with Rael on her right. Keris was opposite–Shann could not see her face. What do we do now? Link hands?
Boxx appeared to draw itself up to its full height. “Urien-Kathaar–Melpomene. Trial Is Complete–Release.” The sides of the pyramid parted silently, opening like the petals of a flower. A soft golden light shone forth from the interior, illuminating each of their faces. As her side of the pyramid dropped away, Shann saw a disk the size of her palm set into the pyramid’s inner surface. It was pure white–the colour of Kelanni blood.
“These are a different shape and colour,” Rael said. He glanced up and saw that the others were looking at him. “Sorry…never mind.”
“I Am Boxx,” the Chandara announced. “My Task Is Complete. The Four Components Are Yours. Take Them. Use Them With Wisdom.”
They each reached out and claimed a disk. Shann held it reverently. She could not help but remember her last night in Corte, when she had examined a smaller lodestone disk given to her by a stranger with penetrating blue eyes. Then, she had not dreamed of the power that smooth dark stone represented. Yet here in her hand was the ability to create it–as much as one wanted. Such power cannot be allowed to exist. It must be used and then destroyed without fail.
The four of them fell into step after Boxx and ascended the spiral stairs once more, each consumed by their own thoughts. Lyall and Patris met them at the surface of the Dais.
“Do you have the components?” Lyall asked. Each of them nodded in turn. “Then it’s time for us to leave.” Shann felt weary from lack of sleep. However, she made no attempt to argue. She too felt the need to finally get away from this place.
“Where to?” Alondo asked cheerfully.
“We need to find out where the lodestone weapon is being constructed, and then disarm it,” Lyall declared.
Rael frowned. “You said that the weapon is on an island.”
“That’s what Annata told me, yes,” Keris affirmed.
“The island where the hu-mans were banished to after the war is called Helice,” Rael explained. “It lies in the Erigone Sea, far to the north. Unfortunately, it’s well beyond the range of our avionics–we would fall into the sea long before we got there. There is no way for us to reach it.”
Shann and Keris looked at each other. “The ship,” Shann said.
Keris nodded, “I was thinking the same thing. Patris, could Annata’s Reach be made seaworthy again?”
Patris’ eyes became unfocussed. “The sail and cordage could be replaced easily enough. The only other real damage is the breach on the port side, just above the waterline. Sure, she could be patched up and re-floated if I had enough manpower and the right materials–and if the sea where she’s beached hasn’t battered her too badly. I’m no shipwright, you understand. The result might not look too pretty. But it could probably be done. I suppose you’ll expect me to skipper her as well.”
Lyall flashed an ingratiating smile. “I appreciate the offer, thank you. No doubt you’ll be adding all of that to our bill?”
“No,” he said. “This I’m doing for myself.” The others regarded him strangely. Keris looked positively shocked. Patris was not the same person since his experiences in the dome. None of them were. He turned to Boxx. “One thing I still don’t understand. Why put us through all of this? What was it you were supposed to be testing for?”
The Chandara stood up on its hind legs once more and cocked its head to one side, fixing Patris with eyes of unfathomable black. “Integrity,” it said.
~
(Eighteen days later.)
With a single creak from its protesting hull, the Reach moved smoothly backwards down the slipway, gathering speed, until it hit the water. Lyall did his best to hold on to the rigging as the deck bucked and heaved before settling onto an even keel. The slender avionic stayed immobile, its landing struts held fast to the foredeck by iron hasps.
Lyall, Alondo and Shann stood together on the main deck. They were each dressed in loose fitting, light grey tunic and trousers, suitable for deck hands. Over on the stern deck, four drach in their customary blue surcoats stood watch, sunlight reflecting off the peculiar staff weapons they carried on their backs. Their commander, whose name was Frang, had a flat face and a strong, forbidding jaw line. He looked like a man who had never given an inch in his life.
Lyall was beginning to have some misgivings about the deal he had struck with the Scientific Directorate. To begin with, the chain of command was less than clear. He was in overall charge of his people and he counted Rael in among those. The boy might be from this world, but he had repeatedly demonstrated where his loyalties lay. Frang, on the other hand, took his orders from the Directorate. Ostensibly, he and his drach were there to provide protection and to secure the ship, but Lyall could not help but wonder what clandestine orders they might have been given. It seemed highly unlikely that they would interfere with the mission to disable the hu-man weapon. However, if a conflict of interest arose, there could be problems. He thought of discussing the situation with Keris, but he did not want to risk precipitating the very conflict he was seeking to avoid.
Patris’ head appeared above the hatchway. He hauled himself up and joined the others assembled on the main deck. “No leaks,” he announced. “She seems to be watertight. I see no reason why we shouldn’t get underway immediately.” He addressed Lyall. “With your permission.”
Lyall nodded. “By all means.”
The sailor’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the sky overhead and checked wind direction. “Shann, shin up the yardarm and loosen the sail ties. Lyall, Alondo, get ready to pull in the halyard.” Now that he was in his element once more, Patris seemed more settled–more sure of himself than he had been in a long time. He headed aft to take charge of the rudder.
Lyall hauled the line hand over hand and watched the sail unfurl, displaying their new emblem–two hemispheres, linked together at top and bottom. To begin with, the Directorate had insisted that the party sail under their insignia. Adopting Lyall’s alternative design had been their one and only concession. Kelanni from both worlds united in common purpose. Let’s hope we can live up to the ideal.
The ship began to come about, turning away from the crowd assembled on the shore. They stood in respectful silence. Perhaps each of them was giving thanks that he or she was not preparing to cross a turbulent ocean to face an island full of dangerous hu-mans.
The sail flapped briefly in the crosswind, then filled out like a chest puffed with pride. Lyall tied off the halyard and brushed off his hands.
Rael was over by the avionic, checking its moorings. He wore a smart green jacket which, he had explained sheepishly, was the official garb of the Directorate’s Physics and Astronomy Division. As with everything else he wore, it looked too small for him. The boy had freely admitted that hands-on maintenance was not his forte. However, the flying machine was the property of the Directorate, bearing their crest on the fuselage just below the cockpit, and that made it his responsibility.
“The hu-mans exiled on Helice are violent and dangerous,” Hannath had told him. “The spy that you encountered at the Tower of Akalon had an avionic. There may be more of them on the island. You should be prepared.” The flying machine looked quite incongruous, perched on the foredeck like an absurd figurehead. However, Lyall was not about to quibble over anything that might give them an edge.
Alondo was standing by, waiting for orders. “Have you talked to Oliah yet?” Lyall asked.
“I haven’t Ringed her yet today, no.”
“Why don’t you head for the stern castle and Ring her from there? With everyone else out on deck, you should have some privacy. Let her know we’re underway, and ask her how things are progressing in Sakara?”
Alondo smiled warmly. “I’ll do that. Thanks.” He headed aft.
Patchy white clouds scudded across an azure sky. Lyall felt the stiff breeze against his cheeks. The Reach was gathering speed, heading out into the open sea. He watched as the sail began to luff. Shann trimmed its leading edge, and the windward edge settled down once more. Soon they would veer north and begin the long journey to the unexplored island that lay in the midst of the Erigone Sea.
Lyall turned to see Keris approaching with Boxx. The tall woman seemed to glide over the deck. She wore the magnificent new red cloak that Alondo and Rael had jointly presented to them the previous evening. Alondo, as usual, had used it as an opportunity to test the limits of Keris’ patience.
As they had gathered in the observatory sitting room, its walls lined with ticking and whirring timepieces, the musician had taken centre stage. “The combined genius of two worlds has come up with something special. I give you…” he reached into a nearby chest and pulled forth its contents with a flourish, “the red cloak.” Lyall had not been able to suppress a smile. It was a cloak, and yes, it was red. “We decided that having to dress as Keltar wasn’t too good for morale. So we thought we would create something a little more distinctive.” He looked pointedly at Keris. “What do you think?”
“It’s a nice colour,” she said.
“Is that all you have to say?” Alondo blustered. “Do you have any idea how much time I put into that thing?”
“It’s…a very nice colour,” she offered.
Rael was snickering in the background. “He’s holding out on you. Here…” He held out his arm to Alondo who graciously relinquished the garment. “Actually, we have made a couple of further enhancements. First, there’s the addition of a power cell. It can be attached to a belt and connected to the lodestone here…” He indicated a place at the collar. “The cell stores electrical energy. When activated, it harnesses the electrostatic properties of the lodestone, increasing the power of the cloak by around forty percent. The boost will last about fifty dahns before reverting to normal. The cell can be recharged from a suitable electrical outlet.”
“It’s a way of flying higher and farther,” Alondo added with a grin.
Rael looked around at him. “That’s right. You’ll also notice another new control here. We’ve added a lower lodestone layer beneath the bronze.”
“That one was my idea,” Alondo pointed out cheerfully.
“Now, if the upper lodestone layer is damaged, the cloak should still function,” Rael explained. “More importantly, if you employ all three layers in conjunction with a deposit of lodestone, then the upward pressure on the bottom layer can be balanced with the downward pressure from the upper layer. With a little practice, we believe you should be able to hover, if only for short periods.”
It came as no surprise that Keris would want to try out her new toy at the earliest opportunity. She came to a halt on the deck in front of him. “The new cloak is powerful, but the controls are difficult to master. We should commence training exercises as soon as possible.”
Lyall shaded his eyes, looked up and saw that Shann was busy in the rigging once again. “Perhaps later. When we’re fully underway.”
“Very well.” Keris swept past him and headed for the afterdeck with Boxx in tow.
Lyall glanced about him and saw that everyone else was either occupied or looking the other way. He moved to the hatchway, lifted it carefully and descended the ladder. The hold smelt of new wood and caulking. As Patris had declared, there was no evidence of leakage.
Lyall stood at the bottom in the half-light and felt something hard and round in his left side pocket. He glanced up at the hatchway, checking that he had not been followed, then pulled it out and opened his hand slowly. The small flat silver annulus lay in his palm like a guilty secret. Keris had referred to them as ‘eaves’. During his time inside the dome of grey mist at Drani-Kathaar, he had been shown a way to save Aune. Call it a prophecy. In any case, he had been told that the one on the other end of this listening device could set her free. Only there would be a price to pay.
He did not know what the price would be, or indeed if the prophecy were true. All he knew was that he had no choice. He was set now on a path–a path that he had to pursue until the very end.
— End of Book Two —
********************
Lodestone
Book Three:
The Crucible of Dawn
Science Fiction
by Mark Whiteway
Published by Mark Whiteway
Kindle Edition
Copyright 2011 Mark Whiteway
***
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
For my wife, Sandra
***
Book Three: The Crucible of Dawn
List of chapters
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Epilogue
Chapter 1
“The stone of despair and the staff
of hope— may they be forged as one
in the crucible of a new dawn.”
The Chronicles of Shann
Twenty-First Stanza, Thirty-Second Line.
“I don’ like the look o’ them there clouds.”
Yonach came to a halt, his boots sinking slightly in the powdery snow. He raised his head to the sky.
Yaron, his younger brother and partner, caught up to him a moment later. The young Kelanni pointed at the darkening mantle obscuring the mountain peaks. “Weather be closin’ in. We should be turnin’ back.”
Yonach sized up the situation—wind speed and direction, distance to the ice field, distance from their avionic at the foot of the mountain. He checked the whirring timepiece at his belt, then clapped Yaron on the back. “Bein’ a lodestone hunter’s no fun without a little risk, y’know. C’mon, it’s not far now. We should be good fer a couple o’ ornahs at least.”
Lodestone hunter. He liked the old epithet so much better than the new one—prospector—imposed by the Scientific Directorate. For generations, the lodestone hunters had scoured the glaciers and ice floes in search of the valuable ore while facing dangers of the mountain, answering to no one.
Then five turns ago, the Directorate had stepped in to control the supply and production of lodestone. Overnight, the proud and independent lodestone hunters were turned into ‘licensed prospectors’. The Directorate made registration mandatory, and ore could only be sold to the Metallurgy Division. Ore prices were fixed but fairly generous, and it could be argued that with a guaranteed market, the hunters were now better off than they had ever been.
Yonach shook his head. That was not the point. It felt as if his way of life had come to an end.
He lived for the challenge of the mountain—the bright snow; the crisp, clean air; the ever-present anticipation of a massive find just over the next rise that would make them both rich overnight. Damned if he’d be put off by a bunch of pen-pushing bureaucrats or a little bad weather.
He locked eyes with Yaron. “C’mon. The sooner we’re there, the sooner we can get started.” He surged forward without waiting for an answer.
Yaron gathered the reins of the empty sled and hurried to catch up. “What about the beasts?”
Valthar. Shaggy-grey and three-horned, they stalked the lower slopes in packs. Yonach snorted. “Don’ tell me yer afraid of a few valthar.”
“If the temperature falls, the murghal could descend from the pikes.”
“When did y’ever see murghal at this low of an altitude?”
“Well there have been—rumours. Some say that the Rime Slayers are becomin’ bolder, driven by hunger t’extend their range.”
“Ya spend too much time in the taverns listenin’ t’ the tales o’ old women.”
The two fur-clad figures trudged steadily up the snowy slope. Finally, the younger one spoke up once again. “Ever face down a murghal, Yonach?”
“Sure. One time I wrestled a dozen of ’em wi’ nothin’ but ma bare hands.”
“Liar.”
Yonach laughed heartily.
A moment later they crested a wide ridge. An ice field spread out before them like an immense, pure white cloak. Far off, the ground rose steeply once again towards the snow-covered sierras. A threatening stain of dark cloud, like smoke from night’s chimney, rolled down inexorably from the higher slopes.
Yonach stared out across the ice, straining his eyes for any aberration—any dark spot on the smooth white surface. Nightly, streaks across the heavens heralded new falls of lodestone ore. Meteorites that could not normally be distinguished against any other landscape were readily visible out here on the open glacier.
Yaron dropped the reins and joined his brother at the edge of the flat expanse. “See anythin’?”
“There—an’ there.” Yonach indicated two tiny dots on the smooth surface. They were some distance apart—there might not be enough time to reach both locations before the weather closed in.
Yaron pointed off to the right. “What about that one?”
Yonach peered out across the ice. He could just about make out a faint smudge—more distant than the first two, but larger. A lot larger. He made the decision. “C’mon. Gotta hurry.” He set off across the ice.
Yaron hurried to catch up once again. “We could just note its position an’ come back later.”
“An’ let Tugen steal it from under our noses? Not likely.”
“Have ya seen his new sled? It’s electrically powered. They say he can even ride on it.”
The rival hunter’s mission in life was to taunt and humiliate the two brothers. Of course, it was all under the guise of friendly competition, but Yonach was more astute than that. He strongly suspected that Tugen was trying to paint them as outdated, perhaps with the idea of getting the Directorate to revoke their license. He doubted that the Directorate would actually do such a thing, but still… “There’s more t’ being a hunter than havin’ a fancy machine. A lot more.” He glanced behind and saw that the lad was nodding, but whether out of conviction or loyalty it was hard to say. Yonach forged ahead with renewed determination. There’s no way I’m losin’ out t’ Tugen.
The sky darkened. The distant form on the ice grew larger. A squall buffeted them from all sides. A find as large as this could be difficult for two people to manhandle onto the sled. There was not much time.
The wind quickened into a blizzard, hurling snow into Yonach’s eyes, obscuring his vision. They were nearly on top of the dark shape before he finally realised that it was not a meteorite at all.
It was a body.
~
All thoughts of triumph and avarice fled as Yonach knelt beside the motionless form. The figure was short, clad in thick Kelanni furs and lying face down. Beside it, partly covered by snow, was what looked like a weapon—silver with odd protuberances, not unlike the electrolaser that the drach carried. But what would drach be doing in these mountains?
“’oo is it?” Yaron asked.
Yonach smiled inwardly. Why did younger brothers automatically think their elder siblings had the answers to every question in the world? “Let’s see, shall we?” He placed one hand on a shoulder and another on an arm and pulled gently. The body was heavy. He heaved and slowly it rolled over.
Yaron gasped. “Wh… what is it?” The features were encrusted with frost, but the complexion was still too pallid to be natural. Worse still, the lower part of the face was covered with a thick growth of hair.
“It’s a ’u-man,” Yonach answered. Thirty and more turns ago he had been the younger brother when war with the hu-mans broke out. By the time it was over, his older brother Seig was dead. Yaron had not yet been born, so to him, Seig was a name—nothing more. But to Yonach it was a loss that had blighted his youth.
Snow was gusting all around them. Yonach ignored the queasiness in his stomach and touched the creature’s face. It was as cold as the glacial ice. He brushed away the snow settling on the cheeks and facial hair and forced open one eye before placing a hand over the mouth. “’e’s alive,” he declared.
Yaron’s voice sounded from behind. “How can a ’u-man be ’ere? They was all sent far away across the sea—to Helice.”
Yonach ignored him. Time enough for questions later. “’elp me get ’im on the sled.” Yonach grabbed his shoulders and Yaron picked him up by the feet. Together, they half lifted, half dragged the unconscious bulk onto their transport. Yonach grabbed the odd-looking weapon and laid it next to the body on the sled.
A distant growl. Another. A third, blending and rising together towards a crescendo.
“It’s them,” the boy cried in alarm.
Yonach’s mind froze in horror. Murghal. Yaron had been right after all. Maybe he should have spent more time in taverns listening to those rumours. His head darted around, trying to place the direction from which the sounds were coming, but he could see nothing but the driving snow.
“C’mon.” Yonach grabbed the reins and motioned for his brother to do the same. He checked the compass, then hauled on the sled and began dragging it back in the direction they had come. Yaron matched his efforts, gritting his teeth and straining on the rope. Their boots slipped as they struggled to find purchase. After an age, the sled began moving across the glacier. The runners bit into the ice under their heavy burden.
Yonach ignored the wind that whipped at his face and the snowflakes that were doing their best to blind him and pushed onward. The bestial sounds were growing closer. Closer. He hazarded a glance over his shoulder but still couldn’t make out anything.
Yaron shouted something over the howling gale.
“What?”
“We ’ave to leave the sled. Make a run fer it,” the boy yelled.
It made sense. Unencumbered, they would probably be able to outpace the murghal, but weighed down as they were… He was risking their lives for what? A hu-man?
An uneasy peace had existed between the two races for the past thirty turns or more, but no Kelanni was under any illusions. Hu-mans were dangerous and violent. And they were the enemy.
Yet despite all of that—despite even the loss of Seig—something deep within Yonach would not allow him to abandon anyone to those foul creatures. Even a hu-man. “No. This ’u-man ’as questions to answer. I wanna know ’oo ’e is and what ’e’s doin’ ’ere. And we ’ave to know if others of ’is kind ’ave travelled ’ere from the island.”
“But Yonach.” He could hear panic rising in the boy’s voice. Guttural sounds were coming from all directions now. In moments, the murghal would be on them. They had nothing—no weapon with which to fend off the beasts. Weapon.
Yonach dropped the reins, allowing the sled to skid to a stop.
Yaron, too, released the rope and grabbed his older brother by the arm. “Let’s get out of ’ere.”
“’old on a dahn.” Yonach reached down and picked up the silver tube lying next to the body on the sled. There were a variety of controls at one end—buttons, levers and switches. He had never seen a drach weapon close up, let alone fired one. In any case, the hu-man version might be quite different.
“Whatcha doin’ wi’ that?” Yaron demanded.
Yonach had no real idea. Before he could answer, he heard Yaron cry out. A monstrous figure, ice clinging to tangled fur, shuffled into view. A tooth-filled maw occupied the place where its head should have been. Four slender arms probed the air, seeking any source of heat.
Two more creatures appeared, ambling forward. Yonach levelled the strange weapon at the oncoming monstrosities. Their bass growling scraped like a steel rasp at the edge of his consciousness. He pushed and pulled frantically at the various control mechanisms. Another of the shaggy creatures appeared behind them, a dull rattle emanating from deep within its throat.
“Yonach.” The boy had backed up to the sled, cowering, eyes wide, one arm raised protectively.
Suddenly, a blinding golden light burst from the bulbous end of the weapon. Yonach jerked back more from shock than recoil, and the searing bolt passed over the heads of the oncoming beasts.
The beam cut off without warning. The creatures were still advancing through the whirling snow. One of the controls he had been fiddling with had activated it. But which one? The small red lever. Yonach gripped the silver tube and pulled the lever firmly with his finger.
Lightning shot forth from the weapon once more, hitting the lead murghal’s body dead centre. The creature stopped in its tracks and shuddered. Keeping the spring-loaded trigger depressed, Yonach swept the beam left and right, bringing the beasts on either side to a halt; then swung around and fired the beam at the monster coming at them from behind.
A stench of ozone mixed with burning fur filled the air. Yonach’s throat constricted, and he coughed instinctively before gritting his teeth and firing again. The growling grew higher in pitch, turning to screams as the creatures started to back away. He continued firing until the rabid beasts disappeared back into the snowstorm. Slowly, he realised that he was still pulling the trigger, but there was no longer any response from
the weapon. Broken or out of power—he couldn’t tell.
Yaron stared at his older brother. “That was amazin’. What is that?”
“I wish I knew.” Yonach tried to peer through the blizzard. “There could be more murghal around ’ere. We need t’ get off this mountain.” He gestured for Yaron to take up the reins once more.
“If we meet any more o’ them, ya can just turn that thing on ’em again, right Yonach?”
“I wouldn’ count on it.”
They took up the strain once more, and the sled lurched into motion. The ground began to tip forward—they had reached the edge of the ice field and were moving back down the incline. At the foot of the mountain, their avionic waited patiently, safe from crevasses, avalanches, and the many other perils of the Cathgorns. If the blizzard was still blowing when they reached the flying machine, it might be too dangerous to lift off for a while. They might have to take refuge in the cockpit and wait for a break in the weather.
When they finally took to the air, the comatose hu-man would have to ride in the hold, where their haul of lodestone ore would normally be carried. Yonach could only imagine what Coreall would say when he returned with such peculiar cargo. He half debated whether it might be wise to send Yaron in first to break the news to his wife. Facing the murghal again might prove to be less hazardous.
“Nnnngghh.” A low moan came from behind. Yonach called a halt and knelt down next to the sled. Snow whipped about them in flurries. The hu-man was stirring.
“’oo are you?” Yonach demanded.
The creature gave no sign of having heard him.
“’oo are you?”
The mouth opened and breathed, “McCann… my name is McCann.” The eyes opened a crack, and the pale weathered face screwed up. “Not you people again…”
Yonach let the comment pass. “What were y’ doin’ on this mountain?”
McCann turned over. “Go to hell.”
Yonach had no idea where ‘hell’ was, or why he would want them to go there. Another mystery to solve. He shucked off his back pack, pulled out a blanket, and threw it over the semi-conscious form. “Maybe later. First of all, you’ll ’ave t’ meet my wife.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 2
A full day’s sailing due north across the Aronak Sea; the coastline falling away and disappearing to the east; the Great Barrier of Storms, a brooding grey line on the western horizon. Then northeast into the vastness of the Erigone Sea. Annata’s Reach was a mote—an insect with wooden body and one canvas wing, lost on the surface of an immense pond.
For Shann, the accident that had prematurely ended her last voyage and almost cost her her life had done nothing to diminish her love for life at sea. She stood on the ship’s prow, the avionic looming on the forecastle behind her, and leaned over the forward rail, watching their little ship cut effortlessly through the water, pushing aside a bow wave that spread out behind them on both sides like an arrow. A gentle breeze caressed her olive cheeks and ran its fingers through her dark, cropped hair. On land there were towns and great cities, filled with thousands upon thousands of people, half of them wanting what the other half had. Here in the midst of the ocean, life was simple, pared down, reduced to its bare essentials. Ten Kelanni. One Chandara. Two cabins and seventy feet of deck. Soon it felt as if all her troubles had melted away.
Alondo spent most of the first day lying deathly pale in his bunk. Now he was up and about and keeping food down. The seasickness that he suffered on the journey from Sakara did not seem to be affecting him as badly on this trip. Maybe the moon-faced musician was getting his sea legs at last?
The same could hardly be said of the four drach. Kelanni of this world had never developed seagoing vessels—they regarded the ocean as far too perilous and unpredictable for travel. Hence, this was a new and highly unpleasant experience for all of them. Perpetually nervous and edgy, they glanced continually at the ocean as if it were an enemy surrounding them and spoke to each other in whispers. Rael, the gangly boy mathematician, was pleasant enough but appeared more distant since undergoing trial. He seemed to find excuses not to talk with her much of the time, being seemingly preoccupied with the avionic. Shann told herself that it was just her imagination, but she couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
Lyall, too, was distant. Patris’s conversation was limited to ship’s business, and Boxx, the shelled Chandara, was permanently resting.
In a strange turnaround of events, the only one who seemed willing and able to talk with her freely on their first day at sea was Keris.
Shann still felt awkward talking with the former Keltar, but it was not resentment over what had happened to her parents that was the problem. She no longer held Keris responsible for all of the evils committed during her time in service to the Prophet. What she felt now was closer to… guilt. During her trial at Drani-Kathaar, she had stood over the younger Keris with her diamond-bladed staff at the girl’s throat, ready to take her life. As she listened now to Keris the grown woman, she could not seem to get that image out of her head.
“I was brought up on a small holding on the Dagmar Manse—the eldest of five.”
The news that Keris was part of a family—and a large one at that—was a shock to Shann, although she was not sure why. “You have brothers and sisters?”
“Three brothers. One sister. More now, for all I know.”
“You don’t know?”
Flowing dark tresses framed Keris’s drawn expression. She gave a weak smile. “I haven’t seen them since my parents sold me into service.”
Shann’s sense of shock had grown as she tried to digest the implications. She lay in her bunk that night wondering what kind of parents could do such a thing. At least Shann had vague memories of parents who loved her. In a sense, Keris was more of a victim than she was.
By dawn, her reflective mood had returned like a tenebrous cloud that promised early rain. She stared down at the seawater flowing past their tiny vessel. The trials at the Dais had touched each of them deeply, shifting the relationships between them. There was still no telling where that process would end.
“Did you drop something overboard?”
Shann spun around. Alondo stood there, bright red hat perched on his head and a twinkle in his eye. Her heart gladdened at the sight. Of all her friendships, his had been the most constant. She was grateful for that at least. She smiled at him. “No—just sea-watching… you’re looking a lot better.”
“Well, don’t let this handsome, cheery face fool you. My stomach still heaves every time we encounter a heavy swell.”
Shann let her smile fade. She felt the need for a deeper kind of exchange. “Alondo, do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Certainly. What is it?”
“What did you see? During your trial at the Dais, I mean.”
The musician joined her, leaning on the forecastle’s forward crenellation and gazing out over the wide ocean. “I saw my past—a part of it, anyway. I was back in Lind. But there were people there who were not supposed to be there. Oliah, for one.” He turned to her and his face brightened. “You were there, though.”
“You appeared in my trial too. Although—it wasn’t really you.” She saw the bemused expression on his face. “It was Boxx’s way of communicating with me during the trial.”
“Boxx spoke to you during your trial?”
“Yes. It told me that my mind had created an image of someone that I trusted. Apparently, that was you.”
The twinkle in Alondo’s eye returned. “I feel honoured.”
Shann would normally have answered with a suitable riposte, but this was not the time for light banter. Now that she had begun, she felt the need to get her feelings out in the open; more than that, she needed to get to the bottom of something—something that had been bothering her from the moment she and Keris returned to the Dais after their encounter with the hu-man McCann at the Tower of Akalon. She gathered herself and pressed on. “You… that is to say, Boxx, told me what I could expect to happen and gave me the choice as to whether or not I wanted to continue.”
“I’m assuming you chose to face the trial.”
“Yes.”
“But… why would Boxx give you a choice like that?”
Shann put a hand on his arm, causing him to turn and see the intensity in her eyes. “Did you at any time wonder why it was that we were summoned in a particular order?”
“I… guess I figured that each scenario had been prepared specifically for each subject.”
Shann shook her head. “No, that’s not it. It was Boxx’s way of trying to save us unnecessary hurt.”
Alondo frowned. “How do you mean?”
“Boxx said that some were chosen to undergo trial later, because their inner pain was so much greater. It hoped that the four component carriers would be selected from the first four candidates, so that the others would not have to undergo trial; they would not have to face that part of themselves.”
“What was it that you had to face, Shann?”
This was the part she had been dreading, only because it meant reliving the experience all over again. She felt her insides knot. I have to do this, so I can move on.
“I saw myself as a little child, witnessing my parents being taken away.”
A look of shared pain flashed over his face. “That’s awful.”
“There’s more. The person responsible was Keris—a younger version of her, at any rate.”
“Keris took your parents? Did you talk to her about it?”
Shann nodded. “She claims she doesn’t remember the event. Which is perfectly possible. It was a long time ago, after all. Besides, we can’t know if that’s really what happened. You said yourself that events during your trial were jumbled—people out of place and time. The same thing happened to me. I was running from the soldiers in Corte; then you appeared. But I hadn’t met you then.”
Alondo appeared deep in thought. “Integrity… That’s what Boxx said the tests were all about. Somehow, the Dais must have accessed our thoughts—our memories—and then constructed a test, designed to see what we would do under extreme pressure…”
“Alondo, I’m worried about Lyall.”
“Because he failed his trial? Maybe he was given the same choice you were and chose not to go through with it.”
Shann bit her lower lip. “Lyall knew that we needed one more component carrier or all would be lost. Do you really think he would have backed away?”
“No,” Alondo said. “No, I suppose not.”
“Has he spoken to you about what happened to him?”
“No, but then Patris refuses to talk about his experiences as well. I think everyone will eventually share what happened to them in their own way and in their own time… you included.”
Shann frowned. “I already told you what happened to me.”
“But you didn’t say why you failed in the first instance. Or what happened when you went into the dome with Boxx for the second time.”
Shann felt suddenly exposed, like a tiny ship in the midst of a vast ocean. She had convinced herself that she was being honest—talking things out. But she had actually been throwing up defences—barriers to avoid facing the truth. Alondo had seen right through them. She took a ragged breath. “I… fought the younger Keris. Almost killed her.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“What changed your mind?”
“At the Tower of Akalon, Keris risked everything to save me. When I asked her about it, she said that the risk of failure wasn’t worth my life. It was then that I knew… ”
“You knew what?” Alondo urged, gently.
“I knew that even if it was true—even if Keris was the one who took my parents away—that she is not the same person now as she was then.”
“You still feel guilty over what you tried to do, though.”
Shann swallowed, removing the last vestige of her protective barrier. “Yes.”
Alondo placed a protective arm about her narrow shoulders and stared out to sea once more. The wind freshened from the south, flicking spray from the wave crests and making their little vessel rise and fall in the crosscurrent. “There’s not much we can do about our feelings, Shann. They have a way of creeping up behind us and catching us unawares. It’s what we do about those feelings that determine what kind of a person we are. However you felt—whatever emotions were running through you at the time—in the end, you did the right thing. You should be proud of that.
“As for Lyall—well, he has a lot of things on his mind right now. One is holding together this fragile alliance of ours. I have no doubt that we can rely on Rael’s wholehearted support, but when it comes to Frang and the rest of his drach—their position is a little more ambiguous. Now we are beyond avionic range, Lyall believes they will keep in line, since they don’t have the necessary skills to pilot a ship. When we get to Helice it might be a different story. For now though, I think we can look forward to a relatively peaceful voyage… ” A loud crash behind them was followed by a sharp exchange of raised voices. “Of course, I could be mistaken.”
~
“What’s going on here?” Lyall demanded. Keris stood toe to toe with one of the drach, a small man with ferrety eyes and a pinched face. Each had a hand on the hilt of their weapon. Each seemed to be waiting for the other to blink. Behind them, the open door to the sterncastle creaked on its hinges as the deck rolled in the swell. “I asked you both; what’s going on?” he repeated.
Keris’s voice carried a hard edge. “This… person tried to pilfer our belongings.”
“That is a lie,” the drach countered.
Everyone on the tiny vessel was gathering—drawn to the site of the altercation. Patris, Rael, and Boxx appeared behind him. Shann and Alondo descended the ladder that led to the foredeck. Ahead of them, Frang and the other drach strode purposefully across the main deck. They looked as if they were spoiling for a fight. This is going to get ugly very soon unless I do something.
“I saw you,” the tall woman insisted.
Lyall took a step forward, bright blue eyes flashing beneath a swirl of sandy hair. “What did you see exactly, Keris?”
“When I entered the sterncastle he was there on his own, bending over Shann’s pack.”
“Did you actually see him take anything?” Lyall probed.
Keris scowled. “I know what this filthy gundir was doing.”
Frang arrived and muscled his way to the centre of the group. His voice was a bass growl. “What’s all this?”
Lyall locked eyes with the big man. “One of your people has been accused of going through our things.”
Frang huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. We would have no interest in your primitive equipment.”
“Maybe I should test my ‘primitive’ blade against your sophisticated throat.”
“Keris,” Lyall rebuked her. The red-cloaked woman fell silent but showed no signs of standing down. He turned his attention back to Frang, keeping his voice as even as he could manage. “May I ask what your man was doing in our quarters?”
“What were you doing, Roloff?” Frang barked.
Roloff did not take his eyes off Keris. “I was looking for the one who operates this vessel—to ask how long before we reached the island where the hu-mans are.”
“There, you see?” Frang said. Keris snorted loudly.
Lyall had to admit that he shared the woman’s scepticism. The explanation was wafer thin. However, it didn’t matter. They had a task to accomplish, and conflict was a luxury they simply couldn’t afford. “I think it might be wise to set some boundaries,” he began, “to avoid any further… misunderstandings. From now on, the sterncastle will be off limits to you and your men. My people will similarly not enter the forecastle without your permission. Are we agreed?”
Frang’s flat face was dark under his heavy brows. “Very well. However, I expect you to keep your… group under control. My men are here for your protection. They do not take kindly to being threatened.”
He jerked his head in an unspoken command for Roloff to follow, then turned on his heel and marched off. The crowd began to disperse, heads hung low in silent contemplation. Keris remained rooted to the spot, watching the blue-coats’ receding backs, her hand still on her weapon as if she was expecting them to turn and attack at any moment.
Lyall placed himself between Keris and the retreating drach and placed a restraining hand on her weapon arm to get her attention. “Enough.”
“I don’t like it,” Keris hissed. “There’s no way that drach was simply looking for Patris. I tell you, they’re up to something.”
For the hundredth time, Lyall felt a twinge of regret at having given in to the Scientific Directorate’s demand that the drach accompany them on this voyage. However, like it or not, the watchmen were here now. If Frang and his men did indeed have a hidden agenda, then that would no doubt become evident in time. “Whether that’s true or not, Keris—somehow we have to try and make this work.”
“Yes, well from now on, I’ll be watching them like a perridon. And I’m telling you, if they try to pull a stunt like that again, I’ll personally toss them overboard one by one and they can swim home.”
She stalked off past the mast, where the sail bearing Lyall’s emblem of the linked hemispheres—the symbol that represented the uniting of the two halves of their world—lay limp in the faltering breeze.
<><><><><>
Chapter 3
As the morning wore on, the wind dropped away and their tiny vessel was reduced to an agonisingly slow crawl. Waves lapped at the hull, but the gentle lullaby did little to ease the growing tension on board. Prior to the confrontation between Keris and the drach Roloff, the two groups seemed content to ignore each other. Now the air was redolent with distrust and suspicion, manifesting in stolen glances, furtive whispers, and truncated conversations.
For Shann, the situation was made worse by the fact that she had little to do. As unofficial ‘First Mate’, she and Patris had been kept pretty busy trimming the sail and keeping the Reach on course as it tacked steadily across the ocean. Now, the flaccid sail hung impotently from the crosstrees as the twin suns shone down on them from a perfect azure sky. Every square inch of canvas was exposed to catch whatever breath of wind might pass their way, but it made little difference.
With idleness came a growing sense of insecurity. She had taken to following Alondo around the deck like a lost gundir pup. The musician seemed not to mind, and his manner was as amiable as ever. However, a small voice at the back of her mind eventually castigated her that she was wearing out her welcome, so she excused herself and headed for the sterncastle. She opened the door and immediately saw Lyall, Keris, and Patris at the far end of the cabin, in a tight circle, clearly deep in discussion. The conversation cut off as soon as she entered. Shann’s eye flicked from one to the other, registering their grave expressions. “I’m sorry, I’ll come back later.”
“No, no, it’s all right.” Lyall beckoned her over. “Come and join us.” Shann accepted the invitation. Keris and Patris moved over to admit her, and she sat on a bunk with her hands folded in her lap. “Patris, would you repeat what you told us, for the benefit of our young friend here?”
The weather-beaten sailor-thief nodded once. “The ship is not exactly becalmed, but it’s pretty close to it. I have no experience of the weather patterns here, but it shows no signs of breaking any time soon. Under these conditions, I would normally recommend breaking out the launch and attaching a line to row her forward. Ideally, eight people would man the launch while two would remain on board. We would rotate periodically to give some a rest. I’m leaving Boxx out, of course. Even if we could communicate what we wanted it to do, it doesn’t look as if it could handle an oar. That leaves the six of us and the four drach.”
“You think they’ll meekly agree to us putting them in a small boat?” Keris proceeded to answer her own question. “Not a chance. And there’s no way we’re giving them the run of the ship by leaving them here by themselves.”
Shann frowned. “Why can’t we use lodestone to pull the ship? Like we did when we crossed the Great Barrier of Storms.”
“We already thought of that,” Keris said. “Pulling the ship would fully occupy those trained in the cloak—you, me, and Lyall. That would leave Rael, Alondo, and Patris—three virtually unarmed people—plus Boxx, to face four armed drach.”
“You think they would try and seize the ship?” Shann asked.
“I think it’s a distinct possibility,” Keris said.
Shann recalled her earlier conversation with Alondo. “But… they can’t sail the ship without us.”
“If you think about it, they only need Patris and maybe Shann here,” Lyall pointed out. “The rest of us would be expendable.”
Shann shook her head. “I still don’t see what they would have to gain. We control the four components. Without us, the entire mission to disable the hu-man weapon would be compromised.”
“Maybe they are on a different mission from us?” Keris’s question felt like a hammer. “Oliah believes that the Prophet somehow influenced the asoli to help facilitate the takeover of Sakara,” she continued. “If the asoli could be corrupted, then why not the drach?”
“We have no proof of that,” Shann insisted. “And if we can’t trust one another sufficiently to work together, then we could be stuck here for who knows how long.”
Silence fell over the gathering as each of them absorbed the implications. It was Keris who finally spoke. “There is a solution— only… you might not like it.”
“Tell us,” Lyall urged.
“We get them out of the way.”
Shann was horrified. “You can’t be serious. You told me you wouldn’t sacrifice anyone else.”
“I agree,” Lyall said. “Throwing them overboard isn’t an option, Keris.”
The red-cloaked woman shook her head, vigorously. “You misunderstand me. I’m not suggesting we kill them; just restrain them.”
“You mean imprison them? Where?” Patris asked.
“Where is not a problem. The hold should be more than adequate. How might be a little more difficult. But if the operation is sufficiently well planned, I believe we could do it.”
“No,” Lyall declared.
Keris raised her eyebrows. “No?”
“It’s too risky,” Lyall said, “and we would lose whatever chance we have of working with them. Look, I’m the one who agreed to have them on board. It’s my responsibility. I will talk with this ‘Frang’ to see whether I can ascertain his loyalties.”
Keris opened her mouth. Shouts. A noisy commotion. It was coming from outside. She jumped to her feet, straining her ears. “Sounds like trouble… Lyall, Shann—cloaks and staffs, quickly. Patris, you’re safest here for the moment.” She turned and made for the door without waiting for acknowledgment or agreement.
Shann scrabbled for her pack and pulled out the new red cloak, fastening the neck clasps and watching as Lyall did the same. It was the first time she had donned the new equipment. I hope I can get the hang of this thing.
She grabbed her staff, looked up, and saw that the door to the sterncastle had been left wide open. Running feet and cries of alarm drifted in on the still air. Keris was gone.
~
Shann burst onto the deck just behind Lyall, and her jaw dropped. Towering over the sides of the ship were three… no, four tenticular arms as thick as her body. Dark olive, mottled and glistening with seawater, they swayed, then lashed out with astonishing speed and accuracy.
The drach were grouped together on the main deck. Three of them, including the imposing figure of Frang, had their peculiar silver staff weapons pointed at the serpent-like appendages and were letting off bursts of crackling energy, which seemed to be having little or no effect. The fourth lay face down on the deck, not moving.
On the port side, Keris was a crimson whirlwind, her diamond blade hacking and slicing at one of the massive arms. Shann spotted Rael on the foredeck, hiding behind the crenellations—safe for the moment. Boxx was no doubt rolled up into its shell somewhere. She could not see Alondo.
Lyall’s voice snapped her out of her reverie. “Come on. We have to help Keris.”
She drew her staff and raced after him across the deck. They came up behind Keris just as she was giving ground. The great arm already bore numerous score marks from which a viscous orange fluid seeped. “Nice of you to join me,” Keris said without turning.
The flattened end of the serpent-arm swayed high above them as if trying to catch a scent on the still air, before stabbing down at the deck, like a spear. The three red-cloaked figures scattered.
Shann threw herself to one side and rolled away as the beast’s tentacle hit the deck with a thump, then shot upwards again. Lyall dived the other way and lay flat on his back. A short distance beyond him, Keris was crouched down—staff at the ready. Her dark eyes tracked the huge tentacle.
“In the name of the Three, what is that thing?” Shann cried.
Keris’s voice was grim. “Whatever it is, it bleeds. That’s all I need to know.”
She leapt forward to the ship’s rail and renewed her assault. Lyall, too, joined the fray, stabbing at the prehensile limb. Shann was about to pile in when something stopped her. A memory. She gazed up at the massive trunk which loomed over the deck. At Kharthrun, when they battled the Great Serpent, Keris had volunteered to serve as a distraction while she and Lyall tried to seek out its vulnerable spots. Mannatar gambit, she called it—from shassatan, the board game. Maybe they could do something like that here? But what were this thing’s vulnerable spots, if any?
The large flattened club at the tip must be used for probing and grasping, so it would make sense that it would be the most sensitive part of the creature. Attacking that part—severing it if possible—would no doubt severely disable it. But the end of the tentacle was perhaps forty feet above the deck… The lodestone set into the Reach’s foredeck…if she angled it right—used Lyall or Keris’s upper lodestone layer as a baseline…
“Mannatar gambit,” she called. “Keep it occupied.”
Keris paused in her attack and shot a glance in Shann’s direction. Her face and tunic were stained with the orange fluid. “What are you going to do?”
“Watch and see.” Shann turned on her heel and sprinted past the drach, who were ineffectually trying to battle a tentacle on the ship’s starboard side. She reached the ladder and climbed rapidly to the foredeck, feeling for the neck controls of her new red cloak. Held securely by its deck mountings, the avionic took up most of the deck space. She turned and regarded the melee taking place on the ship’s port side from her raised perspective. Keris and Lyall continued to jab and thrust at the massive arm as it loomed above them, readying another strike.
Suddenly the ship lurched beneath her feet. Another tentacle had appeared over the other side and two of the huge arms were now dragging at their tiny vessel, causing it to list to starboard. If this keeps up, the ship will capsize. We don’t have much time.
Shann blipped her lodestone layer, feeling the push of lodestone from the foredeck and judging her trajectory. It would take a leap of considerable proportions to reach the club end of the creature’s tentacle. With the black cloak she doubted she would make it, but the red cloak had a special boost facility—an electrostatic charge, Rael called it. Well, this is as good a time as any to test it.
She readied herself for a run and push off the foredeck. Something tugged at the end of her cloak. She spun round in annoyance to see Rael kneeling behind her. Alondo was hunkered down a short distance away. She noticed that he did not have his vortex arm; no doubt it was back at the sterncastle, on the opposite side to where the battle raged, so that he was cut off from the vibration device. Maybe it was just as well. She doubted whether it would have had any more effect on the creature than the drach’s lightning weapons, and at least it meant that he was out of harm’s way. She turned her attention back to Rael. “What do you think you’re doing?”
His voice carried a terrible urgency. “The spines. Watch out for the spines.”
Shann shook her head. She had no idea what the boy was blathering about, and there was no time to discuss it. She snatched the cloak from his grasp, snapped on the boost control, fully extended her upper lodestone layer, and vaulted into the air.
~
Shann gasped as the impetus of the initial lift threatened to wrench her shoulders out of their sockets. She sailed up and over the Reach’s main deck. Far below, the blue-coated drach lowered their lightning weapons and followed her progress with upturned faces. She angled her line of flight to the ship’s starboard side, where Lyall and Keris were still hacking at the nearest tentacle arm. The speed of her approach meant that she was likely to get in no more than a single blow. Better make it a good one.
As she shot past the flattened club end, Shann swung the staff with every ounce of her strength. She felt the diamond blade connect. Immediately, she flared her cloak once more, pushing against the upper lodestone layer of the cloaked figure beneath her and slowing her descent. She heard an “Oomph.” She alighted on the deck to find Lyall on his knees and Keris helping him to his feet.
Shann sensed a movement at the corner of her vision and glanced up to see the gigantic tentacle whipping towards her. She stepped backwards instinctively. The tip stopped short of the deck and curved upwards, flattened end raised in front of her like the palm of an immense hand. Sickly orange fluid bled from a laceration where the wrist would be. Time to finish the job.
As she tightened her grip on the staff, two semicircles of flesh in the midst of the palm suddenly parted, revealing a single huge eye— bright vermillion iris, yellow sclera with lines radiating from the centre. Another smaller appendage appeared, just below the eye. Before she could react, something whipped outwards, penetrating her arm and sending a jolt through her. A primeval presence touched the edge of her consciousness, cold and implacable as the depths of the sea.
A voice sounded from within; hers, and yet not hers. Like two individuals—two wills—superimposed on one another. She bent down, squeezed her eyes shut, and pressed the heels of her palms against her temples.
Enemies… invaders… must be destroyed… destroyed at all costs… But who… who is my enemy? The gargantuan creature of flesh and blubber, brooding beneath a floating wooden monster—a monster that cut off light from above and threatened its domain and its young?… Or are they my young?… The beast must be destroyed—the great wooden beast infested with tiny creatures that gave pain… They must be crushed—dragged down to the depths… The pain… Return the pain…
Shann’s face transformed into a grotesque mask as she whipped her staff around and drove it straight at the head of the tall, fair-haired creature in front of her.
<><><><><>
Chapter 4
The short, burly man who called himself Lorcar stood, hands on hips, head thrown back, laughing for all he was worth. At his feet, a tall, wiry girl lay on the flagstones of the Keep’s inner courtyard, her face a mask of frustration and injured pride.
His laughter ebbed away to a light chuckle. “Do you know what you are, girl? Do you? You’re a scrapper; that’s what you are. You go in, feet and fists flailing like some farmhand. ‘Keris, the Scrapper’— that’s what I’ll call you from now on.”
The girl pushed herself up and dusted herself down. It was her first day of training as Keltar, and she was already taking a profound dislike to the man who had been designated as her Principal Instructor. Finally, he sobered up, and his tone became reflective. “You must think about what you are doing… and then you must forget it.”
Lines creased her delicate forehead. “I don’t understand.”
“How to move, how to position yourself, how to conserve strength—to assess and exploit your opponent’s weaknesses—these and many other things you must learn with your conscious mind. But there will come a point where you must forget them. Your actions must flow, not from thought, but from instinct. You must learn to act within the moment. Only then will you truly be Keltar.”
Keris exploded into action, her staff intercepting Shann’s thrust and deflecting it so that the diamond blade passed inches from Lyall’s face. The girl’s weapon sliced through empty air and struck the deck planking with a thud. Keris’s muscles were taut, ready for the follow-up attack, but Shann simply stood still, staring at the point of her blade as if it belonged to someone else. A titanic battle waged back and forth across her features.
Lyall gaped at her. “Shann?”
Shann’s eyes glazed over and she gritted her teeth, raising her staff and shifting her hands to the balancing point of her weapon. Keris stepped between her and Lyall. She had no desire to harm the girl, but neither could she allow her to kill or injure others. She would try to disarm Shann if possible, incapacitate her if necessary. But if it came down to it…
The short-haired girl shifted her grip and made a sideways slash, forcing Keris to jump back and parry the blow. Even under the influence of … whatever it was, the girl was fast. Keris used the split second Shann took to recover from her swing to go on the offensive. She swung her weapon, forcing the girl to raise the wooden haft of her staff defensively. The dark-haired woman followed up with a succession of blows driving the girl backwards and forcing her to counter continually. Keep her occupied—off balance. Behind her, she could hear Lyall’s anguished voice calling after her. She ignored him and pressed home her attacks, darkwood clashing against darkwood in a series of staccato blows. The drach parted in confusion as the two women moved through their midst, locked in combat.
Without warning, the girl feinted, then made a low pass. Keris felt the blade cut into the soft tissue of her leg. She went down on one knee. The drach stopped retreating and began moving towards them. Lyall, too, advanced on her position.
“Stay back,” she yelled. Keris could feel blood trickling down her calf as she rose precariously. The girl blinked rapidly and shook her head in apparent confusion. Keris hazarded a glance over her shoulder. They were now some distance from the huge eye, which had not moved from its position, suspended over the deck.
Suddenly, an idea occurred to her. It was risky, but with the injury Shann had just inflicted on her, she was running out of options. She began to back away, hobbling as rapidly as she could, back towards the eye.
The girl’s expression grew vacant once more and she started after Keris, swinging her bladed staff. Keris fought a steady rearguard as she retreated. Her leg protested loudly at every step, making her head swim. Lyall also backed up, following their progress, his face paralysed by indecision.
As she approached the ship’s port side once more, the flattened tentacle with its revealed eye hung before them like an examiner of souls. Within the transparent tube beneath it, another glistening barb had appeared, aimed directly at them. It’s now or never. Keris turned away from the girl, hefted her staff like a spear, and thrust it into the centre of the eye.
The diamond blade was swallowed up in the gelatinous mass. Fluid spurted forth, the colour of bile. The tentacle jerked back and shot into the air, almost yanking Keris’s staff from her grasp, before disappearing over the side of the ship with a splash. She turned to see that Shann had collapsed. Lyall was kneeling next to her, shouting her name, but there was no response.
Before she could move, the air crackled, and a bolt of lightning struck the deck immediately to her right. Across the deck, another tentacle arm had descended and a second lurid eye stared down at them. One of the drach was discharging his weapon indiscriminately as the others dived for cover. Keris started across the deck, wincing at the pressure on her injured leg. She made straight for the eye.
The rogue drach turned towards her, levelling his silver staff weapon. She recognised Roloff, the man she confronted earlier. His face was contorted, yet his eyes were as blank as Shann’s had been.
He fired directly at her. Keris ducked and rolled away, regaining her feet as rapidly as she could, her leg screaming in protest.
Roloff appeared to falter. He cast about, uncertainly.
She hesitated, then felt a new flash of pain. The creature had loosed another barb which had nicked her arm. Something lurked at the fringes of her mind—a cold persuasion, sapping at her resolve. She gritted her teeth, deliberately putting all her weight on the injury. Searing agony lanced through her, filling her mind with red mist— pushing back the invading presence.
Roloff stiffened and brought his weapon to bear once more. Suddenly, the deck bucked beneath them as massive tentacles seized either side of the tiny ship. Roloff stumbled sideways. A bolt of lightning erupted from his silver staff and sizzled past her ear. Keris lunged forward and made a low pass with her staff, chopping the man’s legs out from under him. The ship rocked back and forth, and then began heeling to starboard, the hull creaking in protest. The creature was trying to drag them under.
Keris stumbled down the sloping deck towards the eye. Another tentacle flashed past her and she heard a strangled cry. She turned to see that the monstrous limb had wrapped itself around Roloff’s torso and lifted him into the air. She was the only one near enough to render assistance, but she would have to backtrack, clamber her way up the slanted deck once more. Roloff struggled vainly in the grip of the creature.
She had told Shann that she would not sacrifice anyone else. At the time she meant it. Too many lives had been lost already—the soldiers at the compound near Gort, Ferenek, Zamir and the nomads of the Eastern Plains, Nikome, Mordal, Saccath… Yet now she realised it was a foolish promise. There were times when necessity laid choices upon people—choices they would rather not make. Leave a man in the grip of a terrifying beast, or go back in a futile attempt to rescue him, thereby jeopardizing the Reach and her entire complement? She had no option.
Feeling sick to her stomach, Keris turned back, slithered down the incline, took hold of her staff, and drove it into the pupil of the eye. The limb jerked back and up, thrashing in the air before vanishing over the side. The remaining tentacle arms rapidly followed suit; the one with Roloff in its grasp held his screaming body aloft like a trophy before finally dragging him down into the depths of the Erigone Sea.
~
Keris struggled to her feet and surveyed the aftermath of the battle. The scene was utter chaos. Blood stained the deck—orange from the creature, white from the Kelanni. She began to feel light-headed as she realised that a considerable amount of the white blood was hers. Behind her, Frang and the other remaining drach were attending to their fallen companion, who still lay there, unmoving. Near the port side, Lyall was still kneeling next to the unconscious Shann.
The creature could return at any moment. Keris went down on one knee and ripped open her trouser leg, exposing the wounded flesh. She began tearing strips of cloth from her tunic, tying them in a tourniquet as tightly as she could manage without passing out. The flow of blood appeared to be stanched for the most part, although there was some seepage of white fluid through the makeshift black bandage. “Boxx,” she called out.
Patris emerged from the sterncastle. Rael descended the ladder to the main deck, followed by Alondo. They made straight for Shann and Lyall.
“Boxx,” she cried out again. The Chandara came trotting up to her. It stood on its hind limbs and regarded her as if nothing had happened. “There are injured people. They need your help.”
“Keris Is Injured,” it pointed out.
“Later,” she commanded. “See to Shann first, then the injured drach over there.”
“Yes, Keris.” The creature dropped to all sixes and scuttled across the deck. Keris did her best to follow. The tourniquet sharpened the pain, making it feel as if she were walking on knives. She reached the place where Shann was lying. Boxx sat moving its head slowly back and forth. The others stood about, shifting from one foot to another.
Keris looked down at the Chandara. “What’s the matter?”
Boxx’s wide mouth undulated. “I Cannot.”
“What do you mean, you ‘cannot’?”
“I Cannot Heal. Her Sickness—It Is Of The Mind.”
Keris felt suddenly deflated. There are some conditions even Boxx cannot fix.
“We should get her to the sterncastle, where she can rest,” Lyall suggested.
“I’ll do it.” Alondo bent down and picked the girl up. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared small and fragile in his arms. Keris stood with the others and watched helplessly as the musician carried her towards the cabin.
She tore her eyes away to see Frang striding towards them. Now what? He made straight for her, putting his face inches before hers. His mouth was a taut line, and his dark brown eyes flashed dangerously. “You stood by and let that monster take one of my men.”
Keris stood her ground. “I could not prevent it. I am sorry.”
“Nonsense,” Frang spat. “You were right there. Yet you did not even attempt to rescue him.”
“If I had, then you, I, and everyone else on this ship would be at the bottom of the ocean right now.”
Frang’s nostrils flared. “You showed your dislike of Roloff when you tried to falsely accuse him earlier today. You threatened him—everyone heard you. I think you used this crisis as a way of getting rid of him.”
“If I wanted you and your men off this ship, I assure you I would not need the help of a sea creature to do it.”
“Is that so? Then maybe you would like to start with me?”
In a single fluid movement, Keris whipped her staff around and pointed the diamond blade at the big man’s midriff. Frang also moved with surprising speed and grace, aiming his silver lightning weapon squarely at her head. Both stood like statues, each daring the other to blink first.
“Keris,” Lyall barked. The tall woman did not flinch. Go ahead. Try it.
“It’s all my fault.” Rael’s anguished voice shattered the tension.
Frang shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
“The colcachra. I… tried to tell Shann about the eye but I don’t think she understood. I wanted to warn you—to warn everyone. But I couldn’t leave the afterdeck. I… I was scared.”
“Are you saying you know what that thing was?” Frang exclaimed.
The tall boy shifted his feet and stared at the deck. “No… Yes… Wh… what I mean is, I recognised it. From images and texts found in ancient records. The colcachra was said to possess spines with the power to… influence people—to control their minds through chemical means.” He looked up, his eyes pleading. “The accounts were dismissed as stories. The Biology Division maintained that no animal could have that capability. But wh… when I saw it I feared the worst. I… I just couldn’t go down there. Then when it took Shann over, I… ” His voice trailed away and he lowered his head once more. He seemed utterly lost.
Frang had not moved or lowered his weapon. His flat face was as resolute as before. “That does not alter the fact that this woman deliberately allowed one of my men to be taken by the creature.”
Lyall stepped forward in a desperate effort to get between them. “Look, I am sorry for your loss. But Keris did what she thought was right—for everyone. We have to work together if we’re going to reach the island and destroy the hu-man’s weapon.”
Frang scowled. “What they say is true—you can’t trust a Drannie.”
Trust a what?…Drannie…Drann? The people of this side referred to the other side of the world—the side where she and the others were from—as Kelanni-Drann. Already, the designation seemed to have been turned into an insult. Keris tightened her grip on her weapon.
Lyall ignored the racial slur. “Look. Boxx, our Chandara, can treat any physical wounds your fallen man has over there. Please, let us help you.”
Frang’s eyes were still locked with Keris’s. His expression betrayed no trace of uncertainty, but she could hear the cogs of his mind working. Weighing actions. Decisions. Consequences. Like it or not, he was down to three men, and one of them required treatment. If he precipitated a confrontation now, he would be at a distinct disadvantage.
A cry from the afterdeck cut off her response. It was Patris.
“Wind. We have a wind. All able hands to sail.”
A stiff breeze arose from out of the south and began to buffet Keris’s cloak, pushing her long dark hair over her face as it blew fear and resentment away. Yet for how long?
<><><><><>
Chapter 5
Shann came to with an almighty headache. She was lying on her bunk in the sterncastle; Alondo dozed on a stool next to her. As she stirred, he snapped to full wakefulness. “Shann. Shann, are you all right?” His voice sounded fuzzy—drowned out by the pounding at her temples.
“My head… it hurts.”
Alondo jerked the stool back against the floor. The scraping sound went through her head like a jagged edge. “I’ll get Boxx.”
“No… stay,” she managed to get out. “How long… ?”
“Nearly a whole day. I was beginning to wonder whether you would ever wake up.”
“Wh… what happened?”
Alondo swallowed. “It’s not important. You’re safe now—that’s all that matters.”
The musician was clearly not going to be drawn out on the subject. She sagged back and closed her eyes until sleep claimed her once more.
When she awoke again, Alondo was gone and the stool was occupied by Boxx. All traces of her headache had vanished.
Shann thanked the creature and emerged from the sterncastle, blinking in the sunlight. She found Keris and then Rael. Both seemed pleased to see her up and about, but they were oddly evasive. Frowning, she climbed the ladder to the afterdeck. Lyall and Alondo were leaning over the stern, staring out to sea—deep in conversation. They turned and their faces brightened as they saw her approach.
“How are you?” Lyall asked.
Shann gave her mouth an ironic twist. “I’m fine. I’m not so sure about the others, though. Everyone I’ve talked to seems… distant. What’s going on?”
Lyall sidestepped her question. “How much do you remember?”
Shann joined them, leaning on one of the crenellations of the raised afterdeck. Grey-green waves slipped noiselessly beneath the Reach’s hull, emerging as foam at the stern, before settling into the wide wake that marked the ship’s passing. She stared down at the murky waters. Somewhere below lurked the monster that had attacked them. She recalled the cold presence at the edges of her mind and shuddered. “I tried to sever the end of one of its arms. It opened an eye. Something stung me. I felt… weird. The next thing I knew I was waking up in my bunk with a splitting headache. I must have blacked out. How did you drive it off?”
“Keris attacked its eyes and the thing retreated,” Alondo said. “Unfortunately, it took the drach Roloff with it. Frang was upset, to say the least. Things have been pretty tense since.”
That might explain why people were behaving oddly, but not why they were behaving oddly towards her. Shann could not shake the feeling that there was something that she was not being told. “How come I was the only one to black out?”
Lyall and Alondo looked at each other. Eventually Lyall spoke up. “You didn’t black out—at least, not right away. You turned on Keris.”
Shann’s mind struggled to catch up. “Turned on… ?”
“You assaulted her,” Lyall continued. “Badly wounded her in the leg. It’s all right, though. She still managed to damage the creature to the point where it retreated. Afterwards, Boxx performed its usual healing services. She lost a fair amount of blood, but she says the leg feels almost back to normal. And she doesn’t blame you. We all realise you were under the influence of that thing. It managed to get control of Roloff too. We’re all just relieved that you survived. Roloff wasn’t so lucky.”
“But how—?”
“Rael says they are called ‘colcachra’. They shoot spines which have the ability to influence people—take them over.”
“You should rest some more,” Alondo urged.
But Shann did not feel like resting. She was filled with an odd mix of horror, embarrassment, and elation. I attacked Keris—virtually disabled her. Her first instinct was to go to her and apologise, but the woman had a strong sense of pride. She might interpret an apology as if the girl were rubbing it in. Maybe it would be better to say nothing.
She decided to report to Patris that she was feeling better and able to resume shipboard duties. Busying herself with mundane matters seemed the best way to drive away disturbing thoughts. Before long, her head was filled with the feel of the wind, the smell of salt, and the steady rhythm of the waves.
~
Late in the afternoon on the fourth day, she was seated in the crow’s nest. Of all the places on the ship, this was her favourite. Here, far above the deck, she felt as free as the birds that wheeled overhead. She was Queen of the Sea, casting her eye over a watery domain that stretched as far as the eye could see. All of a sudden, she spied a hazy line on the horizon. She squinted, rubbed her eyes, and peered at it again. Finally, when she was certain it was not a mirage, she pointed and hollered. “Land. Land on the port quarter.”
Her cry was met by answering shouts from below. People scurried over the deck like insects, congregating at the ship’s side. Shann felt a wave of relief wash over her, followed by another of anticipation. After so many days—so many hardships—their goal was in sight at last. Time to make an end of it.
She forsook her throne and descended the rigging.
Lyall and Alondo stood ready at the lines. Each wore a grey sailor outfit, although Alondo’s head was topped off, as usual, by his festive red cap.
Patris was waiting for her, a squally wind blowing his long lank hair about his face. “Well spotted, First Mate. Wind has veered around to the northwest. We can sail on a beam reach, then close haul and tack inshore. She’s gusting though, so you’ll need to pay constant attention to the sail trim.”
Shann nodded. “When you’re ready to turn into the wind, let me know.”
She watched his retreat as he hurried aft to man the rudder. Then she joined the others, working to let out as much sail as possible. As the swell increased and the waves grew steeper, they allowed the sail to luff, spilling excess wind, and hauled the Reach in a little closer to the breeze. Shann’s actions were instinctive, as if she were one with the ship. She felt a twinge of regret at the thought that all too soon she would be leaving behind the freedom of the open sea once again.
Patris hollered, and the ship heeled over to port so that she was now close hauled. The vessel rose and fell. Wind-whipped spray ran down their faces as the three crewmembers drew in the sheet tightly and began to tack upwind. Gradually, the distant shoreline rose up and became a forbidding cliff of dark grey slate and obsidian. Waves crashed against the jumble of huge rocks at its base, and birds cawed overhead, adding their cries to the cacophony. They reefed the sail and the Reach came about so that she was running parallel to the shore.
Patris tied off the rudder, descended the ladder, and joined them. Lyall’s brow furrowed as his gaze ran up the towering cliff face. “Where do you suggest we weigh anchor?”
Patris wiped the hair away from his face. “I don’t suppose anyone has a chart or a map of this island?”
Lyall shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Rael says that no records survived from ancient times, other than the name ‘Helice’. None of his people have ever ventured here.”
“Then I suggest we circumnavigate the island until we find a place where we can put ashore—assuming of course there is one.” Typical Patris, she thought. Always has to add a note of pessimism.
“The hu-mans managed to land here,” Lyall maintained. “So will we.”
The line of cliffs slipped slowly past as the Reach hugged the coastline, threading bare islets of grey granite. Four-winged birds in sombre black and white plumage perched on skerries cawed at them as they passed, as if resenting their intrusion. At length, the wall of indomitable rock parted, to reveal an inlet guarded by reefs.
Lyall went over and stood beside Patris as he surveyed the gap between the reefs. “What do you think?”
“If the swell doesn’t get any worse, then it should be navigable,” Patris replied, “provided there’s sufficient clearance for the keel. We go in slow—take regular soundings to be on the safe side.”
“All right. Make the necessary preparations and let me know when you’re ready.” Lyall turned. The three drach were heading towards them, with Keris, Boxx, and Rael just behind them. Keris was like a vara-cat—watching their every move.
“What’s happening?” Frang demanded.
“We’re going to anchor in the bay over there,” Lyall informed him. “My party will then take the launch and make landfall. You and your men will stay here and guard the ship until our return, as agreed.”
Frang’s face was a stone mask. “Very well.” He turned and strode away, the other two blue-coated figures trailing in his wake. No arguments. No offhand comments. No veiled threats. He’s up to something.
Alondo’s cheery voice cut short Shann’s brooding. “So… who’s going ashore?”
“You are, old friend,” Lyall said, “together with the other three component carriers—Keris, Rael, and Shann, here. I will go to watch your backs. Patris stays here with the ship.”
“What about Boxx?” Shann asked.
Lyall looked thoughtful. “Its abilities could be useful, but I think we should ask it. Boxx, are you willing to come with us?”
The Chandara replied in its childlike voice. “I Go With Keris.”
“Then it’s decided,” Lyall said.
“What is your plan?” Keris inquired.
“To locate the hu-man weapon and neutralize it,” Lyall replied.
“But we have no idea of its location,” she pointed out. “Nor do we know the position and relative strengths of the enemy. We cannot formulate a strategy without that information. There are too many things that could go wrong. Let me go ashore first—scout and then report back.”
“And if we lose you, what then?” Lyall countered. “Three component bearers are no use; we need all four if Annata’s instrument is going to work. No—we go in together.”
The others murmured their assent. Keris fell silent; clearly, this was one battle she was not going to win. Shann felt a certain sympathy with the woman’s point of view. Lyall was a good man and an inspired leader, but there were times when he got carried away with his own optimism. Keris was invariably the voice of reason, and she tended to get knocked back for it. But her training and experience meant that she was right more often than she was wrong. Yet in the final analysis, she would always follow his lead. All of them followed his lead.
Let’s hope he doesn’t lead us all off a cliff.
~
“Five fathoms.” Patris’s voice rang out over the deck as Annata’s Reach creaked and wallowed her way between the reefs that lay on either side of the inlet.
“Six fathoms.” Everyone was on deck, even those who had no need to be. It felt as if the entire ship were holding its breath.
“No contact.” Patris let down the lead line once more. Lyall, Alondo, and Shann stood by—ready to spring into action at a word of command.
“Four fathoms and a half… three fathoms.” Shann realised she was grinding her teeth and made a forcible effort to stop. “The ship’s draught is one and a half fathoms,” Patris declared. “If we get to two and a half, I’m calling a halt. I’m not going to risk gouging another hole in her side; not out here, in the middle of nowhere.”
No one dissented. When it came to the operation of the ship, Patris’s word was unassailable and his decision final.
Shann peered towards shore. She could make out a beach now— stony and covered with patches of pure white snow. It reminded her of the beach she had woken up on those many days previously, when she first sighted this world. It looked just as empty and desolate. Beyond the beach, a barren, rocky landscape terminated in a line of ancient-looking hills.
She started to turn away. A flash—two flashes caught the corner of her eye. Hurtling towards them from the direction of the island’s interior were a pair of sleek silver avionics. “Look out,” she cried.
Heads barely had enough time to turn before a searing bolt of energy lanced forth from the front of the nearest craft, narrowly missing the ship’s starboard side. A plume of water shot into the air at the point of impact. Patris swore. Keris drew her weapon, but it was unclear how she intended to use it against the attacking aircraft. The pitch of their engines fell as they passed directly overhead and started to bank in preparation for another pass.
Shann glanced around and spotted Rael, climbing the ladder to the foredeck. Above him sat the avionic—securely held by its deck mountings. A wild idea came to her, and she raced after him. When she reached the raised foredeck, she saw that the clamps had been released, and he was already standing on the fan housing and preparing to climb into the cockpit. “Wait for me,” she shouted.
Rael turned and looked over his shoulder. “Shann. What are you doing?”
“I’m going to fly this thing.”
“What? Are you crazy? Not a chance. The avionic is my responsibility. Besides, you don’t have the flight experience. Heck, you haven’t even had any formal training.”
“But I do have the combat experience. I proved that in the Cathgorns. Remember?”
“But this avionic is different,” he insisted. “It has certain… enhancements. No one is allowed to touch it except me—those are my orders.”
A bright flash cut a diagonal swathe across the afterdeck, searing it with a black scar and sending bits of timber raining down like shrapnel.
“You want to argue about this now?” Without waiting for a reply, she hauled herself up, shoved him aside, and climbed into the rear seat. Rael muttered something inaudible under his breath and took the front seat, pulling the transparent cover down savagely.
Shann fired up the twin fans, located the lever that corresponded to the avionic’s lodestone layer, and rammed it open. Her stomach stayed firmly on the deck as the avionic shot vertically into the air, propelled by the lodestone set into the Reach’s foredeck. The boy in the front seat let out a gasp. You’d better not throw up on me.
Her intention was to do something similar to last time—get above the other craft and use the repulsive force of the avionic’s lodestone to knock them out of the sky. However, the plan was not without its flaws. Even if these pilots had not heard of her earlier stunt, there were still two of them. She might manage to down one of the craft by that method, but seriously doubted whether the other pilot would allow her to do the same to him. Still, it might give Lyall and the others a chance, and right now, it was all she could think of. Yet there was something else—something Rael had mentioned.
Shann swivelled both of the avionic’s fans to a forty-five-degree angle, and the aircraft shot forward. “All right. What did you mean by ‘enhancements’?”
“I can’t tell you,” Rael yelled over the fan’s high-pitched whine. “Access to information on the technology is restricted by order of the Directorate.”
Shann felt like reaching forward and cuffing him around the back of the head. “Don’t be an idiot. We’re under attack. All I have is the lodestone and my piloting skills. If you have something—”
“Electrostatic charge,” he chimed in.
“Electro-what?”
“Electrostatic charge. It’s based on a modified version of the weapon the drach use.”
“You mean their stun weapon? What use—”
“Hannath theorised that the avionics that the hu-mans use must employ sophisticated electrical systems. A sufficiently high charge could disrupt them—possibly fry them completely.”
“And that would knock them down?”
“If it works, yes.”
“Can you operate it from there?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s time to test it out. Be ready to fire the thing when we get within range.”
Shann cut the starboard fan and opened up the port fan until it screamed. The avionic whipped around and began heading back towards the Reach’s position. From across the bay, the two opposing craft were coming in once more for a low pass. On the deck of the ship, most of the tiny figures were clustered around the launch. It looked as if they were about to abandon ship.
“Ready the weapon,” she yelled. The ship passed beneath them, and Shann extended the avionic’s lodestone layer once more, in order to get a boost off the refined lodestone in the foredeck. Both of the incoming vessels directed their energy discharges against the ship rather than her. It seemed that they did not see her as a serious threat.
“Now.”
A jagged yellow finger of fire erupted from someplace beneath the cockpit. It enveloped the nearest attacking craft in lightning that crackled and sputtered over every inch of its surface. She banked the avionic and watched as the lightning died and the other machine slowed and began dropping towards the water.
Shann cut off Rael’s victorious whoop. “It’s not over yet.” Panic seized her as she searched frantically above and behind for the second attacker, but he had eluded her. To make matters worse, she had now made them his prime target.
Bang. Shann was thrown back, then forward, as a sudden impact struck them from behind. An acrid, burning smell started to fill the cockpit as she fought to regain control. Smoke poured from both fans, and the controls were sluggish and unresponsive. They were starting to lose altitude. Suddenly, the grind and judder of their engines was joined by the smooth and steady whine of the other machine as it passed over their heads.
“Fire,” she screamed.
Another charge sizzled across the gap and wrapped its tendrils around the second craft. It flipped upside down and began a downward spiral. Shann had no further time to track its progress, as she turned her full attention back to their stricken avionic.
They were heading inland, towards a line of saw-toothed peaks ringed by lowlying clouds, which constituted the island’s spine. She pushed and pulled levers in a frantic attempt to keep the flying machine on an even keel as clouds of black smoke billowed out behind them, marking their erratic flight path.
“We’re going down,” she yelled.
<><><><><>
Chapter 6
Alexander Edward McCann drifted towards consciousness and was greeted by a vision of white all around. But in place of the intense cold, there was a cocoon of warmth, and instead of the crisp white snow—crisp white sheets. A prolonged argument followed between the part of himself that wanted to revel in his newfound comforts and the part that insisted that he should explore his new surroundings and find some answers.
At length, the explorer won out, and he hauled himself out of bed. At once, his muscles began to protest, and the part of him that had demanded rest cried I told you so.
He was in an upstairs room furnished in rustic fashion—poor, yet functional. A basin of water stood on a thick wooden table by the bed. A sash window afforded a view of a snowy landscape that gave no clue as to his location. He had been stripped to his undershirt, and his gamma—his handheld gamma ray laser—was gone.
He vaguely recalled his descent from the tower in the mountains, but the sequence of events appeared disjointed, so that it was impossible to determine whether they were real or part of some fevered dream. He had been attacked by the large, shaggy beasts that infested the upper ranges—of that he was fairly certain. He remembered his weapon blossoming, as bright as the suns; the sound of enraged growls and the stench of singed fur; one of the dark-green-skinned creatures staring down at him, shouting something. The next thing he knew, he was waking up here. Wherever ‘here’ was.
The door had been left open, and he could hear the sound of voices drifting up from below. He swung his bare feet to the bare wooden floor and began casting about for his boots and trousers. They were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they had been knocked under the bed? He got down on all fours, put his face to the floor, and began peering into the gap beneath the bed. There was a strip of cloth and something that looked like a bobbin, but nothing that resembled a pair of size nine boots.
McCann muttered a curse to himself. As he did so, he felt a tingle in the back of his neck—a presence behind him. He jerked his head around to see a round olive face and wide, brown eyes peeking at him from behind the door jamb. The face was staring at the sight of two large white buttocks jutting out from the bottom of the bed. McCann screwed his face up. “Shoo.” The little face disappeared.
McCann pulled a sheet off the bed and tied it around his waist like a sarong. A further search of the room did not uncover the rest of his clothes. He went to the door, but the juvenile Kelanni was gone. He padded out onto the landing and went to the head of the stairs. The voices from below were louder now—more audible.
The first voice was female “… were ya thinkin’ of—bringin’ ’im ’ere?”
A male voice answered—gruff and somehow familiar. “We ’ad no choice. ’E was out of it. We couldn’ just leave ’im there t’ be taken by th’ cold or th’ murghal. B’sides, I ’ad t’ know… ”
“You ’ad t’ know what?” the female voice demanded.
“What a ’u-man was doin’ off their island an’ all th’ way up in th’ Cathgorns. ’Ow did ’e get there? What’s ’e up to? ’Ow many more o’ them are there?”
“That’s none o’ our concern,” the female returned. “The Directorate is responsible fer them kinds o’ doins. They could take yer licence away.”
A new male voice entered the discussion—younger, and filled with trepidation. “They wouldn’ do that, would they, Yonach?”
“The high-ups favour them new hunters wi’ their fancy new equipment,” the female continued. “There’s a number of ’em sees Yonach as fuddy-duddy an out o’ date. They’d just as soon flush ’im away, wipe their backsides, and think no more o’ it.”
“Y’don’t understand what’s at stake ’ere, woman,” Yonach replied. If the ’u-mans ’ave left their island an’ come ’ere, it could lead to another war.”
“That’s just why we needs t’ get a hold o’ them right away,” the woman insisted. “I spoke wi’ Palanna this mornin’. She says it’s all over th’ village. People are sayin’ you bro’t in a ’u-man last night an’ are shelterin’ ’im.”
“I don’ trust them officials,” Yonach said. “I wouldn’ turn no one over t’ them, not even that pasty-faced creature upstairs.”
“I don’ wanna hear it,” the woman ruled. “You take ’im to Kieroth an’ deliver ’im to the Directorate right now. I won’t ’ave you risk this entire family fer some cursed ’u-man.”
An odd grunt signalled the death of the conversation. The engineer’s mind worked rapidly. If the Directorate got a hold of him, then he was under no illusions what that would mean. Wang had already warned him that if he were captured by the Kelanni, then he would be on his own. Moreover, the Captain would not want to risk information about the Accumulator Device getting out, especially since they were so close to completing it. McCann strongly suspected that certain agencies in Kieroth would be alerted and he would meet up with an untimely ‘accident’ not long after.
The alternative was scarcely any rosier: going on the run on a hostile planet with no clothes. He could steal some clothing, he supposed. Of course, with no Speaker Ring, there would be no way to summon Helice for a pick-up. He would have to try and contact one of their Kelanni operatives in Kieroth in order to relay a message, and they were notoriously difficult to locate, for very good reasons. To make matters worse, he had absolutely no idea of where he was or which direction the town lay. The only thing he was certain of right now was that he needed to get out of this place before the drach showed up.
He turned on the landing and spotted the Kelanni child who had peeked at him earlier. The alien boy was dressed in a long nightshirt and had large round eyes that were fixed on the bearded hu-man. McCann smiled encouragingly. The youngster responded by giving him a swift kick in the shin and then running away.
The engineer rubbed his leg, cursing silently to himself, before hobbling back to resume the search for his gear, with what little dignity he had left.
~
Keris beat out the last of a half dozen small fires that had broken out across the Reach’s deck and turned to survey the chaos. She did not have Patris’s know-how when it came to the ship, but most of the damage appeared superficial—a hole in the deck here, a burnt patch there. Most of it was in the upper part of the structure—above the water line—and miraculously, the mast and sail were intact. During the bombardment, the ship had drifted under its own momentum and was now lodged safely in the deeper waters of the inlet. Random chance had worked in their favour. Of course, there was no guarantee they would be immune from further aerial attack, but for the moment, the skies were clear.
She looked down once more to see Lyall and Alondo approaching. Alondo was grey-faced.
“Any sign of Shann or the boy?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Lyall said. “Their avionic was blowing smoke as it headed inland. I lost sight of them after they passed into the hills.”
“We have to go after them right away,” Alondo urged.
“Agreed,” Keris said. If they’re still alive. Without two of the component carriers, the mission would be lost. Determining their fate was now top priority. However, she also saw an opportunity to put forward her original proposal once again. “You two should head out and find them. In the meantime, Boxx and I will determine where these hu-mans have stashed their weapon.”
Lyall glanced about the deck and lowered his voice. “What about the drach? Do you think it’s safe to leave Patris with them?”
“We have no choice,” Keris declared. “Don’t worry. I’ll deal with the drach, if necessary, when the time comes.”
Lyall seemed about to object but finally responded with a nod. Keris turned towards the sterncastle to gather the rest of her equipment.
“How will we find you?” Lyall called after her.
“I’ll find you,” she said.
~
A quick search of an adjacent room turned up neither McCann’s boots, nor his trousers, nor his weapon, but it did turn up one item of significance—his datapad. It had been shoved carelessly in a drawer— no doubt by some primitive who saw it as nothing more than a useless trinket. The engineer returned to his room, clutching his prize, shut the
door firmly behind him, and sat on the bed. Let’s hope these fools haven’t dropped it, or sat on it, or something.
He set the device reverently on the bed in front of him and spoke the activation command. “Inquiry.”
There was an agonising pause. Then the small screen began to glow. “Applications working.”
McCann began to breathe once more. “Display current location on planetary surface.” A topographical map appeared with a winking red light at its centre. There were no features he recognised. “Overlay known Kelanni settlements.” There was no change on the screen. The red icon continued to flash patiently, as if waiting for him to make up his mind. “Is Kelanni settlement database still intact?”
“Affirmative.”
“Then why am I not seeing any settlements marked?”
“No Kelanni settlements lie within the display area.”
It’s a machine, McCann reminded himself. You have to tell it what to do, remember? “Enlarge display area to fifty-kilometre radius.” Still nothing. “Enlarge to one hundred kilometres.” There. A flashing blue symbol at the southeastern edge. “Identify settlement in grid… Thirteen Delta.”
“Kieroth. Level four Kelanni settlement, located on Kelanni-Skell. Population, circa twenty-three thousand. Location of the headquarters of the Scientific Directorate, a pseudo-scientific ruling body which—”
“Stop.” The town was some distance away, but he could make it there on foot in three, maybe four days. “Can you tell me where my trousers are?”
“Please restate inquiry.”
McCann smiled. Confounding the all-knowing device gave him a perverse sense of pleasure. If the datapad was here, chances were the rest of his things were here also. Once he found them, he could get out of this place and start looking for a contact. “Discontinue.” The friendly window of light went dark. He started to get to his feet but never made it. The back of his head exploded in scintillant pain and the world went black.
~
Keris lay flat against an overhang of ancient grey stone next to Boxx and peeked over the edge, watching the goings-on below. A large building with a mono-pitched roof sat in a valley a hundred and fifty feet below her. It was constructed of stones of a lighter grey, but they seemed far too regular—too perfect to be natural.
The main structure was surrounded by a smattering of other buildings, lesser in size and presumably therefore in importance, and a knot of three parked avionics. Cables ran between the outbuildings, and there were buzzing and humming sounds coming from some other mechanical devices, the purpose of which Keris could only guess at. Of one thing, however, she was absolutely certain: she had found the location of the hu-man weapon.
She had suspected that finding it would be child’s play, and so it had turned out. Any device designed to accumulate and concentrate large quantities of refined lodestone would have to stick out like a sore thumb, even at a distance. Just as important, the direction would be towards the horizon—seemingly out of reach. Her cloak should prove as effective as a wayfinder.
She had left the beach of smooth round stones with Boxx in tow. Halfway up the path, she turned and had a view of Annata’s Reach anchored peacefully in the waters of the inlet and Patris sailing the launch back to the ship. Not long after, she blipped her lodestone layer experimentally and received her first positive contact. From then on, it was simply a matter of following a signal that grew steadily in strength. Here, virtually on top of the thing, the slightest exposure of lodestone felt like a kick in the shoulders. Whatever the weapon was, it was in that building somewhere.
She could see tiny figures moving about between the structures, singly and in groups. The lack of a tail indicated that they were humans, although at this distance, it was difficult to make a positive identification beyond that. She needed to gather more information— security, including guard patrols, locks, and points of entry and egress, as well as the layout of the compound and exact location of the weapon.
So far, her observations had not shown any organised system of guards, but perhaps that was not surprising. The hu-mans would surely know that Kelanni of this world had no ships, nor any other method of maritime travel. Out here on a remote island in the midst of the vastness of the Erigone Sea, they would not be expecting infiltration. There was no indication that security had been stepped up following the attack on the ship by the two hu-man aircraft, suggesting that both machines had been destroyed before they could raise the alarm. Lyall and the others would still have the element of surprise, provided of course that Keris did not inadvertently tip their hand.
Her best option would be to lay low till nightfall and go in under cover of darkness. Keris glanced at the sky. It was overcast, and the suns were not visible, but she judged it to be well past noon. She eased herself back from the edge of the overhang, stood up, and headed for the shadow of a nearby boulder to wait it out. Boxx took the signal and scuttled over, settling its head down on the rock shelf next to her.
Keris had always frowned on dishonesty. Both common sense and her training taught her that sometimes it was necessary in order to get the job done, but at the back of her mind, she always had the sneaking suspicion that resorting to deception increased the chances of a bad outcome. She had deliberately deceived Mordal, her mentor, which had set off a chain of events that had ultimately led to his death and the deaths of a number of others. At the time, her intention was to save lives, but that only reinforced the point that if you lie, you tend to lose control over what happens as a result—and then you have to live with the consequences.
She had not lied to Lyall about her reasons for wanting to scout the location of the hu-man weapon, but she had not been completely truthful either. Ever since she had learned of Annata’s scheme and of the instrument that had been divided into four separate components, Keris’s mind had been assessing the task from a tactical point of view. It was evident from the outset that any plan that required four persons to enter hostile territory and arrive unharmed at the same time at a prearranged location was fraught with the possibility of mishap. In the game of shassatan, you needed to have more than one gambit in mind, as the situation on the board could change from one move to the next. Annata had insisted that this was the only safe way of neutralizing the weapon. But it was not the only way.
When it became apparent that the weapon was being constructed here on the island of Helice, another possibility had occurred to Keris: premature detonation. Yes, it would cost the lives of all of them, as well as the lives of all the hu-mans on the island, but they were so far away from any other part of civilisation, it seemed virtually certain that the devastation would be confined to that relatively small area. And from a tactical point of view, that plan had a much higher chance of success.
Keris had met Annata—had seen how she lived. The woman from the past came from a world of marvels, but up to the time of the plague, she had lived a life of privilege and comfort. She would not consider the possibility of self-sacrifice, since it was not in her nature. Keris, on the other hand, had been forced to fight and claw her way up. She knew that there were times when spilling blood was the only way to get the job done.
There were good reasons, she told herself, for not revealing her full plan to Lyall. He would probably insist on giving the others time to return to the Reach and sail to a safe distance before setting off the weapon. Yet if Annata’s device did not work for whatever reason, there would be no time for that. If they made it as far as the weapon and failed to destroy it, they would not get a second chance. She would have to act on her own, before anyone could stop her.
She looked across at Boxx. It lay with its head resting on the rock platform, its eyes like twin black beads, staring straight ahead. If the little creature understood their plight at all, then it did not seem concerned. Perhaps it was for the best. There was no reason why others should have to bear the burden of knowing what was about to happen. Let them continue to hope, right up to the end.
Keris settled back and waited for the cold shroud of night to envelop her.
<><><><><>
Chapter 7
For the third time in two days, Shann clawed her way back to consciousness. This time, the anxious figure bending over her was not Alondo or Boxx. It was Rael.
The boy looked a mess. His features were lined with grime, and his hair was partly flattened and partly sticking up from his head. His once-proud green coat—official uniform of the Scientific Directorate’s Physics and Astronomy division—was now filthy and marked with dark streaks. I probably don’t look a whole lot better myself, she mused.
The crash and the events leading up to it were a blur. Had they really downed two of the hu-man craft? It seemed unlikely. Were they both still alive? That seemed even less likely. And yet, persistent aches in her head and arm insisted otherwise.
Rael gazed intently at her, his hand raised in front of her face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Seventeen,” she said, dismissively. “Where… are we?”
“The island of Helice. Don’t you remember?”
“No, I mean, where on the island?”
“I don’t know; some way from the Reach, I think. Can you get up?”
Shann raised herself slowly and painfully, waving away his steadying hand. “We have to find the others.”
“Well, we won’t be travelling in that.”
Shann looked over to where he was pointing and saw what was left of their flying machine. The fuselage was badly battered, the cockpit was smashed, and smoke was still rising from one of the fan housings. A surge of guilt ran through her. “Will you get into trouble?”
To her surprise, he laughed. “I don’t think so. Although since I’ve been involved in the destruction of two avionics, not to mention the phaeton in Kieroth, they’ll probably make me walk everywhere from now on as penance.”
“What about the electro-thing?”
“It was destroyed in the crash, so it’s still a secret.” His eye twinkled. “Unless you tell on me, that is.” Shann did not see how he could joke at a time like this, but she let it ride. “I think the avionic is safe now,” he continued, “at least, I don’t think it will burst into flames or anything. We should salvage what we can and then try to work our way back to the ship.”
“Do you know which direction it is?”
“I have a reasonably good idea,” he replied. “While you were doing your best to throw us around up there, I took a fix on our position. If the directional finder in the cockpit is still intact, then I should be able to track back. Just give me a moment to do some calculations.”
She smiled wryly. “Your trouble is you think numbers are the answer to everything.”
This time it was he who failed to see the funny side.
“They are,” he said.
~
Shann awoke the next morning at first light. Nights were cold on the island, so she was especially glad of the blanket that Rael had retrieved from among the provisions stored in the avionic’s hold. Unfortunately, there was only one, and Rael had graciously insisted that she have it, choosing to huddle in his dirt-smeared green coat instead. The boy lay on the ground with his back to her, still sleeping.
She arose silently and headed for the tarn nearby where they had camped the previous evening. Small meltwater lakes seemed to abound in these hills, so fresh water was not an issue. However, she had spotted nothing that could be described as game, unless you counted some bulbous, multi-legged creatures with waving eye stalks that disappeared into spiral shells whenever they approached, or the ball of black fur that hissed and spat at them from a rock as they passed. It didn’t really matter. Shann did not share Keris’s talent for being able to live off the land.
She knelt on the hard granite and sluiced water over her face, feeling the icy cold bring her to full wakefulness. Her headache was gone, but her arm still hurt. However, deprived as she was of Boxx’s ministrations, she had no alternative other than to put up with it. She squeezed her eyes dry and watched as the ripples on the surface gradually died away to reveal a reflection. Something was hovering above the water directly in front of her.
Shann recoiled and scrambled to her feet. She recognised it at once—a copper-coloured sphere, indented, with a glassy ball at its centre, like an immense eye. It looked exactly the same as the machine-eye that she and Keris had encountered on top of the Tower of Akalon. That device had been controlled by the one who called himself McCann. There could be little doubt that another hu-man was operating this one, although she could not see anybody.
Shann turned and sprinted back in the direction of their makeshift camp. Rael still lay sleeping, hunched in his grimy green coat. She skidded to a halt and fell to her knees, shaking him violently by the shoulders.
The boy’s long legs kicked out instinctively and he came to with a start. “Wh… what the… Shann, what are you… ?”
She dragged him up by the scruff of the neck and pointed. The mechanical eye had floated over and now hung in mid-air about five yards away.
The boy rubbed sleep out of his eyes and tried to focus. “What’s that?”
“It’s called a watcher,” she replied. “McCann, the hu-man we met at the Tower of Akalon, used one.”
“Is that the same as a lookout?”
She regarded him oddly. “What’s a ‘lookout’?”
Rael shook his head. He looked as if he was still confused from sleep. “Nothing. Forget it… ” He peered at the floating eye. “Whatever it is, it’s an incredible piece of technology.”
Shann rapidly donned her new red flying cloak and grabbed her staff before turning to face him once more. Her short dark hair was matted to her scalp, and water was still dripping from her delicate chin.
“Stand back while I destroy it.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Shann assumed an attack posture and scanned for lodestone deposits but made no move on the eye. “What are you talking about?”
Rael pressed his eyes shut and opened them again. “We don’t know who is watching us. Or why. Or even if there is a person behind it—it could be some form of remote device.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she countered.
“Not at all,” he said. “It could be just trying to communicate. If we attack it, then it might interpret us as hostile. It’s very advanced— maybe a form of artificial intelligence. It could even be fitted with weapons of its own.”
The eye continued to hover before them, humming quietly to itself, as if it were waiting patiently for them to finish their argument.
Shann stood with her staff at the ready, paralysed by uncertainty. She did not like the thought of someone spying on them—watching their every move. Her instinct was to destroy the device, thereby removing the other person’s advantage. Nevertheless, she was forced to admit that Rael knew far more about machines than she did. “All right. Fight or flight—it’s your call.”
The tall boy did not answer. Instead he walked in front of her and approached the eye slowly, arms outstretched. What’s he doing? “Can… you… hear… me?” he intoned.
The eye dipped slightly as if to keep him in view, but made no other response. Shann’s heart beat faster. “Don’t get any closer.”
Rael ignored her and took another step forward. Suddenly, a voice crackled into life. “You… are Kelanni.” It was coming from the mechanical eye.
“Yes,” Rael responded. “To whom am I speaking?”
“You are the ones who crossed the Great Barrier of Storms by ship. Is that correct?”
The voice had an odd accent over and above the distortion that she couldn’t place. Shann’s feeling of unease was growing by the second. She stepped up to Rael’s shoulder and hissed in his ear. “These are humans. Don’t tell them anything.”
“Yes, that’s correct… ” Rael addressed the eye and then turned his head towards her. “… At least, some of us did.”
“Excellent,” the strange voice replied. “Would you be so good as to follow the watcher?”
“Follow it where?” Rael asked.
“You will see.”
Alarm bells jangled at the back of Shann’s mind. The whole thing reeked of a trap. She stepped protectively between Rael and the floating metal eye. “He’s not going anywhere with that thing and neither am I.”
“Quiet, Shann.” The girl’s jaw dropped open and she whirled around. He had only spoken to her once like that before, at the observatory in Kieroth, on the day they met for the first time. She felt both annoyed and pleased in a way that was strangely disturbing. His gaze remained firmly fixed on the aerial contraption. “Lead on.”
The eye began to drift off at a leisurely pace. Rael followed unhesitatingly. Shann realised she was still standing slack-jawed on the rock platform. She shut her mouth and hurried after him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Following this thing to see where it leads,” he replied, matter-offactly.
“Are you crazy? It’s controlled by hu-mans. You’re walking right into their hands.”
“Possibly.” The mesa gave way to a narrow, rock-strewn path that wound through the bare grey hills. Ahead of them, the eye bobbed slightly, its glass iris turned back towards them, observing their progress. Making sure we’re following obediently.
Shann felt like boxing the tousle-haired boy on the arm to try and knock some sense into him. “This is a mistake.”
Rael pressed his lips together. “Look, they found us, all right? So we can either run away and be chased all over the countryside by this surveillance device—whatever it is. Or we can follow it back and talk to the person who’s operating it.”
The path suddenly terminated in a low rock wall about eight feet high. The metallic eye drifted up and over the edge. Rael flexed his long legs and jumped. His fingers gained purchase on the lip of the wall, and he gritted his teeth as he hauled himself up before turning and reaching down towards Shann. She disdained the proffered hand, blipped her neck control of her red cloak, and pushed off the nearest lodestone deposit, sailing up the rock face and landing lightly beside him. They were on another small plateau—slate-grey rock interspersed with patches of pure white snow. The hum from the eye rose in pitch, and it started off again, framed by a sky of mounting cumulous cloud. The lanky boy and the slight girl trailed after it.
“I don’t know why you didn’t just let me smash the thing,” she grumbled.
“That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it? Knock it down, or smash it to pieces.”
“And you think you can just talk everyone into submission. What are you going to do? Ask this hu-man politely if they would mind not blowing the world to bits and us along with it?”
“Something like that… maybe.”
Shann threw her hands up in the air. “You are crazy. I’ve met their people—fought them. I tell you, they’re not to be trusted.”
“They probably think the same thing about us,” he said. “Have you thought about that?”
“They’re the ones building the weapon,” she pointed out.
“Maybe they feel threatened.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, if I was part of a tiny community of creatures, stranded in a world full of strange and hostile people, I might feel threatened.”
Shann had to admit she had not considered that. The hu-mans had lost the war with the Kelanni some thirty-six turns ago. Maybe they were afraid that if there was another war, then they would be wiped out.
Her mind went back to that first night in the observatory at Kieroth, when she had gazed through the massive bronze tube at fuzzy patches of light set in a velvety void. According to Rael, the hu-mans had come from one of those. “Worlds like ours… or unlike ours.” That was how Boxx described them. What might the world of the hu-mans be like? Shann could not even imagine.
Still, it was hard to feel sympathy for a people when the only one you ever met had held a weapon to your throat.
“There.” Rael’s voice jolted her out of her reverie. She looked where he was pointing and saw something a way off across the plateau. A silver sliver, resting on the flat surface. Avionic. Shann felt her heart quicken. Only yesterday she had downed two of the hu-man machines. There was no reason to think that the pilot, whoever he was, would be aware of that; still less that she was responsible. And yet…
The unblinking, copper-coloured eye hummed contentedly to itself as it led them unerringly in the direction of the waiting aircraft.
As she got closer, Shann discerned a figure standing beside the machine. The creature had no tail and was dressed in impossibly clean white overalls. He was short—nearly as short as Shann—with sloping shoulders, a pinched nose, and the pale skin that seemed to characterise all hu-mans. However, he lacked McCann’s frightening profusion of facial hair; in fact, he was bald, save for a few wisps of hair that sprouted from the crown of his shiny head.
They were only a few feet away when the face cracked into a smile, deepening the creases that marked the wide forehead.
“Bravo, et bienvenue. Welcome to the island. My name is Emile Lafontaine. And we have a great deal to discuss.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 8
The huge grey construction stood in the centre of a hollowed-out gorge, deep in the foothills of the range that dominated the island’s interior. A side door opened, and soft yellow illumination spilled out, clashing with the hard bluish glare of the arc lights. Two figures emerged, conversing in low tones, and disappeared around the side of the building.
A moment later, two shadows arose from the perimeter and swept across the lighted area. The door opened a crack once more and the shadows slipped inside.
Keris suppressed a gasp. Boxx stood next to her on its hind limbs, its round face gazing upward. The building was one vast chamber, lit from high above by row upon row of shining tubes, suspended by a complex array of girders. Metal stairs leading from the floor gave access to a network of upper walkways. The centrepiece was not one, but three bronzecoloured globes, each perhaps twenty feet in height. A few tiny figures were visible on the upper gantry.
The Chandara’s presence had not been her idea. She ordered it to stay behind and wait for her at the overhang; it followed her nonetheless. She repeated the order several times, but it made no difference. Boxx seemed determined to trail after her like a faithful gundir pup. Finally, she was forced to give up and allow it to follow.
She grabbed hold of the little creature and dragged it behind a metal crate, hunkering over it protectively. She fought to still the pounding of her heart and collect her thoughts.
Long ago, she had stood with a group of other initiates in the Great Cathedral at Chalimar and pledged allegiance to the Three and the One. The place of the ceremony was well chosen; the vast atrium of the Cathedral was calculated to impress upon the young people their smallness—their insignificance. To ensure their unwavering submission to the authority of the keep.
Keris pulled herself back to reality. Her days as an initiate were long gone. Her life had taken a different path now. And she had a job to do.
She began a tactical assessment. The intense lighting would make it difficult for her to move around unobserved. She recalled the lighted panels on the ground floor of the tower on the Eastern Plains. As Shann had accidentally discovered, they were controlled by a single switch. However, even if these lights worked in the same way, and even if she could determine where that switch was, plunging the entire place into darkness could be tantamount to raising the alarm, not to mention the fact that it would be difficult to gather any useful intelligence in the dark. At Gort she used lodestone grenades to set a fire at the barracks and draw the guards away from the armoury. However, she had no lodestone grenades left and nothing but a tinderbox with which to start a conflagration. Also, at Gort, she was able to travel around openly in Keltar garb and not be challenged; here, every step she took added to the chance of her being discovered, at which point it would all be over.
Unfortunately, every plan she was able to come up with carried with it an unacceptable level of risk. Every plan except one. Retreat. But in this case, retreat was not an option. With good information about the hu-man facility here on the island, there was at least a chance that their plan to disable the weapon would meet with success. Without it, there was next to none.
“What We Do?” Boxx piped in its shrill voice.
“Shhhh,” she commanded.
“What We Do?” it repeated.
Keris sighed. “I need to get access to those globes over there.”
“They Will See You.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that, thank you.”
“Let Me Go.” The Chandara began to squirm in her grasp.
Keris held on tighter. “Stop that.”
“Let… Me… Go.” Boxx suddenly slipped free and skittered out from behind the crate. Keris cursed under her breath and lunged after it before pulling back to avoid breaking cover. Her heart sank as the little creature waddled across the smooth floor towards the central area, raised itself up on its hind limbs, and began to make loud chirruping noises.
Figures stopped in mid-stride, and faces looked down from walkways. Shouts of alarm rang across the vast chamber and were answered by more shouts. Boots rang on metal and slapped on stone. Boxx’s head moved back and forth as if it were amused by the various goings on. Then, without warning, it turned and sped off, away from Keris’s position, towards the far side of the building.
Diversion. Boxx was deliberately creating a diversion to distract the hu-mans. She was not sure how she was going to rescue it—she would have to worry about that later. Now, the priority was to make use of the opportunity that the Chandara had created for her. There was not much time.
Keris checked carefully, but she could see no further sign of movement on the upper levels. She set out on a low run towards the nearest set of stairs. There were sounds of commotion coming from the floor on the other side of the facility—reassuringly distant.
With such a strong source of refined lodestone above her, the flying cloak was not an option, so she started up the stairs, wincing at the metallic clang of her light footfall. She reached the top and scanned about her, but no one was in sight. Ahead of her, the three bronzecoloured globes lay in a nest of gridwork, like the abandoned eggs of some monstrous bird. Three of them. Did that mean that there were in fact three weapons and not just one?
Keris moved along the walkway to an intersection and then angled towards the centre. She was only a few yards away from the globes now. Another walkway crossed her path, and there was a large sign before it, written in red with letters she could not recognize. She ignored it and pressed on—and walked into an invisible wall.
It was like having a thousand tiny needles pressed into your flesh at once. Keris recoiled instinctively, suppressing a cry of pain. She squinted at the empty space in front of her, convinced that a solid form must have materialised there, but there was nothing. Cautiously, she extended her arm and her hand came into contact with… something. Tiny forks of lightning appeared at her fingertips, along with the same stabbing pain. She snatched her hand away once more.
She doubled back and chose a different route—a different walkway farther round, this time using her staff to probe the way ahead. Again she encountered the same invisible barrier. It appeared to stretch all of the way around the core of the construction where the huge globes were situated. As she debated her next move, she heard voices from below; people were returning to the central area. I have to find a place to hide.
Keris’s eyes flicked back and forth. There was no cover—nothing except the network of iron-grey walkways. Then her eye was drawn upwards, to the tubular lighting and the intricate gantry that supported it. Her hand went to her neck control and she tweaked it ever so slightly, feeling the strong push of refined lodestone from the globes in front of her. She was sufficiently high up now that she should be able to angle her line of flight to reach the array of girders suspended from the ceiling. It was pretty high up, though, and if she misjudged it… Still, there did not seem to be any other viable option.
Keris banished her self-doubt, took sight on what appeared to be one of the main supports, crouched as low as she could and leapt. Her fingers adjusted the cloak’s lodestone layer and she angled her upward line of flight towards her chosen objective. She was better than halfway up before she realised she was not going to make it.
As the copper-coloured globes shrank beneath her and her distance from the lodestone source increased, she could feel the upward push weakening and gravity taking over. She was decelerating too quickly. She felt a flash of panic. Then she remembered something—something that the boy Rael had mentioned. Electro… something. A way to fly higher and farther.
Keris fumbled for the new switch in the red cloak’s control mechanism and pressed it. Instantly she felt a kick in her shoulders, and the complex of girders suddenly filled her vision. She reached for the nearest one and felt her fingers close around the smooth metal. Suddenly she was swinging by one hand, the catwalk and the bronzecoloured spheres cavorting crazily beneath her. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the beam with her other hand and began pulling herself up. The girder creaked ominously but held firm, its protesting sound mercifully lost amid the growing echo of voices and the reverberation of boots on metal stairs.
Keris laid herself flat against the beam and waited for her heartbeat to settle down and her breathing to slow once more. Then she inched towards the end of the beam and crawled across the nest of metalwork towards the nearest of the glowing tubes. She located a perch nearby, where four of the metal beams came together, and concealed herself behind it as fully as possible. If anyone should choose to look up, her presence should be washed out by the tube’s illumination.
She had attributed the lack of guards to overconfidence on the part of the hu-mans and to their underestimation of Kelanni resourcefulness. Now she knew that there was a deeper reason. It was she who had underestimated them.
However, the existence of the barrier, whilst answering one question, raised another. In order to build and service the weapon, the hu-mans would have to have access to it. That meant that there must be some way through the seemingly impenetrable barrier that surrounded it. Keris settled into her chosen eyrie to watch and wait.
Soon she spied one of the creatures—with a mass of thick, dark curly hair topping off all-white overalls—approaching the point on the catwalk where she had been driven back. She watched in wide-eyed astonishment as the barrier parted around his outline, fizzing and sputtering, before closing again after him. He had passed through without breaking stride. The hu-man continued towards the globes at the centre of the structure.
A short while later she observed the process again. This time, a female in a dark blue suit and strange peaked cap approached from a different direction. Once more, the barrier parted obediently, producing the same pyrotechnic display before closing behind her. The barrier clearly repelled Kelanni as well as other objects such as her staff, but somehow it recognised and admitted hu-mans.
The conclusion was devastating. If there was no way that she and the other component carriers could get to the weapon, then there was no way they could disable or destroy it. Annata had said nothing about a barrier, but as Keris discovered, her people, for all their tremendous achievements, were not infallible. They had been wrong about the Chandara; their attempt to preserve Boxx’s people in this world had only ended up threatening the creatures with extinction.
Annata was gone—dead for three thousand turns and more. Her people were all dead, their great cities turned to rubble. Any further communication from the woman from the past was unlikely. This was Keris’s world. If it was going to be saved, it would be by her hand. As she considered the problem, an amended plan began to form in her mind. But she could not put it into effect here and now. She was sure that Lyall was not going to like it, but she would deal with that when the time came.
The existence of the barrier complicated matters, but ironically, it also meant that they were all likely to live a little longer—a few more hours at least. Of course, she had little doubt that the eventual outcome would be the same; she would almost certainly have to detonate the weapon herself, killing all of them.
Still, first things first. Locate Boxx. Escape this place. Then find a lone hu-man…
~
The initial part of the plan seemed to be proving the most difficult. Boxx appeared to have vanished utterly. Keris moved stealthily over the latticework of supports and light fittings, scouring every corner of the immense floor, but there was no sign of the shelled creature. The hu-mans below moved at a routine pace, suggesting that the emergency was over. If they had managed to corner the Chandara, there would surely still be a ruckus. That left two possibilities: Either it had managed to get clean away, or they had killed it.
That last possibility filled her with dread. As far as the hu-mans were concerned, the Chandara would have been nothing more than a wild animal that had broken into their facility. They would have no compunction about hunting it down and exterminating it. However, her extensive search revealed no sign of a body. Keris permitted herself a small sigh of relief and set about planning her own escape.
Boxx’s little ruse had cleared the main part of the floor and the catwalk, allowing her to reach the central spheres unobserved. Now, however, hu-mans were moving freely about those areas. Returning by the way she had come did not seem feasible.
Keris turned slowly and carefully, examining her surroundings. Her gaze settled on an irregularity in the sloping ceiling. She began crawling towards it. A skylight. She found the catch and pulled on it gently. Metal scraped against metal as it began to lift. Keris checked to make sure that the gangway beneath her was clear of hu-mans; then she pushed the skylight open and climbed through.
The dark-haired woman rose through the corrugated roof and glanced up at a starlit sky. The night was suffused with a damp cold that gnawed at her bones. Keris shrugged it off and headed down the gradually sloping roof. She reached the end and flattened herself, so that she could peer over the edge.
The area around the building was lit up as bright as day by the powerful arc lights that were stationed around it at regular intervals. No hu-mans were in evidence. She continued watching while scanning for lodestone. Ignoring the push from the globes in the building below and behind her, she pulled back and crept along the roof, seeking a natural deposit in the ground below which would be sufficiently strong to break her leap. Soon she sensed the familiar pressure on her shoulders. It was coming from a point near the perimeter. Keris checked once more. There was no movement below. The only sound was a faint buzzing that emanated from the brilliant lamps. She stood up, took her bearings, and then leapt from the roof.
Her cloak billowed out behind her—a great crimson shadow blotting out the stars. She tweaked the boost control—that was what Rael had called it—just enough to carry her across the gap and into the sphere of influence of the deposit she had located. Then she angled her lodestone layer towards the natural source, using it as a brake. Her boots hit the ground just beyond the lighted area, and she came to a running stop. She crouched down and checked over her shoulder. All was still quiet. Satisfied, she began moving rapidly away from the human facility, making for higher ground.
A short while later, she arrived back at the outcrop, overlooking the building. There was little more she could do tonight. Time to select a place to make camp. A shuffling noise. Keris whipped around and drew her staff. The sound was coming from behind a boulder. She moved towards it, ready to strike.
The shuffling sounded again, and a small-shelled creature with a round head waddled into view. It stood up on hind limbs and regarded her with its shining black eyes. “Hello, Keris.”
A wave of relief washed through her and the corners of her eyes began to mist. She blinked the tears away. Her first impulse was to ask the Chandara how it managed to escape, but she found that she didn’t care. All that mattered was that the creature was safe. She decided instead to scold it. “That was a very dangerous thing you did in there—very dangerous indeed. You could have been killed, you know that?” Boxx continued staring at her, its eyes shining like black stars. “Thank you,” she added, her voice cracking.
“Did We Win?” it asked.
“Not exactly, no.” Boxx waited for her to elaborate. “There is a… a barrier of some sort protecting the weapon. Or weapons,” she said, remembering the three globes. “At any rate, it seems to block approach by anyone except hu-mans.”
“You Will Pass Through It, Keris.”
She smiled wryly at the forest dweller’s childlike confidence in her abilities. Still, it was right. They had to find a way past the barrier. She sheathed her staff and began moving off towards the hills. Boxx watched the tall woman, its mouth rippling soundlessly. Then it dropped to all sixes and trotted obediently after her.
<><><><><>
Chapter 9
A jarring bump that travelled through his entire body brought McCann to full wakefulness. Immediately he regretted it. The back of his head was a world of scarlet agony. He squeezed his eyes shut. Gradually the pain eased to an angry ache, and he forced one eye open. Puffy clouds drifted lazily in a bright blue sky. His body jigged up and down, and a hard surface slapped against his shoulder blades. He tried to move, but his arms and legs would not budge.
With an effort that caused his head to scream in protest once more, McCann twisted his neck. He was lying in the back of a wooden cart that jerked and rolled along. Thick ropes secured his body; he was trussed up like a turkey. Instinctively, he struggled against the bonds, but they held fast. He filled his lungs with air and yelled, “Hey.” There was no reply. The cart trundled on regardless. “Hey there. Whoever you are—let me go.”
The cart slowed and creaked to a halt. He heard an animal sound, not unlike a horse whinnying—except that there were no horses on this world. The buckboard creaked as someone mounted the cart from the rear. A face appeared over him. It was Kelanni, but it was not the same individual he remembered from the mountain. This one was younger, his skin a lighter shade of olive, his expression more nervous—less self-assured. “Yer awake,” he said. “Jus’ lie still an’ keep quiet.”
McCann struggled again, flexing his muscles—testing the restraints. “Let me go,” he repeated.
The Kelanni’s eyes flicked back and forth, as if he was terrified that he was about to be discovered at any moment. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”
McCann decided to try another tack. “Where are you taking me?”
The other hesitated as if debating with himself whether to reply. “Kieroth. I’m takin’ ya t’ Kieroth.”
Kieroth also happened to be McCann’s destination. He needed to contact an operative and arrange a way back to Helice. So at least he was headed in the right direction. “Why are you taking me there?”
“I’m turnin’ y’over t’ the Directorate.”
McCann’s heart sank. If they get hold of me, then I’m finished. I’ve got to get out of this somehow. He slowed his movements while continuing to test the ropes surreptitiously. “Why hand me over to them?”
The alien turned away. “I’m sorry. I ’ave na choice.”
He had apologised twice now—a sign of weakness. This creature was acting against his natural inclinations. That provided a glimmer of hope, at least. Perhaps a little applied psychology… ? “My name is Alexander McCann. What are you called?”
That same hesitation again. “Yaron.”
“Are you one of those that carried me off the glacier?” Yaron nodded and dropped his eyes. “Then I am grateful to you for my life. Your people—the Kelanni—they tricked me. Abandoned me on the mountain.”
Yaron’s face creased up. “I… I don’ believe ya.”
“It’s the truth,” McCann declared, making his voice sound as genuine as he could manage. “I just want to get back to my people— nothing more. Please, let me go.”
Yaron appeared distinctly unhappy. “I can’t. I ’ave t’ turn y’ in maself. It’s th’ only way.”
“What do you mean?” the engineer asked.
“Coreall told Yonach t’ turn ya in t’ the Directorate. Yonach won’ do that. But if he don’t an’ they find out, they’ll pull ’is licence. The family’ll lose its liveli’ood. So it’s up t’me. I gotta do it. I gotta turn ya in.”
“But if you do that, won’t they still accuse this Yonach of keeping secrets and punish him anyway?”
“I’ll say I found ya an’ brought ya in m’self. No one’ll know any different.” The young Kelanni looked scared. But he also looked determined.
“My people, the humans,” McCann began, “if you don’t let me go, they will be very angry. They could take retribution against your people.” He was going to add, “and you would be responsible,” but he stopped himself. Careful. Don’t push him too hard.
Yaron shook his head vigorously. “I’m sorry. I can’t take th’ risk.” His Kelanni face disappeared. Soon, the wagon lurched forward and resumed its lumbering progress. McCann laid back, satisfied with his performance. He hadn’t expected that he would be set free immediately, but the doubt he had sown would gradually take root and grow in the youngster’s mind. When the moment came, it would only take a split second of indecision on the part of his captor, and the engineer would have the upper hand.
As the cart bounced along, McCann pulled and twisted at his bindings, straining ever closer towards freedom.
~
Keris determined that her next task was to head back to the ship in order to share the information she had gathered about the hu-man weapon and to convince Lyall and the others to pursue her plan. Soon she had left the hills behind and was making her way southwest over a landscape of broken slate and fast-flowing rills.
Hardy grasses and vines poked between the cracks and the patches of melting snow. Silvery fish plopped in the streams, and whilst there was nothing the size of a dagan or a raleketh, she did spot a large-eared, furry creature with a pointed snout that closely resembled the jarka of the Eastern Plains. Chances were it would make a good meal, but Keris did not want to take the time to hunt right now. She wanted to be back at the ship by nightfall.
Of course, it was possible that Lyall and Alondo would still be out looking for Shann and Rael, in which case she would have to set out to find them. The more time that passed, however, the greater the chance would be that the young people had not survived. The loss of two of the four component bearers would spell the end of Annata’s scheme. In that case she would come right out and propose her suicide plan.
If necessary, she was prepared to implement it on her own, but she was sure that Lyall with his martyr complex would want to join her. She was equally certain that he would order Patris to set sail and get the others as far away as possible. She could live with that. Between the two of them, they could get the job done. A failed Keltar and a failed revolutionary. Neither of them had a place to go back to. It would be a fitting end.
As they picked their way along the bank of a babbling brook, Boxx chatted amiably, oblivious of the dark plan swirling at the back of her mind.
“I Like This Place,” it declared.
“You do?” she said.
“Yes, Except…”
Her curiosity was aroused. “Except what?”
“Except There Are Not Enough Trees.”
Naturally. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said. “I don’t think we will be on this island for very much longer.”
They reached a place where several rocks broke the surface of the stream to form a set of natural stepping stones. Water frothed angrily around the obstructions. Keris hopped nimbly from one to the other, followed closely by the Chandara. She was quite sure that the creature could easily have swum across, but as ever, it preferred to stay with her.
She reached the far bank and turned. Boxx stood on the flat rock regarding her with its tiny black eyes. “I Too Will Soon Be Gone,” it declared.
Keris felt momentarily exposed. Had the Chandara somehow read her mind—figured out what she was planning to do? “What do you mean?”
“My Time—It Is Short.”
The Dais. Boxx told her the same thing inside the dome of mist, just before her trial. It had entrusted her with a vial of transparent skin, filled with a milky-white substance. She carried it in the deepest recess of her pouch. She still had no idea what it was, or what she was supposed to do with it, but something told her that it was of vital importance.
“What will happen to you?” she asked and then immediately regretted the question. She was not at all sure that she wanted to know the answer.
“I Must Leave You. But You Must Take Me With You.”
Keris smiled inwardly. Typical Chandara-speak. Completely true, but making no sense whatsoever. The creature sounded as if it were talking about its death. But then what part did the vial play? “How long?” she asked.
“I Do Not Know. Soon. If I Must Heal, Then Sooner.”
“I will help in whatever way I can.” It occurred to her that if she had to go on a mission from which she knew she would not return, then she ought to return the vial—ask Boxx to entrust it to someone else. “If I cannot be there for you, I will make sure you get what you need.”
“Why?” Boxx said.
Keris frowned. “Why what?”
“Why Would You Not Be There?”
Keris turned and strode away from the rushing stream. She kept facing forward so that the Chandara would not see the lump in her throat or the tears filling her eyes.
~
Keris was about halfway back to the ship when she ran across the hu-man.
At first, it seemed like an incredible piece of good fortune: a small, elderly individual, wiry-looking, but she was sure that she would be able to overpower him. He appeared to be completely alone, leaning casually with his back to the fuselage of one of the thin silver avionics. What he was doing here in the middle of nowhere was a genuine mystery, but one that she was content to forgo solving if it secured her the prisoner/hostage she needed to enact her plan. As an added bonus, she would gain possession of one of their flying machines. The whole thing was almost too good to be true.
She took cover behind an outcrop of loose shale, gesturing for Boxx to get behind her.
“Hu-man,” the Chandara commented.
“Shhhh,” she commanded. The creature fell silent. She needed a moment to think about how to approach this. The avionic sat perched on a wide, roughly flat area of sandstone. If the hu-man saw her coming and perceived her as a threat, then he would only have to board his aircraft and lift off in order to escape. And if it was fitted with the same lightning weapon that the other hu-man avionics possessed, then she could very soon find herself coming under attack. Speed and stealth were going to be vital if she was going to pull this off.
She turned to the little creature behind her. It lay flat with its head on the ground, as if expecting another reprimand. “Boxx, listen carefully. I want you to stay here, out of sight. You are not to move from this spot unless I say. Do you understand? I mean it this time.”
It raised its head ever so slightly. “Yes, Keris.”
Her lips pursed and her brow furrowed. It looked… tired. No time to worry about that now. “Stay,” she repeated. She began undoing the neck clasps of her crimson flying cloak. The cloak would enable her to move in faster, but the bright red colour would make her too easy to spot from a distance. She folded it carefully into her pack, then set off back the way she had come.
She cast an appraising eye over the landscape and mapped out a route in her head that would enable her to skirt the flat terrain and bring her around to the opposite side, behind the avionic. There was no reason to think that the hu-man, whatever he was up to, would be expecting any form of attack, so she would have the element of surprise.
She picked her way slowly and patiently among a jumble of loose rocks that had piled up in a narrow ravine, out of sight of her quarry. At length, she worked her way around to her desired location. Lying flat on the ground, her black tunic and trousers stained by streaks of ochre, she could see the slender shape of the aircraft and, beyond it, the human with his back to her. He had not moved. The question of what he was doing out here occurred to her again, but she had no time for the luxury of speculation. She rose and began a silent, crouching run towards his position.
The sandstone table was flat, but not completely even. Time and weather had etched out ridges and natural hollows which afforded at least an approximation of cover. Keris could now see a small depression, perhaps five yards this side of the flying machine. Better still, it was close to the shadow cast by the fan housing. She crept towards the recess, keeping as low as possible, and dropped into it. The hu-man’s legs were visible on the other side of the machine. They shuffled position but stayed put.
From her vantage point, she could clearly see the panel where the avionic’s control mechanisms were situated. It would be a simple matter now for her to reach it and disable the craft before the hu-man could take flight. She could then don her flying cloak and chase the oldster down at her leisure. But that would mean destroying her prize, and she would rather not do that, if it could be avoided.
She arose once more and swept across the last few feet, coming up under the fuselage and grabbing the creature from behind. His eyes went wide and he made a gurgling sound as her hands closed around his throat. He was almost hairless—sallow skin stretched taut over angular bones. It felt like grasping a dry twig. “Wh… what do you want?” he managed to get out.
Keris had little interest in conversation. She shifted position and forced his hands behind him. Producing a rope, she began tying his wrists tightly. He cried out, but she did not slacken her grip. As she worked, she began planning her next move.
The ideal solution would be to retrieve Boxx and fly the Chandara and her hu-man prisoner back to the ship in the captured avionic. Unfortunately, she did not know how to pilot the thing, and she certainly did not trust the hu-man enough to allow him anywhere near the controls. That meant that they would have to make their way back on foot. They might be able to return and retrieve the flying craft later, assuming Shann or Rael was still alive, or they could persuade one of the drach to pilot it.
She tied off the bindings to her satisfaction and then pushed her captive roughly forward. “Move.”
“Keris, what are you doing?” The voice came from the avionic’s tail section. Her head whipped around to see Lyall, flanked by Alondo, Shann, and Rael. Her mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. “Lyall?”
The tall, sandy-haired Kelanni stood with his hands on his hips. “Would you mind letting this hu-man go?”
“Why?” she demanded. “Who is he?”
“His name is Lafontaine,” Lyall said. “And he’s here to meet us.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 10
Emile Lafontaine sat on the ground, massaging his wrists. He pulled a blue kerchief from a hidden pocket and mopped his brow in spite of the cold.
“Merde. I’m getting too old for this.”
“Keris apologises for accosting you. Don’t you, Keris?” Lyall regarded the tall, dark-haired woman dangerously.
Keris returned his stare. The words stuck in her throat. “I’m… sorry.”
The hu-man ceased wiping his forehead and stared into the middle distance. “Keris… Keris… That name rings a bell… yes, of course. The ‘Heroine of Gort’. Or the ‘Foul Green-Skinned Traitor’. Depends who you talk to.” He glanced up at Keris as if remembering belatedly that she was still standing over him. “No offence.” Keris felt as if she had completely lost control of the situation. One moment everything was proceeding according to plan; the next…
The hu-man got to his feet awkwardly. “They say you saw off fifty men with your bare hands. I suppose I should be grateful that I came away with my skin intact.”
“That is not true,” Keris protested.
Alondo smiled. “Seems as if you’ve become a legend, Keris. Guess you’ll just have to live with it.”
Keris ignored him and cupped a hand to her mouth. “Boxx,” she called. Moments later, the Chandara came trotting up beside her. Lafontaine raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She turned back to Lyall. “May I ask what you’re doing, meeting up with a hu-man?”
“I’m pleased to see you too, Keris,” he replied. “This hu-man says he wants to help us.”
“Is that what he told you?” Keris asked.
“Yes.”
“And you believed him?”
Lyall turned to the hu-man. “You’ll have to forgive Keris. Her experience as Keltar has taught her to be suspicious of everyone.”
Lafontaine waved a dismissive hand. “I quite understand. Humans and Kelanni have a history of mistrust—largely due to the actions of my people when we arrived here. However, you should know that not all of us agree with the Captain. In fact, his support has dwindled down the years; he now has no more than two dozen hard-core followers. However, I’m afraid that he is still bent on the destruction of your people.”
“He wants our lodestone, doesn’t he?” Shann said.
“That’s right.” Lafontaine regarded each of them in turn. “Look, I asked you to meet me here because there is something nearby that I wanted to show you. Would you come with me?”
This is a trap—has to be, Keris thought. Before she could react, however, the elderly hu-man set off across the sandstone table and the others turned to follow. There was nothing she could do except go after them and see where this led. She took a moment to extract the flying cloak from her pack and fix the neck clasps; then she hurried after them, Boxx trotting faithfully at her side.
Lafontaine raised his voice so that all could hear. His hands moved excitedly as he walked. “When you look up at the night sky on Kelanni-Skell you can see thousands of stars, with tens of thousands of worlds revolving around them. And beyond that—beyond what the naked eye can discern—there are millions upon millions more. Now in all of that, how many places do you think lodestone can be found?” There was no reply; no one knew how to answer him. He turned and pointed towards the ground. “Here. As far as we know, this is the only place.”
The hu-man led off once more. “Your lodestone has great power—a power that the Kelanni are only beginning to glimpse. I’m not just talking about the Accumulator Device—the weapon that my people have constructed on this island. I’m talking about the power to propel you to the stars.
“My people use a different power—one based on the creation of the universe itself. We call it QDE or Quintessence Dark Energy. But it is unstable, particularly on long voyages. Everyone who goes forth into space knows that there is a risk that he or she could die in a pointless explosion. Your lodestone would take away that risk. It would provide a means of unlimited acceleration, of safe and stable space flight. That is something of immense value to my people—so much so that there are humans who would exterminate even an entire race to get their hands on it.
“When our ships arrived on your planet, Wang, the Captain, saw your people as primitives. The level of technology on Kelanni-Skell was two hundred years behind ours; on Kelanni-Drann, it was more like a seven hundred. Wang decided that the simplest solution would be to force your people into submission so that they would supply us with whatever quantity of lodestone we demanded. That led to the war sixteen standard years ago—the war we lost. The war cost the lives of many of our people, much of our equipment, and the total destruction of all but one of our ships.
“Wang did not give up. He devised a long-term plan to achieve his goal of power over the stone. It involved co-opting the religion and society of the less-developed side of the planet so that he could acquire enough lodestone to build the Accumulator Device and quell any organised resistance.
“People, however, were starting to question the Captain’s way of doing things. For some, the desire to get home was proving greater than their desire for wealth. Others were becoming disturbed at the morality of what we were doing. As we gathered anthropological data and, more especially, as we began to have dealings with your people, it became clear that yours was a far richer and more sophisticated culture than the Captain led us to believe. Centuries earlier on my planet, my ancestors thoughtlessly destroyed so-called primitive societies of fellow humans for profit—the Maya, the Inca, the North American Indian. Now we have moved out into space; yet despite all of our accumulated knowledge, we sadly do not appear to have learned from our mistakes.”
Shann frowned. “I don’t understand. If so many of your people were opposed to what was happening, why was it that they allowed the Kelanni of my world to be oppressed by the Prophet for so long?”
“There is a twofold answer to that.” Lafontaine presented two bony fingers, ticking them off one by one. “The first has to do with…
‘spacer culture’, I suppose you would call it. Space is a dangerous place, made more so by the QDE drive that humans rely on. Emergencies can arise suddenly and unexpectedly. Orders have to be obeyed immediately and without question or lives may be lost. So a tradition has grown up among space-faring crews of total obedience to the captain. All crewmembers take an oath to that effect. To many, their oath is important as their life. They would sooner die than disobey their captain. Even if he has become a monster.”
“What about you?” Alondo asked.
The old hu-man smiled, and his face creased like pale leather. “I am not ‘crew’. I’m a scientist—an engineer. Unfortunately, almost all of those still loyal to Wang are crew. They are fanatically loyal to him. Don’t trust them.”
“You said there was another reason why your people did not try to stop the Prophet,” Lyall prompted.
“You’re right, I did… Ah, we are nearly there.” They had reached the edge of the sandstone platform.
The terrain fell away, revealing the sides of a steep gorge. Set into the reddish rock was a series of roughly hewn steps that led downwards until they rounded a bend in the valley wall and passed out of sight. Keris held out a restraining arm, holding the others back, and inspected the path before them. Satisfied for the moment, she drew her staff and started down the steps. “Follow me. Shann, take the rearguard.”
“Such precautions are unnecessary, I assure you,” Lafontaine called after her. “You are quite safe.” Keris ignored him and continued to descend. The elderly hu-man shrugged and followed after her.
As they rounded the bend, Keris saw that the steps led to a wide ledge, carved in sandstone, on which a wooden hut stood. The hut appeared totally incongruous, perched halfway up the side of the valley, and she could not imagine its purpose—unless this hu-man was a kind of hermit. That would certainly explain his odd behaviour.
As they approached the ledge, she heard a collective gasp from the others. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that everyone was staring over the edge. She followed their gaze and could not suppress a sharp intake of breath. Taking up the entire floor of the canyon was a huge edifice, like nothing she had ever seen before.
Shaped like a triangular pyramid, its sides were constructed of six immense gold-coloured tubes, connecting gold spheres at each of its vertices. Lights shone from openings or windows in the globes. From each of the four vertices, four smaller tubes met at the centre of the open pyramid, where an azure sphere shimmered with latent energy. In beauty and grandeur it rivalled even the magnificent sights she had seen in her vision of ancient Kynedyr.
“What is it?” Alondo breathed.
Lafontaine grinned from ear to ear. “This is the Osiris. From the mythology of ancient Egypt on my world.” The others were staring at him blankly. “It’s a bit of a joke, really,” he continued. “According to the myth, Osiris was cut up into a zillion bits by his enemy Set, and his wife, Isis, then had to piece him back together. That’s a bit like what we’ve had to do with this ship.”
Alondo’s eyes were glued to the shining vision of blue and gold beneath them. “You’re saying it’s a ship of some kind?”
“It’s one of the three ships we arrived here on—the only one that wasn’t wrecked completely. It’s taken us sixteen years to get it fully operational again.”
“You mean… it’s ready to fly?” Alondo asked.
“Yes, only… ” As Lafontaine’s voice trailed off, the others tore their gaze away from the huge pyramid-shaped craft and looked straight at him. “… Only the Captain and his supporters don’t know that.”
Alondo’s face was eager. “Can we go down and take a look inside?”
“I’m sorry, no,” Lafontaine said.
“He doesn’t trust us,” Keris pointed out.
“No, no, that’s not it at all,” the bald hu-man protested. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to show the ship to you. It’s just that… ” He went to the edge and squatted down. The five Kelanni and one Chandara gathered around him. He pointed a thin digit at a small squat metal shape sitting next to the fantastic hu-man construction. “You see the smaller vessel? It’s the orbital shuttle that the Captain uses to travel to the other side of your world and to transport refined lodestone from there.”
“The Prophet? He’s down there on the ship?” Shann exclaimed.
“I don’t know. Possibly.” Lafontaine replied. “In any case, he has his informants. Most of them are known to us. So far, we’ve managed, with some difficulty, to keep your presence here a secret. The two avionic pilots you shot down are on an ‘extended mission’ as far as he is concerned—which I suppose is true in a grisly sort of way. Still, the sight of a group of Kelanni touring the ship could hardly fail to be noticed. It would get back to Wang, and he would be alerted to your presence on the island. The risk is far too great. I’m sorry.” Alondo looked like a child who had just had his favourite toy confiscated.
Keris’s voice was flat. “Then why are you showing us this?”
“Because I need your help,” Lafontaine said. “And you need mine.”
~
The odd-looking group distributed themselves about the one-room cabin. Keris seated herself on a bench that lined one wall, occupying the position closest to the door. Boxx came over and lay down at her feet.
The bald hu-man stood in the middle of the room and addressed the gathering. “I said that there was another reason why people here did not try to put a stop to what the Captain was doing. The lodestone that he secured from your side of the planet was originally supposed to be used to power the Osiris, using a new Diametric Drive. It was only after he had used the power of our technology to have himself declared as Prophet, that it became clear that he intended to use the stone to build the Accumulator Device—the weapon—instead.
“He ordered the engineers on the crew to start building it. I decided that the only thing to do was to try and repair at least one of the QDE units so that we would have a way off your planet. What developed over the next few years was an uneasy alliance between two groups—one determined to gain power over the lodestone at any cost, the other bent on trying to secure a way home.
“Several months ago, the ship became operational. We have managed to keep that fact a secret. However, we cannot lift off without Wang’s people discovering what we are up to. It takes a minimum of two hours to power up the Drive, and if we tried to leave, they would prevent it. What we need is to create some kind of emergency that would occupy Wang’s crew long enough for us to get the QDE drive operational and take off.”
Lyall closed his eyes and shook his head. “Let me get this straight. You want to strand your own people here on our world?”
“No, not at all. We will leave the smaller ship—the shuttle—here on the surface. When we are in orbit we will give them the option of joining us—minus their gammas, of course—or staying here. My guess is that they will come running with their tails between their legs.” Lafontaine viewed the Kelanni present and his eyes widened as he realised his faux pas, but no one seemed to care.
“I appreciate your telling us of your plans,” Lyall said, “but none of that helps us. Even if the Prophet decides to leave our world, there’d be nothing to stop him using the lodestone weapon to destroy us first.”
As the hu-man opened his mouth to reply, a loud rap sounded on the wooden door of the cabin. Keris sprang to her feet and her hand moved to her staff. Lafontaine glided across the floor with surprising speed, getting ahead of her. He placed his hand on the latch, but rather than open the door, he merely listened. There was silence, followed by a series of three more knocks. Lafontaine opened the door swiftly and a figure slipped in.
Keris had never seen a hu-man female before and she found it difficult to tear her eyes away. The woman was as short as Lafontaine but a lot younger. As she passed Keris, she smiled briefly beneath a mass of shoulder-length yellow hair.
Lafontaine returned to his position in the centre of the room; the blonde woman took up a position beside him. “There is someone who specifically wanted to meet you,” he said. “This is Susan Gilmer. She’s our resident spy within Wang’s ranks.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 11
The pale slate-eyed hu-man female eyed the gathering with the same intense curiosity with which they were observing her. “I have not encountered Kelanni since I was a little girl. You seemed… taller then.” She turned her attention to Boxx, who had resumed its place, lying at Keris’s feet. “Is this… a Chandara?”
Keris’s eyes narrowed. “Its name is Boxx.”
“Really?” Susan Gilmer gave a quirky smile. “I’ve never seen one before. I’ve heard some odd things about them, though. How come it’s travelling with you?”
Before Keris could prepare a defensive reply, Boxx raised its head. “I Travel With Keris. For All Kelanni.”
Susan’s eyes widened. “It speaks.” She turned to Lafontaine. “Is there a second species of intelligent life on this world?”
“Actually, the Chandara were the first,” Rael said.
“My Time Is Short,” Boxx added.
“What does it mean by that?” Susan asked.
“Nothing,” Keris replied quickly. “Nothing of importance.”
The blonde woman sighed. “I would love to know more. Sadly, there’s no time. The Captain has moved up the timetable. The first of the ADs—the Accumulator Devices—is to be shipped out tomorrow.”
Lafontaine blew through his teeth.
“What does that mean?” Lyall asked.
“It means that I was fortunate to find you when I did,” the old human replied.
“Why were you looking for us?” Alondo asked.
“Because I know why you are here and what you are planning to do. The Captain has informants in Kieroth and elsewhere. Fortunately, they route their information through Susan, so Wang knows only what she reports to him. We knew that you left by ship several days ago and were on your way here.
“Yesterday, Susan told me that a pair of avionic pilots reported sighting a native sailing ship in Qiberon Bay. Then they vanished. It could only be you. So I secretly started scouring the island using watchers. Not long after, I ran across these young people.” He indicated Shann and Rael, who regarded each other selfconsciously. “Then another watcher discovered Lyall here and Alondo.”
Susan Gilmer broke in: “Can I ask you something? Do you know of a human named McCann?”
Alarm bells jangled at the back of Keris’s mind. She spoke up before anyone else could respond. “Yes. We discovered that he was… monitoring us through the use of forbidden devices.”
“Do you know what happened to him?”
“We confronted him at the top of the Tower of Akalon. After our discussion, he left.”
“Where did he go?” Susan inquired.
“I cannot say for certain,” Keris answered.
“But he was alive when you saw him last?”
“Yes.” Keris met Shann’s steady gaze. The girl made no attempt to contradict her. Each of Keris’s statements was true, but carefully worded; a patchwork quilt of facts, stitched together with the golden thread of a lie.
Susan Gilmer had a faraway expression. “I see.”
Lafontaine addressed her. “McCann is crew. He’s loyal to the Captain.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” the hu-man woman said. “I’ve talked to him. Mac doesn’t like what he’s being asked to do. He wants out.”
Lafontaine’s voice was gentle but firm. “We haven’t heard from him for over three weeks now.” Susan’s eyes dropped to the floor. The elderly hu-man turned to the others. “During his last transmission, McCann said that you claimed to have discovered something at an archaeological site—a device that could convert ordinary matter to negative matter—to lodestone.”
“We intend to use it to neutralize the lodestone weapon,” Lyall declared. Keris looked daggers at him, but said nothing.
Lafontaine nodded. “By converting all of the reactants to lodestone, thereby rendering them inert—yes, I see that. Of course, if the weapon is not dismantled, then positive matter could probably be re-introduced and the balance restored, but it would be tricky and would take quite a while.” The old man put a gnarled hand to his bony chin and started to pace the cabin. “You also realise that such a device, if it works, would have a potential far beyond that of deactivating the weapon. A mechanism that can be used to create negative matter at will would probably constitute the most valuable thing in the universe.”
“And the most dangerous,” Rael added. “That’s why we intend to destroy it as soon as it has been used.”
Lafontaine stopped in his tracks and regarded the tall boy. An odd look came over his face and passed just as quickly. “Yes, I see what you mean. A great pity, but I do understand. Long ago, my people acquired weapons of mass destruction, capable of destroying entire worlds. We did away with them in the end, but only after we had come close to annihilating ourselves.” He resumed his pacing. “How can you be certain that it will work?”
“A good friend has assured us that it will,” Lyall assured him.
“Your ‘friend’ wouldn’t happen to have a background in exotic matter physics, would he?” He cast an eye around the room, acknowledging the blank stares. “All I’m saying is, wouldn’t it make sense to test it first?”
“There is no point,” Keris replied flatly.
Lafontaine turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”
Because the plan involving Annata’s instrument has very little likelihood of success, so chances are that we will have to detonate the weapon anyway in order to destroy it. “Because whether it works or not, we have to try. The future of our entire race”—she glanced at Boxx—“of both of our races is at stake.”
“She’s right,” Susan Gilmer said. “We only have one chance at this—all of us.”
The bald hu-man looked at her and then at Lyall. “You will have to penetrate the weapon facility in order to use the device.”
“That’s the general idea, yes,” Lyall confirmed.
“I can help you,” Lafontaine said. “I can get you inside, at least.”
“Why would you do that?” Shann asked.
“Because if we time our efforts correctly, then we will both be able to achieve our goals. Your assault on the facility will draw off the Captain’s forces and give us the opportunity to charge the QDE and lift off from your world unchallenged. Once you have nullified the weapon, there will be nothing left for Wang and his people here. They too will leave and you will be safe.”
“He’s lying.”
Keris’s accusation split the room like a bolt of lightning. Lyall finally spoke into the shattered silence. “Keris?”
Keris rose to her feet once more. “What he’s not telling you is that there is not one weapon, but three. What is more, they are protected by some kind of… energy barrier. The barrier is impenetrable to Kelanni as well as any material object; it will only admit hu-mans. We would be slaughtered long before we could get anywhere near the weapons.”
Lafontaine blinked. “How—?”
Keris’s eyes widened and her nostrils flared. “I’ve been there and seen it with my own eyes.”
The old man’s jaw dropped. “You’re telling me you got in and out of the facility without anyone noticing?” He chuckled to himself, much to Keris’s annoyance. “Wang would be furious. I’d love to tell him.”
“Emile,” Susan rebuked him.
“No, of course… Sorry,” he said. “Look, I was going to share all of that with you when we discussed the plan in detail. I can only ask that you believe that. It’s one reason why I wanted to contact you. I can help you get through the ‘barrier’, as you call it.”
“Keris says it will only allow access to hu-mans,” Shann pointed out.
“Only allow… ? Yes well, I suppose I can see why you would think that. The Accumulator Devices are protected by something called a plasma window. It’s a force field—a kind of fence, made up of invisible particles.”
“Invisible… ?” Shann began.
“Yes, well, I suppose you are just going to have to trust me on that. Suffice to say that it packs a pretty mean punch if you come into contact with it.”
“That much is true.” Keris massaged her upper arm, recalling the intense pinpricks that had assaulted her skin at the point of contact.
“Didn’t you read the clearly posted warning signs?” Lafontaine asked.
“I don’t read your language,” Keris pointed out.
The old man pressed his lips together. “No. No, I suppose not… Anyway, penetrating the plasma window has nothing to do with what race you are. All you need is one of these.” He pulled back the sleeve of his white overall and raised his hand. A green band etched with complex gold and silver patterns was wrapped around his wrist. “As long as you are wearing this, the window will open and allow you to pass.”
Keris’s mind worked rapidly. This is all too easy. These hu-mans are up to something. She could not recall seeing such a band on any of the hu-mans that had passed through the barrier at the weapons facility, but then she had been observing from high above. They could have been wearing it under their clothing like Lafontaine. Still, the idea that an impenetrable barrier could be foiled by a little green bracelet seemed—well, it seemed just the sort of story that might have been concocted for autochthonous peoples to swallow. If that were true, then this was undoubtedly part of some elaborate trap.
But why? The hu-man had led them all here—to this cabin halfway up the side of a gorge. Why not just have a large force here, ready to kill them or take them into custody? Why pretend to help them? Why the charade?
Annata’s instrument. That must be it. What was it the old hu-man had called it? The most valuable thing in the universe. A person would do anything to get their hands on something like that. But this hu-man was clever. He no doubt realised that if he showed his hand now, he might never discover where the instrument was hidden. Better to wait until the assault on the facility, when he could be certain that it would be in their possession.
Still, exposing the hu-man scheme at this stage would be counterproductive. They still needed a way to gain access to the weapon. If Lafontaine was lying and the green band proved to be useless, they would know soon enough. However, her original plan had been to use a hu-man hostage to get past the barrier. If she played along, there might still be a way to put that into effect…
“Perhaps you could come with us,” Keris ventured, “to ensure the success of our mission.”
“I’m sorry,” Lafontaine said. “I will be fully occupied powering up the ship for our departure.”
“I’ll go.” All eyes turned towards the hu-man woman. She suddenly looked very small and frail. “I’ll go with them,” she repeated.
“Susan… you… you can’t,” Lafontaine blustered. “Once the Osiris leaves, we won’t have enough power to come back for you and lift off again. Your only hope will be to join the Captain and the others on the shuttle. If you miss that, then you’ll be stranded here on this world.”
“So will Mac,” Susan Gilmer reminded him.
“Look, Susan,” Lafontaine said. “We don’t even know if McCann is… if he’s… ”
“Still alive?” she completed. “I’m aware of that. But I know Mac. He’s a survivor. I’d wager my eighteen years’ back pay that he’s out there somewhere. I won’t leave him on his own.” Lafontaine looked like a drowning man. Susan’s voice softened. “I’ve thought about this, Emile, and I’ve decided to stay. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll… make sure you get a beacon,” the old hu-man said, “and I’ll try and persuade the Company to send a ship to pick you up when we reach Eridani.”
“No.” Susan’s eyes were resolute. “Humans have interfered too much in this world already. We owe it to these people to leave them alone.”
Lafontaine gazed at the floor. “I’m not sure that’s possible. Too many people have seen too much. When we get back to the Station, I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep a lid on this. But… I will try.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
A convincing little display, Keris told herself. The philanthropist willing to sacrifice all for the welfare of the native population. For a moment, she almost believed it—but only for a moment.
Lyall spoke into the silence. “We are going to need more than one of those bracelets.”
Lafontaine shook his head. “I’m sorry; this one is all I have. Their use is strictly controlled. They are only issued to those who are currently
working on the AD and are never normally taken out of the facility.”
“Then how come you have that one?” Shann inquired.
“Very occasionally, one of the ‘bracelets’, as you call them, malfunctions. They contain some pretty complex electronics. So they get turned over to me for repair. I fixed this several days ago, but I… haven’t got around to returning it yet.”
Just one. And when it doesn’t get us past the barrier, the hu-man woman can conveniently claim that it’s broken again.
Lyall jolted Keris out of her musing. “You say that there are three of these weapons?”
“Three large spheres are set in a metal grid at the centre of the facility,” she reported. “The spheres are accessed by walkways, but they are surrounded on all sides by the invisible barrier.”
“Then the four component carriers will each have to go in one at a time,” Lyall said, “set their component, leave, and then pass the bracelet to the next carrier until all four components are set and the weapon has been neutralised.”
“And then they will have to do the same thing all over again twice more,” Alondo commented gloomily.
“Four?” Lafontaine saw that the others were staring at him. “You mean the instrument you have is divided into four parts?”
Yes, and they’re keyed to the four operators. You weren’t expecting that, were you? Keris suppressed a smile. Even if the bracelet worked, the fact that they only had one would slow them down considerably. Maybe that was the hu-man’s intention all along? However, it also provided Keris with an opportunity. If the bracelet did not work, then she would have to force the cooperation of the hu-man, Susan Gilmer. Either way, it meant that only one of them could gain access to the three weapons at any given time. If the first plan went awry—and that was starting to look increasingly likely—then she could go in and detonate the devices prematurely. And even if the others figured out what she was trying to do, they would not be able to stop her.
“You do have one advantage,” the hu-man woman was saying. “Wang’s people will have gammas, but once you get near the Accumulator Devices, they won’t be able to discharge them—it would be too dangerous. Your primitive weapons on the other hand, will still be effective… uh, well, not primitive exactly. I mean… ”
Alondo grinned. “Never fear, dear lady. We primitives will protect you.”
Susan Gilmer relaxed and permitted herself a smile.
“You mentioned before that something was going to happen tomorrow,” Lyall prompted her.
Susan’s smile vanished and a cloud passed over her features. “I’m afraid so. The ADs will be ready sooner than expected. The first one is due to be loaded onto the shuttle tomorrow. Then the shuttle will be flown to the target area and the device will be dropped.”
“What’s the target?” Lyall asked.
“Kieroth,” Susan replied. “But the blast should be sufficient to obliterate all of the Kelanni towns and settlements in the western part of Skell.”
A shock wave passed through the cabin, paralysing each of them in their own private thoughts. What would it be like? Keris recalled the smooth cobbled streets of Kieroth. Neat buildings huddled together against the chill. Families clad in thick furs, thronging pavements covered in snow. Parents chiding small children who gazed wide-eyed into bay windows filled with unknown delights, palms pressed eagerly against the glass. A bright light. A searing flash. Then nothing. Would there be any pain?
“That settles it,” Lyall said. “We go tonight. Any questions?”
“Just one,” Alondo said. “Assuming we manage to evade the humans and destroy those things, then how do we get out?”
Keris looked around at the roomful of lives that she was about to extinguish and felt the terrible weight of it on her shoulders.
“Leave it to me,” she said.
<><><><><>
Chapter 12
As the cart carrying McCann bucked and pitched over the rugged terrain, the bearded human struggled, knotting his arm muscles and flexing his wrists against the restraints. The cords that bound his hands and feet were of some sort of native fibre—like coarse twine. His Kelanni captor had tied them as tightly as he could manage, and they chafed against his skin whenever he attempted to move. However, if he was going to loose the bindings, then move he must. McCann gritted his teeth, ignoring the discomfort.
A sturdy knife—even a penknife—and he would have been free in seconds. Trouble was, McCann didn’t have a knife. He didn’t have his gamma either. The datapad he had been using just before being knocked senseless was probably still lying on the floor of the bedroom in the house from which he had been taken. He still wore the same undershirt although, mercifully, he had somehow acquired rugged leggings and a pair of native boots while he was unconscious. He supposed he had his young Kelanni friend to thank for that.
The alien boy reminded him of his cousin Max. Mac and Max—it had been something of a joke when they were growing up. Max was a nervous kid with bulging eyes—the result of a thyroid condition—and a quick smile. He and Mac were known for getting into trouble together. When the war with the outer colonies broke out, Max had signed on, against his mother’s wishes. His ship was blown up over a craggy moon known as Himalia on the outer edge of the Jovian system. He was seventeen.
McCann had no wish to harm the kid, but that created a problem. Assuming he managed to free himself and overpower this Yaron, then what? Letting him go wasn’t an option; there was too much of a risk that the boy would get in touch with the authorities and raise the alarm before McCann could arrange passage back to Helice. On the other hand, if he contacted Wang’s Kelanni agents with Yaron in custody, they were just as likely to view the kid as a loose end and arrange for his ‘disappearance’.
If the Captain could hear me now, he’d think I’d gone mad. Why chew your nails over the demise of one Kelanni youngster when you were preparing to eradicate the whole brood? It was like saving one ant, only to pour boiling water over the nest. Pointless.
Of course, it was not the first time McCann had been involved in such wholesale destruction. Shortly after they had arrived on this planet—before the war with the Kelanni began—Wang ordered him and some others to test a chemical weapon on a remote forest beyond the mountains. The testing was eventually abandoned in favour of developing the Accumulator Device, but not before the forest, with its huge tree at the centre, had withered and died. He remembered flying over the scene. Blasted trunks; grey, leafless branches; soil turned to dust and ash. Even from high up, the devastation and death were all too evident. It almost felt as though he could hear the forest scream.
That was sixteen years ago. He had been much younger then, and everything had seemed so much simpler. If his Captain commanded him to do such a thing now… ? You’re getting soft in your old age, Mac.
It took fewer than ten more minutes of grunting and grimacing before one of his embattled wrists suddenly pulled free. He sat up, ripped the loose twine from his other hand and from around his legs, massaged the red welts acquired during his struggles, and contemplated his next move.
The wooden cart groaned and the axle creaked. The path they were travelling on was scarcely more than a track—jagged stones poking up through a mixture of mud and slush. McCann wondered briefly why they were not travelling by avionic. It would have been so much faster than this bumpy crawl. Perhaps the boy was too young to pilot it. Or perhaps the family was too poor to own one. Whatever the reason, he was grateful. If it were not for that, then he would likely already have been in Kieroth and in custody.
Time to take charge. McCann’s gaze rested on the discarded length of twine at his feet. He picked it up and snapped the rough fibre taut between his fists. A grimace played briefly about his lips. Carefully, he crept up to the backboard. The youngster sat hunched over in his fur coverings, fully occupied with the task of controlling the draught animal and trying to avoid an upset. McCann reared up behind him, looped the cord around the boy’s neck, and jerked as hard as he could.
Yaron let out a strangled cry and fell backwards. McCann saw a flash of the young Kelanni’s bulging eyes and wide-open mouth before the alien boy toppled backwards onto him. The two of them fell in a heap and rolled off the back of the cart, landing on the muddy trail with a thick splat.
Somehow, McCann still had the boy in his grip. He pulled once again, trying to constrict the boy’s breathing. He did not want to strangle Yaron, but if he could cause the Kelanni to pass out, things would go a lot easier.
McCann had the edge in physical strength. Humans originated in a higher-gravity environment and although, like the others, he had been stranded on this planet for sixteen years, he had kept in reasonable shape through a strict regime of physical exercise, coupled with supplements designed to counteract bone decalcification. The Kelanni, however, was surprisingly agile. He thrashed about in the icy muck, twisting and contorting like a python in McCann’s grasp. The engineer felt his grip slipping as his hands grew slick with ooze.
Suddenly, the youngster pulled free, got his feet under him, and bounded away, leaving McCann lying on his back, clutching his former captor’s fur coat. The cart rumbled slowly away down the trail, the striped animal continuing to pull it as if nothing had transpired. Yaron was moving away across country, but he appeared to be limping. Maybe his ankle had been twisted during the scuffle?
McCann tossed the garment into the mire and scrambled to his feet. His undershirt was soaked through and filthy, the cold and damp seeping through to his skin. He ignored the discomfort and started after the young Kelanni.
As a boy, he had often played hide and seek with Max. The station’s ‘NFT’, or Nutrient Film Technique Hydroponic Section, was a strictly controlled area, off limits to children, but they had never let a little thing like that stop them. Laughing and dashing between the neat rows of peppers and tomatoes, raspberries and squash; hiding out from the cultivators and their ever-vigilant surveillance cameras—it was as much fun as hiding from each other. But this was not the safety and security of Eridani Station. And the boy teetering away from him was not Max. He was not even human.
Yaron jerked his head back, saw the engineer bearing down on him, and hobbled faster, disappearing around a low hill. McCann broke into a slow run. He didn’t want to be chasing this alien all over the countryside. What was more, he was going to need the cart, and it was getting farther away with every passing minute.
As he jogged across a field of purple lichen interspersed with patches of melting snow, McCann heard a high-pitched cry. Perhaps the boy’s ankle had finally given out. That would simplify matters greatly. Then there was another sound. A low bestial snarl.
McCann froze in mid-step. There were a number of dangerous species on this planet. His datapad held descriptions of them, but he had only ever skimmed the information; why bother, when travel by avionic made encounters with indigenous wild beasts highly unlikely? Until, that is, he had been transported to a tower in the mountains and brought face to face with a bunch of ice-bound, shaggy monstrosities from the third circle of hell. Now he was stuck out on a plain in the middle of nowhere with no weapon, facing God knew what.
His heart beat faster—a precursor to the primordial instinct of flight. His feet, however, remained stubbornly rooted to the spot. Can’t take the chance that he’ll get away, McCann told himself. He set off again at a trot.
The bass growling had now become a chorus. As McCann rounded the side of the hill, he saw a pack of prowling creatures. He was reminded of wolves, but these were like no wolves he had ever seen. Fully five feet long, with tangled grey hair. Rows of sharp teeth set in an oversized head. A bald crown sprouting three wicked-looking horns. He spotted Yaron on the ground, one hand raised in a futile warding-off gesture.
Prudence and common sense suggested that he back off and leave the alien to his fate. McCann continued moving forward. Guess I must not be feeling very prudent today. As he approached Yaron’s position, the growling grew deeper, and yellow eyes fixed on him, exuding pure hatred. The horned beasts were jostling each other—urging one another to strike. The young Kelanni jerked his head towards McCann, his terror-stricken expression acknowledging a new threat.
The engineer knelt down beside him. “What are they?”
The boy swallowed. “V-valthar.”
“Well, we can’t stay here. Come on.” McCann reached down and grabbed Yaron’s arm, hauling him to his feet. Fear on the boy’s face was now mixed with bewilderment. “Can you walk?”
“I… I’m n-not sure,” the Kelanni stammered.
McCann pulled the youngster’s arm roughly over one shoulder and began dragging him up the hill, whilst constantly checking over his shoulder. Turning your back on these creatures probably wasn’t the best idea, but there didn’t seem much choice. Yaron limped along as best he could.
During the struggle earlier, water or mud or a mixture of the two had got inside McCann’s boots and was making his feet squelch. He just hated that. Options. Run away? These valthar looked pretty swift. They looked as if they could easily chase down an unencumbered human, let alone one weighed down with a crippled alien. That left just one alternative. Fight. As he glanced back and saw the rabid beasts bounding up the hill towards them, the notion seemed absurd in the extreme. Still, it was possible that they possessed some sort of vulnerability. “What do you know about those things?”
Yaron stared up at the human. His mouth moved soundlessly, as if he was unsure how to answer. At last he spoke. “I… don’ know. They hunt in packs. They used t’ be found higher up, but now they seem t’ be everywhere.”
“Weaknesses. What weaknesses do they have?”
“W… weaknesses? None that I know of.”
They were nearing the brow of the hill. A small copse of orange-and purple-leaved trees clung stubbornly to the muddy soil. It was poor cover, but better than nothing. McCann made straight for it. The valthars’ deep-throated growling filled his ears. He crossed the tree line and released the Kelanni, who eased himself to the ground. The horned beasts were almost on top of them.
He saw that the Kelanni was carrying a pack. “What do you have in there?”
Yaron clutched his bundle protectively. I don’t have time for this. The engineer wrested the pack from him savagely, pulled open the neck, and began rifling through the contents.
The boy’s voice grew querulous again. “W… what ya lookin’ fer?”
A fully charged gamma? An old-fashioned rifle? A claymore or a dirk or a sgian dubh of the kind that might have been carried by one of his ancient Scottish forebears? Heck, right now he’d settle for a good stout club.
Of course, there was nothing of that kind. There were some really unappetising-looking dried food items; McCann hurled them at the milling creatures, ignoring Yaron’s protests. A shrivelled green fruit hit one of the valthar on the head, and the beast roared its irritation. Nothing else inside the pack seemed vaguely useful.
The valthar rubbed the food into the dirt with their snouts. Two of the beasts locked horns briefly, kicking up showers of dirt. The conflict ceased as quickly as it began, and the pack turned its attention back to its quarry, skulking among the trees.
The growling rose in pitch. Suddenly one of the creatures broke ranks and rushed at them. McCann grabbed a branch, ripped it from the tree that was sheltering them, and ran to meet it. He waved it in front of the oncoming creature, letting forth a primeval cry. The beast skidded to a halt, gave a defiant snarl, and turned tail. The human’s flush of triumph was cut short as he spotted another animal crashing through the brush to his left. It reached Yaron and loomed over his prone form, shining amber eyes jubilant, razor-toothed mouth curled upward in an insane grin. The boy screamed.
McCann sprinted back to his position, flailing his branch and bellowing like a Highland clan warrior. The valthar raised its ugly head and roared defiantly at the engineer. McCann came in swinging. The creature snapped at him with its massive jaws, while the engineer thrashed his makeshift weapon wildly. The valthar retreated, surged forward, and then backed off again before finally turning tail. McCann sagged, rested his hands on his knees, and panted for breath. Sets of ochreous eyes were watching him from just beyond the trees. Waiting. Assessing.
Outflanked. The thought struck McCann like a slap in the face.
There was nothing mindless or random about the valthars’ attack. It was well considered. A frontal assault intended to draw the enemy out, followed by a thrust from the side. And it had almost worked. These creatures thought as a pack—moved as a pack. They know they have us trapped. They can afford to be patient. To wait us out. To probe our defences until we tire or make a single fatal mistake.
McCann’s breathing slowed, and he drew himself erect, making his way back to where Yaron lay.
“You beat ‘em off,” the boy exclaimed. His dirt-streaked face shone in an expression akin to hero worship.
McCann had no time for such foolishness. He knelt by the bundle and resumed his task of going through the boy’s things. His fingers touched something metal. Carefully, he pulled out a small cylinder. “What’s this?”
“It’s a tinderbox.”
“A what?”
“A tinderbox. Havancha seen one o’ them before? Ya use it t’ start a campfire.”
“You can make fire with this?”
“O’ course.”
Fire. Fire. Renewed hope surged through McCann. He took the tinderbox in both hands and examined it closely. “How does it work?”
“Ya turn that handle there.” The engineer turned it. Nothing happened. He turned it again. Still nothing. He tried rotating the wheel faster. Sparks appeared at the end of the cylinder. Hastily he assembled a small pile of twigs and leaves, held the tinderbox next to it, and began turning the handle once more. Sparks sputtered from the primitive device, but the pile remained stubbornly unlit.
“Whatcha doin’?”
McCann ignored him and continued his efforts.
“Whatcha doin’?” the alien repeated.
McCann did not look up. “Trying to start a fire.”
“How many fires y’ started?”
“This will be my first.”
“Not like that ya won’t. Gimme the box.”
McCann hesitated, then handed the cylinder to the boy. He watched as the Kelanni reached into his bundle and pulled out a small black cloth, which he unfolded neatly. Then he went into his pack again and extracted a small bundle of wood splints. He pointed the tinderbox at the cloth and turned the handle twice. A loose spark ignited the cloth, creating a tiny, slow-burning flame. Yaron ignited one of the splints, blew the flame out from the cloth, and then set the splint to the hastily assembled wood pile, working until the flicker grew into a small blaze.
The suns had started to set and the grey clouds were daubed with miles-wide brushes of pink and orange. McCann scoured the grove, gathering every scrap of dry wood he could find. The valthar could still be seen, amorphous shapes moving beyond the firelight—keeping their distance. They were safe for the moment; however, it was far from over. The fuel in their little stockpile was fast running out, and when the fire started to die down, the pack would still be there—waiting to seize its opportunity.
“How fast can you move?” McCann asked.
“I dunno. As fast as I ’ave to, I s’pose. Whatcha gonna do?”
“I’m going to try and drive them off, but I don’t know how effective it will be, or how soon they might return. Once they are gone, then we are going to have to get as far away as we can, as quickly as possible.”
Yaron nodded. “Just gimme th’ word.”
McCann selected the two stoutest tree limbs he could find and thrust them into the centre of the fire until they were glowing orange and burning fiercely. He took one in each hand. The boy stood awkwardly and leaned against the tree, regarding him expectantly. “Wait here,” McCann instructed.
He passed beyond the tree line, holding the firebrands aloft. The valthar slithered past each other in the gathering gloom, like angry shadows. McCann advanced on them, yelling and waving the flaming torches. Snarls became interspersed with yelps. Without warning, one of the creatures came loping towards him. It stopped a few feet away, opened its tooth-filled maw, and issued a growl from somewhere deep in the back of its throat.
McCann stepped forward, thrusting the flames at the immense beast. “Yah… yah… ” The creature flinched, shook its immense head, turned around, and trotted off down the hill. Slowly, the theroid sounds drifted away on the wind, and silence descended over the hillside. McCann turned and jogged back to the copse, where Yaron still waited. “All right. Time to move.”
He tossed the dwindling brands into the bonfire, lit another branch, and held the flickering torch high in one hand, while supporting the boy with the other as the two of them descended the other side of the hill and rejoined the track.
The cart had trundled to a stop a few hundred yards farther on. The striped animal that was drawing it stood, grazing peacefully at the side of the road. Soon the odd pair of broad, bearded human and lithe young Kelanni was underway, riding side by side together on the front seat. The light was fading. Normally, it would be past time to stop and set up camp for the night, but there was an unspoken urgency between them— a need to get as far away as possible from the place where they had both so recently come face to face with death.
The young Kelanni finally broke the tension. “Ya came t’ ma rescue back there, though the mountain take me if I knows why.” McCann did not answer. He had no answer that made any sense. “Anyway, I can’ turn in someone as saved ma life.”
McCann stared into the distance. He remembered the funeral. Max’s mother and older sister clinging to one another, inconsolable. The empty casket slipping silently from the access tube and out into the cold reaches of space. There was no body, of course—nothing left to recover from the explosion. “What will happen to your family?”
“I dunno. The Directorate don’ like Yonach; ’is rivals know that. If they report ’im for not turnin’ ya in, then ’e could lose ’is prospectin’ licence. Still, I s’pose we’re jus’ gonna ’ave t’ take the chance.”
McCann pressed his lips together. “What if you were to tell them that you tried to bring me in, but that you were attacked by those… valthar things and, as a result, I managed to get away?”
The Kelanni raised his eyebrows. “It might work at that.”
“When we reach Kieroth we can part company. Just give me half a day; then you can go to your Directorate and tell them what happened.”
Another awkward silence followed, punctuated by the creaking and rattling of the cart. Finally Yaron spoke once more into the gathering gloom. “The others—the other ’u-mans, I mean—are they all like you?”
McCann did not have the faintest clue how to begin to answer the boy’s question. “… Like… me?”
“What I mean is… well, since we was young’uns we was always told that ’u-mans was treacherous—deceitful—not t’ be trusted. I’d ’a never ’a thought one ’d risk ’is own life t’ save mine.”
“Humans say bad things about Kelanni. I… I think war does that to people.”
The boy nodded sagely in a way that struck McCann as funny. Then he turned to the engineer. His large brown eyes were soft— almost feminine. “My people. Did they really abandon ya in the Cathgorns t’ die?”
The forest far below. The forest of orange and vermillion and bright yellow—a fairground of leaves and flowers with an ancient and mighty tree at its centre. Now bleached white and ashen and filled with nothing but death.
“Yes,” McCann said. Then he added, “But I probably deserved it.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 13
“Is it time yet?”
Lyall dragged himself up from his private thoughts to see his lifelong friend standing in front of him, framed against the evening sky, enduring red cap perched precariously on his head. A gentle wind blew like an impatient sigh through the ancient granite vale. High above, flocks of four-winged black and white birds whooped and cawed. He smiled. “Ask Keris. She’s in charge.”
Alondo’s eyes grew wide. “Seriously?”
“Well, she’s the expert when it comes to this infiltration stuff. In addition to which, she’s the only one who knows the layout of the place.”
“What about Susan Gilmer?”
“Keris is meeting with her now to plan the details.” Lyall’s tone was informative, but his eyes narrowed slightly.
Alondo picked up on the signal. “You don’t trust her—you think she might betray us.”
“I think she is not Kelanni. And this is not her world.”
“Then maybe you should have refused her help?”
“Keris says we need her. She feels it’s worth the risk.”
Alondo made a snorting noise that took Lyall aback, then sat down beside him on the irregular boulder that had been pressed into service as a seat. He stared at the long-dry river-bed that wound through the small valley. “Shann is suspicious of Susan Gilmer’s motives, too. You know what she told me? ‘The mylar doesn’t fly in the perridon’s shadow.’”
Lyall smiled and shook his head. “Now there’s a surprise.”
“The boy Rael seems in two minds over the hu-man woman. In the end, though, he has a tendency to side with Shann.”
Lyall met the sparkle in his friend’s eye. “You think we need to keep a watch on the young people?”
“My impression is that the river flows only one way. It’s the oldest story in the book—she likes him as a friend.”
“Ouch,” Lyall said.
“Of course,” Alondo tilted his head, “women have been known to change their mind.”
Lyall let out a sigh. “I guess I tend to forget that.”
“Forget what?”
“That our Shann is becoming a woman.”
Alondo stared out across the valley and spoke quietly. “She’s come a long way since I found her hiding in a barrel of rotting moba in Lind. She still has the same fire, but she’s come to terms with who she is, and there’s a grace about her that wasn’t there before.”
Will it be enough? After I’m gone, will she have the strength and the courage to do what must be done? With some effort, he pulled himself back to the here and now. “You haven’t said what you think, old friend.”
“About Susan Gilmer? I don’t know. We’ve known her for less than a day. She’s hu-man, and hu-mans have caused nothing but ruin and death since they came to our world. It’s difficult to believe one of them would turn against her own people to help us, especially since it apparently involves sacrificing the chance to return home.”
“She says she wants to stay here and find the one called McCann,” Lyall pointed out.
“The one who spied on us at the Dais and who fought with Keris and Shann at the Tower of Akalon,” Alondo reminded him. “She’s also admitted to being allied with their Captain—our Prophet—although she claims she’s now working against him. She could be genuine… or it could all be part of an elaborate deception.”
“Which do you think it is?” Lyall asked.
Alondo grinned. It was a heartwarming sight. “Got a coin handy?”
Lyall laughed lightly. “Well, anyway, I asked Keris to keep a special eye on her. If it turns out that she is working against us, we will find that out soon enough. In a battle of wits between her and Keris, my money’s on Keris.”
“Mine too. When do you think they’ll be ready to brief the rest of us?”
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“Because I wanted a chance to Ring Oliah before we left.”
Lyall squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “Go ahead. If they call the rest of us, I’ll come and fetch you.”
Alondo stood up. “Thanks. I’ll just be a short distance away.”
Lyall watched his lifelong friend’s back as he walked off up the dry river-bed; then his eyes turned inward as dark contemplations swept down on him like terrible birds, claiming him once more.
~
“It’s time.”
The emerald-green stone at the centre of the Speaker Ring glowed gently in the gathering twilight as Oliah’s sweet voice issued forth. “Alondo, I’m afraid.”
“So am I,” Alondo confessed. “But it will all be over soon. Everything is ready to go. We have the four components of Annata’s device as well as the wristband that will allow us passage through the barrier that the hu-mans have set up. Some of them are even helping us.”
“Really?”
“Yes. When they found out that we were on the island, they sent their machines out to look for us. These hu-mans are different, Oliah. They’re opposed to what the Prophet is doing. All they want is the chance to go home. They showed us their ship. It’s… well, I’ve never seen anything like it before. Golden-coloured, with a shining blue power source—it filled an entire valley. Kelanni on this side have constructed some wondrous things, but nothing to compare with that. I would like to have found out more about it.”
“Look, Alondo. Don’t get sidetracked. Just do what you need to do and get out of there.”
Alondo smiled, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. “Don’t worry, that’s what I intend to do. One of the hu-mans—a woman named Susan Gilmer—is even coming with us to help us get inside the facility.”
“It’s hard to believe they would help us. Are you sure about this hu-man?”
“Not completely. But Keris is watching her. Everything will be fine. How are things back in Sakara?”
Oliah’s sigh was audible even across the vast distance that lay between them. “We’re still hanging on. But we’re very much on our own. The lords of Leota and Kalath-Kar have both signed pacts with the Prophet. Among other things, they have promised not to interfere with the takeover here. It is said that the Prophet’s influence now extends from Kalath-Kar in the east to Gan-Dathlie in the west. The Free Port stands alone.
“I can still see smoke rising from various parts of the city, including the harbour. The Keltar firebombed a number of vessels that were laid at anchor. Most of the remaining ship captains that were docked there set sail for either Leota or Kalath-Kar on the next tide. I can’t say I blame them, really.”
“Why would the Keltar do that?”
“We’re pretty sure it’s all part of a concerted effort to isolate the Free Port. The Prophet’s soldiers already have the roads blocked—to the north and to the south. When the trader captains spread the word that Sakara is not safe, she will effectively be cut off by both land and sea.”
“Trade,” Alondo mused. “Free trade is the very lifeblood of Sakara. Cut it off, and you strangle the city. Pretty soon, people will be desperate for a return to normality. They will do anything to restore it: cooperate with the Prophet, even turn against the Thief Guild and the rest of the city-based resistance. Clever.”
“The Skippers in the Thief Guild also believe it may be a prelude to a planned purge by the Prophet’s forces—an attempt to move in and crush any remaining opposition in a single concerted effort, ensuring that there will be no outside interference. They believe that the Prophet now has sufficient troops and Keltar assembled here to pull it off. If they’re right, then the purge is likely to happen soon. And… it’s likely that many of us will not survive.”
Alondo did his best to sound light-hearted. “Well, if things go according to plan, you won’t have to hang on much longer. The humans are leaving our world. After the weapon has been neutralized and their great ship has departed, there will be nothing left for them here. With the Prophet gone, the Keltar will be in disarray. You should be able to win back the city easily. I and the others will be there to help you, if necessary.”
“But… how will you get back here?”
“Don’t worry,” Alondo said. “It’s all arranged. The Scientific Directorate—the ruling authority here—has a craft that can fly above the Great Barrier of Storms. Shann says she can pilot it. We’ll all be home in a few days.”
“I can scarcely believe it. Things are so bad here; none of us has dared to hope. And yet you’re saying it could all be over soon?”
“Yes, Oliah, I believe that. Lyall, Shann, Keris, and Rael, the boy from this world—all of us have come through so much, we’re not going to fail now.” The gentle green illumination winked and flickered as an odd sound was transmitted through the Ring’s distortion. It took a moment before Alondo recognised it as crying. “Oliah? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing… nothing at all. Just… come home safe.”
“I will, I promise.”
The Ring glowed one more time, strong and steady this time.
“I love you.”
~
The party gathered in a loose knot at the centre of a circle of artificial hu-man lamps that burned steadily, pushing back the twilight. Holding centre stage were Keris, the tall, statuesque Kelanni, with her crimson cloak draped about her shoulders, and Susan Gilmer, the diminutive yellow-haired hu-man woman, dressed in pure white overalls. An odd pairing indeed.
Keris raised her voice. “The hu-man, Susan Gilmer, has graciously offered to help us gain entry to the weapon facility. She has come up with a plan; I will let her explain it to you.” She turned to Susan Gilmer and gave her a single nod.
The hu-man woman nodded in return and cleared her throat. “At the side of the building, there is a large set of double doors. They are used to allow access for trucks carrying equipment as well as hoppers bringing in refined lodestone. The hoppers are readily available and they are not guarded—there’s never been any reason to. One hopper would be large enough to accommodate all of you. I will drive it. I doubt that I will be challenged, but if I am, I will simply say that I am helping to make a delivery of lodestone.”
Rael had a dubious expression. “You want us to ride inside this thing?”
“That’s right,” Susan Gilmer said. “The idea comes from the Trojan Horse. It’s a tale from the history of my people. Ancient warriors hid inside a statue of a horse—an animal—and were thus able to get inside the city they were attacking.”
“And that actually worked?” Rael marvelled.
“It broke a ten-year siege,” Susan Gilmer said, matter-of-factly. “At any rate—that’s the story.”
“Sounds a bit far-fetched to me,” Alondo grinned. “Of course, I love those kinds of stories.” Keris drew her brows together and shot him a warning stare. The musician beamed at her, much to her annoyance.
“What about Boxx?” Shann put in.
Keris dragged her eyes away from Alondo. “Perhaps it would be best if we were to leave it behind.”
Boxx moved its head from side to side. “Leave Behind?”
“You will stay here,” Keris explained.
“Why Will I Stay Here?” it trilled.
“You have done enough already.”
“Kelanni Are Safe? Chandara Are Safe?”
“Well… no… ,” Keris replied, suddenly unsure of herself.
“Then I Have Not Done Enough. I Will Go With Keris.”
The tall woman looked as if she had been slapped in the face.
Susan Gilmer looked from Keris to Boxx and back again, but it was clear that that particular debate was at an end. She took a deep breath. “Anyway, as soon as I have driven the hopper to a location inside the building, where the weapons are situated, there will be a fire alarm, arranged by our people.”
Shann frowned. “A what?”
“A fire alarm,” Susan Gilmer repeated. “It’s a loud siren that will sound throughout the building, signifying that someone believes that a fire has started somewhere. In accordance with our protocols, the place will be evacuated immediately of all personnel, me included. Just before I leave, I will bang the side of the hopper once. You will count to fifty, then exit the hopper and proceed to the weapons.”
“How long will we have?” Lyall queried.
“It’s difficult to say, exactly,” the hu-man woman replied. “During previous drills, it took about eight minutes to clear the building. Then fire marshals do a sweep of the building. If you are quiet, it may take them another five minutes or so to discover you.” She registered the blank expressions around her. None of those present knew the hu-man method of measuring time. “I’ll give you my watch. It’s a device that will tell you how many minutes have elapsed. But you won’t have very long. You’ll have to hurry.”
“Any questions?” Keris asked curtly. There was a flat silence. “Get your gear together. We will be leaving shortly.” She turned and strode away. Voices murmured and feet shuffled as the group broke up.
Lyall spotted Keris’s rapidly retreating back and hurried after her. “Keris,” he hissed, as soon as he was within range.
She stopped and turned to face him. Here, away from the artificial lights, the deep shadows lent her visage an appearance of stately severity. “Yes, Lyall.”
“What was all that about?”
“If Boxx insists on coming with us, there is little I can do to stop it.”
Lyall shook his head. “I don’t mean that. I mean this so-called plan of yours.”
“It’s not my plan,” she reminded him. “It’s Susan Gilmer’s.”
“You went along with it.”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I did.”
“Are you crazy?”
Her reaction was the one that Lyall had least expected— equanimity. “Why would you say that?”
Lyall blew through his teeth. “Well, I hardly know where to begin.
Leaving aside for the moment that there is absolutely no exit strategy, you have us all trapped together in an enclosed space, totally at the mercy of a hu-man that we have only just met.”
There was a pause while the raven-haired woman seemed to reflect. Finally she met his enquiring gaze. Her eyes shone in the nascent starlight. “Very good. I see that your time at the keep was not entirely wasted. Naturally, I am aware of the deficiencies of Susan Gilmer’s scheme. However, our meeting had nothing to do with strategy. I determined our plan of attack some time ago, before I knew of the hu-man woman’s existence.”
“Then what was the point of the exercise?”
“At the keep, did you play shassatan along with the other initiates?”
“Some. Not a great deal,” he confessed.
“A pity,” she said. “You see, there are some plays in shassatan that have no purpose other than to force the other party to show their hand. I had no need for help in planning a strategy. However, Susan Gilmer is an anomaly—a wild piece on the board. We must know her agenda before the action commences. The key to doing that is power.”
“Power?” Lyall repeated. “In what way?”
Keris sighed. “One of the things shassatan teaches is that most people have the wrong view of power. They believe that power rests in the hand of the one wielding it. Wrong. Real power lies in the hand of the one who is able to grant it. If we want to know what Susan Gilmer is up to, we need to give her the power she needs to carry her plan forward. Then we simply create the right moment to take that power away.”
“And then what?” Lyall asked.
Keris’s face broke into a secretive smile. “And then we see what happens.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 14
“Change of plan.”
Keris was a rock—as indomitable as the granite cliff that towered over them. Susan Gilmer was in the process of mounting the cab of one of a collection of battered, rusting hoppers, scattered about a roughly flattened loading area. She stepped back down and turned to face the tall Kelanni. A ring of steady lights on raised gantries shone down on them like the faces of a jury. “Excuse me?”
“Lyall, Shann, and I will go in by a different route,” Keris announced. Shann glanced at Lyall, but he seemed as surprised as her. She knew the tall ex-Keltar well enough to know that the woman had not simply changed her mind about the operation. She must have planned this all along. Clearly she was up to something. But what? “Alondo, Rael, and Boxx can use this carriage. We will be ready to intervene in case anything goes wrong.”
A chorus of objections sounded, with the hu-man woman’s voice finally gaining the ascendancy. “That’s not a good idea; if you are seen, then it will all be over.”
“That is our concern,” Keris replied.
“The heck it is,” Susan Gilmer exploded. “This is my butt on the line as much as it is yours.”
Shann was still trying to piece together the hu-man colloquialisms when she heard Keris say with utter finality, “The matter is decided.”
Rael shook his head. “No. I’m going with the three of you.” He was staring at the ground, but his voice was steady.
“I’m sorry. That isn’t possible,” Keris ruled.
Rael locked eyes with her. “Why not?”
“I’m afraid you don’t possess the necessary skills.”
“I’m going with you, no matter what.” His voice carried that same determined quality as it had at the observatory in Kieroth, and when he overruled her and decided to follow the floating mechanical eye.
Keris took a deep breath and drew herself erect, but it was Lyall who spoke. “And I’m not leaving Alondo inside that thing with only Boxx for company.”
The musician shifted the burden of the instrument he carried on his back, removed his cap, and ran a hand through his wavy brown hair. He appeared distinctly uncomfortable, being the focus of contention. “No. It’s fine. I’ll be all right—really.”
Shann felt a wave of sympathy for Alondo. The little man was a singer, an entertainer, a teller of jokes and stories. He was completely out of his depth taking part in a raid against a camp of hostile hu-man creatures. “Why can’t he and Boxx come with the rest of us?”
Keris looked straight at the girl. The tone of her voice, once edged with impatience, now carried the weight of the respect Shann had accumulated during their travels together. “The route we are taking will involve use of the flying cloak. We might be able to carry Boxx, but it would be a hindrance. Alondo is out of the question. I’m sorry.”
“Then I will travel with Alondo and Boxx,” Lyall said. “We will meet up with the rest of you inside.”
Keris turned to Rael, who was standing next to Shann. “This isn’t a practice session. There will be no time for Shann or me to wait for you or coach you. You will just have to keep up.”
The hard illumination cast shadows across the boy’s grim visage. “I understand.”
“Very well, then,” Keris said.
“Now just hang on one blasted minute,” Susan Gilmer blustered.
Keris faced her squarely. “Kelanni is our world, not yours, human. We will remove the threat that the hu-mans have created. If you wish to assist us, then you may do so. If not, then stand aside.”
Tension crackled in the silence as the two women stood off against one another. It almost felt as though Keris were deliberately trying to provoke a conflict with the hu-man woman. But to what end? Shann could not see that there was anything to be gained by sowing dissension in their ranks—not when they were this close to achieving the goal of neutralizing the hu-man weapons and saving their world.
Not many days ago she would have sounded off—challenged Keris’s authority—maybe even sided with the hu-man woman. Now, though, it was as if she had gained a new insight—an ability to see beyond the obvious. Keris would not be doing this without an extremely good reason—one that might ultimately prove critical to the fulfilment of their mission. Shann held her tongue.
Suddenly, a wave of resignation broke over Susan Gilmer’s features. “‘Oh brave new world that has such people in it.’” She looked around the quizzical faces of the Kelanni. “Something Shakespeare once said.”
“Interesting,” Alondo observed. “Who is this ‘Shakespeare’? Is he a member of your expedition?”
“Not exactly,” she said. “Although the setting was an island, not unlike this one.”
“A pity. I’d like to meet him,” said the bard.
Susan Gilmer smiled faintly as she climbed into the cab. “Where do you want to meet up?”
“Proceed to a point near to the central structure as planned,” Keris instructed. “We will join you when the time is right.”
“Very well.” The hopper’s engine sputtered and juddered into life, and a line of burning white lights at the front of the cab snapped on. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the hopper’s side loading door and yelled, “All aboard!”
The hinges creaked as Lyall lifted the hatch, and Alondo manhandled Boxx inside before clambering in after the Chandara. Lyall smiled encouragingly at the others and hauled himself up and over the side, disappearing into the bowels of the hopper.
As the door clanged shut, Shann felt a cold shiver run down her back. She had always assumed that on this, their final decisive assault, they would all be going in together, watching out for one another, facing whatever awaited them as a party—a team… a family. Yet suddenly their group had been split in two. It felt as if a part of her were missing. She turned to Keris. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing—dividing up like this?”
Keris responded by turning on her heel and walking a short distance away, her cloak fluttering behind her like a banner. Shann and Rael followed. Behind them, the putt-putt of the engine became a roar and the vehicle turned and began heading off away from the cliff face, lights bobbing up and down as it trundled over the uneven rock surface. They watched it go; then Keris faced the other two. “Put on your flying cloaks. Hurry.”
Shann and Rael both unslung their packs and pulled their cloaks free. Shann secured her shoulder harness and neck clasps with a practiced hand and then made the necessary adjustments to Rael’s cloak, brushing away his fumbling attempts and pulling at his neck fittings impatiently, half-strangling him in the process. “You didn’t answer my question,” she asked Keris as she worked.
“I’m sorry,” Keris said. “I couldn’t explain it to you within Susan Gilmer’s earshot and now there’s no time. We have to get to the human weapon facility ahead of the others, if possible.” The tall woman dashed off after the hopper, tweaking the lodestone layer of her cloak as she ran.
“Why? What are we going to do?” Shann called after her.
Keris moved like a spear hurled towards its target. “Finish this.”
~
Shann was rapidly growing irritated with both of them. Keris forged ahead like a woman possessed, leaping and bounding across barren rock. A long way behind, the boy mathematician bumbled and stumbled his way along, the journey etched on his body in the form of bumps and bruises. She was torn between coaching the boy—trying to keep him from crippling himself—and doing her utmost to keep up with the ex-Keltar. She felt like a rope stretched to its breaking point.
She considered shouting after Keris, telling her to wait up, but she knew it was useless. Keris had as good as warned the boy that if he decided to come along with them and could not keep up, he would be left behind. Shann half-wondered whether the woman was doing this deliberately in order to prove her point. Keris must have realised that as a bearer of one of the four components of Annata’s instrument, Rael was essential to the carrying out of their plan to neutralize the hu-man weapon. It was almost as if she no longer cared about that. What are you up to?
One thing was certain: Keris was not going to stand still long enough to be questioned on the subject. Shann stooped down and helped the gangly youth to his feet for the hundredth time. He tried his best to smile. “I’ll be fine.”
“Then get a move on.” Her voice held a sharper edge to it than she’d intended. Here was another mystery. She decided to try and unlock it. “What are you doing here, Rael?”
The boy talked to her back. “What do you mean?”
“Why did you insist on coming with Keris?” she demanded.
“I didn’t… well, th-that’s to say, it wasn’t Keris that I wanted to go with.”
Shann shook her head. “You’re not making any sense.”
“You,” he blurted out. “I… I wanted to go with you.”
“Me? Why would you insist on coming with me?”
“I… well, that is… I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
Shann’s first impulse was to laugh out loud. “You wanted to keep me safe?”
His eyes were firmly fixed on the ground. “I’m sorry… I suppose it sounds pretty silly when you put it like that.”
“You got that right.” She grabbed his arm, but some of the annoyance had evaporated from her voice. “Come on, or Keris will end up leaving us both behind.”
“She’s stopped.”
“What?” Shann twisted around.
Hunched down at the crest of a steep rise, framed by starlight, Keris was a dark, motionless shape. “Come on.” Shann led the way forward, no longer concerned with whether Rael was able to keep up. Pushing off two successive deposits, she alighted just below Keris’s position and crept the last few feet to the top of the ridge, dropping down next to her. Beneath them sat a tall building, bathed in the stark illumination of the arc lights that ringed it. There was no other sign of life. Shann had no need to ask whether this was their destination—the intense concentration on Keris’s face said it all.
“How do we get inside?” Shann asked in hushed tones.
The woman raised her head. “There.”
“You mean the roof?” Shann’s eye flicked from the roof to the ground and back again. “That’s pretty high. I’m not sure whether—”
“The red cloak’s boost capacity will enable us to traverse the distance,” Keris affirmed.
“No, I meant… Rael. I’m not sure Rael could make it.”
“This isn’t a training exercise—I warned him that it would be his responsibility to keep up.”
“I know that,” Shann acknowledged. “But we need him if we are going to be successful in disarming the weapon.”
Keris drew her lips together and her eyes narrowed. Finally she answered. “Very well.”
There was a loud scuffling behind them. They each glanced over their shoulders to see the gangly figure of Rael just behind them. “What’s happening?” he asked conversationally.
“Shhhh,” both women chorused.
Rael lowered his voice. “Sorry. What’s happening?”
Keris moved to a crouched position. “We’re going in. Stay close.”
She set off on a low run across the ridge. Shann and Rael followed in her wake. Up ahead, the tall woman’s movements were swift and surefooted in the bright starlight. Behind her, Rael loped along with the apparent aim of kicking every rock and dislodging every loose pebble he came into contact with. It sounded as if a herd of raleketh were barrelling down the hill. Mercifully, the floodlit grounds surrounding the facility were deserted.
Keris hunkered down in the darkness just beyond the perimeter and raised a fist, indicating that the others should go no farther. Shann caught up to her. The older woman was silent, face set—eyes unfocussed. Listening.
At first, Shann could hear nothing. Then her keen Kelanni ears caught the distant roar of an engine. The hopper was approaching the other side of the building. Keris rose and beckoned to the others. “Quickly—there isn’t much time.”
Keris’s hand went to her neck control. Shann joined her, scanning for deposits of lodestone. It was not easy to filter out the strong steady signal emanating from the source of refined lodestone in the building in front of them. Finally, the tall woman pointed off to her left. Shann nodded, and the two of them set off at a run.
Rael trailed behind them. “Where are we going?”
The two women reached the designated spot, a short distance inside the perimeter. The glare of the arc lights washed out the diorama of a clear starlit sky. There was still no one in sight. They stood together, staring up at the gable. The deposit she could sense just behind her was no more than average in strength. The mono-pitched roof was lowest on this side but was still a considerable way up. Traversing the distance with the black cloak would have been highly doubtful; with the red cloak they might just about make it, but… “How are we going to get him up there?” Shann asked, scratching her head.
“Don’t worry about me. I can make it.” Keris and Shann turned towards Rael. The expression on Keris’s face suggested that she was preparing an acerbic reply.
Shann cut across her. “Kharthrun. When we were descending into the Pits, you used the lodestone in the flying cloaks as a baseline, together with a system of ropes. Maybe we could do that here?”
Keris nodded vigorously. “We use the boy’s cloak to gain sufficient lift; then we both pull him up, using the rope. Very good. Rael, take off your cloak.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes,” both women chorused. Shann reached up and started fiddling with his neck clasps.
Rael batted her away. “I can do it.”
“Well, get a move on, then,” she said testily.
The lanky lad divested himself of his cloak. For some reason he looked even more helpless and vulnerable without it. Keris snatched it from him and strode over to the building, selecting an optimum position before laying it carefully on the ground. She made the necessary adjustments. Then, without another word, she bent her knees and leapt straight into the air. Shann and Rael watched transfixed as her crimson cloak billowed outwards and she disappeared over the edge of the roof. Moments later, her head reappeared, framed by jet-black tresses. “Shann. Come on. Don’t forget the new boost capability.”
Shann shot a glance at the boy standing next to her and felt a momentary pang of guilt at leaving him on his own. It has to be this way. She steeled herself, then took sight on Keris’s position, adjusted her neck controls, and launched herself skyward. Her heart quickened at the thrill of flying through the air, the sudden wind ruffling her hair and caressing her cheeks. Then all too soon it was over and she alighted on the sloping roof.
Keris extracted a length of rope from her pack and let it down over the edge of the roof. She cursed under her breath.
Shann went over to her. “What’s the matter?”
Keris pointed downwards. “Look.”
Shann peeked over the edge. The rope terminated some twenty feet above the ground. Beneath it, Rael’s upturned face gazed up at them expectantly, reminding her of Alondo, stranded across the gap during the descent into Kharthrun. “You’ll have to use the cloak and grab the end of the rope,” Keris called as loudly as she dared.
Shann cupped a hand to her mouth. “Come on, Rael. You can do it!”
Rael scooped up his cloak and shook it out, then pulled it around his bony shoulders and began fumbling with the harness. After what seemed like an age, he cried, “Ready.”
Shann held her breath as her mind cycled through an assortment of worst-case scenarios: colliding with the side of the building, tumbling to the ground, a sprained ankle, a broken ankle, a broken neck… The line went taut. Rael was dangling by one hand. With an effort, he swung his arm, grabbed the rope with his other hand, and started to heave himself upward. Shann joined Keris in taking up the strain, gritting her teeth as she hauled the boy up, inch by inch. Her arm muscles knotted and her palms grew raw. At last, she saw a hand, followed by an arm and then a tuft of untidy hair.
As the rope went slack, Shann heard a faint commotion from below. Voices. Someone was coming around the side of the building. She froze. Ahead of her, Keris dropped the rope and lunged forward, grabbing the boy and dragging him up and over the edge by the seat of his trousers. She shoved him flat against the metal roof and signalled for Shann to lie down. The three of them lay motionless, trying not to breathe. The voices got nearer. Shann could not make out what they were saying, but there were no cries of panic or alarm. Finally, the murmuring receded and drifted off into the night. Keris rose silently, put a finger to her lips, and led the way up the slope.
Shann wondered momentarily where they were going; then she saw a skylight set into the roof. Keris’s slender fingers closed around the latch, and she pulled. There was a loud shriek of complaining metal. She raised the skylight more gently and the shriek ameliorated to high-pitched squeal. Three heads peered into the square hole. A soft radiance illuminated their faces, and faint echoes drifted up from below.
Keris climbed into the opening and lowered herself carefully onto a metal beam suspended from the ceiling. As Shann followed, she saw that the beam was part of a complex gridwork that crisscrossed the ceiling, supporting an array of powerful lights that shone down onto an immense chamber. Some distance below, three huge bronze spheres nestled at the centre of a raised walkway.
Rael had let himself down beside her. His jaw slackened and his eyes filled with wonder. Suddenly, Shann heard a commotion. She followed the sound and spotted the hopper parked a little way off to the side. It was surrounded by hu-mans, some dressed in pure white, others in blue, artificial illumination glinting off their odd silver weapons. The hu-man woman got down from the cab and said something to one of them. Immediately, three individuals strode forward, banged loudly on the side of the vehicle, and shouted. Shann felt a lump rise in her throat as the hatch on the side of the hopper lifted and the three unmistakable figures of Lyall, Alondo, and Boxx climbed out. The hu-mans levelled their weapons.
“Susan Gilmer,” Keris hissed. “She’s betrayed us.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 15
“Let me go.”
Shann tried to squirm free, but Keris’s hand dug into her shoulder like a claw. The older woman’s breath brushed against her ear. “You can’t go down there—there’s too many of them. You’d only be captured along with the others.”
Shann’s eyes were damp, blurring her vision. Her throat constricted. “I have to do something.”
“There’s nothing you can do for them right now,” Keris hissed.
Shann watched as Lyall, Alondo, and Boxx were led away. Lyall and Alondo had their heads bowed. One of their captors delivered a swift kick in the Chandara’s direction, but it was too quick for them and scuttled between Alondo’s legs for protection. Slowly, they passed out of sight. How can this be happening? A sudden thought struck her—a realisation that sprang from the events since Susan Gilmer had first announced her plan of attack, with a silent Keris standing at her shoulder. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”
Keris let out a slow breath and relaxed her vice-like grip on Shann’s shoulder slightly. “I could not be certain, but I had an idea that something like this might occur, yes.”
“And you just let them walk into a trap?”
“I had no choice,” Keris replied. “It was Lyall’s decision to make a pact with Lafontaine and Susan Gilmer. The moment the hu-mans became involved, there was always the possibility that our original plan would be compromised.”
“So… what do you propose we do now?”
Keris pressed her lips together. “I doubt very much whether Lyall and the others are in any immediate danger. I’m sure the hu-mans will want to interrogate them fully—find out what they were up to. It’s what I’d do in their place. That gives us more than enough time.”
“Time for what?” Shann exclaimed under her breath. “You’re forgetting that Alondo down there is one of the four component carriers. The three of us aren’t going to be enough to disable the devices.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Keris said evenly. “I suggest we descend to the area where the weapons are stored and then use the bracelet to penetrate the protective barrier in order to activate our three components on the first of the three spheres. That will reduce the time that we will eventually need. Then we set about rescuing Alondo and return so that we can complete the job.”
It sounded reasonable enough. Nevertheless, Shann couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more going on here than met the eye. “The hu-mans deceived us. Their bracelet may not even work.”
“True,” Keris acknowledged. “In that case, we may have to capture one of them and ‘persuade’ them to assist us. However, first things first. We need to get down there.”
Rael craned his neck and peered over their shoulders. His voice cracked. “It’s a long way down.”
“It shouldn’t be a problem,” Keris said in hushed tones. “If we move to a position above the spheres, then we can use the refined lodestone to slow our descent.”
“What about the invisible barrier?” Shann hissed. “Don’t we run the risk of flying into it?”
“I know where it is,” Keris said. “I’ll go first. Then you follow me.”
Shann was about to ask again about Rael, but something told her that his welfare was going to be up to her. Keris crawled to the end of the beam and then began picking her way nimbly over the gridwork. Shann glanced at the boy beside her. He was still gazing at the drop beneath them, his features pale and drawn. She smiled encouragingly at him. “Come on. You’ll be fine.” Rael did his best to smile back. “You go first,” she suggested. “I’ll help you if necessary.” Still glad you came along?
Rael inched forward, his long limbs wavering uncertainly as if he were experimenting with which way to fall. Shann felt a lump rise in her throat as he reached the end of the girder and stretched across empty space towards a crisscross of metal supports. Finally, his hand closed around one of the supports and he began moving gingerly across the gap.
The intricate span with its suspended lights extended across the ceiling like the web of some unknown metal monster. Keris was already far ahead of them. Shann felt like telling the boy to hurry it up, but she was terrified he would miss his footing and fall headlong to the floor far below. She was forced to content herself with following him as closely as she dared.
After countless heart-stopping moments, the two of them finally reached Keris’s position.
The tall woman was staring at the great bronze globes, nestled amidst an iron-grey framework. The walkways appeared deserted.
She glanced over her shoulder and nodded, then flared her crimson cloak and stepped calmly off the ceiling gantry. Rael swallowed as she dropped like a stone. All of a sudden her rate of descent slowed and she angled her line of flight away from the spheres, alighting gracefully on the upper level. Her face turned towards the ceiling and she made a rapid beckoning gesture.
Shann studied Rael. His face was a wooden mask. Finally, the wood cracked. “I… I d-don’t think I can do this, Shann.”
Feelings of ire flashed up once more within her, both at the quivering boy next to her, who had insisted in coming along because of some misguided feeling of attachment to her and who was now realising that he had bitten off more than he could chew, and at the dark-haired woman far below who didn’t seem to care if he killed himself in the process. She took hold of her anger and channelled it— used it to fuel her resolve. “Nonsense. We’ll go together.”
“W-what do you mean?”
She didn’t immediately answer, as the idea was only half-formed in her mind. At the start of their voyage to Helice, Keris had mentioned to Lyall something about training sessions in the use of the new red cloak. But then there was the growing tension with the drach, followed by their encounter with the colcachra, after which she had been unconscious for nearly a full day. Then just as they were approaching the island, the hu-man avionics attacked the ship… There had simply been no time or opportunity for them to fully test the capabilities of the new cloak. Until now.
“I’ll hold onto you from behind and use my flying cloak to steer us on the way down.”
“Will that work?”
“Of course.” Shann tried to sound a great deal more confident than she actually felt. Could one flying cloak support two people? She had no idea. During the descent into the Pits of Kharthrun she had leaped across a gap while carrying Boxx. Of course, Rael weighed a great deal more than the Chandara. However, in this instance, all she really needed to do was to control their downward flight. That might prove difficult if the boy had a panic attack on the way down. She briefly considered knocking him out, but decided against it.
“W-what do you need me to do?” Rael stammered.
“Nothing. It’s absolutely essential that you don’t do anything.”
“I… I don’t know, Shann.”
Shann hardened her voice. “Look. Do you want to stay up here for the rest of your life?” The flicker that passed over the boy’s face suggested he was seriously considering it. On the walkway far beneath them, Keris’s hand gestures were growing increasingly impatient.
Shann made her decision. She took up a position behind Rael, opened both the bronze and the new lower lodestone layer of her cloak, clamped her arms around the boy’s waist, ignoring his half-strangled cry of alarm, and shoved him off the network of ceiling girders.
With the black cloak, extending lodestone and bronze together would create a downward thrust which would be tantamount to suicide from this height. However, Alondo’s addition of a lower lodestone layer to the red cloak afforded rather more options.
As they fell towards the globes, the refined lodestone accumulated within the hu-man devices should push increasingly against the new lower lodestone layer. At the same time, the lower lodestone layer should push against the bronze layer above it, and the bronze should pull the lodestone, further slowing their descent. Finally, Rael’s new electrostatic boost feature should increase the power of the lodestone in her cloak, adding to both effects.
It all sounded fine. Trouble was, it was all theory. As far as she was aware, the red flying cloak had never been tested in this configuration before. As they began to fall through the air together, it occurred to her that she had just gambled both of their lives on a theory.
She turned the boost control on full. A sudden pressure on her shoulder harness threatened to wrench her shoulders out of their sockets. However, the globes were no longer rushing up to meet them. She felt Rael slipping from her grasp and threw her other arm around the boy’s slim waist once more, clasping him tight. Their descent slowed, until they finally hung suspended together in mid-air directly above the three globes. She glanced down and saw Keris gazing up at them with an expression of utter disbelief.
The boy in her arms made a slight whimpering sound, pulling her back to reality. They were starting to drift. How to get down from here? Several options presented themselves. Extending the upper lodestone layer gradually would create a downward pressure to overcome the existing balance of forces, but she was reluctant to introduce another force into the mix. She could try withdrawing either the lower lodestone or bronze layers, but she was not completely sure what effect that would have.
In the end, she reached for the boost control and started to turn it down incrementally whilst leaning forward and angling towards Keris’s position. She drifted down and landed adroitly on the walkway in front of the tall woman, releasing Rael. The boy sagged visibly, so that she thought that his legs were going to give way, but he somehow remained upright, though his face was set and pale.
Keris stared at them both for a moment, then seemed to gather her wits. She looked around, checking that the coast was still clear, reached into her pouch, and extracted something—a lime-green band, set with rectangular patterns of silver and gold.
She wrapped it around her wrist and walked slowly towards the globes, past a sign inscribed with unknown red lettering. Shann watched as the air began to crackle around the woman’s outline before closing behind her. Keris turned and walked back, the invisible barrier fizzling around her once more, giving her an oddly divine appearance. Clearly the bracelet worked. Perhaps the hu-mans never expected them to get this close to their devices.
“All right,” Keris said. “Shann, you go first. Set your component on the nearest globe and get back here as soon as it’s done. The boy goes next. Then I will set mine.”
“And then we go and free the others,” Shann reminded her.
Keris gave a single nod, removed the bracelet, and handed it to Shann. As their fingers briefly touched, Shann peered into the other woman’s eyes, but her sharply defined features remained as inscrutable as ever. The moment passed, and Shann turned and headed for the barrier. Flashing lights buzzed around her like angry insects, but she felt nothing as she passed through.
Shann moved rapidly over the bare iron walkway to where the first of the great globes sat silently. She ran her fingers over its perfectly smooth surface, as if trying to convince herself that such pure evil could really exist. Then, without further hesitation, she pulled out the pure white disc—the instrument of its nullification. She placed it firmly against the outer casing. When she took her hand away, it stayed in place. There was a high-pitched buzzing—almost inaudible. Moments later, the disc began to shine with a roseate glow. Shann left the disc where it was and returned through the barrier.
She pulled off the bracelet and handed it to Rael, half expecting him to begin yelling at her after the heart-stopping descent she had inflicted on him, but instead he simply said, “What do I do?”
She smiled reassuringly. “It’s simple. Just place your component next to mine on the sphere and wait till it turns red.”
The boy donned the bracelet and strolled through the barrier, gazing in fascination at the sputtering display of sparks that briefly enveloped him before continuing on towards the globes. Shann kept her eye on him, like an anxious mother watching her infant trying to walk for the first time. Soon he was back, with a satisfied smile. “All done.”
Keris held out her hand and he gave her the bracelet. Shann permitted herself a feeling of cautious optimism. After a couple of false starts, things at last seemed to be going according to plan. She hoped that Lyall and the others would not be made to suffer too greatly before she and Keris could free them. Hang on, we’re coming. Just a little while longer.
She watched the dark-haired woman disappear beyond the barrier. Shouts. She whirled around to see two figures in all-white coveralls hurrying across the floor of the building in their direction.
Rael swallowed. “What do we do?”
Shann drew her staff. “Stay low. Leave them to me.” They were already climbing towards the upper level, boots clanging urgently against the metal stairs. Shann advanced to a junction that blocked access to both the globes and her two companions, planted her feet, and prepared to stand her ground.
They appeared at the top of the stairs. One pointed in her direction and yelled something she couldn’t hear; then they began bearing down on her position. Hu-mans. She could see their pallid complexion, even at this distance. She studied them as they approached. One was young and slight, with a dark, curly brush; the other was larger—chubby and somewhat flushed from his exertions. They glanced at each other nervously. Clearly, they lacked the self-assuredness of soldiers or guards. Workers, then. So much the better.
They skidded to a halt, a short distance away. The portly hu-man levelled a stubby silver instrument at her, but the other forced his hand down with a swift rebuke. Susan Gilmer had said that they would not be able to use their lightning weapons this close to the lodestone devices. Once again it seemed that she had been truthful. Shann bit her lower lip. If the woman’s intention all along was to sell them out, why volunteer such a critical piece of information? The smaller creature called out in a thin adolescent voice, cutting off her deliberations. “Kelanni. What are you doing here?”
Shann did not reply. Keep them guessing. No doubt Keris would return soon from setting her component and lend her assistance. Not that Shann needed it. She was sure she could handle these two. Stop them here. Now. Make sure they don’t get away to alert the others.
She sprinted forward, abandoning her post, and made straight for the two men in white. They traded expressions of alarm and backed off. Shann flared the upper lodestone layer of her cloak, leaped, and pushed off the lodestone accumulated in the globes behind her, sailing over the heads of the open-mouthed hu-mans and landing with a clang on the walkway that led back to the stairs. Cutting off their escape.
They turned back towards the inner walkway surrounding the bronze globes, where Rael was hunched down, out of sight. Oh no you don’t. She powered after them, drawing Saccath’s staff from behind her as she ran. The red-faced hu-man was lagging behind, his breath laboured. Grasping one end of the staff with both hands, she swung the darkwood and scythed his legs from under him. The man went down hard like a sack of moba, his head impacting one of the metal side supports. He lay still.
Curly-hair pulled up short, his expression torn between concern for his fellow and fear for himself. As he turned once more to flee, Shann hopped over the unconscious form of his companion and brought the flat of her diamond blade down on his shoulder, driving him to his knees; then she whipped her staff in an arc, so that it struck his temple. The hu-man toppled sideways and fell from the gantry with a dull thud. Shann went to the rail and leaned over. The crumpled form did not move. She felt an odd twinge of regret.
“Shann.” The voice was Rael’s. It held a note of urgency. “Shann,” he called again. She exhaled slowly and pulled away from the rail. The boy was standing straight and gesticulating with his long, ungainly arms. What now?
She trotted over to him. Her voice was tired and edged with impatience. “What is it?”
“It’s Keris,” he said, pointing urgently in the direction of the globes. “I think she’s trying to set off the hu-man devices.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 16
“She’s what?”
Shann peered across the short gap to where the huge bronze spheres lay, coddled in their network of iron supports. Keris was probing the surface of the nearest sphere with her diamond-bladed staff, attempting to penetrate a section of the casing.
“Keris… Keris,” she yelled. The woman’s face was strained, wholly absorbed in her efforts. She made no reply.
“She’s going to break the seal between the two pressurised sections. Once the two gasses begin to combine, it will create a chain reaction. No power in the universe will be able to stop it. The temperature of the reaction will increase without bound until… ”
“Until it explodes,” Shann finished off grimly. “How big will the explosion be?”
“Three devices that size going off together? My guess is that this island and everything on it will be obliterated. They could blow away half the planet.”
Why? Why is she doing this? “We have to stop her.”
Rael flapped his arms like a stranded bird. “How? The only way through the force barrier is to use the protective band. And she has it.”
Shann’s mind worked rapidly. She turned and bolted back down the walkway.
“Where are you going?” Rael called after her. Shann did not answer. She had no time for explanation or discussion. She reached the point where the chubby worker lay face down on the metal grille and knelt down beside him. A thin line of red blood trickled down the side of his face, but he was still breathing. She grabbed an arm and felt his wrist. Nothing. She snatched his other arm and pulled up the white sleeve. A telltale green band. Tearing it off, she clasped it around her own wrist and dashed back to where Rael still stood, nonplussed.
“Wait here,” she commanded.
“What are you—?”
Shann did not hear the remainder of Rael’s question. She was already moving through the invisible barrier, flashes of light fizzing and sputtering angrily around her.
~
“Stop what you’re doing.”
Shann was shocked by her own boldness. She had railed against the former Keltar on more than one occasion. Denounced her. Even challenged her. But never before had she attempted to give her orders.
The woman lowered her staff and turned slowly, and Shann got another shock. Keris’s cheeks were smeared and her eyes were puffy and half closed, as if she had been crying. Her voice was tinged with high emotion. “Stay back. Don’t get involved in things you don’t understand.”
“Rael says that if you succeed in setting off these devices, they could devastate this entire island.”
“Yes, they will,” Keris exploded. “I will die. You will die. Lyall. Alondo. Boxx. All the hu-mans on this island. But it will be over. The hu-man threat will be gone and our world will be safe.”
Shann forced herself to stay calm. “There’s no guarantee of that. Rael told me that if all three of these things go off at once, there’s no way to predict exactly what will happen. You could end up destroying the world.”
Keris shook her head firmly, as if trying to divest herself of the notion. “Nonsense. This island is surrounded by ocean. Nothing could reach that far.”
“Rael may not be much good with the cloak and staff, but he’s seldom wrong about these sorts of things. Annata gave us the instrument we need to disarm the weapons safely. Please, Keris, let’s use it.”
“Annata is dead,” Keris spat. “Her people are dead. She knows nothing of our world. Of necessity and sacrifice. Her scheme of using four component carriers isn’t tenable. It’s too complex. Too time consuming. Too many things to go wrong. The moment Susan Gilmer betrayed us, it was dead in the water. This…” She stared at the point of her staff weapon. “This is the only way. The only way to be sure. I’m sorry.”
Faces drifted through Shann’s consciousness. Lyall—the dedicated leader, eyes blue and hard as sapphires. Alondo—the entertainer and genius with machines, round-faced with a quick wit and a ready smile. Rael—the boy mathematician, awkward, shy, considerate, and thoughtful. Patris—the thief-sailor, quiet, clever, and resourceful. Boxx—the Chandara, with the wisdom of a sage and the innocence of a child. All of them had come so far. Sacrificed so much. Her heart welled up into her throat. “I can’t let you do this.”
Keris’s fingers flexed on the haft of her staff weapon. Her voice was as razor-sharp as the diamond-tipped blade. “You don’t have a choice.” Shann drew her staff in response and held it, point first, in attack posture. Keris blinked. “Are you going to fight me?”
Shann’s brow furrowed, but her voice held clear and steady. “If I have to.”
“You must know that I am well able to defeat you.”
The woman was right. She probably didn’t stand a chance. Keris possessed superior height, strength, and reach, not to mention vastly greater experience and training. Shann had defeated her younger incarnation during the experience at the Dais. However, when she later came barrelling out of the grey mist and attacked the woman’s older self, the former Keltar had disarmed her as easily as if she were taking a toy from a child. During their voyage to the island, Shann had managed to inflict injury on Keris while under the influence of the colcachra, but she retained no memory of it and, as Lyall later pointed out, Keris had been deliberately holding back. Now, she had no reason to do so. The most Shann could probably hope for would be to delay her. I have no choice. I have to try.
Shann mapped out the field of battle in her head just as Lyall had taught her. Keris was situated between her and the accumulated lodestone in the bronze globes. Hers was the first move. Stay out of range—counterattack where possible. Shann pulled back Saccath’s staff and held it before her with hands outstretched, moving from an attack to a defensive posture. Keris nodded once. Approval? Respect? Her sorrowful features broke into a half-smile; then she sprang into motion, flared her cloak, and shot into the air, propelled by the power of the refined lodestone in the globes behind her.
Shann tensed as she kept her eye firmly fixed on the soaring figure high above her. At the apex of her leap, Keris whirled her staff and dived towards her, diamond blade aimed at her head like a lance.
Shann backed up rapidly along the raised walkway, forcing Keris to alter her line of flight. The strategy was a risky one. The farther she retreated from the globes, the more she reduced the other woman’s advantage, but the greater the probability that she would be driven back past the invisible force barrier. If Keris could then disable or destroy her bracelet, she would be able to return to the central area and complete her work, uninterrupted. Or she could just kill me. She might even take the view that that would be more merciful.
She came to a halt, knotted her muscles, and thrust out her staff to deflect the oncoming blade. Keris pulled back her staff at the last instant and whirled it around to meet Shann’s weapon. The vast interior of the hu-man facility echoed to the sound of darkwood clashing against darkwood. Shann was driven backwards. She could hear Rael beyond the barrier, yelling something at her, but she was preoccupied with trying to ward off the other woman’s blows. Any moment now, Keris would penetrate her defences with a timely thrust and it would all be over.
“Shann,” the boy called. His voice held a note of urgency. She pulled back, giving more ground and hazarding a glance over her shoulder, and was met with a puzzling sight. Rael had divested himself of his cloak and was kneeling on the grille at the junction just beyond the barrier, fiddling with something. Suddenly it dawned on her. He was setting up his cloak as a lodestone baseline for her to use. Looks like I underestimated you.
Shann blipped her lower lodestone layer, feeling the reassuring push behind her. Before Keris could react, the diminutive girl bent her knees, activated the boost control, slammed her lodestone fully open, and launched herself towards the harsh ceiling lights.
Rael’s quick thinking had given her a chance. She flew over Keris’s head and made straight for the globes. If she could get to them first—dominate the lodestone within them—then maybe she could fend off Keris. For a while at least. The great bronze spheres loomed in front of her. Behind, she could see Keris dashing back along the iron-grey walkway in a vain effort to outdistance her. Rael must have retracted the lodestone in his cloak as soon as she had pushed off it. If I live through this, I will owe him my life. We all will.
As she passed over the nearest globe, she twisted in the air and pushed off its lodestone, making for the centre of the construction. Another idea was taking shape in her mind. Back at the house adjoining the observatory, Rael had said that the new cloak might give them the capacity to hover for brief periods. Shann proved as much during her and Rael’s foolhardy descent from the network of iron girders that spanned the ceiling. But what if it were possible to do more? What if she could use the balance of opposing forces within the cloak to control her position?
She twisted her body again, using the lodestone in the opposite sphere as a brake. Her trajectory slowed and she settled at a point in mid-air above the three globes, flying cloak extended behind her, feet together, and arms folded over her chest. It was a peculiar sensation. The lodestone beneath buoyed her up, like gigantic hands, gently holding her in place. Artificial lights shone down from above, illuminating her upturned face. She felt serene. Elated. Powerful.
She lowered her head to see Keris watching her from the walkway. Shann could hear the tall woman’s mind working. If I attempt to set off the weapons again then the girl will launch an attack to stop me.
Shann permitted herself a brief smirk. That’s right. If you want to go ahead, you’re going to have to knock me off this perch first.
Keris regarded her a moment longer before marching back along the walkway. Time to make preparations. Shann carefully extended her upper lodestone layer. Theoretically, the downward push from the upper layer should counteract the upward push from the lower layer, and the result should be equilibrium.
As she operated the control at her neck, however, it rapidly became clear that something was very wrong. A growing pressure on her shoulder harness was followed by a creaking sound. It was as if the cloak’s inner mechanism was trying to tear itself apart. Shann’s heart began to pound as she quickly reversed the move. Gradually, the creaking died away. She had drifted downward slightly but was still hanging suspended over the immense spheres. Mercifully, the cloak appeared undamaged.
Her mind raced as she pieced together what had happened. The two lodestone layers had started to push each other apart with immense force. If she had carried on, the supports would probably have ruptured and the flying cloak would have broken apart in mid-air, leading to an unspectacular and possibly lethal fall. She swallowed. Out on the raised walkway Keris had turned and begun running towards the globes in her long loping stride. There was no more time.
She raised her fingers gingerly to her neck control once more and this time began to extend bronze and upper lodestone layers together as rapidly as she dared. Extending all three layers was the same configuration she had used before during her descent with Rael, but she still could not be certain of the effect of bringing the other two layers to bear while in mid-air. As the upper layers fully deployed, she felt herself rising slightly, but otherwise the mechanism seemed to operate smoothly and the cloak remained stable.
The woman reached the end of her run, flared her cloak, and leaped up the side of the nearest globe. Shann held Saccath’s staff before her in one hand; the other was at her neck controls. Keris flashed towards her, whipped her staff around… and slashed at empty air. As her momentum carried her forward, she cast about in frustration. Far above, Shann watched with godlike amusement. It worked. Shutting off the upper lodestone layer removed its downward pressure on bronze as well as bronze’s downward pull. She had shot upward, like a cork in a bottle.
Keris finally spied her quarry and pushed off the nearest globe, rising to meet her. Shann waited until the woman was almost on top of her, then slammed open the red cloak’s upper lodestone and withdrew the lower lodestone layer. As the upper lodestone began to push down on bronze and the bronze pulled at it, she dropped like a stone, once again evading the woman’s staff thrust.
Shann felt a flush of exhilaration. It was as if she had complete mastery of the air. She extended her lower lodestone layer gradually,
slowing her fall and bringing her once more to a state of equilibrium, suspended above the globes. As she did so, she heard Lyall’s words ringing in her mind. Overconfidence. Most Keltar suffer from it. It makes them contemptuous of others, but it also makes them think of themselves as invincible. Don’t make the same mistake, Shann.
In spite of her newfound agility, she knew that she couldn’t expect to dodge Keris forever. She was tapping the red cloak’s boost facility constantly in an effort to stay one step ahead of the ex-Keltar. However, Rael had warned them that the ‘electrostatic charge’, as he called it, would run down completely in fifty dahns. That wasn’t long. When the charge was exhausted, the refined lodestone in her cloak would lose its extra power and her movements would slow. And even before then, the other woman might well anticipate her actions. If that happened, she would find herself locked in one-to-one combat with an undisputed master of staff lore. She was not sure how long she could hold out, but the final outcome seemed all too certain.
Keris descended slowly towards her, one hand tweaking her neck controls experimentally. She’s as smart as I am. Sooner or later she’s going to figure out the techniques of using the new cloak. Then it will all be over.
The tall figure loomed over her, waiting for her to make her move. Shann twisted in the air, opened her lower lodestone and withdrew her upper, rising rapidly at an angle, trying to stay out of the other woman’s reach. Keris moved to intercept her, cutting down her options and presenting Shann with a simple choice: surrender her dominance of the lodestone—or fight.
Shann grasped her staff in both hands and braced herself for the inevitable assault. Their staffs came together with an almighty crack. Shann felt the impact in her forearms. The woman followed up with a concatenation of blows that threatened to instantly overwhelm her. She tried to get a hand to her neck controls, but she was too preoccupied with expending every ounce of effort in trying to ward off the other woman’s onslaught. I’m not going to last like this.
Then the impossible happened. Keris suddenly ceased her attack and sheathed her staff, adjusting her neck control so that she floated in front of Shann. Shann’s first instinct was to counterattack, but something in the woman’s demeanour stopped her. Keris pointed behind her. Puzzled, Shann stole a glance over her shoulder and her eyes grew wide. A tiny figure stood on the walkway, gazing up at them curiously. It was the very last person she expected to see.
Boxx.
<><><><><>
Chapter 17
As the two cloaked women alighted side by side on the raised walkway, the little shelled creature regarded them with shining eyes of unfathomable black. Its wide mouth undulated from side to side. “Explain The Meaning.” Shann’s face flushed, like a little girl caught by her parents in the act of some misdemeanour. She glanced at Keris and saw that the other woman was looking to her for a response. Try as she might, she could think of no explanation that the Chandara might comprehend. “Keris And Shann. Component Carriers. Each Conflicts With The Other. Explain The Meaning.”
Shann opened her mouth and then closed it again before finally responding, “It’s nothing… It doesn’t matter.” As her embarrassment faded, her mind started to fill with questions. “Wh… what are you doing here? How did you get away?”
“Susan Gilmer Set Us Free.”
Shann frowned. “Susan Gilmer? But she gave you up to the humans. We saw her.”
“We only observed events from high up,” Keris reminded her. “We were too far away to make out what individuals were saying. Perhaps we misinterpreted what happened.”
Shann thrust all such speculations aside. “Where are the others?”
“They Are Coming. Alondo Is Hurt. It Is Not Serious But I Could Not Heal. No Time.”
“Then as soon as he arrives, we will have all four component carriers. Together, we can disable the hu-man weapons.”
“Yes, Shann,” Boxx trilled. But Shann was not looking at the Chandara. She was focussed on the tall Kelanni next to her. Worlds passed between them. Finally, the older woman’s face shed its careworn appearance and she nodded once.
“Let’s get going,” Shann said. She led the way as the three of them hurried back along the iron walkway towards the invisible barrier. Just beyond it, Rael waited with an anxious expression. “It’s all right, everything’s fine,” she assured him. Then she asked, “How did you get Boxx through the barrier?”
“It wasn’t my doing,” he replied. “I don’t even know how it managed to pass. When it saw what you and Keris were doing, it grew desperate to reach you. I tried to explain about the barrier but it ignored me and… well, it just rolled up into a ball and forced its way through. It may be that its shell has properties that protect it against the barrier’s energy somehow.”
Or maybe it simply compelled itself to endure the pain. Shann looked down at the little creature, but its face was as unreadable as ever. She knelt in front of it, removed the emerald link from her arm, and tightened it around the Chandara’s forelimb. She met Keris’s questioning look. “When you are safely through, come back for me.”
She watched as the two of them stepped through, tiny lights buzzing and flashing around them like insects. On the other side, Keris removed the bracelet from Boxx and tossed it towards Shann. The green-gold band struck the invisible barrier, causing it to flash briefly before rebounding and falling to the metal grating.
“Seems it only works when it’s being worn by someone,” Rael observed.
Keris walked forward and picked it up, wrapping it around her wrist.
A clanging. Boots on metal. “I’ll be back soon,” Keris called. She turned and sprinted off down the walkway. Moments later she returned and strode through the barrier, handing the spare bracelet to Shann. “Come quickly. The others are here.”
~
Susan Gilmer stood on the raised gantry surrounded by three Kelanni and one Chandara, a faint smile playing over her lips.
“To be honest, we thought the same as you to begin with,” Lyall confessed. “When we heard the loud banging on the side of the hopper and the shouts of the hu-mans, and then saw Susan Gilmer standing alongside them, we figured we had been sold out.”
“I’m sorry; it seems there was a quisling among our people,” Susan Gilmer explained. “They must have gotten wind of the plan to infiltrate the facility here and tipped off Wang. When I realised too late what was happening, I had no choice other than to play along in the hopes that I could free you later.”
“And that’s exactly what she did,” Lyall continued. “She knocked out two guards with that lightning weapon of hers and freed us from the hopper where we were being held.”
Shann stood next to her, listening to the story but offering no comment. Until recently, Keris would have expected that Shann would seize the first available opportunity to let Lyall know that the former Keltar had taken it upon herself to detonate the hu-man devices and destroy them all and that it was only Boxx’s intervention that had prevented her from doing so. However, the girl said nothing, and when Lyall asked whether they were all right, she glared at the boy Rael, willing him to silence. Clearly, she considered that the most important thing right now was the unity of the party. The girl had grown in ways that Keris could not help but admire.
The hu-man woman pressed her lips together. “You don’t have a lot of time. It won’t be long before they discover that you’ve escaped, and this is the first place they’ll look. You’ll have to hurry.”
The barrier fizzled and crepitated, and Alondo stepped through as if on cue, supported by Shann. “The first weapon is neutralised,” she announced cheerfully. “We’ve both set our components on the next one, and I retrieved the other two components. It’s your turn now.”
She passed the bracelets and the pure white discs to the tall woman, who took them from her. Keris selected the one engraved with the smiley face and thrust it safely into an inner pocket. Lyall had insisted that the four components of Annata’s device be marked distinctively, so that each component could be readily identified by the bearer to whom it was linked. He had charged Alondo with the task of doing the engraving. Clearly, that had been a mistake. Keris could only conclude that the caricature on hers was intended as some kind of obscure joke.
She cast an appraising eye over the musician. He was standing awkwardly, putting all of his weight on one leg. “While we’re gone, get Boxx to work on that ankle.”
Alondo grimaced. “I’m pretty sure it’s just a sprain.”
“Nevertheless, we need you to be able to move as fast as possible.”
“Keris is right. Let Boxx take a look,” Lyall urged.
“Sure thing, Chief,” Alondo smiled.
Keris felt settled. Calm. As if a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders. For the first time in many days, she dared to hope that her life might actually continue beyond this point; that Annata’s crazy scheme, hatched over three thousand turns ago, might actually work.
“Look.” All eyes turned to Shann and then followed her pointing finger. A loose collection of hu-mans had entered the building and were striding purposefully across the immense floor.
Keris’s nostrils flared as she drew her staff. “Leave them to me.” As she moved forward, she felt a restraining hand on her shoulder.
She turned her head and saw Lyall. His eyes were like steel. “No. We need you to accompany Rael so that you can both disable the second weapon. We will hold them off. Go, quickly.”
Keris nodded once, flicked her eyes over the disparate collection of individuals that had somehow become her family, then turned on her heel and headed for the barrier.
~
“Here they come.”
The iron grating rang to the sound of running boots as the hu-mans mounted the steps to the upper level and raced towards them. Shann and Lyall stood on the walkway, staffs at the ready, with Boxx peeking out between their legs. Behind them, Susan Gilmer’s features were lined with apprehension, while next to her, Alondo had unslung his instrument and was kneeling on the ground, making adjustments.
“Boxx, get back,” Shann chided. The little creature dropped to all sixes and scuttled back to Alondo’s position, then stood on its hind limbs once more, head bopping up and down for a better view.
Up ahead, the tailless creatures came to a halt and surveyed the ragtag band of Kelanni, hu-man, and Chandara blocking their path. After a brief debate, two of their number headed back to the previous intersection and took the curved walkway that led off to the right, around the central structure.
“They’re trying to outflank us,” Lyall announced. “I’ll intercept them. You stay here and keep the main force occupied.”
Shann opened her mouth to object, but he was already making for the inner cross section next to the barrier, preparing to head them off. Susan Gilmer stepped up to take Lyall’s place by her side. Her hu-man face had grown even paler. “I hope your friend will be all right.”
“Lyall will keep them at bay.” Shann lowered her eyes. “I wanted to say thank you.” The fair-haired woman shot her a sideways glance. “For freeing Lyall, Alondo, and Boxx, I mean.”
Susan Gilmer smiled in a kindly way that reminded her of Oliah. “You’re welcome. I’m… sorry things didn’t turn out as I’d intended.” Silence fell between both women as they stared straight ahead. Finally, the hu-man woman spoke. “Can I ask you something? A favour.”
“Anything.”
“If I… If something happens, would you find Mac… Alexander McCann. Tell him… tell him I’m sorry.”
McCann. The hu-man who had spied on them from the Tower of Akalon, and whom she and Keris had battled before tricking him at the last into taking a one-way trip to the tower in the Cathgorn Mountains, where death lay in wait, either in the form of the vicious creatures that infested its slopes or the intense cold. One thing was clear: No good could be served now by revealing the full truth to this woman. Shann responded in the only way she could. “I promise.”
Susan Gilmer returned her smile. She looked tiny. Vulnerable. How far would she go to defend them against her own people? As if in answer, she extracted a stubby silver tube from her breast pocket and levelled it against the figures milling together a short distance away. “The dark-haired one in the middle,” she began, “that’s the Captain, Wang. He’s dangerous. Be careful.”
Shann peered intently at the squat, red-faced figure as he barked a curt series of commands. The Unan-Chinneroth. The Prophet. The murderer of my parents and the subjugator of my world. Somehow, I thought you’d be taller.
Two hu-mans clad in all-white coveralls were advancing cautiously towards them, spurred on by Wang, who screamed orders at them from behind. The old Shann would have simply waded in, blinded by a red mist, with no thought of the consequences to herself or others. She would have honed in on the object of her hatred, hacking and slashing at anyone who stood in her way. The new Shann was more cautious—more analytical.
The most effective way to destroy a tyrant is to destroy the source of his power. The voice sounding in her head was Lyall’s.
She began running towards them. They halted and one of them raised a weapon identical to Susan Gilmer’s. His companion yelled at him and grabbed his wrist. A brief tussle ensued. Shann bent her knees and vaulted upwards, pushing against the lodestone in the massive orbs behind her. An incandescent golden beam sliced the air beneath her and impacted the section of walkway she had occupied a split second before, sending up a shower of sparks.
Shann touched down on the walkway in front of the two figures in white and spun her staff defensively in a figure of eight. They shared an expression of wide-eyed alarm, turned tail, and ran. The chubby-faced man bringing up the rear howled in rage.
Her self-satisfied smirk was short-lived. Across the floor, a large contingent of maybe fifteen hu-mans, most of them in cobalt blue uniforms, were headed her way. They bore larger, bulbous weapons and looked as if they meant business.
Shann retreated to Susan Gilmer’s position. The fair-haired woman’s gaze was still fixed on the creatures up ahead. “Marshmallows.” Shann regarded her curiously. Susan Gilmer smiled. “It’s a sweet food—soft and pulpy, just like those technicians. Now the guys in blue—they’re a different story.”
Shann nodded. “Soldiers.”
“Not exactly. They’re crew. Fiercely loyal to the Captain, and ruthless. Watch your back.”
Shann shot a look over her shoulder at Alondo, who was still down on one knee, tweaking the controls on his instrument. “Haven’t you finished with that thing yet?”
The musician did not look up. “Give me a few more moments, all right?”
“We may not have a few more moments.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m doing my best. Can you keep them busy for a little while?”
Two slight females against fifteen heavily armed crew and their fanatical Captain. Shann’s mouth was an ironic twist. “Sure, no problem.”
Susan Gilmer glanced at Shann and then at the silver sliver resting in her palm. “I can hold them off with this.”
Shann’s eyes narrowed, pensively. “No, I’d rather keep that as a last resort. They already let off one of their lightning weapons at me in spite of our proximity to the devices. If you fire at them, they may well be tempted to fire back, and we could all go up in a fireball along with half of this world.”
“The only other thing we have to defend ourselves with is your staff,” the hu-man woman pointed out.
“The walkway is narrow; there’s only room for two abreast—three at the most. If I pick my spot carefully, I should be able to hold back that many—for a while at least. Don’t fire your weapon unless you see me go down.” Shann set off at a trot in the direction of the approaching hu-mans.
Susan Gilmer’s voice rang in her ears. “Be careful.”
~
As her boots rang against the iron walkway, Shann caught the sounds of battle way off to her right. Somewhere out of sight behind the great bronze spheres, Lyall had intercepted the party that was sent to outflank them. You’re doing your job. Now it’s time for me to do mine.
She picked a spot on the gantry just past the first intersection. Anyone who wanted to get near the globes would have to retreat a long way and come at them from a different direction. Or they would have to come through her.
The party of hu-mans clanged up the steps and surged along the walkway towards her. She found their pallid complexion nauseating, although curiously, one of the blue-uniformed creatures had darker skin, the colour of baked soil. She glanced back to where the tense figure of Susan Gilmer stood ready to come to her defence in an instant. Apparently, not all hu-mans were the same either in appearance or in motivation.
The staccato ring of boots on metal died as the approaching group came to a halt behind their three companions. The deep blue uniforms were distinguishable from the Captain’s only by the lack of gold braid. They appeared to be mostly males. Good. If hu-man males were anything like Kelanni males, they probably suffered from an oversized ego, combined with a large streak of pride and stubbornness that would not countenance being turned back by one tiny female.
Wang’s voice cracked as he pointed at the lone Kelanni standing in their path and snapped orders. The creatures in white stood aside, allowing the crew to pass. A party of half a dozen moved determinedly towards her, preparing to sweep her aside.
Instinctively, Shann reached behind her and plucked Saccath’s staff from its sheath, adopting a defensive stance.
A sudden thought prodded at her. This was not about victory or defeat—it was about buying time. Time for Keris and Rael to deactivate the second orb, retrieve all of the components, reset their components on the final device and then return, so that she and Alondo could go in and finish the job. Maybe Susan Gilmer was wrong. Maybe Saccath’s staff was not the only weapon at their disposal after all.
She relaxed her grip, drew herself erect, took a step forward and raised her left hand, palm outwards.
“Wait,” she said. “I wish to talk.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 18
The hu-man in the lead position came to a dead stop as if he had been poleaxed. His face registered a comparable level of surprise. He was big-boned and barrel-chested—larger than any Kelanni she had ever seen; larger even than the oversized asoli who had accosted Keris in the Port of Sakara. He towered over the diminutive Kelanni girl—yet standing before him as she was, defiant, hand raised in silent command, she appeared to dwarf him in a tableau that defied logic.
The diorama shattered and the big man glanced questioningly over his shoulder, looking for support. Instructions. Anything. The faces that met his were a collection of blank pages. A moment later a tornado erupted at the rear of the arrested group as blue-uniformed figures were blown aside and the short, florid figure of the Captain emerged. “Ni shi ben dan… Idiots.”
The huge man at the front had his head bowed like a small child who had just been castigated. In any other setting it would have been humorous.
The fleshy-faced Captain rounded on Shann. “I don’t know who you are or what you are doing here, Kelanni, but you will get out of our way. Now.”
Shann had not thought this far ahead. Her only interest in initiating a conversation had been to buy time for the others. Now that the time for talking had arrived, she found she was lost for words. This was The Prophet. Ruler of her world—yet not of her world. Revered by thousands—loathed by tens of thousands. Oppressor. Destroyer. Murderer. She scrabbled around desperately for something to say. “You… your name is Charles Wang.”
She felt stupid as she said the words; yet they brought about a transformation as the hu-man’s face screwed up and he jerked his head in Susan Gilmer’s direction. “I suppose that woman over there told you that.”
“Actually, no,” she said. “It was another hu-man. One named McCann.”
“McCann?” Wang’s eyes hardened to points. “You killed him, I suppose.”
“No. We allowed him to escape,” she replied honestly.
“Then where is he now?”
She lifted her head. “I don’t know.”
The Prophet’s gaze held her. The pressure was palpable, as if he were penetrating the depths of her soul. Then his mouth twitched. “It doesn’t matter. The fool failed in his mission. Your presence here is evidence of that. Now get out of our way.”
Shann stood her ground. “Thirty-six turns ago you tried to take over this world. When you lost, you agreed that you would stay on this island. You have violated that agreement. You must now leave.” Fury gathered on Wang’s features like a thunderhead. The tiny Kelanni girl continued, undeterred. “You have a vessel here that is capable of taking you back to the stars—back to where you came from. We have seen it. If you surrender now, then we will allow you to depart in peace.”
She swallowed the bile that had accumulated in her throat and waited for the storm to erupt. The Prophet’s mouth opened, he threw his head back, and the sound of laughter washed over her. Hard. Without mirth. A wave of forced amusement rippled through the humans behind him. He made a cutting off gesture, and the wave died instantly. He took a step back and addressed the big man at the front. “Get rid of this one and the others. Bring Susan to me.”
The giant nodded and turned towards her. His face bore an unpleasant smirk. Shann tightened her grip on the staff and whirled it hand over hand like a spinning shield. The smirk disappeared, and he brought his large silver weapon to bear. Wang’s voice behind him was like a steel whip. “Wei! We’re dangerously near to the ADs. Don’t fire that thing unless you have to.”
The big man scowled, then hefted his weapon and swung it clumsily at her like a club. Shann jumped nimbly backwards, flared her cloak, and hurtled towards him. Before he could react, the diamond blade slashed his arm and torso. As he doubled up, she brought the darkwood down on the back of his neck in a deft finishing move.
“Ooomph.” He collapsed face-first onto the walkway, causing the metal supports to reverberate from the impact.
The other blue uniforms began to back off. “Zao gao,” Wang yelled savagely from behind them. “Get her.”
They wiped the fear from their faces and began to surge forward once more. I can’t fight them all. If I try, they’ll overwhelm me, I’ll go down, Susan Gilmer will fire that lightning weapon of hers, and if the crew fire back… There was one other possibility—if she had managed to buy enough time.
Shann turned on her heel and pelted back along the walkway towards Susan Gilmer’s position. As she came to a halt in front of her, the blonde woman smiled encouragingly, but her frown betrayed puzzlement. Behind her, Alondo stood ready, with Boxx at his side. She gave him a single nod. He returned her nod and then turned to face the approaching hu-mans. Her sudden retreat had emboldened the crew. They began pounding along the walkway towards the defenders.
Susan Gilmer levelled her stubby silver weapon and took aim. “Not yet,” Shann commanded. The figures were getting closer, heads bobbing up and down. She could feel the reverberation of their boots through the iron grating. “Not yet.” The sound of their laboured breathing carried across the walkway. Susan Gilmer shot her a sideways glance. “Not yet.” The crew were almost on top of them. “Get down.”
“What?” Susan Gilmer exclaimed.
“Down!” Shann shoved the blonde hu-man flat against the grating and then dived alongside her. Above them the air distorted, congealed, and then twisted like an uncoiling serpent. It struck the oncoming crew, stopping them dead in their tracks, driving them back, causing their arms and legs to flail uselessly like puppets in a gale. Susan Gilmer raised her head and gaped as she observed the impossible spectacle.
Shann twisted around to see Alondo hammering at the strings of his vortex arm. He made rapid adjustments to several dials and then began a rhythmic strumming. The spinning tornado died and a shimmering torus formed around the tubular neck, growing as it rippled towards the stunned figures on the walkway. Another ring followed it. And another.
The first wave hit the nearest hu-man, who cried out as if he had been struck. As the quivering rings impacted and passed over the rest of the crew, cries became screams and the retreat became a rout. They jostled and shoved against one another in panic, desperate to get away. Finally, they were gone. Alondo relaxed and the atmospheric disturbance gradually dissipated. Shann stood up, helping the hu-man woman to her feet.
Susan Gilmer blinked. “That was… quite something.”
Shann felt another, gentler rush of air. They all turned to see Keris landing on the walkway behind them. Her carmine cloak settled about her shoulders.
Shann looked past her. “Where’s Rael?”
“He’s on his way. I went on ahead, as I supposed you would be in need of my help.” The tall Kelanni woman cast an eye over the walkway, now empty and littered with discarded equipment, and raised an eyebrow. “I see that I was in error.”
~
“I’m sure you’re putting on weight.”
Shann supported Alondo as the two of them made their way towards the great bronze globes that lay at the heart of the complex. Keris had suggested that Boxx use his skills to help the musician, but moments later, the hu-mans had attacked and there had been no time. Still, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, other that the fact that their great journey—their great task—was almost at an end.
“That is not true,” Alondo replied in an affronted tone. “I’ve tracked across deserts and fire pits, climbed towers and run from enemies more times than I can remember. By the time we’re through, I’ll probably be the fittest entertainer in all of Kelanni—if I don’t wind up dead first.”
For the first time in a long while, Shann permitted herself a smile. The three spheres loomed before them—two now neutralised, the lodestone within them rendered quiescent, and the third with two discs affixed to its surface, giving forth a gentle maroon radiance. All they needed to do was to position the two remaining discs, wait until they began to glow in sympathy, and it would be done.
They reached the innermost circle that gave access to the spheres. Far off, Shann caught the sound of shouts and the clashing of darkwood on metal. It seemed that the hu-mans had recovered their wits and renewed their assault. It came as no surprise to her. Neither side could afford to yield; there was too much at stake.
The final sphere stood before them. Shann released Alondo, who leaned against the curved metal for support. “Let’s get this over with,” she urged.
Alondo winced. “Right.” He fumbled in an inner pocket and produced his blood-white disc, identical to hers other than the stick-man with the funny hat he had etched into it. He selected a spot and placed it on the bronze surface. He withdrew his hand and the disc stayed firmly in place. “Mind if I ask you something?”
Shann set her disc next to his. “Of course not.”
“Do you have any idea how we’re going to get out of here?”
It was not something she had thought about. Her entire focus had been on getting to the hu-man weapons and deploying Annata’s instrument. The minutiae of the plan, including the exit strategy, were left up to Keris. However, Shann discovered that the older woman had convinced herself that premature detonation was the only option, and so she had not bothered to formulate an exit strategy. Only after Boxx’s appearance and the announcement of Alondo’s sudden and unexpected release had she acquiesced and agreed to go along with Annata’s method, but the question of their escape remained unresolved.
No doubt Keris would say that the success of their mission was the only thing that mattered. Still, survival was certainly preferable to the alternative. “Don’t worry. We’ll just sweep any remaining hu-mans aside with that vortex arm of yours.”
Alondo shook his head. “I don’t think that will work. The moment they realise that these devices have been disabled, there’ll be nothing to prevent them using those lightning weapons of theirs. They’ll cut us down in an instant.”
Shann forced a smile. “I thought you were supposed to be the optimist of our group.”
“Sorry,” he said. “But I also happen to have played a lot of shassatan. The game forces you to think strategically—to assess odds.
And right now, the odds of us getting away from here in one piece are not good.”
She fixed her gaze on the blood-white disc as if she could make it turn red by sheer willpower alone. “You’re starting to sound like Rael.”
Alondo laughed. “He is a remarkable young man, isn’t he?”
Shann rounded on him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, I… I just meant that… well, he has a fascinating way of looking at things. I wish I had a tenth of the knowledge that he possesses.” He looked like fish struggling on a hook. “If by some miracle we do make it out of here, I would love to spend more time learning about the wonders of this world.” His face suddenly brightened. “Of course, I haven’t forgotten my promise to help you find your parents, either.”
“They’re dead.” Her words fell to the floor like a shattered pane of glass.
“How do you… ?”
“I saw it during my experience in the dome of grey mist.”
Alondo looked as if he were on the brink of tears. “I’m sorry, Shann.”
“It’s all right, really,” she soothed. “Actually, it gave me something I would otherwise never have had—the chance to say ‘goodbye’.”
There was a long pause. Then Alondo looked at her in earnest. “You know that my other promise holds good, don’t you—the offer to stay with Mother and me for as long as you wish.”
“I know. Although I need to find Gal first and make sure she’s all right.”
Alondo nodded. “My mother promised before we left the farmhouse near Lind that she would find your adoptive parents and let them know you were safe. If there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s finding things and people. Trust me, if your Gallar is still alive, then Hedda will find her.”
A companionable silence fell between them once more. The two discs remained a stubbornly opaque white. At length Shann frowned. “It should have worked by now. Something’s wrong.”
“The four components worked perfectly with the other two weapons,” Alondo pointed out. “There’s no reason they shouldn’t work now. Let’s just be patient.”
As time stretched to breaking point, a worrying thought occurred to Shann. This was the same sphere that Keris had attacked with such gusto in her earlier efforts to detonate the devices prematurely. If she had damaged it somehow…
Without warning, her disc flickered and came on before winking out again. She saw her own sense of alarm reflected in Alondo’s expression. Before either of them could respond, a sound began. At first it was little more than a bass rumble at the limit of their hearing. As the sound grew slowly, inexorably, in pitch and volume, Shann’s mind went back to the Cathgorn Mountains and their flight from the tower. Rael had activated his homemade lodestone grenades and tossed them towards the advancing murghal. The low hum had risen to an intense whine. And then…
She gripped Alondo by the shoulders. “This device. It’s going to explode.”
Alondo’s pale grey eyes grew wide as the full realisation of her words hit home. “We need to get out of here.”
Shann shook her head vigorously. “There’s nowhere we can go. Rael told me that there’s no limit to the energy that thing can produce. If it goes up it will destroy this island. It might very well take half of Kelanni with it.”
“Then we have to try and shut it down. Did Rael happen to mention how we might do that?”
The noise grew louder… louder. Like the death scream of some immense creature, it invaded every corner of her conscious mind, making it difficult to think. She longed to clamp her hands over her ears—to shut it out.
Alondo’s face was directly in front of hers. “Shann?”
She finally managed to get the words out. “Rael told me that once the lodestone reaction starts, then nothing in the world can stop it.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 19
“We don’t know that for sure.” Alondo the optimist. Alondo the morale booster. More than anything else, she wanted to believe what he was saying. “These devices are of hu-man design. They might not operate in the way Rael thinks.”
The gathering clamour emanating from the bronze globe had been joined by another sound—a mechanical alarm, rising and falling like a funeral lament. Shann had to yell to be heard. “Rael worked it out with numbers. I don’t know how, but I’ve never known him to be wrong about these things. If he says it can’t be stopped, then it can’t be.”
“Well, if that’s so, then we have nothing to lose by trying, do we?” Alondo turned to face the huge bronze sphere and began probing its surface with his fingers.
“What are you doing?” Alondo and Shann both whirled around to see a slight hu-man with short wavy blonde hair and soft blue eyes, dressed in a pure white coverall. Susan Gilmer.
“How did you get here?” Shann asked.
“I ‘borrowed’ this,” she rolled up her sleeve to reveal a green band etched with a gold design, “from one of the crew. Everyone else has cleared out. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Alondo returned. “We set the components, but they didn’t work. Then the weapon started making this sound. Shann says it’s going to explode.”
“Let me see.”
Alondo moved aside to allow Susan Gilmer access to the weapon. She walked a short way around the perimeter, pressing the surface at a given spot. A panel silently slid open to reveal an array of multicoloured lights and a small screen with unknown symbols drifting across it. She chewed on one of her knuckles, engrossed in the display for several moments, before starting to push buttons.
“What’s the matter with it?” Alondo called over the penetrating wail.
“I can’t say yet. Diagnostic of the Accumulator Device is still running. There are score marks on the casing, though, and some of the external controls have been damaged. Did you do that?”
“No,” Shann chimed in. “No, we didn’t. Is that what set it off?”
Susan Gilmer continued to peer at the display. “I’m not sure. If you didn’t do this, then who did?”
Shann ignored the question. “Rael says the lodestone reaction can’t be stopped once it’s started.”
There was a long, drawn-out pause. The constant whine from the sphere continued to rise in pitch, drowning out the competing alarm. Susan Gilmer finally shook her head. “These readings don’t make sense. Reactants are leaking into the intermix chamber, but the valves are still showing as closed, as are the backups. It could be a result of the physical damage. Or it could be a software problem—it’s hard to say.”
“Could the components of Annata’s device be responsible?” Alondo suggested.
“I don’t know… maybe.” Susan Gilmer tore herself away from the screen and its streaming output, plucking each of the four discs from the metal surface. The two lit ones died back to a dull white as soon as they were removed. She thrust them at Shann. “Take these and go. Quickly.”
“Why?” Shann demanded. “What are you going to do?”
“I can’t stop the reaction, but if I can manipulate the valves and control the pressure manually, I might be able to reduce the force of the explosion. However, I would strongly recommend that you get out of this building and as far away as you can.”
Shann’s mind reeled, but not because of the high-pitched shriek pummelling her eardrums. It was the shock of a creature, a member of a ruthless enemy race that had invaded her world, now offering to sacrifice her life for people she had known for less than a day. “But… you’ll be killed.”
Susan Gilmer smiled gently, blonde bob of hair framing her oddly pale face. Her expression was serene. “Better one of us than all three.”
Shann swallowed. “I can’t just leave you here.”
“You must,” Susan Gilmer said. “The others need you. And your injured friend here will need your help to move as quickly as possible. Now get out of here.”
Shann’s heart felt as if it was going to burst. Her vision began to blur as her eyes filled with tears. She found she could not look at the hu-man woman. Instead, she threw her arms around Susan Gilmer’s shoulders and held on tight. Kelanni and hu-man hugged one another in a bond that stretched across the vastness of the stars.
“Go,” Susan Gilmer urged. “And when you find McCann, please, give him my message.”
Shann released her and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. “I will. Thank you… for everything.” She turned, pulled Alondo’s arm about her shoulder, and headed away from the spheres as quickly as Alondo’s injury would permit. Too late, the thought struck her.
I didn’t even tell her ‘goodbye’.
~
Get away! Get away! Faster, faster! Yet the faster she ran—the more she forced her tortured leg muscles to work, the slower her progress became, until it seemed as if she were running waist-deep though thick mud. Behind her, some unknown monster—an incarnation of scale and tooth and claw—shook the ground with its feet and the air with its mighty roar. Closer and closer it came until she could smell its acrid odour and feel its hot breath on the nape of her neck…
This time it was different. This time she was not going to wake up, breathing hard and bathed in cold sweat. This was real. Slowly, tortuously, she struggled along the iron walkway, Alondo’s arm draped about her shoulder. Behind her, the great bronzecoloured monster that Susan Gilmer had referred to as the Accumulator Device screamed in fury.
“Leave me.” Alondo begged. “Go, leave me, I’ll be fine.”
“Quiet.” They reached the iron stairs at the end of the raised structure and she helped him hobble down them. He bared his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut with every step.
“Look, Shann, you have to get far away from here. I’m only slowing you down.”
“‘Quiet,’ I said.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs and started across the immense floor of the hu-man facility. High up on the distant walls, flashing yellow lights complemented the rising and falling alarm. They were tiny insects, crawling away with agonising slowness from a conflagration of unimaginable proportions that threatened to engulf them at any moment.
Alondo grabbed her supporting arm and shoved it away roughly, nearly falling over in the process. His eyes had a wild look that she had never seen before. “No. I won’t be responsible for your death. On your own you can use the flying cloak to escape.”
She wanted to slap him, but restrained herself. “And how could I face Oliah, or the others for that matter, knowing I had left you behind? Now stop messing about and let me help you.”
Alondo’s round face creased up, but this time he did not resist the young woman’s supporting arm. “How come you no longer listen to anyone?”
“Because lately, I’m the only one that’s making any sense,” she retorted. “Everyone else seems bent on sacrificing themselves.”
“There are times when a person has no choice,” he pointed out.
She thought of Susan Gilmer, frantically working to control the titanic forces now building inside the Accumulator Device to give them a chance of survival at the expense of her own. “And there are times when they do.”
At the end of the deserted facility, a side door had been left swinging open. They moved through it and stumbled out into the night. The ear-splitting sounds coming from inside were less intense here but still clearly audible. There was still no sign of anyone. Lyall, I hope you are far away by now.
She kept Alondo moving across the floodlit area and into the darkness beyond. The ground rose steadily before them. Cover. They might not be able to get clean away, but if they could find a boulder, an overhang, a cave—some place where they could shelter away from the blast…
They climbed the side of the valley together, threading their way through a jumble of monochrome silhouettes. Her breath condensed before her in the frigid air. The sky was clear and the shining firmament wheeled overhead in a magnificent procession. Even by the half-light, she could see the strain on the musician’s face. Sooner or later he was going to collapse or pass out from the pain. If she were reduced to carrying or dragging him, they would not get very far.
An ancient-looking line of jagged black rocks jutted out from the top of the rise, occluding the stars. They looked as if they had resisted everything that time could throw at them. Perhaps they could serve as a suitable protective barrier?
She altered direction, making a beeline for them. The high-pitched wail drifted up from the valley floor, spurring her onward. Dark sentinels loomed over the two of them like dispassionate spectators. She half-dragged him the final few steps.
Flash! A blinding light shone all around her, transforming night into day. Before she could turn around, a huge fist slammed into her back, throwing her headlong. Her head struck bare rock and the light went out.
~
“Shann.”
The unwelcome sound penetrated her consciousness, making her skull ring like a bell. Perhaps if I just ignore it, it will go away.
“Shann.”
The inside of her head chimed once again. The word was familiar somehow. It was a name. Her name. And the voice. A female voice. Keris? She screwed her eyes shut.
“Shann. Wake up.”
All right, all right. Just stop ringing that bell. She forced her eyes open and saw a tall, lithe woman with a sharp face and a deep frown kneeling over her. “Wh… what happened?”
Keris sat back. “That was going to be my question. When that horrible sound began, the hu-mans fled. Then Susan Gilmer said that the weapon was about to explode and I knew.”
Shann propped herself up on her elbows. The ringing in her head had diminished, to be replaced by a dull ache. “Knew what?”
“That I was responsible. That the weapon that was about to go off was the one I had attacked.”
Shann shook her head and immediately regretted it. “That’s not true. Susan Gilmer did something she called a ‘diagnostic’. She said that the damage was only superficial. She didn’t think it could be the cause.” It was a lie, or at the very least a distortion of the truth. But no purpose would be served by making Keris feel guilty over what happened. The hu-man weapons were destroyed. Kelanni was safe. They had won. Right now, those were the only things that mattered.
Keris did not react. Shann could not tell if the woman believed her story or not. “Where is Susan Gilmer now?”
“She stayed behind.”
They each bowed their heads in silent contemplation. Finally, Keris spoke. “I didn’t trust her. I was suspicious of her motives. Yet in the end, she saved us all.”
Shann pushed herself upright and saw another cloaked figure standing a little way off. Lyall. She cast about her but no one else was in sight. “Rael and Boxx will be here shortly,” Keris added. “When the explosion happened and the island wasn’t incinerated, Lyall and I immediately headed back to look for you, using our flying cloaks to cover the distance. The others are following on foot.”
A thought struck her. “Alondo. Where’s Alondo?”
A dark shadow passed across the other woman’s face, suddenly making her appear much older. “Keris?”
Their eyes met and Shann knew the truth even before the words were out. “I’m sorry. He didn’t make it.”
~
Shann scrabbled to her feet and for the first time saw a figure lying on the ground just beyond Lyall. Her legs threatened to give way beneath her, as if they were still slumbering. She staggered towards Lyall, who stepped forward and caught her small, wiry frame, supporting and restraining her at the same time.
She sagged in his arms. “Let me see him.”
“No, Shann,” Lyall’s voice was gentle but insistent. “It’s better that you don’t.”
“I want to see him.” She fought, squirmed, and hammered her tiny fists against his shoulder until, finally, he relaxed his grip. Slipping out from his grasp, she stumbled past him and came to a stop next to the body.
Alondo was lying stretched out and stock-still, eyes closed, lips parted. A voice inside her kept insisting that it could not be him. He looked so different in death to the way he had looked in life. The ever-present smile was gone. The light in the eyes. And… the hat. Of all the absurd and idiotic things that could have passed through her mind at a time like this, she realised that it was the first time that she had ever seen him without his cocky red hat.
Her legs finally gave way, and she fell to her knees beside him. Her chest began to heave and her throat erupted in great sobs. Tears flowed, obscuring her vision, but they could not blot out the terrible reality before her. I should have gotten him out of that place sooner. If we had made it just a little farther…
She felt Lyall’s comforting hand on her shoulder. Keris stood on the other side of the body, hiding her feelings behind a mask of stoicism.
“Hey there!” The shout came from a small, barren rise off to her left. She turned to see the tall figure of Rael waving at them from the summit, with Boxx perched upright next to him. The two of them began trotting down the hill, oblivious to the tragedy that awaited them.
As the lanky youth approached, his pace slowed and his smile vanished. What should have been a celebration of victory suddenly bore the horrible stench of defeat. “How… ?” he asked.
“Caught in the blast. Susan Gilmer is gone, too.” There was something in the way Keris spoke, as if every word were hung with guilt. She still believes she’s responsible—that it was her attempt to damage the globe weapon that caused the deaths of two people. And who is to say that she isn’t right? Maybe she deserves to feel that way.
Boxx sidled past Rael and took up a position on the other side of the body. It drew itself up to its full height, cocked its round head to one side, and regarded Shann curiously. “Alondo Has Stopped.” Shann’s throat was too constricted to speak. All she could manage was a nod. “Shann Is Sad. Like Before, When Others Were Missing From Ship. Water Flowed From Shann’s Eyes. Yet Others Were Here. They Were Found. There Was No Need.”
Lyall got down on his haunches so that he approximated the Chandara in height. “Boxx, try to understand. Alondo is gone. His life is no more. He will not be coming back.”
The Chandara’s head bobbed up and down in an agitated fashion. “Alondo Has Stopped. Somatic Cellular Degeneration Is Underway.”
Lyall shrugged and looked up at Keris and then across to Rael. They both looked back blankly.
“Statistical Probability Of Successful Cellular Regeneration Is Two Point One Zero Two Out of One Zero. Falling Rapidly.”
Lyall shut his eyes and then opened them again. “Surely you’re not saying you can revive him?”
“Yes Lyall. But Only If I Act Now. And It Will Take All Of Me. All That I Have. My Time Will Come. We Change. We Eat. We Remember.”
“What’s it talking about?” Lyall threw open the question.
Before anyone could answer, Keris moved forward. “There’s no time for that. Boxx, revive Alondo now… please.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 20
The four Kelanni stood in a circle, their expressions of awe and wonder lit up by a gentle illumination. At the centre, Alondo’s supine form was bathed in ethereal light. Boxx’s three-fingered upper forelimbs were placed on his chest. Its eyes were closed and its mouth rippled wordlessly.
No one dared to move or speak. Shann’s eyes smarted and her throat felt parched. Lifetimes passed. She had almost resigned herself to the conclusion that the attempt had failed, when Alondo’s mouth suddenly opened and he sucked in a great lungful of air. Immediately the light faded and Boxx lowered its head.
Lyall dropped to his knees. “Alondo? Can you hear me?”
“Yes, of course I… ” The musician opened his eyes before pressing them shut again. “Owww.”
“What’s the matter?” Lyall demanded.
“My head… it feels like it was stampeded by a herd of raleketh.” He forced his eyes open once again and registered the expressions on the faces around him. “Why are you all standing around? What happened?”
“You were dead,” Lyall explained.
Alondo smirked. “I do the jokes, remember?”
“No, really, you… ” Lyall looked up at Keris, who was shaking her head vigorously.
“Well, I can’t lie around here all night.” Alondo sat up and one hand went to his head. “All right, which one of you took my hat? Owww.” Shann threw her arms around his neck, nearly crushing the life out of him. Eventually she released him and allowed him to get to his feet.
Before anyone could speak, there was a strange rushing sound that seemed to come from all around. Shann’s heart skipped a beat. Was another infernal hu-man machine preparing to wipe them out of existence? Then she saw it, rising majestically over a line of ancient hills: an immense pyramidal lattice of gleaming gold. At its centre, a shining azure sun pulsated with power. It was the hu-man vessel they had viewed earlier, occupying the floor of the steep-sided gorge. The Osiris. Its parts had been brought back together and given life once again. Another miracle.
The great ship hung bright against the backdrop of stars and then began to rise higher and higher into the night sky. They watched, transfixed by profound reverence and awe, until it was just another twinkling star lost among countless others.
Finally, Rael spoke, his voice no more than a whisper. “They made it. Lafontaine and the other hu-mans. Finally, they are gone from our world.”
“But what of the Prophet? Wang and the crew that follow him?” Shann pointed out.
Rael was still gazing at the sky. “Lafontaine said he would deliver his ultimatum to them from high above—leave in peace or be stranded here. They will have no choice but to follow. We’ve won.”
Shann thought back to her conversation with Wang at the hu-man facility. The red-faced Captain with wild eyes. Screaming orders. Demanding unquestioning obedience. “I’m not so sure.”
Lyall let out a heavy sigh. “Well, it’s late. We should camp here for the night.”
“What about the Captain and the others?” Shann asked.
“They’re probably far away by now,” Lyall assured her. “Nevertheless, we’ll take turns keeping watch, just to be sure. Come on, Shann. Let’s see if we can find something to build a fire with.”
Shann flashed him a smile and followed obediently.
“Don’t stray too far,” Alondo called after them.
~
Lyall and Shann walked side by side along an undulating ridge that wound its way through the spine of hills occupying the centre of the island of Helice. The others were out of sight some distance behind them now. The night air was bitterly brisk and the stars glistened with a cold intensity.
Vegetation was sparse; they had gathered little enough in the way of firewood. Indeed, it seemed to Shann from the outset that they were engaged in a pretty fruitless exercise, but she trusted the tall fair Kelanni with the light blue eyes. They had been through so much together since that rain-soaked night in Corte so long ago, when she had run forward on impulse, plucked the staff from the ground, and handed it to him. She had descended into the fire pits and faced the Kharthrun serpent in order to save him. If Alondo was the brother she never knew, then in a sense, Lyall was the father. Wherever he led, she would follow.
He knelt down and tried to wrestle a scraggy, dried-up stick from a crack in the rock to which it clung desperately. “So, how are you?”
Shann hesitated, unsure how she should answer the question. “All right, I suppose. Now that Alondo has… recovered. It was a shame about Susan Gilmer. I liked her. I think we could have been friends.” She smiled to herself. “Never thought I’d say that about a hu-man.”
Lyall finally gave up the struggle and stood up, ceding victory to the tenacious scrap of wood, and smiled. “I know what you mean. It’s easy to convince yourself that an enemy is wholly evil. However, the truth is seldom that simple, Shann. In spite of their grotesque appearance, I think the hu-mans are not much different from us. Some are good; others are bad. Some are strong; others are weak. Some would destroy anyone or anything to get what they want; others are prepared even to sacrifice themselves to save another.” He sighed and set off along the ridge once more.
Shann fell in step next to him. His mood was oddly reflective, as if there were something weighing heavily on him. Her first instinct was to try to pry it out of him, but she held back, allowing him the dignity of marshalling his thoughts in silence. When he finally spoke, his words cut the night air like a knife. “I’ll be leaving you soon.”
Her mind reeled. “Leaving… why?”
“There are a few things I have to take care of.”
It struck her like a bolt of lightning. This was the end. The breakup of their little family. They had grown together, laughed and cried together, fought with each other and side by side—all for the sake of a single purpose, a single goal. To save their world from destruction.
Now that that goal had been achieved, there was nothing more keeping them together. Her heart clenched within her. She faced him, eyes fired with determination. “I’ll come with you.”
He turned away, and his voice cracked. “I’m sorry, Shann. This is something I have to do on my own.”
It felt like a slap in the face. “I don’t understand.”
He turned back and placed an arm about her shoulders. His eyes were misty, but his voice was firmer. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Alondo says you two are going to stick together.”
Shann nodded. “He invited me to go live with him and Hedda for a while. I may well take him up on that. But first I have to find out what happened to Gal—whether she’s still alive. The last time I saw her I made her a promise. I have to at least let her know I’m all right. Alondo said he would help me.”
“Good. That’s good. He’s going to need a lot of support and reassurance in the days to come.” What’s that supposed to mean? She was still trying to work it out when he added, “What about Rael?”
“What about him?”
Lyall had the look of a man who had walked into a room and promptly forgotten what he had intended to do. “Oh… nothing. I just… ”
Shann shrugged. “I imagine he’ll go back to the observatory and resume his position as Hannath’s apprentice, although… ”
“What?”
“Although he may have to walk everywhere from now on.” It was Lyall’s turn to look at her strangely. She chuckled. “It’s just a joke he told me once.”
Lyall smiled as if he were somehow sharing the memory. “He’s a kind lad. Smart too. He’ll go on to do great things, I’m sure of it. But he’s vulnerable. He lacks confidence. He relies on you for encouragement and protection. Be there for him, Shann.”
That’ll be difficult if I’m half a world away. However, she didn’t feel inclined to argue. Instead, she changed the subject. “I expect that Boxx will want to rejoin its people at the Great Tree in Illaryon. Patris will be keen to get back to Sakara and start an uprising to drive out the Keltar and what’s left of the Prophet’s forces—if they haven’t already fled by the time he gets there.”
Lyall stared into the middle distance. “You know, Keris called Patris a survivor. She said he’s the most cunning and resourceful of all of us. Those are tremendous assets—if you can just curb that independent spirit of his.” He laughed more to himself than to her. “I never seemed to be very good at that. However, I have a feeling that you’ll do better.”
He appeared to be rambling. She tried to jerk him back to reality. “What do you think will happen to Keris?”
His eyes refocused on her and his brows knotted together. “How do you mean?”
“She put her heart and soul into fulfilling her role as Keltar. Then she turned her back on that way of life in order to join us. Now she has nothing to go back to.”
He disengaged his arm and faced her squarely. “You care about her, don’t you?”
She forced her eyes to meet his. “She’s changed.”
Lyall smiled and shook his head. “Sometimes when we think that the people around us have changed, it turns out that it’s we who have changed. You’re not the same person you were when I met you at the farmhouse in Lind.”
She thought of the stubborn stalk back along the ridge, still clinging to its cleft in the granite in spite of all attempts to dislodge it. “If that’s true, then I have you to thank.”
“Nonsense. I told you once that you and Keris were on different journeys. You were taught that you were weak—powerless to help yourself or anyone else. But when you ran forward and handed the staff to me in Corte, you made a choice—you chose to take control of your own destiny. Since then, you have discovered strengths that you never knew you had. Keris was trained to think of herself as invincible. Yet time and again she has been brought face to face with her vulnerabilities and has been forced to acknowledge her failings. Each of you has come a long way. However, your greatest challenge still lies ahead of you.”
“Challenge… what challenge?”
“The challenge of working together.”
What could he possibly mean? Unless he somehow expected her to help Keris find a new purpose. What are you? That was the question she had hurled at the raven-haired woman’s back as she strode away across the deck of Annata’s Reach. Keris’s answer had been as empty as the ocean itself. I am nothing. If the ex-Keltar was to rebuild her life, then Shann would have to help her find a different answer. She had no idea how to go about that, nor was she convinced that such help would be requested or required, but she would be willing to try if Lyall asked her to.
“When I was in the dome of grey mist, I saw her take my parents away to die. Yet later at the Tower of Akalon, when I was prepared to sacrifice myself, she refused to let it happen. She risked everything to save me. I owe her my life.”
Lyall’s faraway look returned. “Keris is like a spring thunderstorm. Nothing can stand before it. But it can be next to impossible to control, and sometimes it can cause as much harm as good. If you can learn to harness that power—use it—then you will prevail, no matter what you have to face.” His expression brightened, as if he had awoken from a trance with no remembrance of what he had just said. “I think we should start back. The others might start to worry.”
As Shann caught up to him, something occurred to her. A question had been playing on her mind for many days, but she hadn’t had the opportunity—or perhaps the courage—to pose it. Yet here, alone together under the gentle starlight, with the hu-man threat removed once and for all, the time at last seemed right.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“What happened to you in the dome of grey mist?”
The silence that fell between them was so long that Shann began to wonder whether he had heard her, or if he had taken offence. Your inner pain is much deeper than that of the others. Boxx had been speaking of her and Lyall when it spoke those words. Did their relationship give her the right to intrude upon the secret places of his soul? However, his voice, when it finally came, held no note of resentment. “I was offered something I thought I would never get.”
“What was that?” she heard herself say.
“A chance to redeem myself.”
~
That night, after standing second watch, Shann lay down on her blanket, wrapping it around her tightly to fend off the bitter cold, but sleep eluded her. She kept turning Lyall’s words over and over in her mind, as if they were part of some vast puzzle, yet try as she might, the pieces simply would not fit together. Finally, she fell into a fitful, dream-filled slumber.
A succession of familiar faces wafted through her inner consciousness. Susan Gilmer standing next to the three great globes, counting down—“ninety-eight… ninety-seven… ninety-six.” Suddenly it was no longer her; it was Wang, the hu-man who styled himself as Prophet, screaming the numbers at her—“ninety-five… ninety-four… ninety-three.” Then she was limping slowly across a vast, open space, desperately trying to get away, supported by Lyall. She looked again and it was no longer Lyall, but her father. Then her father and mother were lying motionless on a flat slab of grey rock. Boxx sat upright next to them, regarding her curiously. “Get up. Please get up,” she pleaded, but there was no response; their eyes remained closed. Then it was she who was lying on the rock, and Keris was shaking her. “Shann. Shann. Get up… ”
The bright light filtering through her eyelids told her that it was well past dawn. She had slept far later than usual, yet she still felt weary. Keris’s voice was hard. Insistent. “Shann. Get up.”
She forced her eyes open. “Wh… what’s the matter?”
“Boxx is not moving. We think it may have passed away in the night.”
She propped herself up, squeezed her eyes shut, and then opened them again. “How… ?”
“We don’t know. Perhaps the effort of reviving Alondo was just too much for it. But that’s not all.”
“What do you mean?”
Keris stood, drawing herself up to her full height. “Lyall has disappeared. And so have the four components of Annata’s instrument.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 21
Shann finally roused herself and trailed after Keris into the morning sunlight. The scene was one of controlled chaos. Packs, blankets, and other items were scattered haphazardly about the camp as if they had been the subject of a frenetic search. In their midst the Chandara lay on its stomach, unmoving, while Rael and Alondo stood over it. The musician’s flamboyant red hat had miraculously reappeared.
Keris looked from one to the other. “Anything?”
Rael’s head was bowed and his shoulders slumped. “No. I think it’s gone.”
“How can you say that?” Alondo protested. “Your discipline is mathematics, not biology.”
“I know a dead creature when I see one,” Rael intoned.
“Why?” Alondo wailed to no one in particular. “Why would it suddenly pass away like that?”
“You forget,” Rael said. “It was extremely old. Something like this was bound to happen. Yesterday it told us that reviving you would take everything it had. Maybe that action somehow drained its life processes to the point where it had nothing left.”
Nothing lives forever, Shann. Rael had reminded her of that when they had discussed the Chandara back in Kieroth. She found his way of confronting her with unassailable facts aggravating. In this case, his remark had turned out to be prophetic.
Alondo looked from one to the other. “Reviving… what’s he talking about?”
“You were dead,” Keris said flatly.
“You’re joking.” Alondo blinked. “You’re not joking. You’re saying it brought me back to life… and then died as a result.”
“That’s just speculation,” Shann said quickly. She glared at Rael, daring him to contradict her, but the boy merely looked bereft.
“And even if it were true,” she continued, “it isn’t your fault. It wasn’t your decision.”
No, it was Keris’s decision. And she would have to live with that, just as she would have to live with Nikome, Mordal, and all of the other deaths she blamed herself for. How much guilt can one person live with?
Alondo looked from one woman to the other. “Did you find Lyall yet?”
“No,” Keris said.
“Perhaps we should conduct a search,” the musician suggested.
“No,” Keris said again.
“Why not?” Alondo demanded.
“I think he’s right,” Shann put in. “Lyall can’t have gone far. He might be injured or unconscious. In any case, we can’t leave here without him.”
Keris’s slim fingers gripped her shoulder and the tall woman breathed in her ear. “May I have a word with you?”
She glanced over her shoulder. The angular face was impassive, giving nothing away. Shann turned back to the others. “Alondo, find a blanket and cover Boxx with it. Rael, see if you can re-ignite that fire. If Boxx shows any signs of life, let me know right away.”
“When you find him, tell him to get his tail back here,” Alondo quipped.
She braced herself for a dismissive or a sarcastic remark from Keris, but the other woman merely turned and marched off in the direction of the ridge where she and Lyall had walked together the previous evening. Shann hurried to catch up.
The suns were fully up, though their feeble warmth barely took the edge off the gelid morning air. The two women walked side by side, the silence broken only by occasional cries from the four-winged black-and-white-patterned birds that circled lazily overhead.
Shann’s relationship with the former Keltar had changed; there was no denying that. Once an object of resentment and suspicion, she now viewed the older woman with respect—even sympathy. Yet in a very real sense, they were as far apart as ever. Keris wore the discipline and the precepts of her training much as she wore the flying cloak. It enveloped her, protected her, governed her every thought and action. But it was also a barrier—a high wall that cut her off from contact with her own race. The only real connection she had made was to the Chandara, Boxx. Now it was gone. Shann had no idea how to help her.
Without warning, the older woman stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. Her voice was a thrown-down challenge. “All right. Let’s settle this.”
Shann frowned. “Settle what?”
“The question of who is in charge now.”
Shann was momentarily confused. “Lyall is in charge.”
“Not any more. He’s gone, and I don’t think he’ll be coming back. We’re on our own.”
Shann shook her head vigorously. “No, you’re wrong. Lyall wouldn’t do that.”
“Don’t be na•ve, Shann. Why do you think he took the four components with him?”
“Well, Annata told us that they would have to be destroyed as soon as they had been used. Lyall must have taken them in order to do just that. He’ll be back when he’s through.”
“Are you saying he didn’t trust the rest of us to go through with it?”
Shann tore her eyes away from the other woman’s searching gaze. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“If that was his intention, then he would have left word of what he was doing. A note. Something. No, the fact that he’s gone and taken the components with him says everything.” Keris let out a long sigh. “I should have foreseen this. His guilt over what happened eleven turns ago. The unknown fate of his sister. That deep-seated martyr complex of his. It’s my fault this has happened.”
Shann stared into empty space. “No, it’s mine.” Keris looked at her strangely. “Last night he told me he was going away.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone?”
Shann withered beneath the force of the rebuke. “I… I didn’t understand. I thought he was talking about the future for all of us.” Yet that was not entirely true. All of the pieces had been there, like sections of a garment, requiring but a single thread, but something within her had refused to weave them together. A chance to redeem myself. In her heart, she had known that he was speaking of his lost sister, Aune. But when she asked him about it, he merely smiled enigmatically and placed an arm about her shoulder once more, swelling her heart and willing her to silence. Trust. Lyall was the father she never had. Betrayal? It was unthinkable.
The fire in Keris’s eyes finally flickered and went out. “Well, it’s done now. We have to move on from here.”
Shann did not feel like moving on. Her legs were feeble stalks. All she wanted to do was to flop down on the unforgiving granite and sob her heart out until the pain went away. “I won’t fight you. I will accept your leadership, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Keris shook her head. “You misunderstand. I say it is you who must lead us now.”
Shann swallowed. “Me? But… I wouldn’t know what to do. Besides, you have vastly greater ability and experience than I.”
“Perhaps. But those are not the qualities that the others need right now. They need someone who they can follow—someone who inspires trust. They need you.”
Shann’s mind felt slow. Foggy. Mired in a swamp of impossibilities. Boxx was dead. Lyall was gone, and with him the four components of Annata’s instrument. Now this. It was more than she could take in. She turned away so that the other woman would not see the tears filling her eyes. “I can’t… I’m sorry.”
Without warning Keris stepped in front of her once more, drew back her hand, and struck Shann full across the face.
Shann staggered backwards—one hand clutching her injured cheek, the other moving instinctively towards her staff. “Are you crazy? What are you doing?”
Keris advanced on her. Her eyes flashed like twin daggers. “Get a grip on yourself. This is no time to wallow in selfish indulgence. There is a man out there in possession of an instrument more powerful—more destructive than anything this world has ever seen. And he is about to hand it over to a beaten enemy who is desperate for revenge. The four of us are the only ones who have a chance of stopping him.”
The terrible truth of what she was saying washed over Shann like a tidal wave. Her legs finally gave way and she sagged to her knees. “I can’t… I can’t do what you’re asking. I can’t fight Lyall.”
Keris dropped to one knee next to her. Her voice became soft, yet with the same note of urgency. “You must. You have to beat him. It’s the only way to help him—the only way to save him.” Her head bowed. “I suspect he always knew that it would come down to this.”
Shann rubbed her eyes. “What do you mean by that?”
“One of Lyall’s strengths is that he has an intuitive understanding of people. When I first met him, I was convinced that his judgment was impaired. He had allied himself with an entertainer and a scullery maid. His choices seemed fatally flawed. Yet Alondo, for all his childish humour and lack of stamina, is a brilliant engineer and a constant morale booster. I think Lyall saw in you the qualities of someone who would one day succeed him. A moment ago back at the camp, when Alondo and Rael looked to you for support—for guidance—you gave it. Instinctively.”
“I was only trying to help.”
“But that’s the whole point,” Keris persisted. “It’s a part of who and what you are. The others see that. That’s why they have implicit faith in you. You mustn’t let them down.” She stood and proffered a hand. Shann took it uncertainly. Keris pulled the girl to her feet and bowed formally. “I offer my skills and counsel—my tactical training— in your support. In addition, I pledge myself as your protector. Anyone who wishes to get to you will have to come through me.”
Shann’s throat constricted. “All right. I… I think we should conduct hariath-sharana. For Boxx and for Susan Gilmer.”
Keris shook her head firmly. “That can wait. First we have to try and intercept Lyall before he can reach the Prophet. We don’t have much time. The others can wait here. You and I should leave immediately.”
“No.”
Keris blinked. “Excuse me?”
The fire in her cheek subsided, leaving behind a cold determination. “We need to cover all eventualities. I agree we should try to ensure that the four components never leave this island. But we need a backup in case that plan fails. I will go after Lyall and I will take Rael with me.”
“The boy? Why?”
“Because aside from Annata’s Reach, the only other way off the island is one of the hu-man avionics, and Rael and I are the only ones who can pilot one. Also, he knows more about the components than anyone else. I want you to take the others and sail the Reach back to Kieroth. If we should fail, then it will be up to you. Warn the people of this world. Then use their Diametric Drive to return across the Sea of Storms and organise a resistance on our side.”
Keris nodded gravely. “The tactic is sound. Nevertheless, I would prefer to be coming with you. Are you certain that you can face Lyall on your own?”
Shann smiled faintly. “I will not be on my own. I will try to talk to him first—persuade him to turn over the components.”
“And if he refuses?”
“Then I will do what I must.”
For a long moment Keris’s eyes locked with hers, as if she were testing the veracity of the girl’s statement. Finally she spoke. “Lyall chose well.”
It was Shann who turned and led the way back to camp. “I trust you to get the others back to safety and to take up the task of wresting the components from Wang, if it should come to that.”
The other woman’s voice was a steel whip. “My oath on it.”
~
Shann’s nostrils caught the heady whiff of ozone long before the sea hauled into view. The natural path they were travelling on was the most direct route to the inlet that Lafontaine called Qiberon Bay. The name rolled awkwardly around her tongue. Lafontaine explained that he had named it after a section of coastline on his native world—a place called France.
Her mind went back to that first night at the observatory, when she had viewed the stars up close through the huge copper-coloured telescope. It seemed impossible to believe that on one of those tiny points of light, there was another world with an ocean just like theirs, waves soughing in gentle rhythm against an unknown shore. How many Qiberon bays were spread across the unfathomable vastness of the sky? A dozen? A hundred? A thousand? If she lived until the end of time, could she ever visit them all?
When they had arrived back at camp, the fire had been rekindled. The two men hunched next to it rose to their feet expectantly. Shann braced herself, then noticed that she was drawing some odd glances. In a flash, she realised that the others were looking at her swollen cheek. Her fingers probed the tender spot and she winced. Keris had not pulled her punch. However, Shann did not feel resentment. It served as the wake-up call she needed, and her mind felt clearer than at any time she could remember.
She stood side by side with Keris and broke the news that the four components of Annata’s instrument were missing along with Lyall. She watched Alondo anxiously.
His sunny disposition disappeared behind a thunderhead. The two men had been together since childhood. Now his friend had chosen to strike out on a path of his own—one that could very well lead to disaster for all of them. He’s going to need a lot of support and reassurance in the days to come. Lyall, how could you do this?
Rael appeared grave. “This is bad. Very bad.”
Alondo closed his eyes. “Hang on. I thought that the components were linked to individuals: you, me, Keris, and Rael. That was the whole purpose of our being tested at the Dais. What good would the components be without the four of us to operate them?”
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Keris replied. “At Kynedyr, Annata said that the components had to be destroyed as soon as they had been used because they were too dangerous for any one person to control. She wouldn’t have said that unless the danger was real.”
“I agree,” Rael said. “The Dais somehow linked each of the components to the biometric data of those of us who passed the tests. But those safeguards can probably be fooled or bypassed by someone with a comparable level of technology. The good news is that it would probably take a while to make the necessary adjustments. That should buy us some time. Although maybe not much.”
Rael had expressed surprise at her choice to take him along in the search for Lyall. She explained her reasons pragmatically and he nodded his understanding, but there was a note of pure pleasure in his acceptance that she found unsettling. She did her best to ignore it.
Shann suggested that their initial goal should be the clifftop they had observed on their approach to Qiberon Bay. It would likely afford a panoramic view of the island and might give a clue as to where Wang and the other hu-mans might be. Lyall had a clear head start, but there was no reason to think that he had any more idea than they did about where the hu-mans were holed up. The clifftop and the bay lay in the same direction, so although their goals were different, their paths coincided—for a while at least.
Shann led the way with Keris at her side. The tall woman had fashioned a papoose from a section of awning and carried the Chandara’s remains on her back. No one interfered or offered to relieve her; it was as if it were a sacred observance that only she could perform.
As the morning wore on, Alondo became noticeably withdrawn. Shann tracked back and took up a position alongside him. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.” He walked on in unnatural silence.
She tried again. “Tell me about Aune.”
“Lyall’s sister? Why would you want to know about her?”
“Just curious. I guess I can’t help but wonder what kind of a person she was, that Lyall would risk everything to save her.”
Alondo pressed his lips together. “You don’t have any siblings, do you?”
“No,” she confessed.
“When Lyall returned home after Persillan and Aune was missing, I thought he was going to lose his mind. We searched high and low, but there was no sign. Even after the trail went cold, he never gave up. He has never stopped searching for her in his heart.”
“What was she like?” Shann pressed.
Alondo had a faraway look. “Aune was a field of bright yellow alasia blooms. She was Ail-Kar, the white sun, peeking out from behind a cloud. She was a cool mountain lake on a burning hot summer’s day. Aune was a nimble dagan, gambolling in the dappled sunlight of a forest.”
“It sounds as if you loved her.”
“Everyone loved her.”
Shann tried to picture the young woman who literally meant more to Lyall than the entire world, yet no image she could come up with seemed to do justice to Alondo’s description. “I’ll talk to him,” she said. “Try to persuade him to come back to us.”
Alondo attempted a reassuring smile. “I know you will.” However, there was something in his voice. Something that told her that he knew that Lyall would never give up the search, no matter what the cost.
She caught the heady scent of the sea, informing her that this part of their journey was nearing its end. Soon it would be time for them to part company. She felt a twinge of sadness. At least the others will be safe.
A while later they rounded a bend in the path and the land fell away. Directly below them was the stony beach where they had made landfall several days before and, beyond, the calm waters of Qiberon Bay, sparkling in the sunlight. Something was wrong. Shann scanned the inlet from one headland to the other and then out to the unbroken horizon, where sea met sky. She fought down a rising sense of panic. It was Rael who finally gave voice to her worst fears.
“The Reach. It’s gone.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 22
“Maybe the ship was attacked by the hu-mans again.” Rael speculated. “Maybe they took refuge somewhere else.” Or maybe the ship sank. The placid waters of the inlet were deep—easily capable of swallowing up their tiny vessel, leaving no sign of its passage.
Shann thrust the image aside. “Let’s get to the clifftop. We’ll get a better view from there.”
They climbed in silence, imprisoned in their private thoughts, with only their fears for company. Dark, brooding clouds were piling up in the eastern sky—a presage of late afternoon rain. Wind whipped around in spiteful little squalls, ruffling Shann’s hair and blowing Keris’s long dark tresses across her face. What if the Reach really is gone? The human flying machines were the only other way off the island. Stealing one would be pretty risky. Stealing two… Yet if Wang escaped with the four components and they were stranded here, then there would be no one to prevent him from exacting terrible retribution on the Kelanni people.
As they crested the clifftop, Alondo collapsed in a heap, breathing hard. Shann walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, and his flushed moon-face broke into a weak smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’m good for another ten hikes. Just say the word.”
It was good to see him coming out of himself a little. She cuffed him playfully on the shoulder, feeling her own mood lighten a little. “Show-off.”
Keris knelt at the cliff edge and scanned the horizon. Shann joined her, with Rael at her shoulder. “See anything?”
“No, nothing,” the other woman replied.
The sea was choppy—grey-green crests, topped off with white plumes. The only signs of life were the four-winged piebald fliers that dominated the island, flitting across the water in ragged flocks, bickering with one another and diving in and out of the surf. Shann squinted, desperately seeking a glimpse of sail or mast, but there was nothing.
“There.” Rael pointed off to the right, in a direction parallel to the cliff face. Shann leaned forward and her heart leapt. The Reach. She was close-hauled into shore, sheltered in the lee of the cliff, and appeared to be at anchor.
“What is it?” Alondo called from his place, still seated among the tufts of rough yellow grass.
“We found the ship,” Shann reported. She walked over to him and proffered a hand. “Feel like a walk along the cliffs?” He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. “And along the way, maybe you could regale us with a song or two? How about the ditty that you played at the nomad camp—the one Lyall and I danced to?”
She bit back the words as she saw that his haunted look had returned.
~
The suns were nearing their zenith, with Ail-Gan, the yellow sun, briefly tracking backwards in its path across the sky when they arrived at the point on the clifftop directly above the Reach’s position. The ship had not moved. As they watched from their elevated vantage point, they could see its deck, rolling gently in the swell and dotted with three tiny blue-coated figures. Everything looked peaceful.
“We should signal them,” Shann suggested.
“No.” All eyes turned to face Keris, but her gaze was firmly fixed on the vessel far below.
“What’s the matter?” Shann asked, patiently.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t… smell right.”
Shann frowned. She had never known Keris to be this vague about anything. “How do you mean?”
“Well, for one thing, I haven’t seen Patris.”
Shann shrugged. “The ship is lying at anchor. It’s a relatively calm sea. There’s no compelling reason for her master to be on deck.”
“It’s not just that. What are they doing out here?”
“I think Rael’s theory is the most likely explanation,” Shann replied. “The ship was attacked again and sought shelter.”
Keris shook her head firmly. “There’s no sign of recent battle damage. The ship is slow compared to one of their flying machines. Even if they were attacked by a single craft, it’s difficult to believe the pilot was so completely inept that he missed every shot.”
“Maybe an avionic buzzed them and they got scared and ran?”
Keris was still staring down at the vessel as if she were willing it to give up its secrets. “I know Patris; he doesn’t scare easily. Besides, he is well aware that the inlet is the rendezvous point. If there were no immediate threat, he would return the ship to its station, not sit out here.
“And another thing. Look at how the ship is positioned. She’s way too close inshore. If a storm brewed or the anchor gave, she would run the risk of being dashed against the cliffs. Patris is far too experienced a skipper to make that sort of a mistake.”
Shann began to feel a cold knot in the pit of her stomach. “Are you saying that the drach have taken control of the ship?”
“Patris can handle himself in a fight,” Keris mused. “But against three drach—and if they took him unawares… I’d say it’s possible, yes.”
“What do you suggest we do?”
Keris got to her feet. A gust of wind blew a lock of hair across her face, and she brushed it back. “Time is of the essence. You and Rael should go after Lyall.”
“You can’t take the ship back on your own.” Shann’s eyes widened. “Hey, maybe we could use the flying cloaks to drop to the deck—take them by surprise?”
“You mean jump from the cliff?” Keris shook her head. “It’s far too high; we’d never make it.”
“Using the old-style cloak, maybe. But with the new red cloak—” Her gestures became animated. “We leap off, extending lower lodestone and bronze. Bronze pulls the lodestone; lodestone pushes the bronze—a double upward pressure. Then we channel the elecro… ”
“Electrostatic,” Rael corrected.
“Right. We channel the electrostatic boost through the lodestone to strengthen its effect. When we get within range of the ship, we can push against the natural lodestone that we installed in the ship’s prow to help us cross the Great Barrier of Storms.”
Alondo peered gingerly over the lip of the cliff. “Sounds risky to me.”
Rael held up one hand. “Hang on a moment.” He pulled a tablet from his grubby green jacket—the once-proud uniform of the Directorate’s Physics and Astronomy Division—and began scribbling furiously.
“What’s he doing?” Keris inquired.
“Working out whether it can be done,” Shann said, proudly.
“How?”
“He uses numbers.”
“And how does that work?”
Shann was stumped. “I don’t know… it just does.”
Keris looked at her, dubiously. Rael concluded his etchings by stabbing the page with his marker. “Point four three of a ryn per dahn. I had to make certain estimates—height of the cliff, drag coefficient, and so on. Keris’s impact speed would be slightly more, owing to the fact that she is heavier. Wind will also be a factor—it’s gusting quite heavily. Allow, say, twenty-one-hundredths’ standard deviation. I calculate you should both be able to traverse the distance safely by following Shann’s plan.”
Shann grinned wolfishly. “The two of us against three drach, and with the element of surprise on our side—they won’t stand a chance.”
“Then it’s decided,” Keris said. “Ideally I would have preferred to conduct a night assault, but we can’t afford to lose another half a day. I suggest we employ the wedge—wait until there are two of them on deck, just to even the odds a little. Then once we have dealt with those two, we will tackle the third.”
The reference to shassatan strategy was lost on Shann, but she understood the concept well enough. Keris, as ever, was a product of her Keltar training. However, that training had served them well in their struggle against the Prophet, so it was hard to feel resentful.
“Just one thing,” Shann added. “Whatever you do, don’t extend upper and lower lodestone together without the bronze layer between them. Doing so can lead to… unfortunate consequences.”
“Unfortunate, how?” Rael replied, intrigued.
She turned and cocked her head, looking thoughtfully at him. “Well, let’s just say that when I attempted that particular configuration with the boost control full on, it nearly tore the cloak mechanism apart in mid-air. I still have a bone to pick with you over that, by the way.”
The boy’s eyes widened as if she had just slapped him. “How is that my fault?”
She smiled at him with a twinkle in her eye. He relaxed visibly, then twisted his mouth into an ironic smile and shook his head.
Alondo appeared to rouse himself from the bleak, melancholy place where he was residing. “What should we do?”
Shann’s heart clenched, but she had no idea how to help him. She tried to inject sympathy and understanding into her smile. “Why don’t you and Rael head back to the beach? If all goes well, then by the time you get there, you should see us sailing into the bay to pick you up.”
His return smile was forced but his expression was genuine. “Be careful, Shann.”
“I will.”
Keris divested herself of the papoose containing Boxx’s remains and handed it reverently to Rael, who nodded his understanding before shouldering the added burden. Then she joined Shann at the cliff face. They waited in silence. Presently, one of the tiny blue figures disappeared into the sterncastle. Two remaining. The women shared a look. Time to put words into actions. They rose collectively and backed off from the edge, then raised a hand to their neck controls, sprinted towards the cliff, and launched together into the void.
<><><><><>
Chapter 23
With her carmine cloak spread out behind her and wind buffeting her from every angle, Keris simultaneously extended the lower lodestone and bronze layers of her flying cloak and slammed open the boost control as far as it would go. The reassuring kick in her shoulder harness told her that her rate of descent had slowed. She was tempted to twist around in mid-air to see how Shann was faring, but even if the girl were in trouble, there would be little she could do for her. The best way she could help Shann—the best way she could help everyone—would be to make the drop successfully herself.
She glanced down at her feet. The deck of their ship was little more than a sliver of wood—a tiny piece of flotsam bobbing on the ocean. Despite Shann’s advance planning, and the boy’s confident assurance that it would work, the whole enterprise suddenly seemed utterly foolhardy. She laughed inwardly. Too late to back out now.
As she fell, she leaned her upper torso away from the cliff face. That way, if an unexpected gust threatened to slam her into the unforgiving wall of rock, she would have a reasonable chance of pushing against it.
The heaving deck rose rapidly to meet her, and the air rushing past her ears mingled with the sound of the ocean lapping against the ship’s hull. She angled towards the foredeck, pushing against the refined lodestone set into it, and felt an added pressure on her shoulder harness. Finally, her boots struck the deck, and she fell into a barrel roll to discharge her momentum.
A red streak caught the periphery of her vision, and a moment later she heard an almighty splash. She got to her feet and saw the two drach making for the larboard rail. Shann. Somehow she had managed to miss the deck entirely and land in the water. Keris hoped the girl was safe, but there was no time to worry about that now. At least the distraction kept the drach from noticing her arrival.
Suddenly, a wild idea came to her. She extended lower lodestone and pushed off the foredeck as hard as she could. The two drach were leaning over the rail, yelling at the figure in the water. Keris sailed over the open deck before descending silently, great cloak outstretched, like a giant perridon swooping down on its prey. Her boots struck both men in the upper back, pitching them forward and over the rail. As they disappeared over the side, she heard two anguished cries, followed by two satisfying splashes.
She picked herself up and went to the rail. The drach were flailing around in the water, cursing and spluttering. Shann was nowhere to be seen. She hoped that was a good sign.
The door to the sterncastle flung open and a third blue-coated figure emerged—a veritable tree of a man, broad-shouldered and square-jawed, with beadlike eyes that seemed to recede into the massive face. Frang.
He moved his immense head from one side of the deck to the other, taking in the scene. “You.”
He spat out the word, but Keris was unmoved. “Where’s Patris?”
“Safe for now. Unfortunately we need him to sail this pathetic vessel of yours.”
She relaxed a little. Patris was still alive, and hers was the upper hand. “Why? Why take the ship?”
“Because of that.”
He pointed to the sail, half-furled, with Lyall’s image of the two hemispheres linked at top and bottom still visible. Keris blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“Some in the Directorate are not as thrilled as Hannath and Thordan about embracing interlopers from Drann. Your archaic society with its primitive culture is an insult to Kelanni civilisation. You are a threat to everything we have built here. That is why it has been decided that you should not leave this island.”
Keris reached behind her and drew her staff. “Your scheme has failed. I will accept your surrender now.”
Frang’s bulging eyebrows drew together. “I’m afraid that’s not an option.” In one fluid movement, he brought his odd silver weapon to bear and fired an incandescent yellow burst. The beam crackled harmlessly as she dived away, sprang to her feet, nimbly as a dagan, and set off on a swerving run in the direction of the forecastle.
In the game of shassatan, when dealing with a strong or an unknown opponent, it often paid to wait for them to show their hand— to allow them to designate sufficient pieces until their overall strategy could be glimpsed. Frang had now done that. He was the ‘dagger’, determined to wipe out the opposition at any cost, but since he had no other ‘pieces’ in support, he would be forced to overcommit. That would be her opening.
She narrowly dodged another blast, then shinned up the ladder, once again feeling the push from the refined lodestone set into the foredeck. Frang advanced on her. Just as you should. She backed towards the ship’s prow, forcing him to ascend to the forecastle. Want to step onto my playground? She readied herself to take to the air once more.
Just then, she glimpsed a movement from the starboard gangway. A tiny figure, bedraggled and dripping wet, appeared over the ship’s side. Shann. She started towards Frang. The powerful man swivelled around, levelled his silver staff at her, and fired, but, like Keris, she had read his actions. Again, the lightning bolt found only empty air.
A new piece on the board created the opportunity for a new strategy. Dam. A barrier designed to cut off the opponent’s play.
“Shann,” she yelled. “Shann, get to larboard. Keep the other drach from re-boarding.” Shann bolted across the lower deck, leaving a trail of puddles in her wake.
“That won’t help you,” Frang taunted.
Keris ignored him. Come on, handsome. It’s just you and me, now.
She waited while he brought his staff to bear before springing into the air. This time, however, he was more cautious. Rather than fire blindly, he held back, forcing himself to follow her trajectory—trying to anticipate her next move. You’re learning. A pity this will be your last lesson.
She twisted and turned, enjoying the freedom of movement afforded by the refined lodestone beneath her. She fancied she could feel the big man’s mounting anger and frustration as he struggled to track the randomly moving target.
During this exchange and the earlier one involving the colcachra, she had managed to gather some intelligence on how the drach weapon worked. The period of discharge was limited—no more than a count of three. More importantly, it seemed to require a brief period of recharge. That was more difficult to estimate, but when the time came, she would need no more than a few moments.
She darted towards the deck, then pushed off again in his direction, teasing, goading him into taking his shot. Then it came. A ragged beam stabbed at her, and she felt a burning flash of agony in her right shoulder. She tumbled out of the sky like a crippled mylar, landing heavily on the wooden foredeck. Burnt cloth mingled with the stench of seared flesh, almost making her pass out. I don’t have time for this.
She gritted her teeth, staggered to her feet, and rushed him. He grunted in surprise and raised his metal staff. The two of them locked weapons. He was strong and heavily built for a Kelanni, but she had studied the techniques of weight and momentum, of force and counterbalance. She fought back the red mist that threatened to swamp her consciousness and pushed until the tendons in her arms stood out. He redoubled his efforts, shoving her back with equal force.
Instantly, she disengaged and sidestepped. As the big man stumbled forward, she whirled her staff and struck him full across the back with the darkwood.
“Oomph!” He fell face-first onto the deck. He rolled onto his back and saw the tall woman standing astride him with the diamond blade at his throat.
“Yield,” she demanded, her voice cracking.
“The drach yield,” he growled.
She snatched the silver staff from his grasp, tossing it overboard; then she grabbed him by the collar and hauled him roughly to his feet. “Command your men.” She shoved him in the direction of the ladder leading to the lower deck.
Shann stood at the larboard rail, a grim-faced sentinel—staff drawn, hair flattened, clothing plastered to her body. In any other setting, it would have been comical. The two drach were treading water alongside, casting fearful glances at the little girl who looked as if she was preparing to dice them into tiny pieces if they attempted to re-board.
“The drach yield,” Frang called over the side.
Keris placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. “All right, Shann, you can let them up now. Make sure they surrender their weapons first.” The slight girl took a step back from the rail, although her expression did not crack. “You two,” Keris barked. “You heard your commander. Now get up here.”
The two men paddled to the side and hauled themselves up on handholds set into the overlapping strakes until finally they stood on deck, sullen, soaked through, and relieved of their weapons. “What should we do with them?” Shann asked. Her voice carried a note of menace.
Keris addressed Frang. “Where is Patris?” He jerked a thumb back in the direction of the sterncastle. “All right, we’ll put you in the forecastle for now. Move.” The three men trudged ahead of them; Keris ushered them inside and barred the door with a mooring pole. She turned to Shann. “That should hold them for now. Let’s see what shape Patris is in.”
They made their way aft. Shann regarded her with an expression of concern. “You’re hurt.”
“A blast from Frang’s weapon caught me on the shoulder.” She shook her head. “My own fault. I didn’t move fast enough.”
“I don’t understand. Rael told me that the drach weapons are only used to stun or chase wild animals away.”
“They seem to have discovered a new setting,” Keris said, grimly.
At the sterncastle door, they hesitated. Keris knocked lightly. A muffled sound came from within. She opened the door and ducked through the hatchway. Dust motes danced in the half-light; beyond them, a figure lay curled up on a bunk. It turned over slowly, squinted, and then rubbed its eyes. “Keris… Shann? Well, it’s about time. Where in the seventy-seven seas of Captain Arval have you been?”
She noticed that he was shackled to the bunk by some sort of restraint. “Hold still,” she ordered, raising her staff.
“No!” The sailor-thief barely had time to screw up his face before the diamond blade swooped down, instantly severing the cords that bound him. “You crazy lubber. You could have killed me.”
Keris admired her handiwork before taking a step back. “You’re welcome.”
Shann stepped forward and knelt beside the bunk. “Are you all right? What happened?”
Patris sat up. “What happened? What do you think happened? They jumped me not long after you left, that’s what. Kept spouting references to ‘filthy Drannies’ and such. I assume they meant us. You should never have left me alone with those people. I knew they weren’t to be trusted.”
“It couldn’t be helped,” Keris said flatly. “In any case, you’re not hurt.”
Patris rubbed his wrists ruefully. “That’s what you think. Where are they? What have you done with them?”
“We have them cooling their heels in the forecastle for now,” Keris informed him. “Which leaves the problem of what to do with them. I really would prefer not to have to take them all the way back to Kieroth in custody. It’s at least a three-day journey and we are going to be shorthanded as it is.”
Patris harrumphed. “That’s easy. Toss ’em over the side and be done with it.”
“Why not just let them go?” Shann suggested.
Keris turned to her, shocked. “You mean maroon them here on the island?”
“No, not exactly. What I mean is, when Rael and I get back to Kieroth, we can explain what happened and then turn the hu-man avionic over to them. It may take a few trips, but they can use it to transport their people back.
“There’s an added benefit. I doubt Frang and the others acted alone. Making their actions public may expose those officials in the Directorate who planned this—or at least deter them from attempting something like it again.”
The girl’s plan was sound. She was beginning to grow in stature, in a way that Keris found heartening. “Very well. As soon as we make landfall again, they go free.”
Patris jumped up. “Why? Where are we?” Without waiting for an answer, he shoved his way between them and headed for the door. Sunlight washed into the cabin. From outside, they heard, “Stupid drach fools,” followed by a string of curses.
For the first time ever, the two women smiled at each other before following the shipmaster out into the light of day.
~
Shann and Rael stood together on the clifftop, watching the Reach’s sail billow like a chest puffed out with pride as she headed for the open sea. Shann had never been a mother, but she imagined this must be what it was like to know that your children were safe from danger.
Of course, she felt responsible for the boy alongside her. She consoled herself with the thought that she had not brought him along for his fighting skills; he had none. His role was as an avionic pilot, and more importantly, as one who understood, at least partially, the workings of the four components. If trouble brewed, she trusted him to stay out of harm’s way.
Their goodbyes had been said in haste. After the defeated drach had sloshed ashore and sloped off dejectedly towards the island’s interior, Patris had been in a hurry to set sail, no doubt wishing to put the site of his recent incarceration behind him and to feel once again the surging deck beneath his feet.
Shann appreciated the sentiment. She felt a twinge of regret at having to stay behind—at having to forgo the unparalleled freedom and simplicity of life at sea. But there were larger concerns. She must try to stop Lyall any way she could. If she failed, then it would be up to Keris.
The former Keltar had bowed formally and wished her success, her earlier familiarity having seemingly evaporated in the afternoon sun. Despite all the time they had spent together, she still found it difficult to reach out to anyone of her own race. She had not spoken of Boxx’s demise since their discussion that morning. The papoose containing the Chandara’s remains was like a private burden of grief that she carried around with her.
It was Alondo who she found the most puzzling. He appeared to have grown calmer, but he was still too quiet. It was as if he had spent the day wrestling with his inner anguish and had finally come to a decision. He hugged her as usual, but it did not feel like him and she could not put her finger on why, which only added to her feelings of disquiet.
However, amid the hustle and bustle surrounding their departure, there was no time for soul-searching. Now on the windy clifftop, as she watched their little ship rise and fall with the waves, she felt the weight of concern for those cocooned within her protective wooden skin begin to lift. Safe journey.
She glanced up at the boy next to her. “Time to go.”
“Which direction?”
Shann scanned the shelf of grey stone, which was interspersed with tufts of purple and yellow grass and gave way to a succession of steep-sided gorges gouged into the ancient rock before finally rising towards the line of distant hills that formed the island’s spine. She was hoping to see a thin line of smoke from a campfire, or some other telltale sign that might indicate where Lyall might be. However, common sense told her it was far too early for a campfire. They could wait till evening, of course, but even then, there was no guarantee that he would see fit to reveal his position. He had to know that they would be coming after him. Perhaps that was his intention all along.
She shook off the disturbing notion and applied herself to the problem once more. Her mind went back to the valley where Lafontaine had shown them the great hu-man star vessel. The vessel would be gone now, of course; they had stood together and watched in wonder as it lifted into the night sky—a gleaming apparition in sapphire and gold. However, there was also the squat, stubby sky ship that their Captain—the Prophet—used to fly above the Great Barrier of Storms to visit her world.
Lyall was seeking an audience with the Prophet, and it made sense that the Prophet would return to his sky ship. Of course, the ship could have been moved for all she knew, but it seemed the most reasonable place to start.
She mapped out that part of the island in her head, remembering the flat upland where Lafontaine had first been introduced to the party. He had shown them a path which led down the sheer side of the valley to the rough timber-built cabin and ultimately to the wide floor of the canyon.
They could be there by mid-morning tomorrow. They would only need to descend as far as the bend in the trail to get a bird’s-eye view, at which point it would be obvious whether the sky ship were still there or whether it had flown the coop. If it were gone, well—she would just have to think of something else.
She started back down towards the beach, the wind ruffling her short dark hair and crimson cloak, and called over her shoulder, breezily. “This way.”
Rael opened his mouth, then closed it once more and trotted after her as if he would willingly follow her into the fires of perdition.
~
It was not until sometime later, long after the island of Helice had slipped below the horizon and Annata’s Reach was gleefully cutting a wake once more through the wide swells of the open ocean, that Keris realised something was wrong.
During the outward voyage, she had been content to leave the minutiae of ship handling to Patris and Shann. Patris had by far the most experience, and the girl was fascinated and eager to learn, which meant that Keris could concentrate on more important tasks. Now, with Shann left behind and Lyall embarked on his foolhardy quest to save his sister, the position of First Mate fell to her by default.
It was something she had not anticipated when she had agreed to conduct the Reach safely back to Kieroth. Her head was filled with new and unfamiliar terms—capstan and cathead, halyard and hawser. Even after repeated instruction, she struggled to remember the difference between a bowline and a buntline, causing a frustrated Patris to rush over more than once and grab the rope himself, muttering all the while. She showed little aptitude and even less enthusiasm for the various shipboard tasks thrust upon her. At this rate, it was going to be a very long voyage indeed.
It was during one such incident, when she had contrived to tangle the lines, forcing Patris to intervene and rescue her efforts for about the hundredth time, and she simply stood there, floundering, feeling as useless as a landed fish, that she suddenly remembered Alondo.
She excused herself, noting that Patris’s expression was more one of relief than annoyance, and headed for the sterncastle. When she thought about it, she hadn’t seen the musician since they had left the island.
Her first thought was that he must have fallen prey to another one of his bouts of seasickness. They tended to come on not long after the ship set sail and lasted no more than a day or two, but during that period, he would normally take to his bunk and not appear on deck. Might as well check up on him. I’m not doing a lot of good up here.
She stuck her head around the door and checked the dimly lit interior, but it was empty. Frowning, she turned and headed for the forecastle. She stepped through the hatch and inspected every corner of the cabin, but there was no one there. Next, she conducted a systematic search, beginning at the foredeck and the ship’s prow and working her way aft. At the crenellations and side rails, she peered out over the turbulent ocean, looking for a splash of water, a waving hand, a figure sporting that ridiculous red hat, but there was nothing.
Patris looked at her oddly once or twice, but said nothing. She even lifted the hatch set into the lower deck and descended into the murky interior of the empty hold, creasing her nose as she sloshed through the shallow layer of bilge. Finally, she returned to the lower deck, where Patris was fussing with the sail as usual. “Alondo is gone,” she announced.
He stood up straight. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”
“He isn’t here,” she said, as if addressing a small child. “He’s not on board.”
“Are you sure?”
“I just searched this ship from stem to stern, as well as the surrounding sea. There’s no sign of him.”
Patris ran to the starboard rail. His eyes narrowed, accentuating his crow’s feet, as he scoured the water. He cupped both hands to his mouth and called at the top of his voice. “Alondo.” The sound carried over the sea, but there was no response other than the creaking of the hull and the gentle lapping of the waves. He strode to the larboard rail and called again. Still nothing. “When did you see him last?”
“Not since we weighed anchor,” she replied.
“Me either. If he left or fell overboard in the vicinity of the bay, then he probably made it to shore.” And if he didn’t, then he’s almost certainly lost. “Do you want to go back for him?”
Keris cursed inwardly. Alondo had been her responsibility. Shann had charged her with the simple mission of getting the others safely back to Kieroth and she had failed. Mistakes, her former mentor Mordal once told her. Everybody makes them. The secret is knowing what to do when they happen. Most people panic. They overcompensate, which usually leads to a second error or a string of errors. Take a deep breath. Remember your duty. Accept your losses. Then move towards completing your assignment in the most efficient way possible.
She steeled herself and shook her head. “No. We are tasked with bringing this ship and its complement safely back to Kieroth.”
“That’s just you and me now.” Not counting the deceased Boxx.
“Then we have a lot of work ahead of us.” For the first time, she regarded the flapping sail and its complex array of guide ropes with something approaching genuine interest. “Is there any way to coax more speed out of this thing?”
<><><><><>
Chapter 24
The cart bearing Yaron and McCann had barely entered the outskirts of Kieroth when the bombing started.
It began slowly, like the rumble of distant thunder overlaying the clatter of cartwheels on cobbles. Alex McCann squinted and stared at the unbroken blue sky from beneath heavy brows, hidden behind an upturned collar. His brows drew together into a frown. Before he could comment, the rumble was joined by another all-too-familiar sound—the rising whine of an avionic. He grabbed the reins from Yaron and pulled the juvenile graylesh to a too-abrupt halt, causing the striped beast to rear and yelp in protest.
Yaron’s olive face was staring up at him. “Wha’s up?” he demanded.
“Trouble.”
Boom. An eerie silence followed, broken finally by ragged yells and jagged screams, as black smoke began billowing over the rooftops from one street over. The boy stared wide-eyed at the curdling cloud. McCann jumped down from the cart and flinched as a silver streak flashed low overhead, its twin fans emitting a high-pitched shriek.
Yaron still sat on the buckboard, transfixed by the sudden apparition. McCann reached up and grabbed the young Kelanni by the collar, half-dragging him out of his seat and down to the ground. “We have to get out of here. Now.”
“Avionics,” Yaron said, stupidly. “They’re firin’ at us.”
“That’s right.” McCann cast about, trying to get his bearings.
“Our avionics aren’ fitted wi’ weapons.”
“No. But ours are.”
“You mean ’u-mans. But… they’re na supposed t’ have avionics. They’re na even supposed t’ leave their island.”
“It’s a closely guarded secret,” McCann’s mouth twisted. “Or at least it was until thirty seconds ago.” He could hear multiple engine drones now, coupled with the sound of distant firing. The air was charged with panic. People running. Frenzied shouts.
Up ahead, a phaeton floated towards them, humming quietly as curious occupants stuck their heads out the windows and observed the rising palls of smoke as if they were a new tourist attraction. He wanted to flag the driver down—to yell at him to get himself and his passengers off the street—but he was still a human operating under cover in an alien burg. He could not afford to attract attention to himself.
The whining grew in pitch once more and another silver dart appeared over the rooftops. Its nose dipped and it hovered for a moment, so that McCann fancied he could almost see the outline of the pilot. Then, a puff of smoke and a brief flash erupted from the machine’s port side. McCann had just enough time to shove Yaron to the ground and hurl himself on top of the boy before the opposite side of the street disintegrated.
He squeezed his eyes shut as dirt and debris rained down on the two of them. The eerie silence returned, except this time it was all around him, blotting out sound. Slowly he realised that his ears were ringing. The body beneath him stirred. He raised himself gingerly. Dust hung in the air and clawed at the back of his throat. He gagged and fell into a paroxysm of coughing. The sound was muffled, as if someone had stuffed his ears with cotton wool.
The alien boy raised a dust-covered face, looking like a character out of an ancient Bela Lugosi film. “Are you all right?” McCann asked, in a voice that sounded like it belonged to someone else.
The boy knuckled an eye and nodded. McCann got to his feet, scratched his head, and looked around him. The street. The store fronts—what was left of them. His clothes. The sky. The world. All suddenly transformed into monochrome. He was Buster Keaton in that tornado scene after the building fell on him. Only this wasn’t a movie. And no one was laughing.
A dented wreck of mangled metal creaked tortuously as it settled back on the roadway. With a sense of shock, McCann realised it was what was left of the phaeton. It had been passing by just as the missile had impacted and had been blown across the street as if struck by the hand of a petulant giant-child. Nothing stirred within the fully occupied carriage.
As the dust gradually settled, he began to discern mounds, lumps, or shapes that might once have belonged to living things but were now indistinguishable from the smashed masonry. Frozen in time and turned to stone. There was no time left, not even for compassion. He yanked the boy’s arm over his shoulder, pulled him to his feet, and dragged him away like a scarecrow.
Slowly his mind began to operate again, although it felt as if it were stuck in low gear. Was this some sort of rogue attack, or had it been sanctioned by the Captain? Right now, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was putting a stop to this pointless carnage. The Captain’s Kelanni agents or operatives here in Kieroth might have some answers, but even assuming any were still alive, then they were probably laying low. By the time he located one, it would be far too late.
Suddenly, a crazy idea occurred to him, one so completely preposterous that it might just work. “A roof,” he shouted in Yaron’s ear. The boy looked at him uncomprehendingly. “Do any of these buildings give access to a roof?” he repeated. “Large. Preferably flat.”
His eyes widened—sky-blue pools in a wasteland of grey filth. “The Lechlar Court.” Lechlar—an indoor sport involving something like a flying puck, an elongated catcher’s mitt, and a nest of ropes arrayed from floor to ceiling. Like an aerial form of pelote. It was perfectly designed for the Kelanni’s rapid agility and grace of movement. Humans would probably suck at it.
Less than an arena, more than a hall, the tall, one-storey building would be ideal—if it had not already been reduced to rubble, that is.
Two blocks and ten minutes later they were standing outside the Lechlar Court. The streets were largely empty now; terrified townsfolk remained cloistered behind locked doors, clutching their simpering youngsters and cowering under tables while angry insects buzzed overhead. Just like the London Blitz of Earth’s Second World War, it was more than the fear of death. It was the fear that you could be next.
An unlocked side door gave access to the Court. The anteroom beyond led to various adjacent cubicles—changing rooms? Showers?— as well as a larger set of double doors which presumably accessed the playing area. McCann ignored them all and headed for the stairs.
Three flights later, they terminated in a storeroom scattered with boxes of discarded equipment and another door, this time locked. McCann raised a booted right leg and smashed it open. He strode onto the roof, followed by an open-mouthed Yaron, who stared at the shattered hinges as if he was going to be asked to pay for the damage.
Here, above street level, the full extent of the devastation could be seen. Plumes of smoke rose like accusing fingers from every direction. Sleek silver machines threaded between them, glinting in the suns’ light, screaming, and spitting fire like crazed dragons. Every now and then, a new explosion rocked the townscape. It was twenty-first-century Baghdad in the final days before the fall of Saddam Hussein. McCann, however, was not here for the view.
He turned to the boy behind him, whose mouth was now filled with knuckles, and shooed him back inside. Then he began rummaging through the storeroom.
After a couple of minutes of fruitless searching, he uncovered two short metal poles of equal length and hefted them experimentally. One was painted red, the other yellow, but they should suffice. “Stay here,” he instructed.
Away from the sights and sounds of the rooftop, Yaron finally found his voice. “Wh… wha’ ya gonna do?”
“I’m going to have a little chat with someone,” McCann replied.
~
For the thousandth time, McCann rued the loss of his equipment. With his Speaker Ring, it would have been a simple matter to contact Susan on Helice and ask politely if she wouldn’t mind telling him what in blazes was going on. Or he could have reconfigured his datapad to hack into the comm. frequency that the avionic pilots were using— strictly a breach of protocol, but in the circumstances, who cared. Heck, even his handheld gamma could have been used as a flare. But he had nothing; nothing other than his wits and a distant memory, a memory of something from his pilot’s training. Something very old…
He marched to the centre of the roof, held the tubes aloft, and spelled out the instruction: L-a-n-d.
The art of semaphore dated from ancient times, from long before the development of electronic communication. Yet, anachronistically, it was still a part of standard flight training—or at least it had been when he qualified for his shuttle pilot’s ticket all those years ago. For all he knew, it might have been removed from the handbook by now. Or these younger pilots might have slept in on the day that particular lecture came up. Nevertheless, it was his last remaining card, so he had no alternative but to play it.
One of the silver darts came swooping in low from the east. He turned to face it and signalled the same four-letter command. As it passed directly overhead, the note from its engines fell due to the Doppler effect, but the ringing in his ears was back. He did a quick one-eighty and saw that the aircraft was already on the turn. He had been spotted, which was either very, very good or very, very bad. In a few seconds he would find out which.
The avionic slowed, its front end tipping towards him like a pointy-nosed professor inspecting some peculiar specimen over a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles. He repeated the signal, half-expecting a bolt to erupt from the machine’s forward-mounted gamma, but it righted itself instead and began descending meekly. The outer edge of the tornado blasted some of the residual dust from his hair, beard, and eyebrows before dying away as the silver bird settled back on its struts. He carefully set down his makeshift batons and waved both arms in greeting.
The cockpit cover popped open and a scrawny figure pushed itself up and peered forward. “Mac? By Hades, it is you. We all thought you were… Man, you look like week-old bread. Where you been?”
Garcia. He had a first name, but no one ever used it and McCann couldn’t remember what it was. A New Yorker originally, but shipped out so many years ago it hardly mattered. He was low-level crew. Ships’ stores and security. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer. McCann suppressed his rage and did his best to sound conversational. “Dodging sidewinders. What’s with the all-out assault? You guys go trigger-happy or something?”
“Captain’s orders.” The pilot climbed down to the roof and approached. His face was mottled like a pepperoni pizza. Eyes like twin olives. Anchovy mouth. “Sorry, we didn’t know you were here in alientown, not having gotten so much as a text message and all. Of course, it probably wouldn’t have made any difference to the orders. You know how determined the Captain can be.”
“Sure. I’m starting to feel warm and fuzzy all over.”
The little man’s laugh was as dry as a rasp. “Yeah, well. A lot of stuff has happened while you were away. The Accumulator Device was attacked and destroyed by a gang of green terrorists.”
“Destroyed?”
“Totalled.”
“But how—?”
“They were working with Lafontaine. He helped them stage the attack and then used it as a diversion so he could stage a mutiny and steal the Osiris.”
“The Osiris is gone?”
“Yep. The only ones left on this planet now are our beloved Captain and most of the crew. The Osiris transmitted a message from orbit, inviting the rest of us aboard—just so long as we leave our weapons behind and accept formal charges. You can imagine the Captain’s response.” McCann could imagine. “Wang says it don’t matter. With Lafontaine and his bleeding hearts gone, it’s an open field. All the more for the rest of us.
“We’re relocating to the other side of this world. But before then, we’re taking out the infrastructure on this side—first that Diametric Drive they’re building on the flats north of here; then the Directorate building—their seat of government; the observatory; avionics fields; power distribution points—stuff like that. Wang says that without Lafontaine’s interference, we can put together a new Accumulator Device and return here for some serious payback long before they have a chance to rebuild. Then, when the planet is ours, we’ll build our own brand-new Diametric Drive, contact Eridani Station, and give them the good news. One thing we’re going to need is a good engineer. Come on, there’s room for you in the front seat.”
He turned, heading back towards his avionic. “Maybe we can get off a couple more potshots before we clear out. Don’t see why the others should have all the fun. It’s a good thing you flagged me down when you did. Otherwise you’d have ended up stuck on this—”
The crewman’s sentence was cut short by a metal pipe impacting the back of his head.
~
As the rooftop door creaked open and sunlight washed through the entrance, McCann saw Yaron crouched in a corner, arms wrapped around his knees. Belatedly, the alien boy raised his head. He looked like someone who had been in a car wreck—as if all of the scenes he had witnessed in the past half hour were replaying constantly before his eyes. No time, not even for compassion.
“All right, listen carefully. When I’m gone, I want you to lay low someplace. The attack is almost over, so it won’t be for long. As soon as the avionics are gone, you should leave. Go back to your house in the village near the mountains. You should be safe there. Your family are probably worried sick about you, in any case.”
Yaron replied in a voice that was surprisingly steady. “Na. I wanna go with ya.”
McCann shook his head firmly. “I’m sorry. Where I’m going it wouldn’t be safe for you. The best way you can serve your people is to survive. If I am successful, I’ll try to return to your village and look you up.”
He turned and headed back out to the roof. Yaron followed him in silence like a lost puppy, starting at the sight of the waiting avionic as if McCann had somehow caused it to appear out of thin air.
As McCann climbed into the cockpit, his mind went back to another parting. On that occasion it had been he who had been standing, looking up at Max’s transport, just before he was whisked away. He had not known—there was no way he could have known— that he would never see his childhood friend again. This time, he hoped it would be different.
He had just thrown the switches to start the fans when Yaron suddenly spoke. “What should I tell them?”
“What?”
“My family. Friends. The people from the Directorate. When I get back, what should I tell them?”
McCann raised his voice over the gathering whine. “Tell them the truth. Tell them everything.”
Seconds later, the cockpit cover came down and the avionic lifted into the sky, its former pilot lying unconscious in the hold. The other machines were still buzzing over the stricken city, dealing out death and destruction. He could not take them all on, but maybe he could deal with the problem at its source. And, in the meantime, perhaps save one alien boy.
McCann watched the figure on the roof until it was nothing more than a dwindling speck and then set course, north by northwest, for the island of Helice.
Take care of yourself, Max.
<><><><><>
Chapter 25
Slowly, in stately fashion, they processed from the sky. Ail-Gan, the yellow sun, adorned with a mantle of orange, pink, and purple streamers. Behind, the brilliant point of light that was Ail-Kar, the white sun, dazzled onlookers with a final incandescent beam of light before dipping submissively like an heir apparent below the eastern horizon.
As the sky faded to inky black, myriads of stars winked into existence—shining eyes gazing down on an endless field of sable waters. In the midst of the waters, an island hunched, deep in shadow. In the midst of the island, a tiny pinprick of light supplied the last remaining source of warmth and comfort in the world.
Shann lay back on her blanket, watching sparks from their fire coruscate into the night and thought of Lyall. Are you watching this? We are coming for you.
At any moment he might step out of the dark and into the circle of firelight. A misunderstanding. Apologies all round. He had changed his mind. Seen the light. He was one of them again. Past mistakes forgiven. Future intentions forgotten. She would throw her arms around him and all would be right with the world.
Rael’s face appeared over her, shattering her cosy little fantasy. “You’ve got a pretty big blaze going there. Aren’t you concerned that the hu-mans might see it?”
She sighed, resenting the intrusion. “We’re looking for them, remember?” Perhaps, but we don’t particularly want them attacking us in the middle of the night. By lighting a signal fire in the vain hope that Lyall might see it and respond, she was risking both their lives.
Rael, however, did not question her judgment; he merely sat beside her and crossed his long legs. “Shann… ”
Heat from the fire was toasting one side of her body nicely. She considered turning over to complete the effect. “What is it?”
“When you meet Lyall, what are you going to do?”
She was irritated by the question, although she was not sure why. “That depends.”
“On what?” he pressed.
“I don’t know… Lots of things.” She had looked Keris straight in the eye after the tall woman struck her in the face and declared that she would do whatever it took to stop Lyall. Now Keris was gone and the sting in her cheek had long since faded. She could feel her resolve starting to crumble.
“You don’t want to tell me,” he accused.
“No, no, it’s not that.” She felt like someone naked, caught off guard and scrabbling around desperately for their clothes. She sat up, leaning back on her hands for support. “If we can find him before he has a chance to make contact with the hu-mans, then I want to try and talk to him—see if I can persuade him to turn over the components. If it turns out that his sister really is alive, then maybe we can determine a way of working together to free her.”
The boy nodded sagely. “Ah. Now I understand.”
“Understand what?”
“The fire. It’s for him, isn’t it? So he will see it and come find us. Only it’ll never work.”
Her irritation grew. It was as if she was a clear mountain lake and he could see right to the bottom. “How do you know that?”
“Because if he had wanted to include us in his plans, he would not have left in the way he did.”
“He might have a change of heart.”
Rael shook his head firmly. “That’s not his style. Once he sets his mind to something… Besides, there’s another, more important reason why he left without telling anyone what he was planning.”
“There is?”
“You mean you don’t know?” He laughed in a way that she found most unsettling. “Shann, have you ever had anyone you cared about?”
She resented the inference and failed to hide it from her voice. “Of course I have.”
“And if there was something you had to do—something you knew would put them in danger?” He paused to allow the import of his words to sink in. “That’s why he won’t come near the fire tonight; because he loves us. Because he loves you.”
Shann lay back and stared up at the stars one more. “Well, I won’t give up till I’ve found him.”
“I know, and I’ve been thinking about that.” When Shann made no response, he continued. “Why would Lyall take the four components? What’s he planning to do, exactly?”
“Keris says he plans to trade them for his sister’s life.”
“Yes, but there must be more to it than that. Lyall is determined, but he’s no fool. He must realise there’s a good chance that his sister is no longer alive. More than that, he knows that if the four components can be made to work together, then they would effectively confer infinite power on the user. If Wang were to acquire that power, then it would mean the end of everything.”
Shann sat up once more, intrigued. “All right, then. What is he up to?”
“I don’t know. But I think we can surmise two things at this stage. Call it ‘inspired guesswork’.” He had that same absorbed look as when figuring out one of his number problems. “First, his plan somehow involves us following him.”
The same thought had occurred to her, but she had not voiced it to the others. Somehow, hearing it from Rael made it sound not quite as ridiculous as it had first seemed. “If that’s true, then what does he expect us to do?”
“My guess is he wants us to do exactly what we would naturally do: try to stop him.”
“But… that makes no sense,” she protested.
“I agree it doesn’t yet; no doubt because we are missing some vital pieces of the puzzle.
“Second, I believe that in the end, everything will hinge on the power of lodestone.”
“In what way?” she asked.
“Have you ever tried to catch a barchan eel with a rod and line?”
Shann shook her head. “I’ve never been fishing in my life. Unless you count the incident with the colcachra. And as I recall, it was trying to eat us.”
“Yes, well. My father used to take me and my brother fishing in happier times. The answer is that you can’t. First of all you have to use a special kind of pond weed to catch a smaller fish called a slych. You then have to use it to catch the bigger fish.”
Shann screwed her face up. “That’s horrible.”
“I didn’t enjoy it much either. But the point is, we may have been looking at this all wrong. We’ve all been assuming that Lyall’s sister is the bait and that he took it. But what if it’s the four components that are the real bait? What if Lyall is using the thing that Wang wants above all else—to reel him in?”
Shann closed her eyes. “Hang on. Lafontaine told us that after he and the others lifted off in that huge vessel of theirs, the Prophet and his supporters would have no choice but to follow in their sky ship or risk being stranded here.”
“I remember. However, that part of his plan never quite rang true to me. Think about it. Wang and the other hu-mans have been here for over thirty turns. Lafontaine admitted that the lodestone found here on Kelanni is the most valuable thing in the universe to them. Do you think they would be content just to walk away from all that?”
“You think he lied to us?”
“Maybe. Or maybe he simply underestimated Wang’s greed and lust for power. Convincing us that Wang would leave Kelanni was essential to getting our cooperation, so that they could make good their escape. And if that part of the plan didn’t work, then he and his people would be far away, and we would be left to deal with the mess.”
“You think Lyall foresaw all of that?”
“No. I think he had been planning for some time to attempt the rescue of his sister once our mission was completed. However, after the situation here on the island became clear, I believe he modified that plan. If Wang survived the destruction of the lodestone weapons, then there would be nothing to stop him from creating this nightmare all over again—and this time, there would be no dissenting voices from Lafontaine and his associates. Lyall must have figured out some way of achieving a permanent solution.”
A dam inside her broke and her tears began to flow freely. “But none of this makes sense. Why not just confide in us? We would have willingly helped him; he knows that.”
“Maybe he decided his plan was too dangerous to involve anyone else. Or maybe he knew there were parts of it we would object to.” The fire was starting to die back, the pulsating glow at its heart fading to a darker rubescence. She did not have the heart to stoke it. He’s not coming.
“There are some things that a man has to do on his own, Shann.”
“What kind of stupid male reasoning is that?” She buried her head in her arm and sobbed gently. Rael moved beside her and draped a long arm about her shoulder until the fire grew cold and night wound about them like black thread on a spool.
~
Dawn poured onto the rocky upland, leeching into bleary eyes still glued together by sleep. Shann shook her head and then the shoulder of the boy next to her. Each took a silent swig of water from what was left in the canteen. Neither spoke of food; their stomachs still churned from the previous night’s trepidations. Nothing left to do except pack up and move on.
A short hike later, they stood at the mouth of the rough-hewn steps that eased down the side of the steep valley where Lafontaine had led them, days before. Then the apparition of lightning blue and gleaming gold that was the Osiris had lain in wait, ready to take their breath away. Now the hu-man star ship was gone, yet Shann felt no more prepared for what they might find.
At length they reached the bend in the trail where the path widened and the odd-looking wooden cabin perched precariously. Shann checked a window in the cabin to make sure it was empty, then went to the ledge. Below her, the canyon floor opened up. Where the great star ship had been, there now sat the smaller stubby sky ship, forlorn, like a small child abandoned by its parent. Her heart leapt; perhaps they were not too late.
“What now?” Rael hissed in her ear.
She turned to him and smiled for the first time that day. “We wait here for Lyall to show. Then we talk him out of whatever he’s planning.” She waited for Rael to begin pointing out the gaping holes in her moth-eaten plan, but the boy merely leaned back, using his long arms for support. She pushed away from the edge and stood up. “You watch the sky ship; I’ll watch the path. We can change round after a while if you like.”
“Fine,” he said, and moved to his designated station overlooking the valley. Shann sat with her back against the cabin wall, giving her a view of the trail. The moment Lyall appeared she would be ready for him. He would listen to her. She would make him listen…
“We’re not so different, you know.”
Rael’s statement hijacked her train of thought. “What?”
“The hu-mans. We’re not that far behind them. Our Diametric Drive must be almost ready for launch by now. It’s only a prototype, but when it’s sufficiently refined, it will take us to the stars.”
She smiled again. “Are you sure they’re managing without you at Takala Flats?”
“Absolutely. I’m a theoretician at heart, and all the theory was worked out long ago. Towards the end, all I was doing was running reports back and forth between Suma and Hannath. They could have used a trained gundir to do the same job.”
Shann briefly pictured a cartoon image of a spindly beast with a long snout and Rael’s face. Another notion, more disturbing, darkened her inner vision, and her smile vanished. “I wonder what they will do.” She glanced up and registered his questioning gaze. “The hu-mans. When we invade their stars. I wonder what they will do.”
“They’re not ‘their stars’, Shann.”
Shann stared straight ahead. “Hu-mans claim all that is in their vision. Their invasion of our world proves that. Why should the stars be any different?”
“Maybe you’re right. Or maybe we will end up working together, just as we did with Susan Gilmer.”
Her lips twisted into a smile once more, but this time, her voice was bitter fruit. “Sure, Susan Gilmer worked with us. And look what happened to her.”
“Oh no.” Rael’s words were twin slashes of a blade, severing the conversation.
Shann stiffened. “What is it?”
“I think you should see this for yourself.”
She got up and went to the ledge, dropping down beside him. The human sky ship still squatted sullenly on the valley floor. Next to it, hu-mans were milling around. It was difficult to make out details at this distance, but she could clearly see one figure approaching the others from the foot of the trail. The figure was Kelanni. And he wore a red hat.
Shann’s eyes widened. “Alondo. But… how come he’s here? He left on the ship.”
“Apparently not,” Rael said evenly.
“What does he think he’s doing?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say the same thing we are: trying to save Lyall.”
Alondo stopped a short distance from the group of hu-mans. Shann strained her ears to catch the exchange, but the rising air currents reshaped words into meaningless sounds. “We have to get down there.”
Rael glanced sideways at her. “And do what?”
She bit her lower lip. As usual, he was right. She hated it when he was right. She felt like smacking him. Nevertheless, a small insistent voice within was telling her that the best thing for them to do right now was to watch and see how this thing played out.
The talking stopped. Before she could comment, she caught the glint of sunlight on metal. Two of the hu-mans had silver staffs levelled against the musician. He stood stock-still. A willing sacrifice. Run away. Use the vortex arm. Something.
A shout.
Two more figures joined the fray, one short and dark. Wang. The other tall, fair, and unmistakeably Kelanni. Lyall.
Rael’s voice sounded a death knell. “We’re too late.”
Two hu-mans stepped forward and grabbed Alondo roughly, propelling him towards the sky ship. A downturned mouth opened in the ship’s side and swallowed them whole.
Alondo’s appearance felt like a kick in the stomach; Lyall’s was a swift uppercut. Shann reeled from the double blow. She was that doe-eyed little girl again, bereft, coddled in the arms of Gallar, her adoptive mother, while tears dried on her cheeks. Only now, there was no Gal to give her comfort. Now everyone was relying on her for answers. And she had none.
“Well, look what we have here?”
Shann whipped around and her heart sank to new depths. Three hu-mans in blue one-piece uniforms loomed over them, silver staffs pointed at their heads with casual arrogance. Crew.
The middle one leaned forward, his disgustingly pink mouth twisting into a cruel smirk. “A small Kelanni girl in a red cloak and at least one of the other conspirators—it’s just as that Lyall said. Looks like I owe you a month’s worth of credits, Chavez. You two will come with us. Now.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 26
Shann ran her fingertips over the dull metal wall of her prison deep within the sky ship. It was smooth, yet cold to her touch. She recalled the chamber in the warren, the underground home of the Chandara, where she had been incarcerated for a short time along with Rael and Boxx. There, the floor was solid rock, and the walls were hard-packed soil interspersed with winding roots that glowed with a gentle lambency. This cell was unnatural. Antiseptic. The glare from the overhead panels hurt her eyes.
Rael stood, examining the solid-looking door that barred their exit. At its heart was a complex mechanism with a winking red light. Alondo sat slumped in a corner, staring into a bottomless well. As she watched him, her heart melted and the sting went out of her voice. “Mind telling us what you’re doing here?”
He raised his head, his expression that of a child whose parent had just asked a question, the answer to which was blatantly obvious. “Lyall needed my help.”
“You were supposed to return on the ship,” she chided him.
There was the child again. “I couldn’t just leave him.” He took a deep breath. “We have always been there for each other, ever since we were youngsters. If I got into trouble, Lyall would always help me, and if he was in trouble, I would help him. Whatever happens, we always face it together.”
“I asked you to leave because I wanted you to be safe.”
Alondo met her rebuke squarely. “You asked me to abandon my friend. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t do that.” Shann deflated like a punctured balloon. Lyall had placed her in charge of the group, but it was clear that she had a very long way to go before she acquired his instinct for dealing with people. She had sensed Alondo’s distress—even done her best to comfort him—but she had utterly failed to anticipate what he might do. For the thousandth time she wished that Lyall would rejoin them and that things could be as they were.
“Alondo?” The voice came from Rael, who was concentrating on the door as if he could open it by force of will alone.
“Yes?”
“What do you make of this?” Alondo got to his feet and joined the boy. Rael indicated the lock with its single flashing light. “You’re the engineer. Do you think there’s any way to disable this thing?”
The musician returned a generous smile that warmed Shann’s heart. “Patris is the thief, not me. I suspect locked doors are more his department. Still… ” He hunched down and ran his fingers over the casing, then put his ear to it. Shann held her breath.
“Electrically powered—same as most of the devices in your world of Skell. Wires that connect it must run behind the wall here somewhere. If we could get to them we might be able to isolate it from its power source. From the books I read and the experiments I did at the observatory I believe that pretty well anything that is electrical can be disabled by its own power—shorted out. Am I right?”
“Quite correct,” Rael said.
“All right then. These walls look pretty solid. They left us with our packs and equipment when they threw us in here. They probably figured we didn’t have anything on us that we could use to break out of here. They’re probably right.”
“It’s not like you to admit defeat,” Shann prodded.
“Hey, I’m admitting nothing,” he returned with a grin. “Let me borrow your staff, would you?”
She unsheathed it and handed it over. “Don’t break it.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” He gripped one end of the darkwood and probed with the diamond blade, seeking a cranny in the mechanism’s outer casing. Suddenly, there was a distinct click and the tiny light turned from red to green.
Rael blinked. “That was incredible. How did you do that?”
Alondo turned his head, but instead of self-satisfied triumph, his face registered alarm. “It wasn’t me.”
The cell door began to slide open and all three of them instinctively took a step back. Standing in the open passageway was the lithe figure of Lyall, flanked by two burly, blue-uniformed hu-mans. Shann suppressed an overwhelming desire to throw her arms around Lyall’s neck. Instead, she forced herself to hang back and study his expression. A flock of fleeting emotions flitted across his features. Surprise. Anguish. Pain. And something that might have been love. Then it was gone, and he spoke from behind an unreadable mask.
“I am pleased to see that you are all well. I had you brought in for your own safety. You are to be taken back to our side of the world; the side that people here call Kelanni-Drann.”
“Why are you doing this?” Shann demanded.
A small crease appeared in his forehead. “Don’t you want to go home?”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. Why are you helping Wang?”
Lyall’s voice was calm—serene, almost. “I have spoken with the Prophet. He has agreed to free Aune in exchange for the four components.”
“You must not do that,” Rael said. “The destructive power—”
“I have come to believe that the Prophet is working in the best interests of the Kelanni people. Together, we will usher in a new age— an age of peace and unity.”
The hu-mans on either side of Lyall shared a secret smirk. Shann felt as if her mind were slipping into a dark chasm. She hung on by her fingertips. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. I invite you to join me. If you refuse, I will of course understand. However, you should both know and comprehend what is to come. When we return to Kelanni-Drann, the Prophet will take up residence at the keep in the heart of Chalimar. There his throne will be elevated. And nothing of worth will ever bring it down.”
Shann cast about for support. Rael seemed lost for words. Alondo looked as if he was about to be sick. She turned back to see that Lyall was holding something in the palm of his hand—a dull grey flat piece of metal. “I leave you this—the traditional parting gift of the Kelanni people. May it fulfil your hopes and bring you all that you desire.” He held it out to Rael like an offering.
The boy’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing. He merely took the irregular slab and secreted it inside his grubby green jacket. Lyall fixed his eye on her. “Remember your first lesson, Shann, and all will be well.” He bowed formally, eliciting further sardonic grins from his hu-man accomplices. Then the cell door slid shut and the lock began to flash bright crimson once more.
Alondo sagged back against the wall like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Rael stared at the door like a frozen mannequin. Shann could taste defeat. It dried out her tongue and constricted her throat like a bitter herb.
“Why?” she managed to get out. “Why would he do this?”
“He’s gone mad,” Alondo declared, staring at the floor. “The loss of Aune has finally driven him over the edge.”
Shann thought about it. Lyall’s manner had been decidedly odd, but his thoughts were calm and coherent. He did not seem to her like a man who had lost his mind. Except… “Alondo? What is this Kelanni tradition of a parting gift? I never heard of that custom.”
“I don’t know,” Alondo said. “I never heard of it either.”
“And why give a parting gift to Rael?” She looked up at the tall boy, who had still not moved from his spot near the door. “No offence, but he has known both of us longer than he has known you. Why give it to you?”
There was a long pause, so that she wondered whether he had heard her. Finally he spoke. “Lyall gave it to me because he knew that I would recognize it for what it is.”
Shann felt curiosity rise within her like a bubble of air. It was too early to call it hope. “Why? What is it?”
He drew the rough metal slab from his inner pocket and turned it over in his hands. “The common name for it is ‘slag’. It’s the residue— the by-product—which is produced when refined lodestone is produced from lodestone ore.”
Alondo nodded. “I remember. There were heaps of it at the refining facility at Persillan.”
“What does it do?” Shann asked.
“Do?” Rael repeated. “If you’re asking whether it has any special properties, the answer is ‘no’. It has no repulsive force.”
“Is there anything else you know about it?”
Rael shrugged. “Inertia is positive, so it isn’t a type of lodestone— not according to the classical definition, at any rate. It’s metallic, so it would probably be a fair conductor of electricity, I would think.” He hefted the lacklustre lump. “Light. Malleable.” He snapped a small piece off the edge. “Good cleavage. I don’t think any extensive tests have been done on it. It has no practical use that we know of. Like I said, it’s a waste product. Which is interesting in itself… ” He drifted off, and his expression acquired that faraway look once more.
Alondo slumped against the wall and stared at the floor once more. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Lyall has sided with the Prophet and we are prisoners. It’s like he said. Nothing can stop the hu-mans now.”
Shann sighed. Try as she might, she could not think of a way forward. “I hate to admit it. But it seems you’re right.”
“No, you’re wrong, both of you.” Rael’s eyes refocused as his mind re-emerged from its distant wanderings. “You heard what Lyall said but you didn’t listen. He said that nothing of worth would bring Wang down. This,” he held up the piece of slag, “is ‘nothing of worth’.”
Shann felt as if she were trying to peer through fog. “Are you saying that Lyall was trying to give us some kind of a message?”
“I believe so, yes. There were hu-mans with him, so he couldn’t reveal what he was planning in so many words. He needed to couch it in terms that they would not pick up on, but that we would understand.”
Shann’s mind still felt foggy. “But if that’s true, then what was he trying to tell us? How can something that is of no practical worth defeat the Prophet?”
“I have no idea,” Rael replied. “But it is absolutely imperative that we find out.”
~
The following morning, Shann awoke to the sound of a distant explosion. Almost immediately, their tiny cell juddered, bouncing her across the floor and setting her teeth on edge. She almost ended up in Rael’s lap before hastily recovering her composure.
Alondo was holding onto his hat. “What in the name of—?”
Boom.
The overhead illumination flickered and plunged them into gloom. Shann was thrown backwards, her back slamming against the far wall. The floor stopped bucking and she got to her feet, gingerly.
Alondo rubbed the back of his head. “Owww.”
“The door.” Rael pointed at the indicator light, which was now shining a steady green. “Must be some sort of power failure.”
Shann stumbled forward and bent her fingers around the doorjamb. “Give me a hand.”
Rael appeared at her side but made no move to assist her. “Are you sure this is wise?”
She struggled to get a grip on the door. “What are you talking about?”
“It seems that Lyall went to great lengths to bring us here. His plan, whatever it is, must include us travelling with him back to your side—to Kelanni-Drann. If we leave…”
“Rael is right,” Alondo put in. “We ought to wait for Lyall.”
Another dull impact sounded from far off. The cell shuddered and creaked around them. “Look,” she said. “This place is coming apart around our ears. We have to get out of here. Now.” Rael hesitated, as if he were going to make an argument of it; then he thrust his slender fingers into the crack, adding his effort to hers. “Alondo,” she called.
The musician roused himself, inserting the diamond blade of Shann’s staff into the chink and using it as a lever. She wanted to caution him again about damaging it but suppressed the urge. The three of them strained for what seemed like an age. At last, the door gave way with a creaking groan, revealing a gap just wide enough to squeeze through.
Shann retrieved her staff, casting an anxious eye over it. The blade and shaft appeared intact, superficially at least. She signalled the others to stay put, then eased herself into the corridor. It was deserted. She could hear raised voices, but they were reassuringly distant. She waved for Rael and Alondo to join her, remembering their route through the bowels of the sky ship and mapping out the return journey in her head. Rael poured his thin limbs through the opening. Alondo huffed and puffed after him.
She groaned inwardly and grabbed an arm, while Rael pulled him by the shoulders. “That’s it,” she said through gritted teeth. “When we get out of here, you’re going on a diet.”
“Hey, that’s not fair… owww.” He popped free like a cork from a bottle, knocking her to the ground and landing on top of her in a heap. He pushed himself up and diffidently offered her a hand. “Sorry.”
She took it and glared at him. “Diet. Definitely.”
Ignoring his deflated appearance, she led the way once more through a succession of identical-looking passageways. Two more detonations rocked the sky ship, causing them to stagger and claw at non-existent handholds.
Rael went over to where Alondo was sitting on his rump and helped him up. “I don’t think this is an internal systems failure. The impacts are external, and too randomly distributed.”
Shann felt her brain starting to fog up again. “What?”
“He means the ship is under attack,” Alondo offered.
How could that be? Who would attack the hu-man sky ship? Apart from the three of them and the hu-man crew there was no one else on this island… was there? No time to speculate. “Come on,” she urged.
Finally, they stood before the elevator that had brought them here. She was reminded of the cage at Takala Flats where the Diametric Drive had sat, cocooned in its nest of metal rods, but whereas that lift was open to the elements, this one was enclosed, like an upright coffin, though mercifully it was empty.
“Where are we headed?” Rael inquired.
“Out the way we came,” she said curtly.
“The main hatchway in the loading bay.”
“If you say so.”
“I’m not sure that’s the best option.”
She turned to face him. “What are you talking about?”
“In an emergency such as this it will probably be locked down. It may even be guarded.”
Her eyes hardened to points. “Then I’ll fight our way through.”
“Maybe there’s an easier way.”
“Lifeboats,” Alondo blurted out.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Rael said. “A vessel this size would have to have some sort of emergency escape system. It would not be locked down—that would defeat its object. And there would be little point in guarding it.”
Shann rested her little fists on her tiny hips. “All right, where is it?”
Rael considered the problem as if it were a mathematical puzzle. “This level is roughly amidships, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would say,” Alondo agreed.
“An escape system would most likely be located at the point most easily accessed from all parts of the ship—”
“Amidships. I get it,” Shann cut in. She glanced left and right down the intersecting passages. “Which direction?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Rael nodded decisively towards the right-hand passage. “That way.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 27
As she trailed after Rael, Shann’s inadequacies pecked at her like angry mylars. Rael and Alondo were people—people with extraordinary abilities. And yet she had treated them as mindless raleketh, to be led about by the nose. It had not occurred to her to consult either of them. Maybe when they met up with Keris again she should step aside—allow her to take over. The former Keltar possessed infinitely more skill and experience than she did. Lyall, I don’t deserve the trust you’ve placed in me.
Yet in spite of her mistakes, a single shaft of light had now burst through the lowering gloom—the realisation that Lyall was not lost to them, but that he had set in motion an intricate plan to defeat the Prophet once and for all.
Since then, the mood had palpably lifted. Rael was far more engaged, and Alondo was virtually his old self again. Shann, too, felt reinvigorated. Yet she was also perplexed.
In the sitting room at the observatory in Kieroth, she had stared into the whirring timepieces with their interlocking levers and springs, wheels within wheels, tiny universes, their parts moving in perfect harmony to achieve a common purpose. Now she was one of those wheels—an essential cog in Lyall’s grand plan. There was just one problem: She had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to do.
“I think this is it.”
Rael’s announcement snapped her back to the present. They were standing in front of a door shaped like an upright oval and ringed by tiny lights. There was no window and no clue to what lay beyond. “How do you know?” she asked.
Rael pointed at an adjacent section of wall where there were symbols etched in red. “Because of what it says here.”
“You can read hu-man writing?” she marvelled.
“Not exactly,” he replied. “But mathematicians are trained to identify patterns. I recognize this word from a sign over a door at the weapon facility. I think it means ‘exit’. Or possibly ‘emergency’. Either way… ”
There was yet another dull thud, and the corridor juddered. Instinctively, she grabbed onto Rael for balance. The vibration died and she let go immediately. The sky ship was taking a pounding. There was not much time. Encourage them to use their talents. “Alondo, can you get this thing open?”
“Sure, let me take a look.” The musician bent down to examine the door.
A bass rumble started up from somewhere deep inside the sky ship. She could feel a vibration from the deck plates that jarred her teeth. What now? “Could you hurry it up a little?” she urged.
“I’ve located what must be the door control,” Alondo replied. “But it seems to be housed behind glass. I can’t see any obvious way to open it.”
“Stand aside.” Alondo and Rael turned their heads. Her fingers brushed the darkwood, feeling its reassuring smoothness. “Now.” They stepped back. She drew her staff, took aim, and thrust it at the panel. The glass shattered and the lights surrounding the door began to glow bright green. Immediately an intermittent alarm sounded—a regular, insistent pulse that made her temples throb—followed by urgent, raised voices from somewhere off to her left. Boots pounded against the metal floor. Headed their way.
She stepped up to the broken panel, located a prominent red button, and punched it. The door clanked and swung open. “Get inside, both of you,” she ordered. After a moment’s hesitation, they stepped through the open hatchway. As she made to follow Rael, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Three blue-coated figures were rounding the corner right behind her. She yelled through the opening, “Get out of here,” kicked the door shut, and turned to face the advancing crew, staff held out defensively before her.
She had not taken to heart every lesson Lyall had taught her, but there was one at least that she understood intimately. One in which she would not let him down.
Sacrifice.
~
Hatchet-faced and raw-boned, with close-cropped hair, the lead hu-man skidded to a halt before Shann and glowered at her, then lurched forward in an ungainly manner as the others barrelled into him from behind. He hastily regained his composure and rounded on his companions. “Watch it, will you?”
The other two withdrew sheepishly and chorused like a double act. “Sorry, Chief.”
One of them, a fresh-faced youth with a disgusting pink complexion, looked up, and his eyes grew as large as a fish’s. “Look. It’s one of them. One of them natives that we threw in the brig. They’ve escaped.”
Hatchet-face bawled at him. “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. Of course they’ve escaped, you idiot.”
The other hu-man, a compact and sinewy type, seemed unfazed by the outburst. “D’you think it’s them that’s attacking us?”
Hatchet-face turned to Shann and sized her up with an unpleasant look. “Not them, but their green-skinned friends maybe. Talk. Who’s out there?”
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly.
“We need to get to launch positions,” the youth urged.
“I know that,” Hatchet-face snapped back. “All right, girl, you just ran out of time.” He drew a stubby silver tube and levelled it at her. She stiffened. A clap of thunder shook the passageway and knocked her feet from under her. She lay on the floor for a moment before realising that she was whole. The thunder had not come from the hu-man’s weapon.
She snatched her staff and scrabbled to her feet. The hu-mans lay prostrate on the floor. Hatchet-face had dropped his weapon and was clutching his head. The others were moving slowly and painfully. Ignoring her own bruises, she advanced, placed a boot on Hatchet-face’s chest, and whipped the diamond blade around so that it rested against his throat. The man squeezed his eyes shut and made a half-strangled sound.
She heard a clank, followed by a creaking. She hazarded a glance behind her and saw Alondo’s moon face peeking out from behind the open hatch door.
He took in the scene and then smiled quizzically. “If you’ve quite finished playing with your new friends, it’s time to leave now.”
~
“You’re sure you’ve got this thing figured out?” Shann tried to hide the anxiety in her voice and almost succeeded.
Rael pursed his lips. “No problem. An escape module is for emergency use, so its design has to be pretty well idiot-proof.” A witty riposte popped into her head, but she dismissed it. She was in no mood for jesting. “Are you strapped in?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Rael pushed a large lever forward. There was a snap, followed by a whooshing sound, and she was hurled back into her seat. She turned her head towards one of the tiny windows in the module and saw empty sky rushing past. Soon the pressure on her shoulders eased and she felt the module descend slowly. At length, she felt a light bump and the module settled back and came to rest.
Rael got up from his seat, went to the rear hatch, and opened it. Daylight filtered into the tiny compartment. Shann joined him, with Alondo just behind her, and jumped to the ground first. They were on the valley floor some distance from the sky ship. As they watched, an incandescent glow appeared at its base and the ship began to rise, slowly at first, then gathering speed until it was a blazing star amid the cerulean sky.
It was Shann who broke the silence. “I know what you’re going to say.” She paused to allow for a response from the other two, but there was none. She pressed on with a heavy heart. “You’re going to say that I should have listened to you—that we should have gone along with Lyall’s plan and remained on board the sky ship.”
To her surprise, Rael shook his head. “No. We all thought the ship was about to be destroyed. You did what you thought was necessary to save all of our lives. It’s exactly what Lyall would have done in your place.”
“Rael is right,” Alondo added. “You got us out of there safely. Lyall would be proud.”
No, she thought ruefully, it was you two who did that. I was just along for the ride. Still, now was not the time to argue the matter. “Rael, do you think the Diametric Drive could be made operational?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Then we can still get back. When I was there, I got a good look at the controls. I’m sure that between us, you and I could pilot it. We can fly to the other side, meet up with Lyall, and find out what he has planned.”
“Right,” Rael agreed. “All we need to do is find one of the hu-man avionics and fly it back to Kieroth.”
“Hey, those things only carry two people. Where am I going to fit?” Alondo protested.
Before anyone could answer, a steady hum began to fill the air. Shann cast about but could not determine the source.
“There.”
Rael pointed behind them. Sunlight glinted off the fuselage of a slim dart that was following the line of the canyon. Bearing down on them.
“Get down.” She swivelled around and saw Rael hunched down in the lee of the escape module. She signalled to Alondo, then dashed back and hunkered down next to Rael, raising her voice against the growing engine whine. “You think that thing is what attacked the sky ship?”
“I think it’s a fair assumption,” he replied.
She scanned the canyon floor, but other than the module, there was nothing that resembled cover. They were pinned down. Maybe the avionic would overfly them, deciding that an escape module was not worth the bother.
Her heart sank as the flying machine passed overhead, tilted its fans, and turned a hundred and eighty degrees, slowing to a hover. It hung in the air for some moments as though undecided. Finally, it began to sink to the ground, kicking up whorls of dust and sand. Her hand moved involuntarily to her staff. It’s not firing on us. Not yet, at least.
The avionic settled back on its landing struts and its engines gradually died. As she peered through the clearing dust, the canopy swung upward and a figure rose from the rear seat. Hu-man. Broad-shouldered and with a profusion of salt-and-pepper hair that sprouted from his face and chin. No. It couldn’t be…
She stood up calmly.
“What are you doing?” Rael hissed.
“Renewing an old acquaintance.”
“You know this hu-man?”
“We’ve met,” she said evenly. “Although I’m not sure he’s going to be too pleased to see me… Wait here, would you?”
Turning a deaf ear to the protests behind her, she began to walk forward. The hu-man clambered down from the cockpit and turned towards her. Blue eyes narrowed beneath heavy brows. She stopped a short distance away. “McCann.”
The eyes widened with recognition. “It is you. From the Tower at Akalon.” He glanced nervously left and right. “Where’s the other one?”
Keris. “She’s not here,” Shann replied. “You’ll have to deal with me.”
“That’s a shame. I was looking forward to thanking her personally for the little trick she played on me.”
“You were spying on us,” she reminded him.
McCann let out a sigh. “Yes, well. That was then and this is now. Times change, as do allegiances. For example, do you mind telling me what you were doing inside the shuttle?”
“We were ‘guests’ of your friend Wang—the hu-man who is posing as Prophet in our world.”
McCann’s eyes flicked towards the escape module behind her. “Yet it seems that you eschewed his hospitality.”
“We escaped when the ship came under attack. You wouldn’t happen to know who was responsible for that, by any chance?”
He smiled. “You’re right. It was me.”
“Mind telling me why you would try to kill your own people?”
The smile vanished. “I wasn’t trying to kill anybody. I was just trying to disable the shuttle.”
“You didn’t do a very good job,” she observed.
“You’re right. Apparently I am a lot better engineer than I am a marksman. My intention was to cripple the ship and then destroy the remaining avionics.”
“You wanted to destroy all of your ships? Why would you do a thing like that?”
“To prevent them from ever doing again what they did to Kieroth.” His face fell. “I’m sorry. There’s no reason you should know.” He swallowed. “The Captain ordered my people to attack the town. Day before yesterday.”
Shann cursed under her breath. “What happened?”
“I don’t know exactly. It seems to have been some sort of reprisal for a terrorist attack by your people which destroyed our facility here on this island. I was travelling with a Kelanni on the mainland. When we arrived at Kieroth, the attack was already underway.”
“You were travelling with a Kelanni?”
“It’s… a long story. Anyway, they destroyed several designated targets, including the observatory. By the time I arrived they were taking potshots at the local populace. There was widespread damage to the town. I barely got out of there alive. I managed to flag down one of the attacking avionics and knock out the pilot. Then I headed here.”
The observatory. Gone. Shann’s mind reeled. Hannath, Meira, Byrdach, Solvi, Ravid—there was no way to know if they were alive or dead. She heard herself, but it was as if it were another person speaking. “What about the Kelanni that was with you?”
“He’s all right, as far as I know. I ordered him to get out of the town and head home as fast as he could. By that time, the attack was winding down. If he listened to me then he should be okay.”
Shann’s first instinct was to turn her back on this hu-man. But he might well have information she needed. She suppressed her natural disgust and applied cold logic. “What does your Captain intend to do now?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been out of the loop ever since your friend stripped me of my Speaker Ring and sent me to the butt end of Antarctica. However, I suspect it won’t be good for your people. Now that the Osiris has left, he and his crew are stranded on this world. And they have nothing to lose.”
His Kelanni was excellent, with only a slight inflection. He had obviously spent a considerable amount of time with her people, although the colloquial references were lost on her. “We can take care of ourselves, thank you.”
He met her steady gaze. “I can see that you don’t exactly trust me. I suppose that’s understandable, given the circumstances. At least let me offer my assistance in getting you off this island and back to the mainland.”
“I think we can handle that.” She turned and began walking away.
“If you’re thinking of commandeering one of our avionics, I should tell you that they are protected by a computer access code,” he called after her. “I’m an engineer. I know how to bypass it.”
She stopped and directed a silent question at Rael and Alondo, who were still crouched down next to the escape module. They shook their heads in turn. An enemy spy turned ally; could he really be trusted? He could easily be lying about the avionics. But if she refused his help now and it turned out that he was telling the truth…
She turned back. “Very well, we would appreciate your help.”
A row of off-white teeth appeared amid the facial hair. It was the most unpleasant sight she had ever witnessed. “Follow me, then. I’ll take you to where they are located.”
A thought occurred to her belatedly. A promise she had made and one that she was honour-bound to keep. “There is one more thing. I have a message for you.”
McCann’s face registered genuine surprise. “A message? Forget it. I’m not interested in anything Wang has to say.”
“It isn’t from your Captain,” she explained. “It’s from Susan Gilmer.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 28
Shann sat in the lee of a drab grey stone structure and watched the twin suns descend towards the eastern horizon. Too late to head back. If they set off now, they would end up flying mostly in the dark. In the flattened area before her, half a dozen parked avionics cast lengthening shadows. Ensconced in the cockpit of one of them, ostensibly in the act of freeing the locked-down controls, was the hu-man McCann.
She had thought of keeping watch on him as he worked, but there seemed little point. She had no way to determine the necessity or the veracity of what he was doing; more than that, if he suddenly decided to lift off without them, there would be nothing she could do to stop him. There seemed little risk of that, however. After all, if he wanted to abandon them, he could simply have flown off in his own machine earlier.
That left the question of his true motives. As she had delivered Susan Gilmer’s message and recounted the events leading up to her act of self-sacrifice, she watched his reactions carefully. She was conscious of the fact that she lacked Lyall’s talent for sizing people up. However, if McCann’s shock and upset were contrived, then he was an extremely good actor.
The attack on the sky ship also appeared to be genuine—she had felt it personally. There were clearly some parts of his story that it was impossible to verify—most significantly, the destruction of Kieroth. However, try as she might, she was unable to discern a grain of untruth or a crack of insincerity.
Which was not to say that she trusted him. Not by a long stretch. He’s a hu-man, after all. The image of Susan Gilmer suddenly filled her thoughts, and she felt a pang of conscience.
Twin silhouettes passed in front of the sinking suns. She looked up to see Rael and Alondo standing in front of her. They glanced at each other conspiratorially.
“Fancy a last meal?” Alondo asked breezily. She decided that the question was not as ominous as it sounded. “I have the last of the shipboard rations we brought with us,” he continued. “It’s a good thing we’re leaving; otherwise we would have had to start living off the land. Catching things and hacking bits off them isn’t exactly my idea of fun.”
She smiled up at him. “So, what’s on the menu?”
“Well, let me see.” He dived into the bottom of a small sack. “I have something that’s brownish and something else that’s yellowish.”
“What’s the brown stuff?” she inquired.
Alondo pulled out something odd and lumpy and turned it over, feigning a detailed examination. “It’s either a very new egg or a very old fruit.”
“I’ll take the yellow,” she said.
Clearly, it didn’t take both of them to deliver a meal. She knew a deputation when she saw one. She chewed silently and waited for them to come to the point. She did not have to wait long.
“I see your friend is working on the second avionic,” Rael began.
Shann swallowed her current mouthful and stared into space. “He’s not my friend.”
“Yet he seems to have joined our party,” Alondo observed.
She met his questioning gaze. “Apparently, we need him to get off this island.”
“Actually, we only have his word for that,” Rael pointed out.
“True,” she said. “But I couldn’t take the chance.”
“Are you sure he can be trusted?” he pressed.
“He was a close friend of Susan Gilmer.”
Rael bit his lower lip. “So, any friend of Susan Gilmer is a friend of ours; is that what we’re saying?”
“Not exactly,” she returned. “However, it’s clear that Susan Gilmer had a high regard for him. That means something—at least it does to me.”
“She left a message for him, it’s true,” Rael agreed. “But we don’t really know the nature of their relationship. Her faith in him could have been misguided. Or he could have been misleading her, for all we know. Other than the fact that up until a few days ago, he was working for Wang and spying on us, we know virtually nothing about him.”
“He attacked the sky ship,” she reminded him.
“Ineffectually, it seems.”
“He’s a poor shot.”
Rael’s mouth twisted. “So he says. Doesn’t it seem to you that the timing of the attack that made our escape possible was a little convenient?”
Shann’s brow furrowed. The more she thought about it, the more persuasive Rael’s argument seemed. Was it possible that it was all a part of some elaborate setup? Was she allowing her guilt over Susan Gilmer’s fate to blind her to the danger that this hu-man represented?
She let out a sigh. “You’re right. That’s why I’ve refrained from telling him anything about Lyall’s plan. In the short term, I think we need to—”
“Talking about me?” The broad-shouldered figure of the hu-man McCann strode towards them. “I suppose I can’t blame you, given the history between our peoples.” Rael and Alondo parted to allow his approach. She tossed away the rind from her mystery meal and stood in an effort to meet him on equal terms—a futile gesture, as her face was barely level with his chest. He looked down at her from beneath fleshy brows. “I’ve managed to circumvent the security lockout. The flight controls will now activate on command.”
She smiled formally. “Thank you for your assistance. We will set out at first light tomorrow. Rael will fly your machine and carry Alondo with him. You and I will take that one.”
McCann’s steely blue eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute; you think…
you think I sabotaged it.”
Shann kept her eye fixed on him, silence driving home the unspoken accusation like an iron spike.
To her utter amazement, he threw his head back and began laughing—a bass, deep-throated sound, unlike any she had heard before. Eventually the paroxysms died and he shook his head. “‘Embrace everyone; trust no one’. Spoken like a true leader.”
“I’m not the leader,” she corrected him. “He is aboard the sky ship.”
McCann raised his eyebrows. “You left him behind?”
She flushed. “Not exactly. He… chose to stay.”
“Interesting,” McCann mused. “So he’s planning some sabotage of his own. What’s your role?”
She felt as transparent as glass. “Let’s get back to the mainland first. Then we’ll discuss it.”
His eyes narrowed like blue jewels set in a rough crag. Then his features relaxed and she felt the tension flow out of her. “Fine. But there’s something you should know. There are only six avionics here. That means that the ones that raided Kieroth are still out there somewhere. And when they find out that the shuttle was attacked, they’re gonna be as mad as hornets.”
“As mad as what?” Alondo echoed.
Shann stared him to silence, before turning back to face McCann. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t plan on sticking around long enough for them to find us.”
“Your vessel out on the flats—you plan to use your Diametric Drive. Sorry, but I have some more bad news for you. My people destroyed it.”
Rael looked as if he had been punched in the stomach.
“Destroyed? Are you certain?”
“I didn’t see it with my own eyes, but the pilot I talked to had no reason to lie. He told me that the Captain had designated it as a primary target, so they hit the launch site before moving on to Kieroth.”
“Why?” Rael wailed.
McCann shrugged. “Payback. And, no doubt, to prevent you people from pursuing him to the other side.”
“Could we use the hu-man avionics to cross the Aronak Sea?” Alondo inquired.
“The fusion power source would give them the range,” McCann replied. “But they are essentially light aircraft—they couldn’t fly sufficiently high to clear the storm front, and with gusts of 300 to 400 kilometres an hour, it’d be suicidal to try to push through.”
“What about the Reach?” Shann suggested. “Could we use the ship?”
Alondo shook his head. “Patris did no more than patch her up, remember? I don’t think he would be too keen to attempt it in her current condition. And we don’t have time for a refit, even if the people here had the necessary shipbuilding skills.”
The hu-man folded his massive arms. “So then, how are you going to get to the other side?”
Shann stared into the abyss. “Unfortunately, I can only think of one way.”
McCann’s eyes went wide and his fuzzy jaw dropped to the floor. “Oh no. You can’t be serious.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 29
With a dreamlike slowness, Keris picked her way through the monochrome nightmare that had once been Kieroth’s artisan district. Grey dust hung in the air. It streaked her flying cloak and filled her nostrils with an acrid odour—the odour of death. Smashed hulks of once-proud mechanical marvels lay scattered amidst the broken carcasses of workshops. Keris could not help but be reminded of the crazy old-timer who had sat in the corner of one of them and told her tall tales of a forest named Atarah, a dead Great Tree, and a ruined ancient city beyond it known as Kynedyr. A part of her hoped that he was safe somewhere.
Patris trailed after her, squinting at the surrounding devastation. His weathered skin was stretched tight over his angular features, giving his face a skull-like appearance. “We should have anticipated this.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” she countered. “We had no way of warning them from the island. Besides, Lafontaine assured us that once the hu-man star ship had departed, Wang and the others would follow.”
“Hmmm, well, it seems that that prediction was a little off. And since he’s long gone, we can’t exactly take it up with him now, can we? In the end, all we managed to do was to smooth the way for his departure, whilst allowing him to dump the problem of his wayward Captain on us.”
“That’s a pretty cynical way of looking at it.”
Patris huffed. “I’m a thief by trade, remember? I know a scam when I see one.”
Keris’s mouth became a rigid line. “I don’t think we can assume that. Lafontaine may just have misjudged Wang’s stubbornness.” Here I am, defending a hu-man, she thought wryly. It seemed that the experience with Susan Gilmer had affected all of them profoundly. All except for Patris, who had been left to guard the ship and would never meet her in person, never see the kind of woman she was or witness the sacrifice she had been willing to make for a world and a people not her own.
“You think so?” Patris smiled, but there was no mirth in it. “Let me give you a piece of free advice, dear lady, from someone who’s been around the harbour a few times. You people are too trusting.
“Back home in Sakara there’s a flat fish with purple stripes and green speckles known as a hasprette. You find them in rocky pools and shallow inlets, staring up at you helplessly with their four round eyes. They make no attempt to avoid being caught. Small children spear them with pointy sticks. In the Thief Guild, we use the same word to describe someone who’s an easy mark. You and the others are a bunch of hasprettes. If I had been there, I would have told Lafontaine to take his proposal and… what’s that?”
The sudden change in his voice jerked her back to reality. She followed his stare. At first she could see nothing. Then there was the tiniest of movements. A tuft of dirty black hair. A slight form peeking out from behind a chunk of fallen masonry. A female… no, a child. “Stay here. Keep low.” She drew her staff in a single smooth movement and began gliding towards the intruder.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Patris hissed from behind her.
“Finding out what our friend is up to.”
“It’s a little kid, not an enemy… oh for the love of… hey there.” She stopped dead and glanced over her shoulder. Patris’s hand was cupped to his mouth. Up ahead, the little figure had disappeared. “Hey there,” he called again.
Flushed with annoyance, she backtracked to his position. “I would not have harmed the child.”
Patris shot her a look. “You just don’t get it, do you?” He took a step forward, spreading his arms and smiling expansively. “Hey, come on out. I have something for you.” The tuft reappeared. “Don’t be afraid. My name is Patris. I’m a sailor. Do you know what a sailor is?” He walked forward slowly. “This here is my friend Keris. She’s—well, she can be a bit mean at times but don’t let that worry you. Are you hungry?” He reached into his pouch and pulled out a dried morsel of some wide-snouted, burrowing creature that Keris had caught and cooked on their way here. He heard a loud sniff from behind the broken wall, and a head appeared, followed by a slender torso. “That’s it, there’s nothing to fear. Here… ” He held out the meat. The youngster broke cover, snatched the offering from Patris’s hand, and began chewing, wide eyes fixed on his black-suited benefactor.
A Kelanni boy, five turns, maybe six—far too young to be wandering alone amidst bombed-out ruins. His brown tunic and trousers were as grubby as his hollow cheeks. Patris went down on his haunches so that his eye level was the same as the boy’s. “I am called Patris,” he repeated. “What’s your name?”
The boy spoke with a mouth full of food, but it sounded like “Machon.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Machon. We have come here from a long way away. Tell me, do you know where your parents are?” The little boy shook his head slowly. “Well, Keris and I would like to help you if we can. Where have you come from?” The boy gave a slight shrug. “Well, don’t worry about it for now. Oh, I almost forgot. I have something else for you.”
He smiled secretively and opened the neck of his small sack once more. Still chewing, the boy took a step closer so that he could take a peek. Patris reached inside and with a flourish produced a small dark stone, oval in shape, with dark whorls and eddies playing across its surface. Keris immediately recognized her lodestone tool for manipulating locks and latches. “Hey, that’s mine,” she exclaimed. “You stole it from me.”
Patris angled his head towards her. “Got any locked doors you need to get into right now? No, I didn’t think so.” He smiled warmly at the boy. “Go ahead, it’s yours. Take it.” The boy reached out a slender, bony arm. As he did so, Patris closed his fist around the stone before opening his hand once more. It was empty. His eyes and mouth went wide. Then he smiled a secret smile, reached behind Machon’s ear, and the stone lay in his palm once more. The little boy squealed in delight.
“You there.”
A booming voice reverberated over the shattered ground, and an imposing figure clad in a thick sable overcoat moved purposefully towards them. The parent? Keris stiffened. Straight fair hair settled about the man’s shoulders as he bent down to address the boy. “Machon, you know you shouldn’t go wandering off alone where it isn’t safe. You could have been hurt. It’s fortunate for you that you ran across some friends.” He picked the boy up, half-wrapping him in the fold of his coat. Machon began playing with the lapel distractedly. “You are Keris—an investigator in your homeland, and this is Alondo… no, Patris, the captain of the wooden vessel that brought you here, yes?”
Keris allowed herself to relax slightly. “I’m sorry; I don’t believe we’ve met. How is it that you know us?”
The big man smiled. He had a strong jaw and soft dark eyes, and Keris felt drawn to him in spite of herself. “The exploits of the group from Drann have become a topic of avid conversation among the good townspeople of Kieroth. I am Byrdach, Prefect. I command the drach and help maintain order. Today, that means drawing together the shattered remnants of our town. We have a lot of injured and displaced people. Machon is my new assistant, aren’t you?” The boy nodded enthusiastically and went back to fiddling with Byrdach’s collar.
“We thought you might be his father,” Patris explained. Byrdach’s expression grew solemn and he gave a slight shake of his head. Machon continued to play, giving no sign that he had caught the gesture. Keris felt the urge for retribution rise within her like a wellspring, but this was neither the time nor the place.
“Might I ask whether your journey to Helice met with success?” Byrdach inquired.
Keris turned slowly, panning the desolate scene. Her voice became a harsh whisper. “I suppose that depends on how you measure success.” She turned back to him. “Byrdach, are you aware of who was responsible for this?”
“The hu-mans—yes, I know,” Byrdach replied. “A young lodestone hunter named Yaron found one of them in the Cathgorns. This hu-man confessed to him that they were behind the attack.”
No, surely, it couldn’t be. “Did your hunter happen to mention the name of this hu-man?”
“McCann. He said the hu-man’s name was McCann.”
Keris’s eyes widened. “Listen, Byrdach. We know this hu-man. He is extremely dangerous. Do you have any idea of his current whereabouts?”
“Dangerous, you say?” Byrdach frowned. “That’s odd, because Yaron said that the hu-man saved his life. Not only that; this McCann also managed to flag down one of the avionic pilots and knock him out.
He flew off in the direction of the island.”
“Are you certain?” she asked.
“Yaron is young, but he is a good, steady lad. Intelligent. Reliable. If he says that is what happened, then that is what happened.”
It made no sense. She had used the spy’s mistrust and suspicion to send him to an icy death. Why would he save a Kelanni? And why would he turn on his own people?
She suddenly recalled the casual murder by her escort of a boy taken as tribute and, afterwards, the brutality she had witnessed at the Spring Gratitude Festival in Lind—a mother sitting broken on the stone floor of the chapel, sobbing for the son who had been snatched away. She had not realised it at the time, but each event was one step along a road that ultimately caused her to turn her back on her life as a Keltar. Her eyes took in the broken buildings of Kieroth once more and settled finally on the little boy in Byrdach’s arms, now orphaned. Had McCann been similarly moved by conscience? Or were his actions part of some elaborate deception?
For the moment, it didn’t matter. She had a task to perform and she was not about to let McCann, or anyone else for that matter, deflect her from her purpose.
“Might I ask what happened to the rest of your party?” Byrdach enquired.
Best not mention the drach. Or Lyall’s act of betrayal. “We destroyed the hu-man weapon, and the main body of hu-mans left, but a small number managed to… acquire the ancient device. The rest of our group stayed behind to retrieve the instrument and destroy it if at all possible. We came back to warn you… too late it seems.”
“It’s not your fault that this happened,” Byrdach soothed. “What do you intend to do now?”
“We have to help,” Patris said.
Keris shook her head rapidly. “I’m sorry, there’s no time for that.”
“These people need us.” Patris’s voice held a determined edge.
“Please,” Byrdach intervened. “Do not be concerned. We have the situation here under control. You should return to your side and help your people to mount a defence.”
“That is our intention,” Keris added quickly. “In fact, we would like your permission to use the sky ship you have assembled.”
“If you mean the Diametric Drive, then I’m afraid you’re too late. The hu-man avionics attacked and destroyed it before moving on to here. I’m sorry.”
I should have predicted that something like this would happen. She cursed under her breath and then turned to Patris, who held up a restraining hand. “If you’re thinking of taking Annata’s Reach back through the storm barrier, forget it. My jerry-rigged repairs to the hull would never stand the stress; plus we had three with flying cloaks then and now we only have one. There’s no way you could pull the ship on your own; I don’t care how much more powerful your new red cloak is.”
He was right, of course. Which left just one possibility. She turned back to Byrdach. “This Yaron you spoke of—he is a hunter?”
“A lodestone hunter, yes. He scours the glaciers and upland slopes of the Cathgorn and Meurig mountains with his brother, in search of lodestone.”
“Would he consent to be our guide, do you think?”
Byrdach blinked. “Your guide to where?”
“There is a place in the mountains I need to reach.”
“You must mean the ancient tower. The Directorate were supposed to be organising an archaeological expedition, but as you can see, we now have more pressing matters to attend to. I don’t think they want anyone else going near it, but,” he winked, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
She gave a formal bow. “Thank you. Can you perhaps tell us where we might find this Yaron?”
“I believe he returned to his village east of here, near the foot of the Cathgorns. I can have someone accompany you there, if you’d like.”
“No,” she said. “I appreciate your offer, but you need every available hand here to help with the relief work. Patris and I will find our way.”
“I see. Well, thank you for taking care of Machon here. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Actually, yes. Do you know if Hannath is currently at the observatory?”
Byrdach’s face fell, and Keris braced herself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Hannath is dead.”
~
As they climbed the hill to the observatory, Keris’s boots felt like great blocks. Winter lingered in this land, and snow clung stubbornly to its slopes, smothering any growing thing that might give a hint of spring. Casting a look over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of the town, the once-proud collection of noble edifices now burned, blackened, and beaten. A few thin trails of smoke rose vertically into the sky like silent cries for help. She dragged her eyes forward, but the view was scarcely more comforting. The great dome with its adjoining house was gone. Keris’s heart sank. There seemed little chance that anything could have survived the conflagration.
Byrdach had handed the orphan Machon to a bright-eyed, spare-boned young woman as she dug through a broken wall with a team of others. The boy did not cry or protest but clutched the small, oval lump of refined lodestone to his chest as if his life depended on it. Keris wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she had neither the means nor the words. Never in her life had she felt so completely helpless.
As they passed beyond the outskirts of the town, the Prefect’s mood had grown solemn. Patris, too, had fallen into a brooding silence. The brash thief who had snatched their money purse in Sakara, who cared for nothing other than his ‘crew’ and his beloved city—that person was no more. The new Patris was a changed man—willing to extend compassion to strangers half a world away. She genuinely regretted vetoing his offer of help.
Miraculously, the large iron gates were still intact. They swung open at her touch. Here on the hilltop, the charred ruins had acquired a light covering of snow which filled the cracks and smoothed over the rough edges, giving them an almost pleasing appearance, like a smile on the face of a corpse. She glanced at Patris, and the two of them began to pick their way towards what had once been the back of the house. Stooping down, she began examining the rubble. Patris followed suit.
Byrdach hovered at the edge of the building and showed signs of increasing agitation, as if she and Patris were intruding on holy ground. Impatience finally got the better of him. “May I ask what you’re looking for?”
“Something important,” she called back without looking up.
“Something Hannath was working on. Don’t worry. We’re only seeking to recover our own property.”
“Over here,” Patris shouted. She stood erect and picked her way to his position. Byrdach shuffled from one foot to the other. Finally, he overcame his qualms, crossed the threshold, and made his way towards them. Against the corner of one wall was what had once been a workbench, and on it, half-covered in soot and snow, were the remains of a small apparatus—a once-circular base, now contorted, its mechanism of red, silver, and gold smashed and exposed.
“What is it?” Byrdach asked.
She gently brushed away the snow and picked up what was left of the device, rotating it slowly. “A gift from a very old friend. At least, it used to be.”
“What does that mean?”
Keris let out a heavy sigh. “It means that we are on our own.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 30
Keris pulled her crimson flying cloak tight around her body in a futile attempt to stave off the cold of the mountain. She could feel the familiar push of lodestone from somewhere beneath the snow. How easy it would be to extend the upper lodestone layer of her cloak and simply fly up the mountainside, but that would leave Patris in the lurch, not to mention that it would amount to an insult to their guides, who had been kind enough to escort them this far. Consequently, she was condemned to trudge through the snow, along with the rest of the common folk.
They owed Byrdach a debt of gratitude. Not only had he managed to supply their guides with drach weapons so that they would be able to fend off any denizens of the mountain that they might encounter, but he also furnished them with the exact location of the ancient tower— something that the Directorate had determined should be kept a secret. When he handed over the map, there was a twinkle in his eye. For someone charged with maintaining law, he seemed to take a perverse pleasure in breaking it.
They shuffled along in single file, with Yonach and Yaron, the two guides, up ahead, then Keris, with Patris bringing up the rear. Keris had lost no time in interrogating Yaron regarding his dealings with McCann. Yaron confirmed that he and his brother had indeed rescued the hu-man from the mountains and then the boy had taken it upon himself to transport McCann to Kieroth. The reasons were complicated and seemed to involve the internal politics of the lodestone hunters and his brother’s status with their ruling Directorate. Suffice it to say that during the journey, the two encountered a pack of dangerous creatures known as valthar, and McCann somehow saved Yaron’s life, creating a bond of friendship between the two.
She told herself that the boy was young and inexperienced and could easily have been duped by a wily hu-man spy, but for some reason, she could not quite bring herself to believe that comforting explanation.
At length, Patris broke into her musings. “You do realise the problems with this plan, don’t you? Assuming we don’t get eaten by wild beasts, that is.”
She found conversing on a different subject a welcome distraction. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“Recall that there are four towers—two on this side and two on ours. However, the tower on the Eastern Plains was destroyed by the Prophet’s soldiers when you attempted to use it. That leaves just one working tower on our side—Dagmar.”
“That’s correct,” Keris affirmed.
“Dagmar happens to lie close to Chalimar, right in the heart of the Prophet’s territory.”
“Then we will be exactly where we need to be.” She gazed up at the twin orbs of Ail-Gan and Ail-Kar burning steadily in the deep azure sky. “It’s day on this side. When we transfer to the other side, it will be the middle of the night.”
“That won’t help,” Patris insisted. “When you activated the globe at the top of the Tower of Akalon it lit up the sky like a lightning storm. When we arrive at Dagmar, I’m afraid someone’s going to notice. My guess is that every Keltar, hotshot soldier captain, and curiosity-seeker this side of the Tragar Mountains will be making a beeline for the tower. There’ll probably be vendors selling flatbreads with barrog meat and baked moba. It’ll be a circus.” Patris’s overly colourful scenario notwithstanding, he did have a point.
“The tower is sealed just like the one at Akalon,” she pointed out. “The Prophet’s forces might go to the tower to investigate, but they would have no way to reach us.”
“And then what? Do we stay up there for a day? Two days? Ten? Sooner or later we would have to come down—or else transport ourselves back to this side.”
As she considered the problem, an idea occurred to her—one that might give them the opportunity to escape and at the same time allow her to perform an important task of her own. “I’ll take care of it, although… it will be necessary for me to leave you for a short while. You will need to explain it to the others. Tell them not to worry.”
Patris’s eyes narrowed. She could see his mind working, attempting to figure out her plan and see through to her true intent.
Before he could reply, there was a shout from up ahead. Yaron was pointing at a jagged wall of obsidian broken by a narrow cleft. They started towards it, then froze. A deep-throated growl reverberated about the hillside. It grew into a chorus that filled her ears and jarred her teeth.
“Murghal.”
Yonach and Yaron pushed through the deepening snowdrifts towards the fissure. Keris drew her staff and began circling, seeking the source of the guttural noises. Patris took up a position alongside her, but she gestured with a flick of her head. “Go on. I’ll cover you.” He looked as if he was about to say something, but he turned and hastened after the two escorts.
Then she saw it: a huge mound of shaggy grey fur shambling towards her. She caught sight of another out of the corner of her eye, and then another just behind it. Shann had described her encounter with them, although Keris was not at all sure that she understood the explanation. ‘Rime Slayers’—that was the colloquial name given to these hoary monstrosities. She said that they were drawn to heat. She also mentioned that they conserved heat by forming ice crystals within their sinews, giving their bodies the consistency of iron.
Shann had escaped using lodestone grenades that Rael had cobbled together from items he found inside the ancient tower. Keris had no grenades; she had nothing but her diamond-bladed staff. It would have to suffice.
The foremost creature shuffled towards her. She scanned for lodestone, felt a pressure off to her left, flared her upper lodestone layer, and pushed off it, leaping to her right. The murghal slowed, moved left and right, opened a tooth-filled maw, and made a guttural sound. Suddenly, it dawned on her—the beast had lost her heat scent. Try to keep airborne.
She reached the apex of her trajectory and flared her cloak once more, pushing off another deposit behind her. Where did I go? Nimbly, she dropped to the ground behind the leading creature and thrust the staff at its back with every ounce of strength she could muster. To her utter amazement, her blade scarcely penetrated the ice-matted fur, and the impact sent a jarring shock wave up her arm.
The murghal whirled around, thin prehensile arms whipping towards her. She jumped back instinctively. Shann had told her that one of the creatures had touched her arm and the flesh had frozen instantly. It was probably the method they used to disable their prey. Don’t let them touch you.
Several more creatures appeared and started to outflank her. She extended her cloak and vaulted vertically once more. She could only keep them occupied for so long. It might be possible to bait them—lead them away from the others—but that would mean that she would not make it to the tower. The hu-mans could not be allowed to prevail. She needed another option.
As gravity slowed her ascent, her hand moved instinctively to her neck control. She recalled Shann’s warning that extending both upper and lodestone layers together, without the intervening bronze, could rip apart the cloak mechanism. Carefully, she extended the bronze and lower lodestone layers together. She reached the top of her leap… and stopped.
It was an odd sensation. Below her, the murghal were milling around in apparent confusion, but for her, suspended high above the pure-white mountain slopes, it was as if time itself had ceased. It felt like a loss of control; she fought the urge to flail about like a stranded fish. She began to drift lower and to her right. Gingerly, she tweaked the cloak’s lower lodestone layer and twisted her body, seeking a stabilising push from any other nearby deposits. Coordinating the three layers as well as her own movements was growing increasingly difficult, and she could feel herself losing the battle. Inexorably, she began sinking towards the jostling pack of murghal like a punctured balloon.
Just then, twin bolts of lightning sizzled across the ground and struck two of the nightmarish creatures, who promptly howled in protest. She followed the beams to their source and saw their two guides, wedged in the narrow crevice, drach weapons pointed squarely at the murghal horde. She could not make out their shouts, but their beckoning gestures were clear enough. Gradually, she retracted lower lodestone and bronze, accelerating her rate of descent until her boots struck the snow. She pushed off again immediately, flying straight for the gap in the cliff.
“C’mon… C’mon,” Yonach, the older one, yelled. She landed in front of them and they lunged forward, grabbing her by the arms and manhandling her through the gap. She tumbled out on the far side, got to her feet, and her mouth fell open. Just ahead, rising far above her, was an ancient tower. Aside from the rime that clung to its dull grey stone and the banks of snow that had drifted against its base, it looked identical to the Tower of Akalon, the tower on the Eastern Plains that was now a charred ruin, and the tower at Dagmar.
Yonach and Yaron emerged from the cleft in the rock, grabbed both of her arms once more, and urged her forward. “The beams don’t ’urt ’em,” Yonach said. “The ’eat from the electrical discharge jus’ confuses their senses. Blinds ’em. It don’ last long neither. We gotta get goin’.”
Patris was waiting just inside the open doorway. “Are you all right?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine. Let’s keep moving.” Outside, the roars of the murghal were getting louder. She spotted an empty cabinet and grabbed it, pulling it over onto its side so that it partially blocked the entrance.
“That won’t ’old ’em,” Yonach declared.
“Maybe not,” she rasped. “But it might delay them a little.” She led the way to the stairwell.
“You think those things can climb stairs?” Patris asked with a slight tremor in his voice.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “But I’m not waiting here to find out.”
~
They climbed in silence through the dusky tower, breath condensing in the frigid air.
Boom. The tower shuddered slightly. Patris whirled around, but there was no sign of pursuit.
“I don’t think that was the murghal,” Keris said grimly. “Come on. We’re nearly there.”
At the level just before the roof exit, she turned aside, making for the counterpart of the room that Shann had discovered at Akalon. She felt for the panel just inside the door and pressed it.
A light came on in the ceiling. It flickered and buzzed, angry that someone had dared awaken it from its long slumber. She ignored it and located the pedestal at the far end of the room. The indentation on its upper surface was the familiar shape of a scalene triangle.
With a practised hand, she drew out the access module and fitted it into the recess. The module glowed with a gentle amber light, which suddenly turned red. She retrieved the module and rejoined the others, who had been watching from the room’s entrance. “This way.”
Another impact shook the tower. A faint droning was coming from somewhere outside. Yaron came to a halt and stared wide-eyed at the walls. “Wha’s ’appenin’?”
His elder brother came up from behind. “I dunno. But we gotta keep goin’.” Keris turned and led the way once more, picking up the pace.
The stairway terminated in the same heavy door that she remembered. She hesitated a moment, plagued by an irrational fear that it would not open, before pulling the latch down firmly. She heard a satisfying clunk and the door shifted a fraction. Pushing it all the way open, she stepped out into the suns’ light.
A high-pitched whine filled her ears. She recognised it immediately. Avionic. Two of the silver darts crossed in the sky ahead. Another off to her left was banking towards them. They had to be the same craft that attacked Kieroth. She had assumed that they had all returned to Helice, but somehow they must have found out that she and Patris planned to use the tower. And they were here to prevent it.
The great silver globe sat firmly in its clamps at the centre of the parapet; it seemed undamaged. “Stay here. Keep low,” she called over her shoulder before turning and sprinting across the roof, carmine cloak billowing behind her.
She counted six of the flying machines. They flashed between the jagged, snowclad artes and buzzed the tower like angry mannatars, waiting for the chance to sting.
The avionic to her left came in low, engines screaming. She turned to face it, feet planted squarely. A thunderbolt flashed from the front of the craft. Instantly, she took to the air, buoyed up by the refined lodestone set into the roof platform. Lightning seared the place where she had been standing, and the avionic passed directly over her head. She was momentarily caught in the downdraft from the immense fans and fought to regain control. She glanced over her shoulder. Patris and the two guides were cowering behind the parapet. Stay right there.
As she drifted lower, she caught sight of two more avionics streaking towards her in formation. She was successfully drawing their fire, but as a result, she was now trapped. If she retreated to the roof exit, she would endanger the others and would be cut off from the globe. If she continued forward, then the globe might very well be hit, with disastrous consequences.
The two silver craft had her in their sights. She dialled back the upper lodestone layer, then extended it again, pushing higher. She fancied she could see the outlined figures of the pilots through the clear canopies. At the final moment, she slammed on bronze. Upper lodestone pushed bronze and bronze pulled lodestone—she dropped like a stone. Twin golden beams crossed directly above her and struck an abutment on the other side of the roof platform, sending up shards of masonry.
Immediately, she extended her lower lodestone layer in an effort to arrest her fall—a fraction too late. She slammed into the stone platform, twisting her right ankle.
Ignoring the pain, she cycled through various strategies suggested by the game of shassatan. She needed an escape route. That entailed using one of the distraction gambits, but she was currently the only ‘piece on the board’.
Her best chance seemed to be to get their two guides to break cover and bring their drach weapons to bear. She was quite certain that the electrical discharges from their handheld devices would have no effect on the flying machines, even if by some miracle they managed to score a direct hit, but it might give her the time she needed to get to the globe and activate it. But then what? It took a few moments for the silver sphere to power up and lift itself above the tower, but in less time than that, the attacking aircraft could easily knock them out of the sky.
Two more avionics were coming in for a pass. Keris stared into the jaws of defeat. They would use up her resources, wear her down bit by bit, until she made the tiniest of mistakes and then it would all be over.
She readied herself to spring into the air on her good leg…and hesitated. Their attitude, their angle of approach, was all wrong.
She watched them, transfixed, then spun around as the sleek craft flashed past her on either side. Shading her eyes against the suns, she followed the avionics’ line of flight as they came together once more, glinting in the suns’ light, before shooting off in opposite directions.
Immediately, bursts of yellow fire erupted from the nose cones of the new arrivals, raking two of the former attackers. Smoke billowed from their fan housings and they began to lose height. One of the victorious avionics angled towards a second target; the second slowed and then shot vertically into the air.
Distantly, she became aware that Patris along with Yonach and Yaron were standing at her shoulder, watching the aerial battle. She thought of ordering them to take cover once more, but she had lost the power of speech. It felt as if they were witnessing a miracle.
The first newcomer locked onto the tail of an enemy craft; the second swooped like a bird of prey and then pulled up sharply so as to pass directly over the cockpit of another. Keris winced, certain that the two avionics were about to collide, but instead, the lower one was slammed down by an invisible force and began to spiral out of control. Lodestone. The second newcomer had activated his machine’s lodestone booster, effectively knocking his opponent out of the sky.
A wild roar assailed her ears and she realised that the others were cheering loudly. You don’t even know who it is who is doing this, she mused. Nevertheless there was something about the second pilot’s manoeuvres—something very familiar…
The first of the newcomers bore down on its chosen target. The enemy pilot twisted and turned in a desperate effort to shake off his tormentor, but he could not get free.
A brilliant sword lit up the sky and impacted the avionic’s tail fins. The stricken aircraft pitched and then swerved violently, spouting smoke and flame. The cheering died away and Keris felt a sickening dread as she suddenly realised that the machine was out of control.
And it was headed straight for them.
<><><><><>
Chapter 31
“Get down!”
The avionic filled her vision as it hurtled towards them; a creature of doom, trailing thick black smoke from its flaming snout. Yonach and Patris reacted instantly, diving face-first onto the stone platform, but Yaron simply stood, open-mouthed. Keris grabbed the boy unceremoniously by the collar, shoving him down and throwing herself on top of him.
She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth as the mechanical beast screamed in her ears and choked her with its brumous breath, leaving a grimy taste in her mouth. She heard a loud bang, followed by horrible rending. The sphere—it’s been hit.
She twisted her head around and forced her smarting eyes open. Through the acrid fog, she could see the great globe at the centre of the roof platform, resting securely on its clamps. It appeared to be intact. Then she glimpsed the avionic. It had impacted the far side of the platform, destroying the parapet and ripping open its undercarriage in the process. She watched in horror as the wreckage toppled under its own momentum and disappeared off the end of the tower.
The smoke began to clear, and the four of them rose to their feet slowly like sleepwalkers. “That were close,” Yonach said.
“Too close,” Patris agreed.
Burning debris littered the tower’s roof. She was tempted to rush to the other side and check on the fate of the crashed avionic, but it was the drama being played out in the skies above that held her attention. The new arrivals had been outnumbered three to one. Now they were even.
The remaining machines wheeled and dived and chased each other in an elaborate dance, the cadence of their engines rising and falling in a bizarre musical accompaniment.
A single note rose to fever pitch as one of them broke off and began to climb steeply. The avionic reached its zenith, hung for an instant against the brilliant orb that was Ail-Gan, then plummeted as if someone had gouged a burning piece out of the yellow sun and hurled it towards the ground.
As the avionic streaked downward, engines screaming, Keris extrapolated its flight path and spotted the target vessel executing a slow turn. Suddenly the enemy craft banked sharply. At the same instant, a brilliant flash shot forth from the descending avionic, slicing through the air and narrowly missing the enemy’s port quarter.
Keris winced. In her mind’s eye she could see the enemy pilot’s self-satisfied smirk. He executed a tight turn so as to face his attacker, bringing his weapon to bear.
Veer off. Veer off. At the last moment, the falling aircraft executed a sudden roll. The enemy beam grazed its underside, and as it shot past, the enemy craft was punched sideways by an invisible giant hand.
It pitched and tumbled towards them, then dropped below the level of the parapet. The four onlookers rushed to the edge and craned their necks just in time to see the pilot regain control—a fraction too late. The avionic slammed into the side of the tower, causing the ancient stone to reverberate like a bell. The wreckage fell away, the sound of its impact muffled by the deep drifts of snow at the tower’s base.
The last enemy aircraft flew overhead and altered course westwards, making a run for it. The attackers pursued like enthusiastic gundir seeing off an intruder. Finally, they gave up the chase, turned in a wide arc, and made their way back to the tower. Keris withdrew from the parapet and took up a position with her back to the great silver globe, flanked by Patris and the two guides.
The victorious avionics hovered over the stone platform. The downdraft from their immense fans ruffled her crimson cloak and blew her long raven hair unceremoniously about her face. She watched intently as they descended side by side, settling back on their landing struts. Their engines died and the first of the canopies popped open.
The front seat was occupied by a full-faced individual in a ridiculous red cap that could only belong to Alondo. A wave of relief passed through her; the wayward musician who had impetuously jumped ship was safe. Folded awkwardly into the rear pilot’s seat was the lanky form of the boy Rael.
The second aircraft’s canopy released, and the slight figure of Shann stood up in the rear seat. In front of her, a powerful, broad-shouldered creature with a repulsive growth of facial hair sprouting from his pale, sickly face—McCann.
What was he doing, travelling with the others? Was he a captive? Or was this part of some elaborate deception? Her fingers involuntarily brushed the haft of her staff. Then she heard voices. It sounded like… an argument.
“I am never doing anything like that with you, ever again.” The hu-man’s bass growl sounded like a threat.
“I’m sorry we had to go up against your people,” Shann said, “but there was no choice.”
“That’s not what I meant,” McCann replied. “I feel like a shirt that just got put through the spin cycle. Who on earth taught you to fly an avionic?”
She gave a slight shrug and climbed onto the fan housing. “No one. I taught myself.”
“You might have mentioned that before you insisted on taking the flight controls.”
She stuck her nose in the air. “Might I remind you that I downed three of their machines? It would have been four if the last one hadn’t taken off like a scalded barrog swine.”
“Oh really. Sorry, I didn’t notice. I was too busy watching my past life flash before me.”
“She did the same thing to me,” Rael broke in. “Twice. I figured it was someone else’s turn.”
“Hey, what is this?” she spluttered. Rael extended a hand to help her down. He was smiling. Her tone softened. “You’re just jealous.”
“I think you’re confusing ‘jealous’ with ‘nauseous’,” McCann returned.
“Look,” Alondo said breezily. “It’s Keris and Patris.”
Shann stepped forward and bowed slightly. “It’s good to see you both. Byrdach told us you were headed here. It looks as if the hu-mans who attacked Kieroth somehow found out as well.”
“The Captain has a spy network in Kieroth,” McCann explained.
“There are Kelanni who would betray their own?” Rael exclaimed.
McCann turned to him. “Maybe you don’t know your own people as well as you think you do.”
Keris’s reply was cut off, as Yaron, the younger guide, rushed forward and threw his arms around the hu-man. There was a stunned silence. When at last the boy lifted his head, there were tears in his eyes. “I thought I’d ne’er see ya again.”
His elder brother bowed formally, pumping McCann’s hand. “Yaron says this is the way ’u-mans say thanks. I wanna thank ya fer savin’ th’ boy’s life. If there be any way we can repay ya—”
McCann looked as if he were enduring a form of attack. “You rescued me from the mountain. Why don’t we call it even?” The brothers responded by clapping him on the back and shaking his hand even more vigorously.
Keris approached Shann and adopted a formal stance. “I must apologise. I failed in the mission with which you charged me.”
Shann regarded her curiously. “How so?”
“I was to conduct Patris and Alondo safely to Kieroth.”
“Ah.” Shann glanced at Alondo, who flushed and turned away. Then she faced Keris once more. “Well, no harm done. In truth, the fault was mine. I ordered Alondo to leave his friend behind. That was a mistake. I’m sorry.”
Alondo stepped between the two women, grabbed Shann’s hand, and began shaking it in a parody of the hu-man custom, grinning from ear to ear as he did so. “That’s all right. I forgive you.”
“I assume,” Keris continued, as soon as the musician had finished his antics, “that the fact that Lyall is not with you means that your portion of the mission failed as well?”
“Well, no, not exactly.”
She grimaced as if she were settling in for a long explanation, but before she could begin, Rael stepped in. “Shann, we ought to get going while we have the opportunity.”
Shann nodded, “Rael is right. Come on. I’ll fill you in on the way.” She turned to Yonach and Yaron. “My thanks for accompanying Keris and Patris. Will the two of you be all right?”
Yonach grinned; the lines on his face were like a relief map of the mountain. “Don’ worry ’bout us, miss. Me an’ the lad ’ere can ’andle a few murghal.”
Shann gave a formal bow. “Then we bid you farewell.”
Keris held up a restraining hand. “Wait. There is one more thing.” She regarded Yaron intently. “I—we need you to do something. Something very important. The Chandara—those you know as the ‘First Ones’. They are not extinct, as your people believe. They are still alive. But they need our help.”
She had made a commitment to Annata that she would keep the location of the Chandara in this world a secret, but the woman from the past had been wrong. Her people’s attempt to save them only condemned them to a gradual death.
Keris’s promise to the Chandara of the Warren had been that the Kelanni would preserve them—that they would ‘do what the Tree could not’. What that meant exactly she did not know, but she was determined that the promise be fulfilled.
She reached into her tunic and drew out Annata’s map. “You must return to Kieroth and speak to Byrdach; he will listen to you. He must convince your Directorate to aid the Chandara. Then you must travel… to this location.” She indicated the position on the map. “The Chandara there live underground, but do not worry; they will find you. Tell them that Keris sent you and that you have come on behalf of the Kelanni in order to fulfil ‘the promise’. They will understand. Then you must do whatever it is that they ask you to do.”
Yaron looked to his older brother, who nodded solemnly. He turned back to Keris. “You ’ave our oath on it.” In a moment of panic, she thought that the boy might try to hug her, but mercifully he maintained a decorous smile and a respectful distance.
She strode to the centre of the platform, where the silver globe sat like an immense diadem on the head of a stone giant. She found the triangular-shaped indentation and fit the access module into it. The complex circuitry within the transparent casing came to life, glowing a gentle amber. The light turned to bright crimson and a door slid open. She retrieved the module and stepped inside.
The interior looked identical to the device at the top of the tower on the Eastern Plains—the one that had been destroyed by the Prophet’s forces while she and the others attempted to use it. There was the same mysterious interior lighting; the same curved, silver-grey walls; the same raised area; and the same array of levers at the centre. It felt like stepping back in time.
She moved to the controls. “Grab hold of something.” The others distributed themselves and grasped the available handrails.
All right, four levers. Two blue, corresponding to the towers on this side; two red, which would transport them to the towers on the other side. Beneath the levers were inscribed some symbols she couldn’t interpret—probably because they were written in the ancient script. It didn’t matter. The tower on the Eastern Plains was destroyed, so whichever one of the red levers connected to that tower, it wouldn’t operate anyway.
Of course, after thousands of turns of disuse, it was perfectly possible that the corresponding device at Dagmar might not work either. If that were true, then they would know soon enough.
She made to grasp the red levers with both hands when she suddenly caught sight of something. To her left was a bronzecoloured assembly of parts, set into the central unit. There was nothing like it at the tower on the Eastern Plains; of that she was certain. With a sudden flash of insight, she realised that the exposed mechanism was designed to connect to a different set of levers but that someone had removed them.
“Is everything all right?” Shann called.
“Yes—yes, everything’s fine. Hold on.” Keris pulled both red levers down firmly.
There was a dull clunk as the clamps that were securing the sphere disengaged. The floor canted slightly and the great globe began to lift into the air, supported by the lodestone in the roof platform.
The sound of crackling gathered all around her. For an instant she thought that the device was malfunctioning or that they had come under attack again. Then she recalled the fulgurant display of blue lightning that accompanied the activation of the spheres. She felt a twinge of regret that she could not observe it from inside.
What happened next was hard to describe. At first, it seemed as if the all-pervading light within the sphere had been snuffed out. However, when her thought processes caught up, she realised that it felt more as if she had been snuffed out. Yet there was no period of unconsciousness. The universe simply blinked. When it opened its eyes, everything was exactly the same—except that the odd assemblage of connections to a non-existent set of levers was gone. She opened her mouth—then closed it firmly. There was no explanation, no rationalization she could offer to the others that made any sense.
The crepitation in her ears fizzled as the globe descended slowly. She swivelled around. The others seemed a little dazed, but otherwise they were in good shape. She felt a slight bump and heard a distant clang as the strange conveyance settled into place once more.
Rael exhaled slowly. “Why is it so stuffy in here?”
Keris descended from the central podium and activated the opening. It slid open smoothly, admitting a warm draft of air. She climbed out onto an identical stone platform and gazed heavenward. The giant orb that was Ail-Mazzoth suffused the sky with its soft, warm rubescence.
We’re back.
<><><><><>
Chapter 32
“Quickly, let’s move.” Keris’s cloak whirled about her as she glided unevenly towards the roof exit.
“What’s the hurry?” Shann called after her.
“Our arrival. The lightning storm above the tower will have been seen for a great distance—maybe as far as Chalimar itself. We don’t have much time.”
“Time for what?”
Keris pushed the access module all the way home. It lit up yellow, then red. The lock mechanism clucked its approval. “Come. I’ll tell you on the way.”
“What about the others?”
“Patris will explain it to them.”
“Patris?” Shann ducked through the entranceway and into the tower’s pitch-dark interior. Flame erupted, casting Keris’s face in fire and shadow. Shann blinked away the afterimages on her retinas as Keris reposited her tinderbox. “Keris, where are we going?”
The tall woman led the way down the spiral stairwell, limping slightly; dull yellow illumination from her handheld lamp caressed the curving stone wall. “In a moment. First, tell me of your plan.”
Shann followed, hastening to stay within the meagre circle of light. “I don’t… I mean it isn’t my plan. It’s Lyall’s.”
“So you found him.”
“Yes.”
“Yet he didn’t come with you.”
“He’s convinced them that he’s gone over to their side. That’s all a part of his scheme.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“I… I’m not sure.” Keris stopped in mid-stride, turned, and gave a look that made Shann feel as if she was on trial. “There were two humans with him. He could only reveal his plan to us in cryptic terms, so
they would not catch on.”
“What use is his plan to us if we don’t know what it is?”
“Rael believes that it involves something called ‘slag’. It’s a substance that’s left behind when—”
“Yes, yes, I know what slag is,” Keris interrupted. “What possible use could a waste product be?”
“I don’t know. But Rael is convinced that Lyall gave us all of the clues necessary to put it all together. He and Alondo are working on it.”
“I see.” Keris resumed her descent.
Shann trailed in her wake. “You don’t believe he’s still on our side, do you?”
“I am forced to wonder why he didn’t simply tell us his plan instead of running off and taking the four components with him.”
“Rael says that’s because he knew we would try and stop him. He didn’t want to put the rest of us in more danger than was necessary.”
“He wants to save his sister. That much is clear.”
“I think he believes that he has a plan that will do that and defeat Wang at the same time.”
“By offering him the thing he wants most—the power to create lodestone at will.” Keris nodded thoughtfully. “Risky. Add to that the possibility that we might not figure out his plan in time to be of any use.”
“Lyall has faith in us… in all of us.”
“Does that include the ‘Morela’?”
Shann concluded she must have misheard. “The what?”
“Morela,” Keris sighed. “You know, you really ought to familiarize yourself with shassatan strategy. Pieces are designated by the player as they are placed on the board. The Morela is named after a creature found in the shoals off the Borgoth Sea coast that changes colour with the tides. In Shassatan, the Morela is a very powerful piece, but it possesses one major drawback. When flanked by an opponent’s pieces, it changes colour—comes under the opponent’s control.”
“Why would anyone designate a piece in that way?”
“It depends on the player’s attitude towards risk. And I suppose it also says something about their estimation of their abilities. Either way, it’s a tactic that can easily backfire.”
Shadowy shapes danced on the walls, like flickering faces of the tower’s long-dead occupants. Watching her. “You’re talking about McCann, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am,” Keris said.
Shann took a deep breath. “The decision to include him was mine. I take full responsibility.”
“I do not mean to criticize. A leader sometimes has to make difficult decisions. I’m sure you had your reasons.”
“But… ” Shann prompted.
“But I would not be fulfilling my commitment to you if I did not point out the dangers. And… the debt we owe to one hu-man does not mean that we should trust them all.”
Susan Gilmer. Were her feelings over the woman’s sacrifice distorting her judgment? Rael had challenged her on that very same point. She was not sure that she had an answer for either of them. In the end, it came down to intuition… instinct. Somehow, the pain etched into McCann’s face when she delivered Susan Gilmer’s message told her all that she needed to know. “I appreciate your counsel. But so far he has come through for us.”
Keris sounded carefully neutral. “Very well. What do you intend to do next?”
“Rael and Alondo need time to figure out what Lyall is planning. In the meantime, we should try to secure allies. The Sakarans are doing a great job of tying down large numbers of troops and Keltar, but they are too far away to be of any direct assistance. We need some local muscle. I propose we resurrect Lyall’s original plan and free the tributes at Gort. Having got possession of the four components, the Prophet will no doubt view gathering the natural ore as less of a priority, so security at the compound will probably be at a minimum… at least, I hope so.”
“I may be able to help there,” Keris put in.
“How do you mean?”
“Before he died, Mordal revealed that he had Ferenek, the garrison commander, secretly killed because he was asking too many questions. Ferenek was popular with his men. Some of them may already know what happened; others may suspect. In any case, if I can convince enough of them, then I might succeed in turning the garrison to our cause.”
Shann felt a flicker of hope. “Do you think that’s possible?”
“Don’t celebrate yet. I imagine it will take some doing. There may also be Keltar stationed at the fortress, in which case we could well have a tough fight on our hands. Even if we are successful, it will alert Wang to the fact that there is a rebellion in progress. We will have to move quickly.”
Round and round, Shann chased after the bobbing lamp. She had lost count of the floors they had passed. It felt as if she were running down an immense corkscrew as it tunnelled into the very depths of the world. “Would you mind telling me where we’re going now?”
“Drum,” Keris replied.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me that’s another reference to shassatan.”
“That’s right. The ‘Drum’ is a piece designed to draw an opponent’s attention away from the player’s true strategy. That’s me.”
“You’re going to draw the Prophet’s forces after you.”
“Correct.”
“I can’t let you do that. It’s too dangerous.”
“Would you rather see the six of us try to fight our way out?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Then there’s no other option. Soldiers will already be on their way. Possibly Keltar as well. Someone has to lead them away from here to give the rest of you a chance to escape.”
“You’re injured. You’ll never outrun them.”
“I have the flying cloak. I’ll stay just far enough ahead of them so they’ll keep coming after me. Then, when they are far enough from the tower, I’ll shake them off, double back, and catch up to you.”
“What about the Keltar?”
“I’ll take them on if I have to.”
“No.”
Keris spun around to face her. “No?”
“No,” Shann insisted. “You are to stay out of range and not engage them. We don’t know how many there might be but they could very well be carrying lodestone grenades. I… we can’t risk losing you.”
Keris looked as if she were about to say something, then checked herself. “Very well.”
She led the way down one more flight of stairs and halted. With a start, Shann realised they were in the ground floor chamber.
Keris held the lamp aloft, located the metal door, and inserted the access module. The device’s inner workings cycled from amber to ruby. She extinguished the lamp, plunging them both into darkness. The door slid open, bathing their faces in a dull red glow. “After I am gone, reseal the door and return to the others. Observe from the roof platform, but make sure you are not seen. As soon as you are certain the coast is clear, exit the tower and head for Gort. I will join you as soon as I can.” She turned on her heel without waiting for an answer.
“Keris?” Shann hissed.
“What is it?”
“Please take care.”
Keris wafted through the open doorway and disappeared into the amaranthine beauty of a Dagmar night.
~
Shann stepped through the tower’s roof exit to find McCann waiting for her with arms folded. “Where have you been, may I ask? And where is the one you call Keris?”
She glanced beyond him to where the others were seated. “Didn’t Patris explain it to you?”
“No, he didn’t.”
She groaned inwardly. She was beginning to realise what an impossible job Lyall had had in keeping their disparate group together. Now that a hu-man was in the mix, ‘impossible’ had gotten ten times worse. If she didn’t do something soon, it would all blow up in her face.
“Follow me, please.” She led the way to the parapet and peered out over the manse. A movement caught the corner of her eye: a tiny troupe of dancing lights was bobbing and weaving its way towards the tower. “There.”
The hu-man at her shoulder raised his bushy eyebrows. “Friends of yours?”
“I doubt it,” Shann replied. “When the tower is activated it lights up the sky. Whoever that is will have come to investigate. Keris is providing a decoy so that the rest of us can leave here safely.”
“That sounds dangerous. Are you sure she will be all right?”
Shann’s gaze remained fixed on the flaming motes as they approached the base of the tower. “She is Keris.”
“I see,” McCann said. “Well, assuming she is successful, what then?”
“We are going to head for the desert fortress at Gort to free the tribute captives held there.”
McCann turned back, his eyes flickering over the gathering. “The five of us. Against an entire garrison. That’s your plan?”
“Six,” she corrected. “Keris will join us when she’s finished leading our friends down there in a merry dance.”
McCann made a sound in his throat as if he were suppressing laughter. “I’m sure that will make all the difference.”
“Actually, we almost managed it once before with just three—me, Lyall, and Alondo here. The only reason we didn’t succeed then was because the authorities at Chalimar were tipped off by… someone.”
“All right, let’s say by some absolute miracle we succeed in taking the fortress. What then?”
The others had made no move towards them, but she could tell that they were listening to the exchange. The moment had arrived. Everything hanged on what she was about to do next.
She braced herself. “Lyall… our leader, Lyall, has a plan. A plan to defeat your Captain.”
Rael was on his feet. “Shann—”
She ignored him and ploughed on. “We don’t know all of the details yet, but we believe it has to do with slag.”
McCann’s eyes narrowed. “You mean the runoff from processing refined lodestone? That doesn’t seem likely.”
“Shann, may I have a word with you?” Rael persisted.
“Not right now.” She fixed her attention on McCann. “Is there anything you know about it that might be useful—maybe a way in which it could be used as a weapon?”
The hu-man scratched his unkempt grey beard. “Nope. It’s just dumped in a waste area near the refining plant at Persillan. As far as I’m aware, it’s a waste product—nothing more.”
“You said you were an engineer—a scientist. Scientists can figure out how things work.”
Bass laughter rocked the hu-man’s immense chest. “Sorry, I’m not that kind of a scientist. I’m more of a… tinkerer. My speciality is star flight drives. You want someone to regulate the output wave of Quintessence Dark Energy so that it doesn’t blow everyone to kingdom come, then I’m your man. I also know my way around an avionic and I can fix most other pieces of equipment. But I never worked on the Accumulator and I’m no expert on negative matter—what you call lodestone. Lafontaine—he would have been the person to ask about that.”
Lafontaine. The pale dried-up hu-man had returned to the stars with most of his people, leaving Wang and his crew to wreak havoc on their world. Or… maybe not. If Rael was right—if Lyall did have a special knowledge of lodestone, then how could he have acquired it? Maybe Lafontaine had not abandoned them after all. Maybe he had foreseen that Wang might refuse to leave and had given Lyall something. Something that the Kelanni could use to defeat the hu-mans once and for all.
However, even if she were right, they were no closer to finding out what that something was. “It’s vital that we discover the significance of slag. I would like you to work with Rael and Alondo to see whether the three of you can determine what it is.”
McCann shrugged. “Like I told you, it’s not my area of expertise. But I will do what I can.”
The hu-man might not have much to contribute, but they could get lucky. More importantly, it would provide a basis for them to learn to work together. Hopefully, Lyall would approve of her actions. She longed for the time when he would return to lead them again, and the weight of the world would pass from her shoulders.
A distant shout carried on a rising wind. Far below, the tiny lights milled about in apparent confusion before striking out on a new path. Away from the tower. She bent her head in silent prayer.
Be safe, Keris.
“Shann.” Patris was calling from the far side of the platform, beyond the silver sphere. The sailor-thief had a habit of wandering off on his own—maybe he felt he had heard enough of the hu-man’s ramblings. Yet now his voice carried a note of urgency—alarm even. She rushed across the stone roof, followed by McCann and the others.
He was leaning over the parapet, staring at something on the horizon. To the north and west was an isolated butte. Past it, the land rose steadily towards the plateau where the mighty city of Chalimar slumbered. She could see the outline of the city, twinkling with distant oil lamps that illuminated the windows of insomniacs or swung from the hands of diligent watchmen. Yet there was something else. Something impossible.
Suspended in the air, lit up like a terrible curse, was a looming presence. With a growing sense of foreboding, she realised that it was the great keep. Some gargantuan force had ripped it from the city’s heart so that it now hung, suspended far over the heads of the cowering populace, a testament to the Prophet’s final attainment of ultimate power.
The power of lodestone.
<><><><><>
Chapter 33
Keris struck westward, taking a route south of Sakima and Kinnat, skirting the edge of the Southern Desert. Two ebony-cloaked Keltar, backed by a troupe of maybe a dozen soldiers clad in iron-studded leather armour, pursued her relentlessly. She leaped from one lodestone source to another, keeping her distance, yet being careful not to pull too far away. The exercise gave her a grim sense of satisfaction. It was like leading a pack of yelping gundir on a long leash.
She found herself hoping secretly that the Keltar would make use of their superior speed and leave their soldier escort trailing behind, so that she could turn and confront them directly. Two against one. Easy pickings. Stay out of range; don’t engage the enemy. Shann’s orders had been clear. Keris’s twisted smile faded to a line of reluctant acquiescence.
Her plan was twofold. First, misdirect the chasing group. Shann and the rest would soon be making their way south across the desert to Gort. A little further on, Keris intended to turn and lead them north past Lind, in the direction of Persillan. At least one of the Keltar would likely be in Ring contact and would report her heading and probable destination. Whatever forces Wang commanded in the region would be directed to head her off.
When she was satisfied that they had taken the bait, she intended to put on a spurt, lose them, and then strike out westward for the Forest of Illaryon and the second part of her plan.
She regretted not being completely honest with Shann, but it had been necessary. The girl saw everything in black and white; she was first and foremost a pragmatist. She would not have understood the demands of honour. Keltar lived by a strict code, and although Keris had cast off the trappings of the Keltar, her basic training—the essence of what it meant to be Keltar—remained, seared into her personality as enduringly as a brand on flesh. Among other things, that meant fulfilling her obligations—regardless of the cost.
She had promised that she would bring the Chandara, Boxx, home to its people. She was determined to do just that. Honour demanded no less.
Timing would be tight. Once the coast was clear and they left Dagmar, the party would probably make for Sakima to secure a couple of morgren— the shaggy, slobbering, mephitic creatures that could survive in desert conditions long after a graylesh would have expired from heat exhaustion.
Accompanied by their lumbering beasts of burden, she reckoned it would take the party at least three days to reach the desert fortress. Figure another half a day for them to formulate a plan of attack and wait for her arrival. Anything beyond that and they would probably assume that she had met with an untimely fate and go in anyway. She would have to deliver Boxx’s remains to the Chandara at the Great Tree and then head straight for the desert if she was going to reach Gort in time to be of any use.
Propelled by her flying cloak and spurred on by her promise, Keris soared above the murrey-coloured ground.
~
Shortly before the onset of dawn, Keris was finally forced to admit that she was in trouble.
From the moment she took her tumble on the stone platform, she had been running. Now she was half a world away, and she was still running. She had no time to treat her injury or even rest up. Keltar were conditioned to endure pain, but they were only flesh and blood— despite some rumours to the contrary. There was a point at which sheer willpower broke down and the body simply ceased to function.
She landed maladroitly on a dusty hillock, stumbling forward on her bad ankle. Her teeth clenched as a keen blade drove through her lower leg. She brushed hair out of her eyes and shot a glance over her shoulder. They were gaining. Sooner or later the chasing group would overtake her and she would be forced to disobey Shann’s order that she stay away from battle.
Her tactical assessment was as cold and hard as marble. Even if she successfully fought off two Keltar and a dozen soldiers, more would be zeroing in on her position. Eventually they would overwhelm her. In shassatan terms she had reached Lorran—the point of defeat. At least she had the satisfaction of knowing that her efforts had bought Shann and the others the time and opportunity to carry forward Lyall’s plan—whatever that was.
That left one final decision. Continue running, or stand and fight? In the end, the choice was an easy one. She turned, drew her staff slowly and deliberately from its sheath, and set her mouth as a grim line. She was done running.
~
She stumbled through narrow winding streets, blood-soaked and smoke-choked. Corte, her home town, disfigured, open-mouthed, and bleeding. Familiar places twisted by shadow. Familiar faces contorted by terror. The faces drifted through her consciousness: Gallar… Lyall… Alondo… Keris… Patris… Rael. “Why? Why did you allow us to die?”
She broke into the central courtyard. Raindrops like giant tears pounded in frustration against the unyielding cobbles. They stood in a circle around her—friends, now turned accusers. Beyond the circle, two figures in black fought desperately, the sound of their clashing staffs splitting the night. Suddenly one of them spun around, hooking the other’s staff and ripping it from his grasp. The staff flew through the air in slow motion, turning end over end, before finally clattering against the cobblestones and coming to rest a short distance away.
She tried to move towards it but the circle closed, hemming her in. She stared into their hollow eyes, pleading. In response, they raised their arms as one, pointing at the sky. She lifted her eyes and saw— casting death’s shadow over the courtyard, the mighty keep of Chalimar, impossibly suspended over their heads…
Shann awoke in a cold sweat. She lay there a moment, breathing heavily, too full of sight to go back to sleep. Finally, she threw back her blanket and rose silently. The merest suggestion of light on the western horizon told her that dawn was near. She glanced about the camp. Two blankets were filled by sleeping forms; one was flat. Rael?
Frowning, she bent down to retrieve Saccath’s staff and began a search. A few heartbeats later she found him standing on a knoll just beyond the camp’s perimeter, gazing skyward. He seemed not to notice her approach.
“Looking for your stars?” she ventured after a moment.
He smiled but didn’t turn his head. “Actually, I was admiring yours—Ail-Mazzath.”
“Ail-Mazzoth,” she corrected. “And it isn’t a star. It’s our mother sun.”
“Actually, it is a star. The stars visible from Kelanni-Skell are nothing more than suns—just a lot further away.”
“They are all suns?” Again she recalled the star field she had spied through the telescope on her first night at the observatory. A bed of glowing embers—points of light without number. From her discussions with Rael and later with Lafontaine she had thought of them simply as worlds like this one. Was each of them really a sun? If it were true, then the three suns that smiled down on her world—the Three that her people revered so much—were revealed as ordinary. Commonplace. Three unremarkable suns lost amid a cloud of countless others. It all smacked of blasphemy.
“The yellow sun—the one you call Ail-Gan—that is the central star of our solar system. Technically it’s a yellow dwarf. Everything else in the solar system orbits—revolves—around it, including us. We in turn revolve around a brown dwarf—Ail-Mazzoth there—but we are close enough to it that we are tidally locked—its gravity grabs onto us like an immense hand, so that we always keep the same face towards it. That is why Ail-Mazzoth only appears in your sky and why it doesn’t move. It’s also why this side is so much warmer, and why there is an immense storm front dividing our two hemispheres, where the warm and cold air fronts meet. It may help to explain other things as well.”
“What things?” she asked, intrigued.
“Well, one of the predicted effects of a tidally locked planet such as ours would be tectonic stress leading to climate change. We seem to be in a quiet period now, but there does seem to be evidence of sudden climatic change in the recent past. Recall the tower in the Cathgorns. Why would anyone build a structure like that in such a hostile place? It may be that the area wasn’t always so inhospitable.”
Come to that, what was a fortress doing in the middle of a desert? She had asked Lyall that very same question. He told her that there were some who believed that the Southern Desert was once a home to vast purple woodlands set amid swathes of yellow grass. At the time she dismissed his suggestion as mere legend. Was it possible that the ancient stories were true?
“Ail-Mazzoth may also hold the key to the ultimate fate of our planet,” he continued. “I would have to do some calculations, but the most likely scenario in a dynamic system like this one is that Kelanni will one day spiral in towards the brown dwarf star and be destroyed.”
Her jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”
His laughed and shook his head. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Shann. It’s not something that’s likely to happen for a great many turns.”
She felt only partially reassured. Surely they should tell somebody? She resolved to bring it up again when the present crisis was over. “You figured all of this out just standing here?”
“No. As a matter of fact, it’s based on Hannath’s theories, although I worked on some of the mathematics.” He gazed wistfully at the dull red-black orb that partially filled the sky. “If only he had lived to see… this.”
“Hannath knew about Ail-Mazzoth without ever having seen it?”
“He was a genius. It was he who first proposed the tidal lock theory to explain our astronomical observations—like the fact that the yellow sun sometimes moves backwards.”
Shann recalled the sacred verses. “It is said that Ail-Gan, our father, is searching for one of his lost children.”
“Actually, it’s caused by the fact that the direction of our orbit around the brown dwarf is opposite to that of our orbit around the yellow primary, so that at certain points the yellow star appears to backtrack across the sky.”
Try as she might, she could not picture what he was saying. “If you say so.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t know. I think that maybe my people’s explanation holds a greater truth.”
His laugh was gentle. “I have a feeling Hannath would disagree with you.”
In the companionable silence that followed, an echo of her recent nightmare returned. At length, she spoke. “The flying keep—what do you think it means?”
Rael exhaled slowly. “The four components. Wang must have already bypassed the biometric lockouts. We don’t have much time.”
“He did that with lodestone?”
Rael nodded. “He must have used the components to convert sections of the keep’s foundation into lodestone, ripping it from the ground on invisible pillars of force. I wouldn’t have thought it possible.”
“Why would he do such a thing?”
“Fear… intimidation… a demonstration of power… ” He trailed off into contemplative silence.
The fuse on her patience quickly burned down and ignited. “What’s the matter?”
“Just something Lyall said. ‘His throne in the heart of Chalimar will be elevated.’”
She caught his meaning and turned it over in her head. “How could he have known?”
“I don’t know. If Lyall is behind it, then I can only think it must be a delaying tactic—a way of misdirecting Wang into a useless display of ego until the plan can be put into effect.”
“Yes, but if he’s on the flying keep, then we have no way of contacting him. We could never reach that high by flying cloak. And without knowing what his plan is… ”
The boy turned to her for the first time. “If you’re asking whether Alondo and I are any further forward, the answer is no. Bringing in McCann doesn’t seem to have helped either.”
She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know you think it was a mistake to discuss Lyall’s plan with him, but we know little enough of the details as it is. I concluded the risk was minimal. I had to take the chance that he might know something useful.”
She braced herself for criticism, but he merely looked thoughtful. “I’m still convinced the answer has to do with slag. However, I am not a materials specialist. If I could consult the Directorate’s Metallurgy Division or even if I had access to the laboratories at the observatory… ”
She smiled up at him, encouragingly. “You’ll figure it out.” She turned back to the gradually lightening sky and thought of Qiberon Bay and the place called France where the hu-man Lafontaine had come from. A wild thought occurred to her. “I want to go there one day.”
“Where?”
“To the stars—the other suns. I want to see what’s there.”
“Shann, the stars are unimaginably far away. A person might not be able to reach them in their lifetime.”
“The hu-mans made it,” she countered. “Will you help me—when all of this is over?”
“I think you have an exaggerated view of my abilities.” He laughed again. “Sure. Why not?”
She reached an arm around his waist and pulled him closer. He looked down and smiled at her in the maroon half-light. Kelanni of two worlds turned together and felt the new dawn’s first caress.
<><><><><>
Chapter 34
Keris stood rooted to the hilltop and waited for the arms of destiny to embrace her. Fitting. That it should come to this. That she should end her life as she had lived it—fighting for what she believed in.
The Keltar would have their orders. Death or capture. She could not know which, although the end result would be the same, since if they decided to interrogate her, there would be little reason to keep her alive afterward. In some ways, a quick end would be preferable. She resolved to make the task as costly as possible for them.
The moving lights jounced closer. Not long now. A wave of fatigue crashed through her but she shook it off, focussing on her training, channelling herself into each passing moment. She began to count her breaths: one… two… three. Slim fingers drummed noiselessly against the darkwood. Time began to stretch.
A new light winked at the periphery of her vision. Another group attempting to outflank her? No, there it was again. But it was not moving. The answer hammered impatiently at the door of her consciousness. She fumbled at the latch with tired hands. The door creaked open.
Lind. She could see the silhouette of the town now, framed against a dark crimson sky. It was close—closer than she had imagined. Her mind raced. Lind’s eastern canton, refuge of the poor, the destitute, and the hopeless, was a warren—a maze of narrow, filthy streets and broken-down hovels. There had to be a thousand places where a person could go to ground. If she could somehow make it to the outskirts…
Casting pride aside, she impressed her staff into service as a cane and began hobbling down the gentle slope, slick fingertips scanning for lodestone to help her cover the ground faster. She could hear the hoarse shouts of the chasing pack, whipped into wild frenzy and baying for blood.
Two deposits; one ahead of her, the other off to her left. She surged forward, contemptuous of the pain until she felt the familiar repulsive force pass under her, then flared upper lodestone and pushed off with her good leg on a low trajectory. Adrenaline screamed at her to hit the boost control, but she resisted. She was in no condition to endure another bad landing. The ground beneath her slipped by rapidly, but the outline of the town grew with a stubborn slowness.
Sensing another pressure off to her right, she twisted in the air, squeezing every scrap of thrust she could from the source to her left so as to angle towards the new deposit. The longer she could keep airborne, the better her chances.
The cries grew louder, snapping at her heels. A warm wind buffeted her from behind, breathing down her neck. Suddenly, without warning, a jumble of close-packed slum dwellings arose before her. Suppressing the urge to check over her shoulder, she met the ground awkwardly, staggered over the final few steps of open country, and melted into pools of deep, inviting shadow.
~
As darkness enveloped her and the hue and cry died away, the urge to curl up into a ball and drift off to sleep was almost overwhelming. Her tactical sense kicked her in the side. Hard. She was not safe yet—far from it.
Keris hunkered down behind a broken-down lean-to and tried to put herself in the mind of the chasing Keltar. First, secure all of the town’s exits. Second, Ring Chalimar and have them direct all available troops to this location to help flush the traitor out.
She felt a perverse rush of pleasure at the sheer number of soldiers and Keltar that she was managing to tie down, single-handed. It was certainly preferable to a heroic death. However, it occurred to her that she may only have succeeded in delaying the inevitable. She was trapped. The Prophet would be marshalling his considerable resources, whilst hers were dwindling rapidly. Soon it would be dawn, and the hunt for her would begin in earnest. She had very little time.
As she weighed her options, another disturbing thought surfaced. She too was Keltar—in the eyes of these people at least. If Shann’s initial reaction to her proved anything, it was that Keltar were universally feared and hated.
She had visited this very town more than once to exact tribute. Doubtless the townsfolk would view the current situation as nothing more than a dispute between Keltar. Some might even see it as an opportunity to turn over a fugitive and thereby win the approval of the local authorities. Clearly, she could expect no help from the people here.
Locating a bolthole that would enable her to elude an extensive search would not be easy. But perhaps there was another alternative. Sometimes the best place to hide a thing was right in front of someone’s nose. During her mission to track down Lyall and the others, she had posed as a diamond merchant from Thalissa. If she could just obtain a change of attire…
~
Ail-Gan was poking its first flaming tendrils over the horizon, burning up shadows like tissue paper, when Keris spied a cart loaded with coarse sacks lying idle in a small yard. The first two held broken bits of wood and bric-a-brac. The third was filled with what looked like rags but turned out to be worn-out clothing. Perfect.
She rifled through the musty contents and found a labourer’s smock, threadbare and stained. She stuffed the prize into her pack. There did not seem to be boots of any description, but most of those in the eastern canton went barefoot anyway.
As she dropped to the ground, she had an attack of conscience. Stealing was bad enough, but to be stealing from those who had nothing… She reached inside her tunic, drew out half a silver astria, and tossed it into the back of the cart. It was probably more money than the owner would see in a quarter of a turn.
“Hey!”
She froze.
A bony vagabond with tousled hair and torn shirt blocked her path. Instinctively, she reached for her staff. What am I doing? Lowering her hand, she feinted left, then dodged right, slipping past him and back into the narrow thoroughfare.
The town groaned and began to stir from its restless slumber. She glanced over her shoulder, but the gaunt youth was not pursuing. Of course not. Anyone bearing cloak and staff would automatically strike terror into the peasantry. The boy was probably cowering in a corner somewhere. All right, then. Time to change identity.
She sought concealment among the piles of rubbish and dilapidated dwellings and found none. She was caught, a creature of night impaled by the gathering daylight. A collection of stained hovels clustered around her like frightened children. Rooftop. One of the flat rough-thatched roofs should afford sufficient cover and an opportunity to change clothing.
She hobbled forward, scanning for lodestone. One deposit off to her left somewhere. She judged its strength, bent her good leg, and sprang into the air, aiming for the roof of the nearest shanty. Barely clearing the overhang, she pitched forward and landed in a heap on the mass of closely woven reeds. To anyone inside, it must have sounded as if an utharan mammoth had just landed on their heads.
Cursing her clumsiness, she unclasped the red cloak, set down her burdens, and tore off her Keltar-black tunic and trousers. The smock was burlap-like and rough on the skin and smelled of oppression and old sweat. She re-attached the sheath with its darkwood staff and then pulled the full-length smock over her head so that the weapon was concealed beneath.
She crawled to the front of the building. The dusty lane was filling up with people. She pulled back and moved to the side, peering cautiously into the narrow, rubbish-strewn alley below. The good news was that it was empty. The bad news was that there was no obvious way down for a one-legged cripple. The lodestone she had used to vault the front of the building was out of position here. She could remain where she was, but that would likely mean waiting until the working day was over before she could descend to street level unobserved. I don’t have that kind of time.
The heavier sack contained Boxx’s remains. She had not opened it since leaving Helice. To do so seemed irreverent somehow.
She opened the lighter pack, rummaging through it for inspiration. On top she found the small empty pouch that had contained the smooth oval of refined lodestone used for remote manipulation of locks and latches. Patris had given it as a gift to the little orphan boy in Kieroth. It hardly mattered—she saw no way it would have been any use in this situation. A water canister—near empty. Part of a loaf of that odd-tasting black bread peculiar to the people of Kelanni-Skell—no doubt stale. Her rolled-up blanket. Her tinderbox. Her small lamp. Her coiled-up length of rope. She scoured the rough thatch, looking for some sort of fixture she could tie a rope to, but there was none. With a sigh, she laid it on top of the meagre pile of her possessions.
There was nothing else. Almost nothing. Languishing at the bottom of the sack, abandoned and all but forgotten, was her old black Keltar cloak. There was no reason to hang onto it, other than sentiment and the fact that she still nursed an inherent distrust of the new red cloak. If it failed somehow, then she wanted something to fall back on.
As she shook it loose, an old memory fell out. Cooperative mechanics. The technique where one cloak pushes against the lodestone of another. During their descent into the fire pits at Kharthrun, she had used the refined lodestone in one cloak to push off another and successfully traverse a gap in the cliff path.
She swept the red cloak about her shoulders once more and secured the clasps. Then, carefully, she laid out the black cloak and adjusted its control so as to extend lodestone before tying the rope around its shoulder mechanism in a firm knot. Gingerly, she lowered the black cloak into the alley, hoping fervently that no passer-by would happen to glance in that direction. The cloak settled to the bottom of the alley.
She blipped the red cloak’s neck control and felt the familiar push from below. Calmly, she stepped off the end of the roof and drifted to the ground. Stooping, she unfastened the red cloak, folding it carefully and stowing it in her pack along with the length of rope and her faithful old black cloak. When finally she stood upright, she was just another wretch desperately trying to grind out a living among the poor of Lind’s eastern quarter.
She slipped out of the alley, her injured leg causing her to limp convincingly, adding to the effect. Disguise complete, she began to plan her next move. By now, there would be soldiers watching all of the town’s exits. She judged her cover good enough to allow her to blend into the community, but it would never stand up to a detailed search. One look inside her pack would be enough to give away her identity. She thought of leaving it somewhere together with her staff, but the risk of their being discovered was too great and she simply could not afford to risk losing her equipment.
There was one way she might get out unchallenged, and that was as a soldier. Keltar were easily recognisable, but soldiers were anonymous. Pretty soon there would be detachments of troops moving through the district looking for her. If she could just waylay some hapless grunt…
As she travelled up the street she began to notice something odd. People looked at her anxiously and then hurried on as if they had just recalled urgent business. She fought down a rush of panic and performed a self-check, but she did not appear to have overlooked any clue to her true identity. I must be imagining it.
She rounded a corner into an open area that might once have been a thriving market but was now no more than a feeble smattering of rickety stalls and half-starved livestock. Steam rose from a large iron cauldron where a seedy street vendor was brewing up some foul-looking broth. Hollowed-out phantoms shuffled past, unseeing. She lingered, considering whether she ought to risk assuaging her hunger.
Something caught the corner of her eye. Instantly, her appetite fled and her training kicked in. There, on the corner of the street from which she had just emerged, a worn-out oppidan in a filthy jerkin that might once have been tan was trying not to look in her direction. He had appeared not long after she left the alley, hanging a little too far back for coincidence. Now he was idling. Waiting for her to make her move.
There could be no doubt now. She was being followed.
<><><><><>
Chapter 35
Keris stared into the bubbling urn and tried to think who might be tailing her through the bleak streets of Lind. There was no reason to assume that her cover had been blown. This part of town was well known for its lawless elements. The authorities tended not to care what its denizens did to each other, just so long as they kept it within their own community. Thieves and cutpurses were almost as common as they were in Sakara, although the pickings were a lot slimmer. But why target a common labourer? Unless they suspected that she might be carrying something valuable.
Of course, there was another more worrying possibility, and that was that someone had figured out her identity and was seeking an opportunity to turn her over to the Prophet’s men. The price on her head was probably more than most of these people could expect to see in a lifetime.
Whoever they were, she could at least take solace in the fact that they were clearly rank amateurs. The fellow behind her might as well have had a sign painted on him.
“Ay you.” She raised her eyes, only to be confronted by the unpleasant scowl of the broth salesman. Mottled olive skin and missing teeth added to his air of intimidation. “You buyin’ or what?”
She muttered an excuse and moved on, curses beating the air behind her. Her shadow stirred on cue and sauntered after her. She waited for the hand-off, and a few moments later, it came. A too-young girl with doleful eyes and a sorrowful mouth emerged from a dark passageway, carrying a basket on one shoulder. Her grip gave away the fact that the basket was empty. Keris smiled to herself. You people really aren’t very good at this, are you? The girl and the older man exchanged the briefest of glances before he melted into the crowd; then she turned and began following a course parallel to Keris.
It would have amused Keris to lead them in a merry dance all over town before finally knocking their heads together, but she did not have the time for such indulgences. She would have to bring this to a quick and decisive end. Her eyes flicked back and forth, seeking a disused building or a quiet side street where she could turn the tables without attracting undue attention.
There was a disturbance up ahead. The shuffling throng parted like a bow wave and she caught sight of a tall, willowy figure with flowing white hair, clad in the unmistakeable black of a Keltar. Glaisne. From the keep. A member of the inner Ruling Council which had included Mordal, her former mentor. Glaisne was old by Keltar standards but his eye had not dimmed. He exuded an air of needle-sharp authority, making the detachment of leather-armoured soldiers backing him appear like a group of useless hangers-on.
Keris shrank back, caught between fire and flood. There was a fair chance that Glaisne might recognise her through her guise, but equally, there was the possibility that those who were following her, if indeed they knew who she was, might see this as the perfect opportunity to raise the alarm and claim a substantial reward.
Glaisne walked calmly forward as if he were arriving for a prearranged meeting. The angled scar over his right eye gave him a look of perpetual ferocity. He spoke with the weight of iron and the clarity of ice.
“Fealty and service be to the Three and the One. We are here on the authority of the Prophet, the Unan-Chinneroth. The criminal known as Keris has taken refuge in this town. Anyone offering information leading to the capture of the traitor will be rewarded. Those found harbouring the fugitive will be shown no mercy.”
Silence settled over the courtyard. He glared at a sea of downcast heads. “If I do not receive the necessary cooperation, then I will be forced to take some of you away for questioning.”
She knew what that meant. Those selected would not likely see their families again.
She seriously considered casting off her disguise and making a stand. However, his skills were considerable and the outcome would by no means be certain. She might be able to defeat him, but it would not be quick, and in the meantime, others would be headed this way. Sparking a full-scale battle in a crowded area such as this could lead to a massacre. In any situation, the best strategy is always the one that secures the optimum result—even if it is retreat. Mordal’s words spoken to her in another life made up her mind.
She began to back slowly towards the nearest side street but was stopped in her tracks by the scene being played out in the centre of the courtyard. At Glaisne’s bidding, two soldiers had grabbed hold of a scrawny boy and were holding him by the arms as he squealed in protest. “We will start with this one.”
Before she could react, another voice rang out, “May it please my Lord.” A lone figure dropped to one knee before the Keltar, head bowed.
“Speak,” Glaisne commanded.
The kneeling man raised his head. With a rising sense of panic, she realised it was the same man who had trailed her from the alley. “A woman in red and black, my Lord. She bore the cloak, so we took her for Keltar. We did not know she was a criminal. It is not for us to know the ways of the Prophet’s servants.”
“Where did you see her?”
“The Street of Veils, Lord. She flew to a rooftop and returned, dressed as one of us.”
Keris glanced around, but the young girl who had been part of the gang was nowhere to be seen. I have to get out of here. Now.
She stumbled backwards and limped down the nearest side street, drawing more curious stares. Her escape plan was now in tatters. The whole town would soon be looking for her. She was an outcast, despised by both sides and with a price on her head.
As she dragged herself along, she saw two burly figures headed in her direction. Too late, she realised that she was their intended target. She turned back towards the courtyard and straight into the arms of a third man. She went down, kicking and struggling under the weight of all three assailants, determined to give at least as good as she got. Without warning, a door opened, and she was pitched into a well of inky blackness.
~
Everything ached. She opened her eyes, but the sight was no different to that from behind her eyelids. She had fallen a short distance, so she judged that she must be below street level. A cellar then—or a basement of some kind. A damp mustiness lingered in the air. She strained her ears, but all was silence.
She performed a quick self-examination—no bones broken. Aside from her complaining ankle, lack of food, and borderline exhaustion, she was in good shape. More importantly, she seemed to be out of danger—for the moment at least. Of course, it would not be long before the three goons who threw her in here returned to claim their prize. Then her troubles would begin all over again.
She needed to determine where she was and whether there was a way out. Her fingertips quested for the neck of her pack and felt inside for the hard smoothness that was her tinderbox. She grasped it and fumbled for the lid.
Without warning, a door opened and a shaft of light appeared. She stood and squinted at a swinging lantern that bobbed down some steps towards her. Framed within the meagre circle of radiance were three faces half-concealed in shadow.
“What is your name?”
If these people were part of the gang that had been following her, why not just turn her in? Unless they had not heard Glaisne’s pronouncement. They could be little more than common robbers who did not realise the value of the prize they had captured.
“What is your name?” the middle head repeated.
She knew how to deal with common robbers. “I will not answer impertinent questions from the likes of you. Stand aside, or suffer the consequences.”
The face on the left hissed in the ear of the one in the centre.
“It is her.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s her, I tell you.”
The head on the right chimed in with a female voice. “Imre served at the keep.”
Common robbers, even stupid ones, did not generally bandy their names about.
“Very well, then.” To her utter surprise, the middle head bowed formally. “Welcome to Lind, my Lady.”
~
Hunched-over figures mooched along an ochre side street. Trapped. Locked within their yearnings for a better life. Or simply wondering where their next meal was coming from. Carts trundled past, pulled by Kelanni reduced to beasts of burden. The late morning sky was a dome of rust. Heavy raindrops splashed against the cobbles in a futile attempt to wash away the dirt and degradation.
“Please… please come away from the window, my Lady.”
Keris turned to face the slight, nervous woman in the centre of the room. The woman’s forehead was lined with worry or premature aging—it was hard to tell which.
“Keris. Please, just call me Keris.”
“As you wish, Lady Keris.”
Keris groaned inwardly, struggled to a worn-out wicker chair, flopped into it, and closed her eyes.
Keris is our leader… Keris is our leader. Once more she was the tall, lean, overly serious girl who had driven off the bully and rescued the boy Aleiran’s toy, to the delight of his young friends. Keris is our leader.
I never wanted this.
The bare floorboards creaked. She opened her eyes. The woman was flanked by two more people she recognised—one was the older man who had first welcomed her; the other was the young girl with wide eyes and downturned mouth who had trailed after her through Lind carrying an empty basket. This was significant somehow, but it took a few moments for her exhausted synapses to fire. The people who followed her and the group that kidnapped her; they were one and the same.
The older man spoke first. “I am Miron. We need to talk, my Lady. We should also treat your injury.”
The older woman turned to the girl. “Hot water and bandages. Quickly.”
“Yes, Mother.”
As the girl hurried off, Keris felt a twinge of empathy for this mirror image of her younger self. She tried to think of something comforting she could say when the girl returned, but her storehouse of courage was empty.
The woman retreated into a corner. Miron stepped forward and bowed deferentially once more, giving a glimpse of his balding crown.
“I apologise for the rough treatment, but we had to get you off the
street. The danger was too great.”
Keris blinked. “You know who I am?”
“Indeed,” he replied. “You are Keris, the Heroine of Gort.” The Heroine of Gort. It was the description Oliah used in her reports from Sakara. Alondo had teased her about it. She, for her part, dismissed it as foolishness. Childish talk. “You are she who attacked the desert fortress and bested ten Keltar and a hundred soldiers in order to free the tributes.”
And yet the tributes were not freed. Explain that. “I think you have some of the details a little cockeyed.”
He pulled up another battered chair and sat across from her. His eyes twinkled. “Perhaps. But if people stretch the truth into hope, who can blame them? The people need hope, Keris—now more than ever.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The elevation of the keep, of course.”
“Elevation… ?”
“Surely you are aware of what has transpired in the city?”
Keris shook her head. “I only arrived at Dagmar half a day ago.” His mouth parted, but the question remained frozen on his lips. “It’s a long story,” she added.
“I see… well, three nights ago, the Prophet returned from the heavens, where it is said that he had obtained an object—a vessel of great power. The next day he used it to tear the keep from its foundations and raise it high above Chalimar.”
“What do you mean, ‘raise it’?”
“The keep is suspended over the city.”
“You mean, in mid-air?”
“Yes, my Lady. It… was assumed that you had returned in response to this display of power. That you had finally arrived here to lead us.”
It was all Keris could do to keep awake. “Lead… lead who?”
“We are called Kai-Alavi, the Fourth Circle.”
“The Fourth… ?”
Miron leaned forward; his voice had a faraway quality. “The Prophet has etched his flame symbol above the three circles on the cathedral at Chalimar—the Three and the One. The Fourth Circle is the people. The people will extinguish the flame.”
“You’re going to rise up against the Keltar?”
“You showed us that the Keltar are not invincible, Keris.”
She felt as if the world were closing in on her. “I told you. I didn’t do those things.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. The fact remains that you inspired this movement. You must lead us.”
The wide-eyed girl returned with a steaming basin and towelling draped over one arm. She knelt before Keris like a servant, not daring to raise her head. Her hand reached out, trembling. I don’t need to be waited on. Keris waved her away, immediately regretting her brusqueness. The girl took refuge next to her mother and tried to disappear into the wall.
An organised insurgency—and all at her command. There was a time when such a thing would have been beyond her wildest dreams. Yet if these people—unskilled and poorly equipped—were to go up against the Keltar, hundreds, maybe thousands would die.
This is war, she had told Lyall on the Eastern Plains. There are probably going to be a lot more deaths before we are finished. Yet now, as she contemplated the horror of it, she found herself recalling Lyall’s response. I am not at war with my own people. There is only one who is responsible for all of this. If we stop him, then the oppression will end. At the time she had perceived Lyall’s pronouncement as weakness and ridiculed him for it. Yet now, as she looked into the trusting faces of these people…
“No.”
Miron looked as if she had just slapped him across the face. “No?”
“You are to take no action until you hear from me.”
He exhaled through his teeth. “My Lady—”
“You want me to lead you? Then those are my orders. Wait. Lay low. Do not attempt an uprising.”
A battle of wills clashed silently in the space between them. Finally, Miron lowered his eyes in defeat. “May I ask what you intend to do?”
Keris debated with herself. She could not risk revealing their plan to take the desert fortress of Gort. Everything depended on the element of surprise; the fewer who knew about it, the better. Besides, there was still the possibility that these people were part of some elaborate ruse to get her to talk.
“I must get to the Forest of Illaryon.”
Understanding dawned across his features. “The decree. Of course, of course. Forgive my blindness. I fear, however, that you are too late.”
“Decree?”
“The Prophet. Two days ago he decreed that the Great Tree of the Chandara that lies at the heart of the forest be burned to the ground. It is done. The Tree is no more.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 36
“Why? Why would he do such a thing?”
Even as Keris spoke the words, her heart already knew the answer. Annata, the woman from the past who had appeared to them from the midst of the machine of red, silver, and gold, and later in the chamber at Kynedyr, had expressed her fear that the Chandara might pay a heavy price for helping the Kelanni. Now it seemed that that fear was prophetic.
“It is said that the Chandara are seeking to overthrow the Prophet and to dominate the Kelanni people,” Miron said.
“That’s absurd.”
“Indeed. It is well known that Chandara-speak is nonsense, but I don’t believe they would meddle in Kelanni affairs. They care for nothing outside their forest.”
Keris made to stand up. Her leg reminded her none too gently that it was a bad idea. “I can’t stay here.”
Miron raised a restraining hand. “Please, my Lady. You are injured and need to rest.”
“I have to get to Illaryon.”
“We can arrange to smuggle you out of town, but not before nightfall.”
She shook her head. “Too long. Just let me leave. I will find my own way.”
“The Prophet’s men are moving through the streets, engaged in a houseto-house search. You would be picked up in no time.”
“Not likely. I am disguised as one of you.”
Miron exhaled slowly. “May I speak freely?” Keris felt a flash of irritation at the man’s sudden coyness but ignored it and bade him continue. “There is more to a disguise than clothing.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Your eye is bright. Your hands—they are clean and free of calluses. And your bearing… ”
“Go on.”
“Your bearing, my Lady, is not that of a peasant. Rather, it is that of a noblewoman dressed as a peasant.”
The odd, fearful looks. The stolen glances of passersby. It all made sense now. She might as well have been at the head of a noisy procession, proclaiming her presence. These people probably saved my life. She tied off her leg bandage, enduring a sharp stab of pain.
“Someone was following me—an older man in a tan jerkin.”
Miron nodded. “My older brother, Baracca.”
“He approached Glaisne. Promised to lead the Keltar to me.”
“A diversionary tactic. Baracca is doubtless even now leading your Keltar friend on a fascinating tour through the back streets of our charming little town.”
“He should not have done that. Glaisne will string your brother up when he discovers that he has been deceived.”
“I doubt that.”
Her face darkened. “You do not know Glaisne as I do. He has a reputation for ruthlessness.”
“Perhaps. But he is also not stupid. The Keltar rely on informants for gathering intelligence and as a means of crushing dissent. If they were to start blithely executing those who came forward, their network would dry up faster than the river Alvar in high summer.”
She was not nearly so confident that Glaisne’s wrath would be tempered by pragmatism. That was not at all his style. However, debate seemed pointless, as the man’s fate was out of the hands of either of them.
She contemplated her next step. Her mission to Illaryon was now in tatters. The Great Tree was gone, the Chandara dead or scattered, who knew where. There seemed nothing for it but to head straight for Gort and join the others.
“I must leave here as soon as possible,” she reiterated.
Miron pushed himself up from the chair. “I will make the necessary arrangements. There is a cot in the next room. Rest here. Peira and Farilla will bring you sustenance.” He bowed once and left, the two women following silently in his train.
Keris stirred her weary body and located the bed. It was small, but clean and fresh as a cloud. She dropped her burdens in the corner opposite the door, curled up, and, in moments, was fast asleep.
~
Keris woke with a start. A faint rustling tickled her ears, banishing any remaining urge to slumber. Minnabaras. How she hated those things. Tiny pointy-eared creatures with quadruple beady eyes and jet-black scales, which scurried across floors and lurked in the dark places. Native to the open plains, they seemed to prefer the company of the Kelanni in their towns and cities. The feeling was most definitely not mutual.
She rose silently, seeking out both the source of the disturbance and for something to throw. Then she saw it. Not a minnabara, but the back and legs of a small child. It was diving into the sack containing Boxx’s remains.
“Get out of there.”
The tiny figure stiffened, turned, and fled the room, screaming. It was a little girl, no more than three or four turns of the season. Keris let out a sigh. It’s your own fault, idiot. You should know to stow your possessions more securely in an unfamiliar location. Still, it seemed that no harm had been done. She resolved to find someone later and apologise for her outburst.
She heard the sound of running feet and the doorway suddenly framed three people. One was the thin girl with wide eyes and downturned mouth whom she had met earlier. She carried the toddler, who sobbed gently against her shoulder. A boy, maybe eight turns, peeked out from behind them.
The girl stood her ground firmly, her fearful look of servitude gone and in its place, indignation. “What did you do to her?”
Keris was beset by a range of coloured emotions. Irritation. Curiosity. Resentment. Sympathy. Anger. They merged finally into the pure white of helplessness. “I… she… look, I found her going through my things, all right?”
Before her champion could react, the little girl stopped sobbing and pointed at Boxx’s sack with an outstretched arm and a stubby finger. “Hot.”
The tall girl frowned and her face drew close to the young child’s tear-streaked cheek. “What is it, Massie?”
She pointed again, firmly. “Hot.”
Keris crossed the room. She touched the sack and almost recoiled. The little girl was right; it was distinctly warm. Her fingers fumbled at the opening. As she drew back the rough material, she saw that the shelled body of the Chandara was gone, and in its place was a large oval shape, covered in dense white fibres. A dull heat radiated from it.
She stepped back, allowing the sack to fall away.
“What’s that?” the boy inquired.
Keris had no answer for him.
~
What had begun as a standoff now became a vigil.
Keris sat with the three children, watching the fibrous mass that had once been the Chandara, Boxx—a creature she resented at first, but who in time became the closest thing she had to a friend. The round shape had grown steadily and was now nearly twice its former size.
The children—all siblings as it turned out—found it hard to contain their curiosity. The boy, whose name was Corin, was the most talkative. His older sister, Farilla, was forever snapping him back on a verbal leash. It was an ever-present source of conflict between the two.
“Is that what you used to defeat all them people at Gort?”
“Quiet, Corin.”
“Hey, I was only askin’ the Heroine a question.”
Tiny Massie was lost in her own concerns. “I’m hungry.”
“Soon,” Farilla whispered in her ear. “Don’t you want to see what will happen to the strange plant you found?” The little girl started to fidget. Keris shared her hunger, but no one wanted to leave and find food.
As they watched, there was a ripping noise, and tendrils emerged from the top of the ovoid. Coiling. Questing. Keris stood and was about to usher the children from the room.
Little Massie suddenly pointed. “Plantey is hungry too.”
Corin ran from the room and returned, struggling with a heavy iron pot, filled with a thick brown liquid.
“Raleketh stew,” Massie exclaimed. “Plantey likes raleketh stew.”
Obediently, the thin appendages slithered into the pot and sucking sounds issued forth. Little Massie clapped her hands and squealed in delight.
At length, Miron poked his head into the room. He spied Keris and the three children and adopted a bemused expression. “What’s going on in here?”
“Massie found a… a thing,” Corin blurted out.
“A ‘thing’, eh? Sounds important. Still, I think you kids should come out now. Lady Keris needs to rest… ” He stepped into the room and noticed the white mass in the corner and the cluster of thin, snakelike limbs that disappeared into the black kettle. His jaw dropped.
Before he could utter a word, the tendrils retracted. Instantly, the fibres parted at the crown, and a crack appeared, gradually moving along the entire length of the object. Something was emerging.
A head. Large multifaceted eyes and an angular beak. A slender neck. Pure white torso and long, leathery legs. Finally, the fibrous covering fell away, discarded, and suddenly, from its back, there extended broad, white wings with iridescent tips. Five sets of eyes watched in awe as the strange beast sat, unmoving and expressionless in the corner.
Farilla spoke for all of them. “It’s beautiful.”
“Please, what is it, Lady Keris?” Corin asked.
Keris took a step towards the creature. The girl was right; it was beautiful in appearance, but it was… blank. There was no reaction. No recognition. No consciousness. It was a winged mannequin.
A memory drifted up from her subconscious. She had stood with Boxx inside the dome of grey mist and it had handed her something. A vial. A clear, leathery receptacle containing a milky-white fluid. She asked the Chandara what she should do with it. You Will Know When The Time Comes, Boxx replied.
Without thinking, she broke the vial, gently opened the winged creature’s beak, and carefully poured the contents inside. She stepped back. There was no response. Then it began to move. Slowly, it unfolded its limbs and stood erect until its wingtips brushed the ceiling.
“Thank you, Keris.” The voice was deeper, more sonorous, yet with an inflection that was somehow familiar. She scarcely dared to ask the question.
“What are you?”
The beak opened and the eyes glittered like fragmented rainbows. “I Am Boxx.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 37
Joy and bewilderment combined in a heady mixture as Keris gazed at the magnificent white creature that now filled the corner of the room.
“I Am She Whom You Knew As Boxx.”
Keris’s mind struggled to catch up. “She… ?”
“I Am She. I Have Changed.”
“What of the Chandara?”
“I Am Chandara. I Am… Adult Form. You Gave Me Essence, Keris. I Remember Who I Am. I Remember The Lives Of All Chandara Who Have Gone Before. We Change. We Eat. We Remember.”
Shann. She said that Boxx had used that phrase over and over, yet she had not understood the meaning. None of them had.
“We Are Adult Form For A Short Time Only—About One Two Zero Zero Zero Turns. We Sit In The Trees And Sing The Songs Of Old. We Live The Memories Of Those Who Went Before. Then, When Our Days Are Complete, We Dig The Warren. At Its Heart, We Place The Seed Of The Great Tree, And The Eggs Containing Our Essence. Then, The Form You See Is No More.
“Time Passes. The Eggs Hatch. The Seed Sprouts. The Tree And The Chandara Are One. The Chandara Tend The Tree Until It Breaks Forth Into The Sunlight Once More. The Chandara Plant The Forest. The Circle Is Complete.”
A cycle of life—one that stretched over thousands of years. There was a magnificence—a majesty to it all. The Kelanni people—her people—despised the Chandara, without knowing who or what they were. But perhaps it was not too late to make amends.
“At the Warren, beyond the Great Barrier of Storms, the Chandara there said that the Great Tree stores your essence during the change.”
“Yes, Keris. We Change. The Great Tree Feeds Us Essence. We Eat. We Remember. The Tree Is In The Chandara And The Chandara Is In The Tree. Each Cannot Exist Without The Other.”
“The time of change for your people is at hand, isn’t it?”
“I Expended Myself In Cellular Regeneration To Restore Alondo. Hence My Time Came Early. But Time Nears For All Chandara. A Few Days. No More.”
“And if there is no Great Tree, nor anything to store your essence during the change?”
“Then It Is The End Of All Things.”
She recalled the pact that she and the others had made with the Chandara at the Warren in Kelanni-Skell. That the Kelanni would do for them what their Tree could not. Boxx had called it ‘the promise’.
Now, owing to this latest act of wanton destruction, the Chandara on this side were also facing extinction.
She turned to Miron. “Are your preparations for my departure complete?”
“Yes, my Lady. As soon as night falls—”
“Miron.” A bony youth appeared at the entrance, panting and flushed. He took one look at the creature that was now Boxx and his mouth opened and closed wordlessly.
“Yes, Garin, what is it?”
The lad recovered his wits sufficiently to stammer, “Th… the K… Keltar. Th… they are at the door.”
~
“Baracca was supposed to lead them south. Away from here,” Miron insisted.
Garin looked as if he were being accused of something. “I… I don’t know. All I know is that they are here.”
It was perfectly possible that spies had penetrated Miron’s ‘Fourth Circle’. However, she had no time to debate the matter now.
“Miron, can you get the children to safety?”
“Yes, Lady. But what of you?”
Keris claimed her staff, pulled the red cloak from her pack, and threw it about her shoulders. “Do not concern yourself. It is me they are
after. I will lead them away from here.”
“But your injury—” Miron protested.
“I will be fine. Besides, I have a few tricks up my sleeve that even Glaisne doesn’t know about.” She forced a smile, wishing that she felt half as confident as her words implied. But these people had done enough for now. She was not going to put them in further jeopardy.
Miron shooed the children out of the two-room apartment and into the adjoining corridor. She touched his arm. “When I am gone, lay low. Wait for my instructions. I will have a great task for you and your people to perform.”
“Yes, Lady,” Miron replied.
“Go. Quickly now.”
She watched their retreating backs for a moment, then turned towards the stairwell.
Boxx fell into step, her wingtips brushing the walls as she passed. “Are We Going To Illaryon Now, Keris?”
“Absolutely,” she replied. “Provided we make it out of here alive.”
~
Keris took a position at the top of the stairway and waited for the Keltar to make his appearance. There was only one way out of this now. She was going to have to defeat Glaisne. Still, better here, in the seclusion of this old house, than in streets crowded with innocent bystanders.
It did not seem as if Boxx was going to be of much help. In her juvenile form, she could at least roll up into a ball of chitin and be relatively impervious to assault. In her adult manifestation she looked as if one half-decent blade stroke would finish her off. I hope you’re sturdier than you appear.
Sounds of commotion from below. Orders. Counter-orders. Boots creaking on wood. Her fingers tensed, feeling the balance point of her staff. Suddenly, a figure draped in black cloak and crowned with a shock of long white hair rounded the final bend in the stairs.
Glaisne’s face broke into an unpleasant grin. “Keris, the traitor. Well, this is a surprise. I never expected that you would make a present of yourself to me.” His gaze passed beyond her to the winged vision in white. “What in the world is that?”
“Grant me safe passage,” she said, ignoring the question, “and no harm will come to you or your men.”
It was a stalling tactic for the sake of Miron and the children. There was no way that Glaisne was going to let her leave peacefully. Keltar such as he relished the chance to showcase their skills. Yet for him this situation represented far more than simply the opportunity of combat, for whoever defeated the rebel Keris would surely advance in both position and reputation within the keep’s hierarchy.
His tone grew patronising. “Keris, Keris. What sort of game are you playing now?”
“No game. I intend to drive the remaining hu-mans from our world.”
“The remaining what?”
“The Prophet. He is not of our world.”
Glaisne shook his head as if rebuking an incompetent novice. “You speak gibberish. Is that your tactic—to sow confusion? If so, then it is a poor strategy. I have no interest in solving your riddles.” He raised one eyebrow. “I may, however, decide to keep you alive long enough to explain the strange beast behind you.”
He advanced up the stairs. Two burly leather-clad soldiers appeared behind him, but he waved them away. Clearly, Glaisne did not want to share his triumph with anyone else. One on one it is, then. That suits me just fine.
Flying cloaks would be of little practical use in this enclosed space. The same was true of grenades; they would be just as likely to disorient the caster as they would the target, not to mention the risk of starting a fire. No, this would be a battle of staffs. Simple. Clean. Deadly.
He began with a straight thrust at her midriff. She hopped backwards, deflecting the blow with her own weapon and following through with a side swipe, narrowly missing his face. She saw the first flicker of concern pass over his features. Clearly, he was not going to make the mistake of underestimating her again. She would have to be careful from now on.
He feinted left, then swept his staff in a low scything arc intended to take her feet from under her. She leapt back, avoiding the path of the blade, but was forced to relinquish her commanding position. He rapidly closed the final few steps, gaining the top of the stairs. Suddenly, they were on equal terms.
Immediately, he followed up with a downward thrust. The sound of clashing darkwood reverberated against the walls. He was strong— stronger than she would have believed for a man of his age. She was forced to give more ground. The Chandara had the good sense to retreat behind her, keeping well away from the storm of whirling blades.
Peripherally, she spied another narrow stairway. It corkscrewed up and away, dark and inviting. A gamble. For all she knew, it terminated in a dead end, disused and boarded up long ago. She would be trapped. However, she would restore her height advantage and both of their movements would be restricted. That might buy her a little more time. She made her decision.
“That way,” she called over her shoulder. Boxx squeezed herself into the constricted access and was gone. Keris loosed a flurry of attacks, forcing Glaisne on the defensive, then turned and sprinted for the exit as fast as her injured leg would carry her. Glaisne was hard on her heels as she dashed up the winding stairs. She rounded the final bend. Early evening light filtered through an open doorway.
Keris burst onto an exposed rooftop. Boxes and barrels of various sizes were carelessly strewn across the flat area. She cast about wildly, but the Chandara was nowhere in sight. Cursing inwardly, she whirled around to see Glaisne behind her. The unpleasant smile had returned.
She backed off, scanning for lodestone. There was a slight pressure from somewhere in front and one off to her right, but too weak to be of any practical use. He began running towards her, a mane of white fire flowing behind him. Their staffs clashed like a clap of thunder. Her injured leg protested once more as her muscles tensed under the strain.
A sudden downdraft of air. A low flapping sound. Both combatants glanced up. Ail-Mazzoth hung, dull-red and dark-banded, like poison swirling in a glass of wine. A great white shape swept across its face, then swept down and alighted on the roof, great wings outstretched like welcoming arms.
Keris needed no urging. She shoved him back with her staff and set off on an uneven run towards the Chandara. Glaisne recovered his balance and chased after her. At the last, she spun around, interposing herself between him and the winged creature.
He skidded to a halt in front of her. His features twisted into a
snarl. “What’s the matter? Too frightened to face me?” “No,” she replied. “It’s just that I have more important things to do.” Throwing an arm around Boxx’s neck, she swung herself onto the creature’s back and gasped, as with a single thrust, Boxx took to the air, bearing her far away into the silent refuge of the vast open sky.
<><><><><>
Chapter 38
That night, they camped at the edge of Illaryon.
The forest was an inferno of purple and orange—burning, yet never consumed. From its depths, screeches, squeaks, squawks, and high-pitched ululations. A myriad of creatures locked tooth and claw in a never-ending battle for survival.
They huddled in silence near the campfire, the red-cloaked former Keltar and the fabulous winged creature. She massaged her rejuvenated ankle, made whole once more through Boxx’s healing talents. They were still some distance from the Great Tree—close enough, however, to see that the massive crown of foliage that had dominated the skyline was no more. In its place, a bare, soot-black trunk pointed at the sky like an accusing finger.
“I’m so sorry,” Keris said, at length.
The Chandara ruffled her wings and shook her head slightly, but made no reply. Her many-jewelled eyes reflected the flickering light from the depths of the fire.
At first light, they took wing, soaring high above the treetops and on towards the heart of the forest. Clinging to the soft down of the creature’s neck, Keris felt the warm air rushing past and the steady beat of her wings and felt an empathy—a oneness. As they were bound together in flight, so were they bound together in heart. In purpose.
They came down within a circle of scorched forest. At its centre, the blasted trunk of the Great Tree. Gone, the bright-painted orange and yellow and purple moss. Gone the festive vermillion vines that clung to its branches like ticker tape. A celebration of joy, turned to ashes.
There was no smoke; the perpetrators of this terrible crime appeared to be long gone.
Mercifully, the damage appeared to be limited to a small area of the forest. The great tree and the trunks immediately surrounding it had been subjected to intense heat, but scarcely more than a few steps away, the foliage was untouched. Perhaps the trees possessed some fire-resistant quality…
Boxx gazed up at the blackened bole. “The Great Tree. My Home.”
Keris swallowed and blinked the tears away. She had no time for displays of grief. She needed answers.
She walked around the base of the tree until she found the high opening and stepped through, with Boxx at her heels. The acrid smell of burnt wood made her gag. Gradually, her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness.
Bile rose in her throat as she spotted maybe a dozen small shapes littered across the floor. No signs of life. But then, she had not expected to find any.
She re-emerged into the sunlight and faced the Chandara. “Do you know whether any of your people survived?”
Boxx’s voice had an almost musical quality. “I Do Not Know.”
She tried a different tack. “If some of them managed to escape, where would they go?”
There was a pause before Boxx replied. “Above. Among The Topmost Branches. Or Below. Beneath The Roots—Deep In The Heart-Soil.”
The Warren. The underground complex that was home to the Chandara during the first part of their life cycle. They might well return to the ‘womb’ in a time of crisis.
“Which part?”
Boxx regarded her uncomprehendingly.
“Which part of the forest would they flee to?”
“I Do Not Know.”
Keris bit her lip. How do you go about finding a group of Chandara who don’t want to be found? She might wander through the forest on the off-chance of finding them, but with a forest this size, she could spend days covering no more than a fraction of it.
She could climb astride Boxx’s back once more and conduct aerial reconnaissance, but she might easily miss them from above the tree canopy. And if they had decided to take refuge by burrowing beneath the forest floor, as Boxx had suggested, then she would never find them.
Assuming, of course, that any had survived at all.
“Boxx, I have to find your people now, or it will be too late.”
“To Fulfil The Promise.”
“Yes. To fulfil the promise.”
“I Could Sing.”
“Sing… ?”
The flying creature’s head moved from side to side in a way that reminded her of its younger form. “If I Sing To Them, They Will Come.”
The song of the Chandara. She had heard it once before on the plateau, just before she and Boxx left for Akalon. Five Chandara had lifted their heads to a leaden sky and joined together in an ancient chorale—more ancient than the Kelanni people themselves.
“Sing to them,” Keris urged. “Tell them, ‘come quickly’.”
It began gradually. A paean, drifting outward from the dead heart of the forest. It wandered a singular scale, rising like hope, like the first shaft of sunlight or the tinkle of melting ice. Along the forest’s secret paths it wafted, through leafy bough and dense thicket, silencing the mylars in the topmost branches and stilling the skittering creatures of the forest floor.
As the Chandara’s song filled the still air, Keris sat cross-legged, peering between the crowded trunks, but nothing came forth. Time slowed to a crawl. It was possible, of course, that none of Boxx’s clan had survived. If that were the case, she resolved to make those responsible pay dearly…
However, another possibility occurred to her. The larval Chandara might be disinclined to gather at a site where the wholesale destruction of their own kind, and of their beloved Great Tree, had taken place. She was about to interrupt Boxx and suggest that they try a different location when she heard another sound.
At first she thought the cadence of the song had changed. Then her heart quickened as she realised that it was a different harmony—a different voice. Soon the new strain was joined by a second. And then a third. The chorus seemed to come from all around, coalescing, parting, then merging once again. Individual melodies, yet united in consonance.
Slowly they began to emerge from the forest: dozens of the shelled creatures, scurrying on all sixes, jostling one another. They stopped in front of Keris and Boxx, rising erect on their hind limbs, round heads bobbing expectantly, eyes like shining black points.
Soon the devastated circle of forest was filled with them. Boxx lowered her head and the interwoven refrains fell away to silence. With a start, Keris realised that they were all looking at her.
She swallowed. She had never been one for speeches. As Keltar, she preferred to let her actions and her staff speak for her. Now the fate of an entire race might very well hang on her next words.
She uncrossed her legs and got to her feet. “Chandara of Illaryon. Your Great Tree is no more.” She cringed. The words sounded trite. Idiotic. Come on. Get a grip on yourself.
She glanced sideways. Boxx was watching her intently with eyes like huge, lustrous gems. She turned back to the assembled throng, imbued with fresh determination. “This is Boxx. Annata designated her as the ‘key’. She has completed her great task on behalf of the Kelanni. Now the Kelanni have made a promise. We have promised to do what the Tree cannot—to store essence until the transformation of the Chandara is complete.
“Boxx has undergone the change. I kept her essence and fed her when she emerged. She is proof. Proof that this thing can be done. That it will be done. For all Chandara.”
She scanned the gathering. Their mouths rippled in the peculiar way of the juvenile Chandara, but other than that, there was no reaction. Her heart sank like a stone. Do they even understand me?
All of a sudden, the creatures at the front parted, and a single individual stepped forward. Its round face was older—wizened—and it supported itself on a branch of gnarled wood that was as tall as itself. She recognized it as the chief. The one who had addressed her in the audience chamber at the time of Annata’s first appearance. It raised its head and spoke in a high, quivering voice. “You Are One.”
Keris frowned. “I’m sorry… I don’t quite—”
“You Are One. We Are Many. You Cannot Do This Thing Alone. Have Others Of Kelanni Made This Promise?”
She could not lie to them. “A few have, yes. My immediate companions.”
“What Of Others?”
What of others, indeed. Miron’s ‘Fourth Circle’ had pledged their allegiance to her, but she could not be certain how far that allegiance might go. Their manifest aim was the overthrow of the Prophet’s regime. It was difficult to see what that had to do with this.
She had already instructed them to stand down and await her orders. Now she was going to suggest that they play nursemaid to the despised Chandara. Some might well conclude that she was wasting their time. Others of a more suspicious nature might even think that she was a quisling, put in place by the Keltar to misdirect their efforts.
“I cannot offer a guarantee for every one of my people,” she admitted. “But I will do everything in my power to persuade them to help.”
As if to reinforce her promise, Boxx stepped forward and presented the tip of her wing. The old chief stretched forth its three digits, and a steady luminescence formed between them. It was just as when the larval Boxx had shared the memories stored in its Great Tree with the chief of the Warren, on the far side of the world.
The light died and the shelled creature shrunk back. “A Destroyer Walks Among You. You Will Stay.”
“I will what?”
“You Will Stay,” the wrinkled Chandara repeated. “Your People Will Right The Wrong. Only Then Will You Leave.”
A hostage. They were talking about taking her as a hostage. The Chandara she had encountered at the warren were traumatised. Hardened. Desperate. These creatures too were now locked in a battle for survival.
She looked out across the sea of shells and swaying round heads. If she wanted to leave, could they prevent it? It hardly mattered. They was no way she was going to use force against them. “I’m sorry. I can’t stay. I have… tasks to perform.”
“You Will Stay.” The creatures edged forward, reinforcing the chief’s ruling.
Keris stood, rooted to the spot, like an animal caught in a trap.
Just then, Boxx stepped in front of her, drawing herself to her full height, shuddering and then spreading her great wings. “No. Keris Must Leave. Boxx Must Leave.”
“You Are Boxx,” the chief declared. “You Belong In The Forest With Your People. You Will Stay.”
“I Have Changed,” Boxx returned. “I Am Adult Form. Children Do Not Tell Adults. Adults Tell Children. It Is The Way Of The Chandara. You Are Children. You Will Do As You Are Bidden. Boxx And Keris Must Leave. You Must Stay. Wait For My Return. I Will Return To You For The Time Of Change.”
The dried-up chief lowered its head and sat on its rear limbs. The rest of the Chandara shuffled backwards. Keris let loose the breath she had been holding.
“And If Kelanni Will Not Help Us? If They Will Not Right The Wrong?” the chief asked, head still bowed.
Boxx gazed down with her golden eyes and spoke with the voice of ten thousand generations. “Then I Will Return And Die With You.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 39
Shann lay flat on her stomach at the lip of the sand dune alongside Alondo, Rael, Patris, and the hu-man McCann and surveyed the open desert compound and the brooding fortress that served as its backdrop. Soldiers appeared to be guarding every inch of ground within the palisade, and she had already counted at least a dozen Keltar.
She pulled back, got to her feet, and marched off down the windward side of the dune, shoulders tense. When she reached the bottom where the morgren waited, she flopped down, wrapped her arms around her knees, and stared out across the undulating sands. The great shaggy beast cast a rheumy eye in her direction and went back to munching on a bale of kalash.
A boy who lived in a world of numbers, a musician, a scullery maid, and a hu-man were preparing to take on an entire garrison. And all because of some stupid promise she had made. What was I thinking?
A short while later, she registered Rael’s lanky form standing behind her and maintaining a respectful distance.
“I don’t understand it.” Her words were a both cry of frustration and an invitation. The boy got the message. He walked forward and sat down beside her. “I don’t get why there are so many soldiers here,” she continued, still addressing the wide open desert.
“You said that when you were last here with Lyall and Alondo, you tried to infiltrate the compound. It’s only to be expected that they would beef up security after an incident like that.”
“Yes, but that was half a turn ago. Now that the Prophet has control of the four components, he doesn’t really need places like this to collect lodestone ore. It… it’s almost as if someone tipped them off— as if they knew we were coming, like last time.”
“The answer may be simpler than that.”
She turned to him for the first time. “How do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Wang only returned in the sky ship a few days ago. He may simply have not gotten around to rescinding the orders.”
The boy was probably right. Unfortunately, it didn’t help any. She sighed. “I shouldn’t have let her go.” He looked at her quizzically. “Keris,” she added. “She should have been here by now.”
“I’m sure she will get here as soon as she can,” Rael replied.
Sure. If she’s not already dead. Or captured. She stared at the shifting sands beneath her feet. “I shouldn’t have let her go.”
“You had no choice, Shann. It was the only way. By drawing the soldiers away from the tower, she made it possible for us to escape.”
Only to walk right into another trap. “If Keris were here, I’m sure she could have come up with something—a strategy whereby we could free the tributes safely.”
“I don’t think Keris could tell you anything beyond the evidence of your own eyes,” he said gently.
It was true. There were just too many. If they tried a tactic similar to last time, encouraging the tributes to rise up from within, they would probably just end up getting them all slaughtered, particularly since the garrison commander didn’t have to worry about meeting ore production quotas any more. It might even give him the perfect excuse to do away with the tributes, on the grounds that keeping them alive and incarcerated was just too much trouble.
“We could simply turn around and leave,” he offered.
“And go where?” she snapped back. “The tributes are our only potential allies. Besides, I gave my word… ”
He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She thought of Roanol, the young lad with tousled fair hair and penetrating blue eyes whom she had met during her time inside the compound. A younger version of Lyall. She had asked him to come away with her, but he had refused.
She turned away, flushed. “I’m sorry.”
He regarded her, eyes filled with concern. “Sorry for what?”
Quickly, she changed the meaning. “I… I’m sorry I got you into this.”
He took her hand, smiling. “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”
“What are you kids up to?” Alondo clumped down the slope, sending up great clouds of sand. He arrived at the bottom, perspiring and panting slightly.
She disengaged her hand. “Trying to figure out what to do next.”
“Hmmm,” he replied. “There does seem to be rather a lot of them, doesn’t there? A response to our previous effort, no doubt.”
“That’s what Rael said. Where are Patris and McCann?”
“I left them watching the compound. They seem to be competing with one another as to who can offer the most negative comments… So,” he plopped himself down on the sand opposite, without waiting to be invited. “Any ideas?”
“Rael thinks we should leave.”
“That’s one option. Puts us right back where we started though, doesn’t it?”
“You three might succeed in figuring out Lyall’s plan in the meantime,” she said.
Alondo and Rael exchanged glances. Finally, it was Rael who spoke. “I’m afraid the signs aren’t good, Shann. We’ve subjected the slag to every test we could think of—scientific or otherwise. So far, nothing. Right now, we’re out of ideas.”
“What about McCann?” she prompted.
“His people are more advanced than either of our societies. He even came up with a couple of possibilities I hadn’t thought of. Nothing came out of them, though. Unfortunately, we would need more sophisticated equipment to take the investigation any further— equipment we don’t have access to.”
Shann shook her head firmly. “No, it has to be something simpler than that. Something Lyall knew we would be able to figure out. You said before you felt that lodestone was at the heart of it.”
Rael nodded. “Yes, and I may have been wrong about that.”
“How so?” she asked.
“Because slag is not lodestone. It’s merely the stuff that’s left over after the lodestone is extracted.”
“Perhaps the slag retains something of the properties of the lodestone?”
“No, Shann. It doesn’t. I’m sorry, but we did every conceivable analysis. Slag has no more of the properties of lodestone than… than my boot.” There was a humorous retort somewhere there, but it was neither the time nor the place. “Still, we haven’t given up. There’s still a chance that one of us might think of something we haven’t already tried.”
She heard the soft sound of shifting sands. She glanced up to see Patris, closely followed by the hu-man McCann, heading down the slope to join them. “They have that place sewn up tighter than a drum,” Patris commented as he approached.
“He’s right,” McCann chimed in. “It’d take an army to get in there.”
Everyone looked downcast except Alondo, who stared at McCann as if he had just uttered something outrageous. “What was that?”
“I said,” McCann repeated, allowing his irritation to peek through, “that we would need an army to get into that compound.”
Alondo got up and walked off a short distance. He stood in silence. McCann stared at his back. “Something I said?”
Shann ignored him. “Alondo, is everything all right?”
The musician appeared distracted. “An army. He said we would need an army.”
“We don’t have an army,” Rael explained patiently. “There’s just the five of us.”
“Maybe we do.”
“Excuse me?” Rael replied.
“Maybe we do have an army, after all. We just never realised it.”
~
“Well, it took a while, but he’s finally lost it.”
“I think the pressure’s getting to him.”
“Could be the heat of the suns. I’ve heard that, out here in the desert, people have been known to do some pretty crazy stuff.”
“Really?”
“Oh sure. It’s a well-known fact.”
“You’d have thought that funny red hat of his would keep the sun off.”
“Maybe his brain’s melted underneath it?”
Alondo was kneeling, making adjustments to his vortex arm, which he had up-ended before him in the sand. “If you kids don’t stop it, I’m going to come over there and wallop the both of you.”
Rael squeezed Shann’s hand and they smirked at each other.
“So, Alondo,” Shann said, putting on her silkiest voice. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t believe I’m going to tell you, now,” he said, nose in the air. “It’ll just have to be a surprise.”
“Alondo,” she remonstrated.
“Oh, all right. It’s the sand scarags.”
McCann and Patris both looked confused. McCann blinked beneath his heavy-set brows. “The sand what?”
“Sand scarags.” He raised his eyes and indicated Shann with a nod of his head. “She can explain them to you.”
“Er… well, they are desert creatures.” She flattened her palm and indicated her waist. “About this high and they have great big claws and tails with these massive stingers. A group of them attacked us on our way here the first time. We only just managed to drive them off.”
“Well done.” Alondo continued to fuss over his instrument whilst adopting the air of one charged with the teaching of small children. “Now, can anyone tell me what attracts a sand scarag… ? Anyone… ?”
Shann had exhausted her knowledge. Patris had little interest in desert creatures, and the other two came from worlds where such things didn’t exist. They regarded each other with empty expressions.
Alondo snapped his fingers in a ‘time’s up’ gesture. “Sound. Or, more precisely, vibration. And what does this instrument produce?”
“Vibration.” Rael affirmed, light dawning in his eyes.
Shann closed her eyes and held up one hand. “Hold on a moment. The last time you used your vortex arm, it drove the creatures away. It didn’t attract them.”
Alondo stood and raised an index finger. “Correct. However, it should be comparatively simple to re-modulate the emitters to produce a low, steady pulse, of the kind that would be likely to get their attention.”
“You would need to determine the optimum frequency range,” Rael commented.
“Exactly,” Alondo said, now thoroughly swept away on the crest of his idea. “That’s what I’m doing now. We’ll see what setting they respond to.”
“These are dangerous wild beasts,” McCann began.
“Most certainly,” Alondo agreed.
“And your plan is to bring them here in droves. Is that wise?”
“It is today.” Alondo’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t worry, this is only a test; I’ll shut the thing off long before they get here.”
McCann’s expression was hard to read under all that facial hair, but Shann could sense scepticism radiating from him in waves.
Alondo was not in the least bit deterred. “Now, what do you think the Keltar and soldiers at the compound will do when they see a ravening horde of sand scarags bearing down on them?”
“They’ll run,” Patris said.
Shann could feel something. More of a sensation than a sound; it hovered at the lower limit of her hearing.
“Yes, but where? Where will they run to?” Alondo posed.
“The fortress,” she exclaimed. “They will make for the protective walls of the fortress.” Her headlong excitement slammed straight into a wall and her expression flattened. “But what about the tributes? They’ll be caught out in the open.”
“Not if we time it right. All we have to do is wait until one of the lockdown periods, when the tributes are confined to their barracks. They should be quite safe in there. I set up the instrument somewhere in the compound, flick a switch, and wait for the fun to begin. Speaking of which… ”
He was gazing at the horizon. She swivelled around and saw an angry sandstorm brewing to the north. Then one to the northeast and another to the west. All headed straight for them. “Turn it off.”
Alondo appeared distracted. “What?”
“Turn it off,” the other four chorused.
He came to and hit a switch. The low vibration died. After a few moments, the clouds of sand dissipated and the desert was still once again.
“Well, it works,” he said, unnecessarily.
Irritation filled air with the beat of its wings. Finally, Patris asked, “So, how exactly do you propose to get inside?”
Alondo grinned. “Ah, that’s the easy part.”
“It is?” Shann retorted.
“Why, sure. When do you think it was that these loyal, dedicated, hard-working troops last enjoyed some quality entertainment?”
<><><><><>
Chapter 40
It was to be the first and only performance of the New Desert Players. However, if everything went to plan, then it would certainly be a memorable one.
“Which of you can sing?” Alondo had inquired.
“I’m not very good.”
“Not me.”
“No way.”
“Dance, then.”
“What?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Not a chance.”
Alondo spread his hands. “Look, it’s not like this is a playhouse in central Chalimar. You don’t have to do anything fancy. I’m the professional. Just follow my lead, all right?”
“Well, I’m staying right here,” McCann declared. “I can’t risk drawing that much attention; I might be recognised as a non-Kelanni. And besides, someone has to stay and make sure that no one runs off with that morgren-thing, or the rest of our supplies.”
“I’ll make my own way in, posing as a merchant or something,” Patris said. “I can keep an eye on you from a distance. In case you get into any trouble.”
Shann and Rael glared at them.
“Then it’s decided,” Alondo said cheerfully. “We’ll have the two of you, dancing along with the music.”
“I told you. I don’t know how to dance,” Shann reminded him.
“Oh, just show ’em your legs; you’ll get a standing ovation.”
“Alondo!”
“Look, this is a remote outpost filled with soldiers longing for any kind of diversion. You’ll be fine. You will need an act of your own, though… ”
Rael sounded increasingly worried. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“Well, it’s going to take time to set up the vortex arm and generate the pulse. I can hardly do that on stage, in full view of the patrons. I’ll have to do it backstage, during the interval, while you keep them amused with your support act.”
“Support act?” Shann and Rael exclaimed together.
It turned out to be something called mime. No speech or singing, just acting out part of a story involving two mismatched sweethearts and some hilarious situations. The advantage was that they didn’t need to worry about props, since they would just act the thing out as if the props were invisibly there. “Plus,” Alondo pointed out, “if you make a mistake, no one in this audience will really know or care.”
He took them through the sequence a couple of times, then announced, “Now for the costumes.”
A while later, they stood side by side; she in a cut-down version of the pale blue gown she had worn during their night out at the Calandra in Sakara, he in one of Alondo’s changes of clothing—a bright green jacket and vermillion trousers with a yellow stripe running down them. The jacket was short and baggy and the trousers came halfway up his legs.
McCann and Patris sat watching the spectacle, barely able to contain themselves.
Rael threw his arms in the air. “I can’t go like this. I look ridiculous.”
Alondo walked over, carrying his smile, and threw an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “I don’t think you’ve quite grasped the concept, my friend. It’s called en-ter-tainment. The sillier you look, the better.”
Rael glowered at him from behind a cloud. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. That’s the whole point.”
A short while later, the New Desert Players danced and pranced and juggled and jangled their way along the desert road and arrived at the open gates of wood and iron that lay on either side of the fortress entrance.
An old soldier with a withering look and bad teeth barred their path. “Wha’s all this ’ere, then?”
“Good day, handsome fellow.” Alondo bowed expansively, making a sweep of his red hat that encompassed the entire courtyard. “My fellow thespians and I, fresh from our triumphant tour of the Eastern Provinces, where we regaled such notables as the Guildmaster of Sakara and the lords of Leota and Kalath-Kar, having presently arrived at your charming burg, desire to imbibe a small libation and to take our ease at a well-appointed hostelry, to wit, an inn, in advance of our planned performance this very eve.”
The soldier stood motionless as a statue. Finally, he stepped aside and spoke in a gruff voice. “All right, on yer way. And don’ be causin’ no trouble.”
As the party moved off, the soldier was joined by his companion. She heard the words “… bunch ’o bloody actors. What next… ?” and “… place is becomin’ a madhouse… ”
Alondo led them towards the pens where the morgren were kept. He spoke in low tones. “All right, remember. Stay close. Keep quiet. Let me do all the talking… And smile for goodness’ sake; you’re supposed to be entertainers.”
He took care of the stabling, then inquired as to the whereabouts of the garrison commander and was directed to a low structure adjoining the inner wall, known as the casemate.
“Wait here,” he ordered before ducking through the door. A while later, he emerged, announcing, “Well, it seems we have a booking.” He marched away up the narrow street.
Shann and Rael hurried after him. “Where are you off to?” she asked.
“To find an inn,” he replied, without looking back. “I need a drink.”
~
“… Fair Conallee, I dream of thee,
“From far beyond the Borgoth Sea,
“Where unknown lands lie green and low,
“And sparkling crystal rivers flow.
“And when I weary of its charms,
“Then shall I hurry to your arms,
“And I shall be once more with thee,
“My dearest, darling Conallee.”
As the strains to ‘The Ballad of Fair Conallee’ faded away on the warm evening air, rapturous applause erupted from the audience of soldiers and townsfolk, seated cheek by jowl in the open area of the compound. The Keltar—some fifteen or so individuals in their distinctive black garb—stood separately off to the side but appeared to be enjoying the performance no less.
Shann brought her dance to a stop and released Rael thankfully. To say that he had two left feet would have been a gross exaggeration of his abilities. Dancing with him was exquisite torture. He had no sense of rhythm, and his arms and legs were everywhere except where they should be—she had the bruises to prove it. The audience, on the other hand, loved their inept performance, taking it to be a comic foil to Alondo’s playing, and they whooped and roared in time with her various injuries.
Alondo had just delivered the punch line to a humorous anecdote involving two morgren, a washerwoman, and a pair of undergarments. “And now I must leave you for a short while, but I will return soon. In the meantime, I present to you Shannie and Raeloff, who will now render the torrid tale of Callabus and Syntarr.”
He bowed three times, milking the thunderous applause, and then disappeared behind the hastily erected curtain that formed the backdrop to their performance. The interval. Shann prodded Rael and they began their routine.
She executed the movements mechanically. Rael’s responses were off, as usual, and the audience’s reaction was muted, but she didn’t care. Her mind was with Alondo and the task he was performing backstage. Come on. Get a move on.
Then she felt it. Less than a sound but more than a rumble, the pulse had an almost subliminal quality, so that at first she thought it must be her imagination.
Suddenly, a ragged cry of alarm sounded from the throat of one of the few guards left on duty. Confusion spread through the crowd like a contagion. Shouts. Some stood, seeking the source of the disturbance; others demanded that they sit down and stop spoiling the performance.
The Keltar, on the other hand, reacted instantly, dispersing, yelling orders, and setting off at a run to check the perimeter.
Rael dropped his hands and glanced around nervously. Shann was about to hiss at him to pick up where he left off when she caught sight of the first of them. Above the palisade, a cheliped waved in dubious greeting; a flat head and eye stalks appeared soon after. Somewhere in the shifting mass of people, a woman screamed.
The creature wavered a moment before dropping inside the enclosure. The ripple became a rout as people clamoured for the exit. A smattering of stalwart soldiers braved the clacking mandibles and sting-laden tail until half a dozen more sand scarags began swarming over the stockade. The soldiers took one look, dropped their pikes and short swords, and ran.
Rael stood immobile, turned to stone by the spectacle being played out in front of him. She grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him behind the curtain. To her surprise, she found Alondo packing up.
“I shut off the pulse for now. Don’t want them swarming in here. How’s the performance going?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s a riot out there,” she quipped. “Where are you going?”
“The fortress. With the others. I’ll turn the pulse on again once I’m inside the walls.”
“No way. You’ll be trapped.”
He shrugged. “Only until I decide to deactivate it.”
“But if they discover what you’re doing—”
“They won’t. Besides, someone has to keep them bottled up so you can free the tributes and get them far away from here. Don’t worry. I’ll catch up to you.”
He slung the vortex arm across his back, shouldered his pack, pecked her on the cheek, and, before she could react, was gone.
<><><><><>
Chapter 41
Shann stepped out from behind the curtain with Rael in tow and came face to face with Patris.
The sailor-thief looked from one to the other and back again. “Where’s Alondo?”
“He’s gone to the fortress to set up the pulse from there,” she replied, her heart heavy.
Patris’s mouth twitched slightly as if he were trying to frame the obvious question. How is he going to get out of there? Mercifully, the words that came out were different. “I see. Well, I assume the next task is going to be to free the tributes. Let’s get going.”
They threaded their way through the abandoned possessions that littered the compound. Somewhere off to their right, beyond the stockade, the sand scarags would soon be massing against the fortress’s sheer outer walls, like surf breaking against the foot of a cliff.
First Lyall. Then Keris. Now Alondo. Was that how it was going to be? Was she going to be forced to watch as each of her friends gave themselves one by one in noble sacrifice, foundation stones in a monument to a great and glorious failure?
We’re not dead yet.
At the first hut, she pulled back the iron bolt and hauled the door open; she and Rael stepped inside. Bleary eyes blinked in the half-light, but none she recognised. Her heart flipped and died. She started into her prepared speech. “My name is Shann. This is Rael. We have come to take you back to your homes and families. Please wait outside in the compound while we free the others.”
“The soldiers,” someone croaked. “The Keltar?”
“They are gone,” she said, trying to inject some compassion into her tired voice. “No one will harm you. Please, gather your possessions as quickly as possible and come with us.”
The tributes stared at the girl in the frilly blue dress and the boy in the badly fitting suit, then started to file out through the door, too weary either to laugh or to resist.
The second hut uncovered more inmates—dazed and disbelieving, like animals led to slaughter—but still no sign of Roanol.
Leaving Patris to oversee the growing throng, Shann and Rael headed off in the direction of the last hut.
Rael said nothing, but she could tell what he was thinking. If these people were their new allies against the Prophet’s forces, then their campaign was scarcely any better off than it was before. Most were sick or malnourished. Some had to be carried on litters; others could barely stand. They couldn’t even take on a bunch of raw recruits, never mind Keltar.
With Rael’s help, she wrested open the door. She hesitated at the threshold.
Rael put a hand on her shoulder and stepped ahead of her. “All right, listen up all of you. We’re getting you out of here now. Just follow us.”
The same bewildered looks. The same blank, uncomprehending stares.
Then, “Shann.” The cry came from the rear of the group. A youth with bright blue eyes and hair the colour of desert sand broke through the front line and seized her by the shoulders. “Shann, it is you!” He hugged her, leaning backwards so that her feet lifted clear off the ground. She tried to respond but found that she was fighting for air. “I knew you would come.” He kissed her on the forehead.
Rael deflated like a popped balloon.
Her boots came into contact with the floor once more and she found her voice. “This is Roanol… ” She trailed off. Suddenly, no explanation seemed adequate.
“Leskin is in a bad way,” Roanol said. “We have to help him.” He threw an arm around her shoulders, and she allowed herself to be led away. Behind her, the boy who had faithfully followed her across half a world now drifted, alone and bereft on an ocean of hurt.
~
A thin raggedy line crawled, trudged, limped, and stumbled its way through the vast Southern Desert. An army already defeated, without a battle. Their objective, the nameless outpost that lay to the north of Gort, was determined not by some master strategy designed to lead them to victory, but by a single imperative. Water.
A few able-bodied tributes, including Roanol, had loosely armed themselves with discarded or crudely manufactured weapons and were taking orders from Shann. Leskin—laid up with a fever of some kind— had nonetheless been sufficiently lucid both to recognize her and to bestow his approval. It was enough to settle any question of authority.
Remembering Keris’s tactics in similar circumstances, she split the volunteers into two groups to cover the column’s rear and van, respectively. She did not give much for their chances in the event of an ambush, but she told herself it was better than nothing.
It also gave her the opportunity to place Rael and Roanol as far apart as possible. Rael had been sullen and uncommunicative ever since they had freed the tributes. Roanol, on the other hand, seemed to delight in every opportunity to shower her with warmth and affection. She felt confused and under pressure from both of them, and she resented it. However, she also needed them both. Putting them at opposite ends of the column meant that she did not have to try to sort out her feelings—for now at least.
Splashes of deep claret washed away the golden glow to the east as evening gradually gave way to night. McCann was waiting for them along the track. She felt a ripple of apprehension pass along the line. No one besides her and Roanol had encountered a hu-man before, and the grotesque appearance of this one, with his bulky torso and luxuriant facial growth, was unsettling, to say the least.
Stepping forward, crimson cloak draped once more about her shoulders, she raised her voice and tried to sound authoritative. “This is Alexander McCann. He is not Kelanni. He is… ” She was not going to lie to these people. “He is hu-man. He is of the same race as Wang, the individual known to you as the Prophet.”
She allowed a moment for the murmuring to subside. “However, he is working with us now, to free the Kelanni from hu-man domination. You are to trust him as you would Leskin… or me.”
The expressions on the faces of some showed that this was a lot for them to swallow, but no voices were raised in dissension. She allowed her words to hang in the air a moment longer. Then, “All right, let’s move out.”
McCann sidled up to her and whispered in her ear, “Thanks for the ringing endorsement.”
“Shut up.”
He was another complication she didn’t need right now. She strode off along the rough desert road without looking back.
A while later, he reappeared at her elbow. “Would you like to know what’s happening at Chalimar right now?”
She considered various possible replies and opted in the end for sarcasm. “I thought you lost your Ring at Akalon.”
“Oh, I don’t need to Ring them. The Keltar at Gort will already have done that. The authorities at the keep will be busy plotting our demise.” He began to count off on his fingers. “Say, a day or two for them to marshal a sufficient number of troops. Then two to three days more for them to march down here and stomp all over us.”
“We’re not dead yet.”
“No, not for another three to five days at any rate.”
She wished she had an answer for him. Her determination had been to carry forward Lyall’s original plan to free the captives at Gort and to fulfil her promise to Roanol and the others. Now she was just making it up as she went along.
They reached the southern outpost shortly before dawn. Leaving the main column a short way off, she advanced on the smattering of single-storey stone constructs with a party consisting of McCann, Patris, Roanol, and a select group of the more agile tributes. Rael was back with the column. When she had ordered him to stay behind, he had not replied or even looked at her. I don’t have time for this.
First, secure the outpost’s water and supplies. Then she could work out what to do next. She gave a hand signal, and they crouched down together near the road. Two guards were clearly visible flanking the tiny guardhouse. “We need to overpower them before they can raise the alarm.”
“It won’t matter,” McCann maintained. “When they fail to report in, the authorities at the keep will know exactly where we are.”
She rounded on him. “If you’d rather go rejoin your hu-man friends, then just say the word.” A dozen pairs of eyes were staring at her.
Roanol spoke into the tense silence. “Shann is right. We don’t know how many of them there are. We have to maintain the element of surprise as long as possible.”
It wasn’t what she had meant, but she let the comment stand. She took McCann and five of the others and dispatched Patris, Roanol, and the rest to take care of the other guard.
The desert was deathly quiet; every rustle or swish of their clothing seemed amplified. Fortunately, their quarry was leaning on his pike and appeared to be on his last legs.
Shann started to rise up and felt a restraining hand on her shoulder. To her surprise, it was McCann. He made a ‘stay here’ gesture and set off by himself on a low run. A few moments later, a meaty arm whipped out across the sentry’s face, covering his nose and mouth. The Kelanni’s weapon dropped to the sand, and his arms and legs thrashed about before he finally went limp.
She gestured to the others of her company and circled around the rear. Patris’s group stood in a loose knot. In front of them, the other guard lay flat on the sand. She checked inside the guardhouse, but it was empty. The largest of the stone edifices—that would be the barracks.
She indicated it and led the reunited team across the open ground. Flattening her back to the wall, with Roanol at her shoulder, she listened. There was no sound from within. She pointed to McCann and the largest of the Kelanni and jerked a thumb at the door. They nodded to each other, stepped forward, raised a leg, and kicked together with all the force they could muster.
The wood burst from its hinges and they shoved their way inside, the others hard on their heels. Moments later they reappeared, dragging four bleary-eyed soldiers in long undergarments and throwing them unceremoniously onto the sand. The four raised their hands in capitulation. The outpost was theirs.
She turned to the tall Kelanni who had helped kick in the door. “Take three men and pick up the two sentries. Then put them all in here and post a guard till we decide what to do with them. Roanol. Take three more and locate the stores. Then post another guard and begin taking an inventory. Make a separate list of any weapons you come across. The rest of you are with me. We’ll bring the column in, set up camp, and begin distributing water from the well.”
The raiding party broke up and set about their various tasks. McCann caught up to her once more. “Nicely done. Clean. Efficient. You did a good job.”
An isolated way station manned by poorly motivated troops, caught by surprise, and outnumbered two to one. It was hardly the greatest victory of all time. Still, she appreciated the compliment.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “About earlier.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Burdens of command. Think nothing of it. The Captain has said far worse to me in his time.”
Ever since she had learned of the Prophet’s true origins, she had thought of hu-mans as ruthless, selfish, and dangerous. Yet McCann and Susan Gilmer, the only two she had really known, showed loyalty, patience, and tolerance. Maybe they are not so different from us after all.
They crested a small rise and caught sight of the tribute column. She caught her breath. No longer spread out along the desert road, they were pressed together in a circle. All around them, fencing them in, stood soldiers with weapons poised, interspersed with Keltar clad in charcoal-black.
The column was surrounded.
<><><><><>
Chapter 42
Shann stared at the scene spread out before her and trawled for explanations. No detachment sent from Chalimar could possibly have gotten here this fast. Unless they had already been on their way… a relief contingent, maybe? If true, then she and the others were victims of an incredible piece of bad timing. However, there was one other possibility—that these were soldiers from Gort who had somehow managed to break through the horde of sand scarags ringing the fortress and catch up to them here.
“I’m going down there,” she announced.
“Shann, you can’t.” It was Roanol.
“I can’t just walk away. Someone has to find out what’s what. Negotiate with these people if necessary. Wait here.”
She trotted off down the slope without waiting for an answer.
Shouts rang out. Two figures broke away and headed in her direction—one in studded leather armour with shining brass plates, the other in Keltar black.
The Keltar approached to within a few paces and then halted. He was lean and dark as the departing night and his face was contorted into a scowl. “And who might you be?”
She raised her head and set her jaw. “My name is Shann. I speak for these people.”
“These people,” he indicated behind him with a flick of the head, “are tributes escaped from Gort. They are fugitives. No one speaks for them.”
“Excuse me, Lord Darrago.” The armoured man stepped forward. He had a handsome face, with deep-set eyes and a scribble of cropped black hair. “But recovery of the tributes is my duty and responsibility.”
A flicker passed over the Keltar’s features. “Very well, Commander. I leave the matter to you. However, when you are finished with this one, you will turn her over to me for interrogation. She bears the cloak and staff—an act of sacrilege under the Law of the Prophet.”
“Indeed,” the commander observed. “It is said that a band of criminals has been roaming the countryside posing as Keltar.”
Darrago’s tone was like the crack of a whip. “That is not for you to know or speculate. Attend to your duty, Commander.”
As Darrago strode off, Shann noticed the briefest of smiles play about the commander’s lips. Then the moment was past and he addressed her directly. “I am Grackas, commander of the garrison at Gort. I assume you are responsible for staging this little breakout.”
“I am.”
“Mind telling me how you got those desert creatures to attack the fortress in their hundreds?” Her heart skipped a beat. They had not uncovered Alondo’s involvement, which meant that wherever he was, he was probably alive and safe.
She kept her face carefully neutral. “‘The suns for warmth and the beasts for food, but The Prophet controls them all.’”
He smiled at her recitation of the sacred verse. “Cute. Very well, then, keep your secrets. It doesn’t matter now. Your brave effort ends here.” He turned away.
“Not if the garrison stands with us.” She held her breath, shocked by her own audacity.
He stopped in mid-step but did not turn back. “It’s been tried. My predecessor met with an unfortunate accident as a result. One does not defy the Keltar.”
“The Keltar are not all-powerful. They have simply been taught how to manipulate natural forces through something called science. There is a boy down there who could explain it all to you.”
He shook his head. “It does not matter how they derive their power. It exists. You cannot combat such power with courage alone. Your failure here is proof of that. I’m sorry… ”
Shouts from below. Something was happening. Heads were raised. Arms pointed skyward. From the direction of the dawn, a great shape sailed effortlessly through the sky towards them. With two flaps of its immense wings, it slowed and began to descend towards the rough desert road.
Shann and Grackas exchanged a look of mutual astonishment and raced down the hill. As she approached, she could see that the flying creature bore a red-cloaked figure on its back. Keris. But how… ?
Soldiers, Keltar, and tributes alike were staring at the spectacle, weapons lowered or held loosely as if they no longer had a purpose. As if they themselves were now in the grip of something they could not control.
The flying creature alighted beside the road and Keris dismounted in a single smooth movement. She strode purposefully towards the assembly, cloak fluttering in the light wind, drew her staff, and planted it in the sand beside her.
Her voice rang in the morning silence. “Soldiers of Gort. Some days past, I came to Gort and met with Ferenek, your former commander. I told him of a truth I had uncovered—that the Prophet is not who he claims to be. He is not Kelanni. Furthermore, he is enslaving our people in order to produce large quantities of lodestone, which he intends to use to annihilate us.
“When Ferenek attempted to act on this information, he was done away with. I suspect there are many of you who already know this to be true. He was a good soldier, but he was also a man of conscience. A man who could not simply stand by and see his people destroyed. I call upon you now to honour his memory by finishing the task that he began—that of throwing off the yoke of oppression that has been placed on the Kelanni people.”
As her words faded, the air filled with a deafening silence. Then, one by one, the cries went up. “The Heroine of Gort… Hail the Heroine… No to oppression… End the Keltar yoke… End it now… Hail the Heroine… Hail… Hail… ”
The Keltar began to back off, weapons held at the ready, eyes wild with fear. Groups of soldiers advanced on each of them. Growls. Threats and counter-threats. Then an authoritative bark from Darrago. The black-cloaked figures turned and ran, leaping away across the desert to mighty cheers from soldiers and tributes alike.
People laughed or hugged one another or sat down, disbelieving, on the sand. Grackas stood rooted to the spot, slack-jawed and turned to stone. Shann smiled up at him. “Welcome to the crucible of a new dawn, Commander.”
~
They sat in a circle in the middle of the compound, the fortress of Gort hunched beside them like a brooding giant. Yet all eyes were drawn, not to that ancient symbol of tyranny, but to the fabulous, white-winged creature now in their midst.
Earlier, she had gazed down at Shann with great golden eyes and addressed her in melodious tones, deep, yet familiar. “Greetings, Shann. It Is I, Boxx. I Have Changed.”
It was, by any stretch of the imagination, an understatement.
Keris had given Shann an account of her journey and explained the plight of the Chandara in Illaryon. “I think I know a way to help them,” she said. “But first we have more immediate problems.”
Boxx sat to Keris’s left, followed by Shann and Rael. Rael still did not seem to be able to look at Shann directly—a fact that only added to her irritation—but Boxx’s transformation seemed to have piqued his scientific curiosity, at least.
He had asked Boxx a number of pointed questions and had scribbled the answers on the tablet he permanently carried with him, although what with Hannath’s passing and he being away on the other side of the world, it was far from clear who he intended to report his findings to.
Next to him came Patris, who for once was not content to sit on the sidelines. His intelligent eyes flickered over the others in the circle as if trying to catch them in some subterfuge.
Then there was Grackas. Recovered now from the shock of Keris’s dramatic arrival and the Keltar’s swift withdrawal, his expression showed he had once more resumed the role of commander. Determined. Resolute. Next came a pale Leskin, skin stretched taut over razor-sharp bones, looking as if he ought to still be in bed. Or a coffin. To his left, the hu-man McCann, there at Shann’s insistence, and finally, Shann herself.
Alondo had declined to take part in these high-level discussions. “When you big boys decide what you’re going to do, then come tell me.” He had gone back to tuning his instrument.
Keris glanced at Shann, who gave her the briefest nod of approval. Then she began. “We have taken Gort. That is an astounding achievement. However, capturing a stronghold and holding it are two very different things. If we hole up here, then the Prophet’s forces will sooner or later descend on us and lay siege to the fortress—possibly attempt to starve us out.”
“You could talk to the soldiers,” Shann suggested. “Attempt to persuade them to join our cause, as you did with the garrison here.”
Keris drew her lower lip across her teeth and shook her head. “The only reason that worked was because Mordal did away with Ferenek— a popular commander. This is a remote outpost—some distance from the Prophet’s main sphere of influence. You may be sure that the troops Wang dispatches here will be hand-picked and Keltar-led. Trust me; they will not be so easily turned.”
“So what is it you propose?” Grackas asked.
Keris took a deep breath. “Remaining here will only lead to defeat in the long run. We could march west—attempt to persuade the people of Gan-Dathlie and the western coast to join us. However, their loyalties are uncertain.
“If we went east, we might hope to pick up some support from the disaffected communities of the Distrada and possibly join up with the underground resistance in Sakara. Reports indicate that they have been waging a highly effective campaign against the Keltar-led occupation there.
“The problem with either of these strategies, however, is that they give the Prophet free rein to consolidate his power base at Chalimar. Some of you will have heard rumours that he is no longer dependent on ore collection—that he has acquired the ability to manufacture lodestone at will. Those rumours are, unfortunately, true.
“That means that he is now capable of producing weapons sufficiently powerful to destroy all Kelanni, and in a fraction of the time that was necessary before. If we do not move against him immediately, then whatever path we choose will ultimately be doomed to failure.”
Leskin raised his head and croaked. “There are thousands of soldiers lying between us and Chalimar. Dozens of Keltar. We could not hope to be successful.”
“There’s also the matter of the keep itself,” Grackas growled. “It sits high in the sky, casting its deathly shadow over the city.”
“We have seen it,” Shann said. “Not even a Keltar could fly that high.”
“They must be re-supplied somehow,” Patris reasoned.
“There are two small platforms which float up and down between loading areas on opposite sides of the keep,” Grackas explained. “I do not know how they work. They are powered by Keltar lore.”
Dual-layered, presumably. Lower lodestone, upper bronze. Lodestone in the platform pushes against the transformed lodestone in the ground and the upper bronze layer. Bronze pulls the lower lodestone layer, resulting in a steady lift. Of course, when they approached the transformed lodestone in the base of the keep, they would have to compensate somehow.
“Both entrances are heavily guarded,” Grackas pointed out. “We’d never get a sizeable force in that way.”
“Unfortunately, I agree,” Keris said. “Our only other resource is an underground movement centred in Lind, but they are untrained and ill-equipped for a direct confrontation with the Keltar.”
“All right, then; where does that leave us?” McCann demanded.
“Lyall.” Heads turned towards Shann. She swallowed. “He… infiltrated the Prophet’s ranks. He has a plan to defeat the Unan-Chinneroth and the Keltar once and for all.”
Grackas’s face emerged from behind a cloud. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”
“Rael?” Shann prompted. The boy was still staring at his boots. She felt like jabbing him in the ribs and telling him to buck up, but she restrained herself.
Finally, his mouth moved. “It’s hopeless.”
For a moment, she wasn’t sure whether he was speaking of the current dilemma or of their relationship. Then he continued. “Lyall indicated that it all had to do with this stuff.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a dull, flat metal slab. “Slag. It’s the runoff that’s produced when lodestone is refined from ore.”
“So, what does it do?” Leskin asked.
“I haven’t the faintest idea. As far as I can tell… ”—Rael tossed it onto the ground in front of him—“… it’s worthless.”
Keris leaned forward. “Are you quite certain?”
The boy let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe we misinterpreted Lyall’s signals. Or… ”
He glanced sideways at Shann for the merest instant, but she caught the full force of the unspoken accusation as surely as if he had slapped her across the face. Or maybe he was deliberately trying to mislead us. She glared at him, but his face was turned away from her once more. No. I won’t believe that.
Grackas finally shattered the hiatus. “Well, if that’s all, then I suggest we each retire and consider what is best for our people.”
He got up without waiting for consensus. Slowly, like sleepwalkers, the others dispersed. Keris, the last to leave, opened her mouth as if to say something, then clamped it shut and wandered off, leaving Shann seated all alone in the place of slaves.
<><><><><>
Chapter 43
It was a lake of pure ice, marred by a single scission. It was a dammed-up flood. Waters upon waters. Pressure building. It was a flow of magma, heaving against an ancient cap of rock…
She found him seated alone on an empty pallet in one of the former tribute huts. Hands wrapped around his knees. Sullen.
“What was that about?”
No reaction. No indication that he had even heard her.
“Are you listening to me? I said, ‘What was that’?”
Eyes rose to meet hers. A vast empty space lay behind them. “What was what?”
“You told them it was hopeless.”
“It is.”
“But you promised me that you wouldn’t give up. You promised.”
“Why don’t you ask your friend Roanol? Maybe he has some ideas?”
“Roanol?” she spluttered. “What’s he got to do with it?”
“I don’t know. Y… you two seem to be getting along p… pretty well. That’s all.”
He was making less and less sense.
The ice sundered. The dam burst. The mountain exploded.
“You’re an idiot. You know that? An idiot. You think you’re so smart. You don’t know anything. I wish I’d never met you.”
She turned on her heel and wound out of the hut like a windstorm. As she blew across the compound, her eye fell on the discarded slag. Without thinking, she picked it up, shoved it inside her tunic, and headed out into the open desert.
~
The suns were incandescent lamps, floating in a red-gold pool. The desert was a burning brass bowl. She carried neither shade nor water, but she did not care. If I die out here, what will it matter? she told herself.
She whirled over wind-sculpted dunes and kicked up sand in long-undisturbed gullies. After a while, she glanced back and saw that the compound had dropped out of sight, although the upper part of the fortress was still visible, like a black scar.
She flopped onto the sand and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. Stars danced in the black. She dropped her hands and blinked at the flood of new daylight.
Rael. She hated it when he got this way. All she had to do was say the wrong thing or look at someone the wrong way, and it was like talking to a wall. Was it her fault if someone like Roanol was nice to her?
Besides, there were far more important issues at stake here. The survival of all of them. Why couldn’t he see that?
She extracted the small slab from her inside pocket, placed it on the sand in front of her, and stared into it.
Worthless. That was what Rael had called it. Lyall had used the same expression. What was it he said? His throne will be elevated. Well, that had certainly been fulfilled in a literal sense. The keep now dominated the skies above Chalimar. And nothing of worth will ever bring it down.
Then he had handed the slag to Rael. The slag was ‘nothing of value’. The link was too clear—too obvious to be coincidental. But if it was worthless, what possible use could it be?
There was something else—something Lyall had said to her.
Remember your first lesson, Shann, and all will be well.
It was during their earlier journey to Gort. She had donned the flying cloak for the first time, and he taught her the basics—scanning for deposits, balancing lodestone and bronze, controlling jumps. At his suggestion, she took up a position directly on top of a deposit and fully extended her lodestone layer. The next thing she knew, she was hurtling upward like a cork in a fountain. She ended up sprawled flat on her back, while Lyall stood over her, laughing his head off. It was a pleasant memory and she lingered with it a while.
Her forehead wrinkled. That was actually her first training session. Her first lesson had taken place a few days previously—on the day that she and Lyall had first met.
She sat at the kitchen table at the farmhouse in Lind, hands folded in her lap, whilst a man with fair hair and intense blue eyes explained how the Keltar use the power of lodestone. Using the training stones, he demonstrated the properties of attraction and repulsion and how pushing and pulling the stones produced different effects.
She asked about ‘Kal stones’, from the story of Kal the Wise. He had set up the stones in the appropriate configuration to show that there may indeed have been truth to the legend.
A thought struck her. A familiar chord. She dived into her pouch and pulled out Lyall’s training stones that she had retrieved from the wreck of Annata’s Reach. Ahead of her, in the shade of the gulley, a small flat rock protruded. She hastily brushed away the loose covering of sand. Was it possible? Had the answer been staring her in the face all along? Her fingers trembled as she began methodically setting up the stones.
~
In a corner of the compound, close to the now disused ore carts, Keris, Patris, Alondo, and Rael held their own private council.
“It’s bad,” Patris reported. “People are talking about breaking up— going their own way. Grackas’s troops don’t want to hang around and wait for the Keltar to show up. Most of them seem determined to head for the wasteland to the south, on the grounds that the Prophet’s forces are less likely to chase them all the way down there. The tributes just want to return to their homes and families. Can’t say I blame them.”
Keris cast an eye about the compound. “Where’s McCann?”
“He went back to the fortress,” Patris replied. “He claims he’s suffering from the effects of the three suns. Says there’s only one where he comes from. Boxx went with him. Not sure why.”
“What about Shann?” she asked. All eyes settled on Rael, but he merely shook his head and stared at the ground.
“I do have some good news,” Alondo said. “I Rang Oliah after the meeting broke up. I just needed to hear her voice. It seems that the Prophet’s forces withdrew from Sakara this morning. They’ve all been ordered back to Chalimar. The port city is free once more.”
Patris was all smiles. He clapped Alondo on the back. “I told you the Thief Guild would drive them out. This is a great day.”
“No. No it isn’t.” Keris’s face was a thundercloud.
“What are you talking about?” Patris demanded.
“Don’t you see? Wang now has the power to create lodestone weapons in short order. If he were going to strike a particular location, the first thing he would do would be to get his people out of there. He intends to hit Sakara first, probably as a salutary lesson of what happens to those who actively resist his rule. I’m afraid we’ve run out of time.”
There was a commotion from the direction of the main gate. They turned to see Shann running towards them as if a horde of sand scarags were on her tail.
She screeched to a halt, flushed and breathless; hugged Alondo, released him; then flung her arms around Rael and kissed him full on the lips. The boy looked as if he were about to die from shock.
“I know it,” she panted.
“You know what?” Keris inquired, patiently.
“I know what Lyall’s plan is. I know what we have to do.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 44
The second meeting was a very different affair from the first. Soldiers, tributes, and townsfolk crowded around the large table in the casemate, pushing and shoving like curious children for a better view, while Shann held centre stage. Carefully, she laid six of the smooth atramentous stones on the table in a perfect hexagon. Then she took a seventh stone and placed it so that it floated above the others, resting on invisible lines of force.
“Kal stones,” she began. “Each of you knows the legend. The great and wise Kal was led into the wilderness, where he first set eyes on the stone of destiny cast from the heavens—a gift from Ail-Kar, the white sun. Lyall showed me the power behind the legend—the power of lodestone. The Prophet and the Keltar exploit this power for their own ends, but it is not exclusive to them. The lore can be learned by anyone.
“The Prophet, the Unan-Chinneroth, has used this power to rend the keep from its foundations and raise it above Chalimar. I now believe that Lyall was behind this—that he flattered or goaded the Unan-Chinneroth into a useless and extravagant display of power, both as a way of buying time and as a means of bringing about his ultimate destruction. Lyall has turned the keep, the Prophet’s throne—the seat of his power—into one gigantic Kal stone.”
The crowd was pressing in on Keris, so that she looked distinctly uncomfortable. “How does that help us?”
“The system is not stable.” It was Rael. Understanding was beginning to dawn behind his eyes.
“That’s right,” she said, rewarding him with a warm smile. “Any significant interruption in the forces”—she knocked the aerial stone with her finger so that it fell to the table with a clack—“will bring it down.”
“How you gonna knock the flying keep off its perch?” someone from the audience cried.
“That is the second part of the plan,” she said. “And it’s the part where we come in.”
She plucked the fallen stone from the table and set it in mid-air over the tabletop once more. “Lyall discovered a vital piece of information from Lafontaine—another hu-man we met during our travels. When refined lodestone is extracted from lodestone ore, it produces a by-product: slag. Slag is widely believed to be worthless— of no practical use—but it does have one interesting property.”
She pulled the slab from inside her tunic and began to move it slowly through the empty space between the floating stone and the others on the table. Suddenly, the airborne stone toppled and fell to the table once more. “It interrupts the force of lodestone—disrupts it, so that its power is no longer effective.”
The fallen stone’s surface swirled as if it harboured a miniature storm. Patris stared into it. “I don’t understand. Why has no one ever figured this out before?”
“The Prophet taught the Keltar lodestone lore,” Keris replied, her face grim. “No doubt he told us as much as he wanted us to know.”
“Actually, I think it’s more likely that he knows nothing about it,” McCann said. “He’s no more a scientist than I am. All he cared about was building the weapon to destroy your people.”
Patris ran thin, bony fingers through his lank, black hair. “Yes, but there are heaps of it at Persillan. How come a Keltar hasn’t flown over them and fallen out of the sky?”
Keris flattened her palms, bringing them together and then apart. “Slag merely interrupts the push between lodestone and lodestone. Even if a pile was dumped directly over a lodestone deposit, it would simply mask the lodestone beneath it. The cloak would not read anything to push off.”
“Can this stuff really bring down the keep?” Grackas demanded.
Shann did her best to sound confident. “If we bring a sufficient quantity of slag into Chalimar and lay it over the sections of transformed lodestone that support the keep, then the keep will fall.”
“It would mean massive destruction to the centre of Chalimar,” Leskin rasped.
Shann nodded. “We would have to evacuate the affected area as quietly as possible.”
Rael spoke as if he were the only one in the room. “The best thing would be to beat it out into overlapping plates. It’s a soft metal, so it should be pretty easy. The plates could then be dragged over the pockets of transformed lodestone on the ground. We need to know what thickness would be required for the slag to remain effective. I can do some tests on that…How many pockets are there?”
The question was addressed to no one in particular, but Grackas spoke up. “I do not know.”
“We will need to find that out,” Rael mumbled.
“How many would we need to disable?” Shann asked.
“Depends.”
“On what?” Shann prompted.
“Number and size of each pocket, radius of the surrounding ring, height of the keep’s centre of mass.”
“So you can work it out?”
His face brightened as if he had just woken from a trance. “With the correct data, absolutely.”
Grackas leaned forward. “There’s a problem with your plan. Bringing that amount of slag into the centre of Chalimar, and getting it into position, is going to take time and involve a lot of people. I told you, the entrances to the keep are heavily guarded. Even if we move in at night, they are going to realise something’s up. The Keltar and soldiers will descend from the keep on those floating platforms and put a stop to your efforts.”
“Then we dam up the entrances.” Keris glanced up. A roomful of people were waiting for her to elaborate. “We divide our forces, secure the routes to both platforms, and hold them with everything we’ve got until the slag is in place.”
“The Keltar control the platforms,” Grackas said. “How do you propose to reach the flying keep?”
Keris’s eyes flashed. “I think I know a way.”
~
The ethereal song of the Chandara suffused the air once more, enveloping the forest like a diaphanous blanket. At length, the larval Chandara emerged from the undergrowth and surrounded Keris and Boxx, crawling over one another or standing on hind limbs for a better view.
Keris took a deep breath. “Boxx and I have returned, just as we promised. We are here to lead you out of your forest.”
The creatures parted and before them stood the wizened Chandara, supported on its crooked staff. “Chandara Will Not Leave The Forest. The Chandara And The Forest Are One.”
You could order them to leave. She had made the suggestion during their journey to Illaryon, but Boxx was resolute. I Will Not.
You overruled the chief the last time.
The creature replied as if reasoning with a child. Young Chandara Do Not Instruct Adults. My Future Is Of Me. Their Future Is Of Them. They Must Decide.
For once, Keris understood the Chandara’s reasoning. However, it made her job that much harder.
“I mean no disrespect,” she began. “But if we Kelanni are to help you, then it will be necessary for you to leave your forest for a short while.”
“Where?”
“At the edge of the forest, groups of Kelanni are waiting for you. They will conduct you to their towns and villages. There is where you will be transformed.”
“Kelanni Despise Chandara.”
“Those who are with us are called ‘The Fourth Circle’. They have pledged to assist the Chandara in their transformation.” In truth, she had told Miron that if any of his people objected to helping the Chandara, then the Heroine of Gort would be happy to ‘explain’ matters to them personally. No one had taken her up on her offer.
“There is something else.” Keris tried to wring the desperation from her voice. “Those who enslaved us—those who burned your Great Tree—have now taken refuge in… in a high place, a place we cannot reach. When you have been transformed, we need you to fly us there, so that we may remove the threat to both our peoples.” Orange, yellow, and purple leaves rustled in the silence. “Will you help us?”
The larval Chandara stirred like leaves in a breeze. Finally, the chief spoke. “A Destroyer Walks Among You.”
A Destroyer Walks Among You. The chief had said the same thing during their last meeting, but she had assumed that it was talking about her, as a former Keltar. It must have meant someone else—those who had set fire to the Great Tree, perhaps.
“You are mistaken,” she said, raising her voice so that the mass of Chandara could hear. “The destruction here in Illaryon took place when my companions and I were far away from here. I can vouch for each of them.”
It was Boxx who replied. “The Children Speak Not Of Here, But Of The Forest And The Chandara Beyond The Great Barrier.”
The Forest of Atarah. But… according to the old-timer she spoke to in Kieroth, that forest, along with its Great Tree, had been destroyed decades before. With the exception of Patris, they would all have been children at the time. Shann and Rael would not even have been born.
“I’m sorry, but what you are saying is not possible.”
Boxx gazed at her with an expression that might have been sympathy. “I Can Show You The Truth.”
“You can show me? How?”
“I Can Give You The Memory.”
The aged Chandara shuffled forward and raised its head. The effort seemed to sap every ounce of its energy. “Chandara Memories Are For Chandara Alone.”
Boxx gazed down at the wizened creature, her bejewelled eyes scattering the forest’s gentle fire. “Remember… Once, Long Ago, There Was A Sharing Between Chandara And Kelanni. Keris Must Know The Truth.” Boxx addressed her. “Allosteric Activation Induces Synaptic Plasticity.”
“Pardon me?”
“You Will Eat. You Will Remember. However, The Kelanni Brain Is Different. There Is Risk Of Damage.”
She had no choice. If they were going to reach the keep, then they needed the Chandara’s help, and that meant winning their trust. Whatever or whoever this ‘Destroyer’ was, she had to know.
She dismissed the knot forming in the pit of her stomach. “Let’s get on with it.”
~
After a short walk, they arrived at a shady bower. Orange and honey-coloured leaves intertwined overhead. The air was cool and the ground was carpeted with soft purple grass interspersed with white flowers. It was a place of serenity. A place to forget all of your troubles. Keris would have liked nothing better than to curl up right now and go to sleep.
The larval Chandara had melted away; whatever was due to take place, it was apparently something very private. Boxx stood before her, white wings folded.
“Prepare Yourself.”
Keris had no idea what to expect or how to prepare for it, so she settled for the obvious, slipping off her pack and laying her staff carefully on the ground beside her. She waited for Boxx to instruct her to remove her flying cloak, but the creature simply regarded her with its golden eyes.
She sat on the grass and crossed her legs. “So, what’s so special about this place?”
“The White Flowers,” Boxx replied. “They Contain The Allosteric Effector.” She reached down with her beak and plucked something from a small pouch in her breast. It was a transparent leathery vial similar to the one Boxx had given her at the Dais, except that it contained a clear fluid. She dropped it at Keris’s feet. “Eat.”
Keris picked it up, turning it over in her fingers. “What is it?”
“It Is Memory Of The Destroyer.”
Without thinking, she broke off the tip and swallowed the contents. Bitterness invaded her tongue and she grimaced.
“Now You Must Eat The Flowers.”
She blinked, half-expecting Alondo to burst out of the shrubbery and declare her to be the victim of an elaborate practical joke. Nothing happened. She sighed, plucked a white bloom, and began to chew the petals. They had a silky consistency, but the taste was bland.
“I don’t feel any different,” she announced after the fourth flower.
“Close Your Eyes.”
She obeyed, lying down on the grass. Her nostrils flared, welcoming the scent of growing things. A rhythmic cooing was answered by a more distant call. Her muscles relaxed, revelling in the release of tension. Then, without warning, it began.
At first, the images were blurry, as if she were viewing them through her own tears. Shapes came and went or merged with others, giving no clue as to their form. There was a voice in her head—no, not a voice. Thoughts. Thoughts so different from her own that she struggled to make sense of them.
Gradually, the images began to clear. She forced herself to concentrate on them, blotting out the thought-voice. It was another forest—far different from the one her body was lying in. Everything was shades of grey, enveloped in mist or light rain. Yet this was no ordinary rain. It clung to branches, dripped from leaves, percolated into soil, and invaded roots. And everything that the rain touched died.
Bare branches were framed against the sky—a tableau of the final moment of life. Leaves covered the ground like brittle paper, partially covering small mounds. Only they were not mounds. They were small, shelled bodies. The thought-voice carried a terrible sadness that lay heavy on her heart.
Bright silver birds descended, settling on the now-barren ground. As their roaring fell to silence, they disgorged creatures clad in shiny reflective clothing who looked over the scene or whispered or knelt to examine their handiwork. They were broad-shouldered and thick-limbed. And they had no tail. Unan-Chinneroth. Hu-mans.
So hu-mans were responsible for the destruction of the Forest of Atarah and the Great Tree there. Her instinct had been correct. One more crime to lay at their door. But why? the investigator within her nagged. Why would the hu-mans poison this forest and the Chandara within it? What would they have to gain?
The thought-voice sounded like a bell in her head. It Is The Way Of The Destroyer. Yet as much as she wanted to join in the condemnation, the explanation somehow seemed inadequate.
One of the suited figures walked towards her. It bent over so that the head and torso filled her inner vision. The eyes were slate, the face chiselled and framed by an untidy bush of hair. The creature was leaner, with less grey, but she recognised him immediately. Alexander McCann.
<><><><><>
Chapter 45
The waking dream faded and Keris gradually came to. Her mouth was filled with a metallic taste. The colours of the forest were unnaturally bright, and every rustle or faint susurration grated in her ears like an iron rasp. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heels of her palms into her ears.
Boxx stood over her, like a protective mother. “Are You Well, Keris?”
There’s no need to yell. “Yes… No… I’ll be fine.”
“You Saw The Destroyer?”
She forced her eyes open. The daylight had fewer sharp needles, but a dull ache was starting to gather at the back of her skull. “Yes… Yes, I suppose I did.”
The trees parted and dozens of larval Chandara scurried into the clearing. She hastily tried to marshal her thoughts. Involving McCann had been a mistake—that much was clear now. However, there was no time for regrets. Somehow, she had to win these creatures’ cooperation. The Chandara shared memories. That meant that all of them must have seen what she saw—felt what she felt.
The chief emerged from the melee and planted its staff in the rich loam.
She got to her feet unsteadily. “I’m sorry.” There was no reaction. “I am truly sorry for what happened to your kin beyond the Great Barrier. It was a terrible wrong. But Kelanni there are helping them to make the transformation. We will do the same for you—if you will let us.”
“The Forest Path Is Dark And Cramped.” The chief’s shrill voice faltered. “There Are No Turnings For Her Children.”
“And afterward. Will you help us?”
“Why Does The Destroyer Walk Among You?”
She glanced sideways at Boxx, but the adult Chandara remained silent. Keris swallowed. “We… did not know what he was—what he had done.” She had a sudden flash of inspiration. “Kelanni cannot share memories in the way that Chandara do. We rely on speech alone to convey thoughts. A person may be untruthful and there may be no way for us to know that they are lying.”
The chief’s mouth rippled. “What Is Lying?”
“Er… well, a lie is when you say something that is not correct. In order to make a false impression or… or to mislead someone… ” She saw the trap, but too late.
“If Keris Is Lying, How Can Chandara Know?”
Her head swam. “Trust,” she blurted out. “Kelanni and Chandara must learn to trust one another. The survival of both of our races depends on it. Will you help us? Please.”
The ancient chief’s voice was a parched desert. “For Chandara There Is No Trust. Only Truth.” It turned and disappeared into the milling mass.
She was bound by her oath to preserve these creatures—to help them to transform. But what then? Did they have the capacity to forgive the crimes that had been committed against them? Would they consent to help?
The path before her was dark and cramped. And there were no turnings.
~
On the flat rooftop where she had confronted Glaisne only a few days previously, Keris now stood with Boxx, Miron, Peira, and the three children, watching as clouds of charcoal and glowing embers drifted across the warm face of Ail-Mazzoth. The soldiers and Keltar who had ravaged the town of Lind in their search for her were long gone.
Somewhere in the vicinity of Persillan to the north, Shann was overseeing the gathering of slag and its transport to Chalimar on whatever carriages, carts, or wagons she was able to procure.
The streets below were unnaturally quiet, as if the town were holding its breath. Inside dozens of shacks, hovels, and run-down residences, fires were being lit, despite the ambient warmth of late spring. The larval Chandara handed their essence to their Kelanni hosts and then went to sleep. As the heat intensified, their bodies were transformed into a growing mass of white fibres.
Kelanni set soups, stews, or whatever meagre fare they had to boil, just as they had been instructed, placing the pots, kettles, and urns before the cocoons like offerings.
Farilla, the girl with long, straight, dark hair, held little Massie in her arms. The toddler rubbed her eyes, determined to stay awake so as not to miss anything.
Then they saw the first one.
White wings rose above the rooftops, beating soundlessly. They quickened, as if newly discovering the thrill of flight, before powering away.
“What is it?” Massie asked.
Farilla whispered in her ear. “You remembered the plant you found—the one that grew into Boxx here? That is another one.”
“Did Plantey have a baby?”
Farilla gave her an awkward smile. “More like… a cousin, maybe.”
“There goes another,” Corin pointed.
Massie’s eyes widened again as another vision in white lifted into the air.
“Incredible,” Miron breathed.
“Yes, it is,” Keris agreed.
“And in return for our help, the Chandara have agreed to fly your people to the keep.”
She glanced at Boxx, but the creature’s soft, glittering eyes were giving nothing away.
Would the Chandara be motivated to help the Kelanni because the Kelanni had saved them? When it came to returning a favour, she had no idea whether they even understood the concept. Besides, it was Kelanni who destroyed their beloved Great Tree in the first place. In truth, they did not have much to be grateful for.
Yet strangely, the Chandara here seemed more concerned about the disaster that had taken place more than thirty turns ago in the Forest of Atarah, beyond the Great Barrier. It was the presence of McCann within the party that disturbed them the most. The Destroyer Walks Among You. She might be forced to remedy that situation, with or without Shann’s approval.
“Is there anything more you need of us, my Lady?” Miron asked.
“Yes. First thing tomorrow morning I will set off for Chalimar to meet the others. I want you to gather as many of the Fourth Circle as are willing and able and make your way to the city centre to begin evacuating those within the vicinity of the keep. You will have to do it quietly, so as not to arouse the suspicion of soldiers or Keltar. Do you have access to any refined lodestone?”
“Unauthorised transport or sale of the holy metal is strictly forbidden by order of the Prophet,” he recited.
Her patience stretched. “That’s not what I asked.”
He smiled the smile of one who had been saving the best till last. “Well, I might know some people who know some other people. How much do you need?”
“Not me. You. I need you to use it to detect and then discreetly mark out the areas of transformed lodestone beneath the keep. A dozen small pieces should suffice. But make sure no one sees what you are doing.”
“It will be done.” Miron gazed upward, as if addressing the heavens. “It is said that you intend to bring down the keep itself.”
“That’s the general idea, yes.”
“None but the Heroine could accomplish such a feat.”
Was he serious? She decided to let it ride. “The truth is I am going to need a fair amount of help. A lot of people are going to have to play their parts.”
More and more of the Chandara were transforming. They spread their wings and took to the air, wheeling together in the skies above the town.
Her eyes were drawn to Boxx. The Chandara’s beak was a subtle shade of pink; her eyes, multifaceted gems set amid pure-white down; her wings tipped with iridescent flames.
As the creature turned towards her, Keris saw in her mind’s eye the grey unmoving shells, the round bodies half covered with leafy shrouds.
Forgive us.
Boxx’s voice carried a note of sadness. “Farewell.”
Before Keris could answer, the Chandara spread her wings and lifted into the air. The children gasped. Peira and Miron held one another.
Slowly, Boxx pulled away, rising higher and higher to join her transformed kin as they circled far above. Songs of joy resonated amid the heavens. Finally, the adult Chandara began striking west towards Illaryon, their forest home.
“Is Plantey coming back?” little Massie asked.
Keris wished she had an answer for her.
~
The three suns blazed high in the sky when Keris arrived at the rebel camp near Chalimar. She alighted near the perimeter, the flying cloak settling about her shoulders. Disguised as a trader caravan to allay suspicion, it consisted of a ragtag collection of carts and wagons arranged in a rough circle. A tethered graylesh raised its pointed head and sniffed the air as she strode past a dray and entered the central area.
Off to one side, next to a blazing fire, a makeshift forge had been set up. The air rang with hammer blows as a gang of smiths beat the slag into flat sheets. She spotted Alondo talking to Rael, Grackas shouting something to a couple of his troops now dressed as ordinary folk, and Patris standing off to one side, observing the proceedings, but there was no sign of the people she needed to see. She selected Alondo and Rael and headed straight for them.
Alondo broke off and smiled as she approached. “Hey, Keris. You made it.” The smile faded. “Where’s Boxx?”
Keris brushed off the question. “Shann and McCann. Where are they?”
He flicked his head.
She spun around and saw Shann approaching with McCann some distance behind. The diminutive girl looked older, careworn—as if the weight of a world were on her shoulders. “Thank the Three you’ve come. Preparations are nearly complete. What about the Chandara? When are they getting here?”
“I don’t know,” Keris growled.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I don’t know. They may not be coming at all.”
“Why?” Shann spluttered. “What happened?”
Keris stretched forth an arm and pointed firmly over Shann’s shoulder. “Ask him.”
McCann stopped in mid-stride as if he had been struck by a missile. “Why is everyone looking at me?”
Keris took a step forward. “This hu-man has been lying to us all along.”
“Excuse me?” McCann said.
“You were involved in the destruction of the Forest of Atarah,” Keris declared. “Don’t deny it. I saw you with my own eyes.”
“You saw him?” Shann queried. “How—”
“The Chandara gave me the memory.”
McCann’s fingers ploughed the furrow of deep ridges on his brow. “You must mean the forest on the other side of the planet?”
Shann faced McCann. “Do you deny this?”
“No… by no means.”
Keris spread her arms wide. “There. You see?”
McCann’s eyes refocused. “Look. I didn’t lie to you. But I didn’t give you my blinking life history either. There are a lot of things I did under the Captain’s orders that I’m not proud of.” He returned Keris’s accusing finger. “You were Keltar. You know what I’m talking about.”
The missile struck Keris. She felt suddenly impotent, angry with herself and with him.
Rael stepped in, the voice of reason. “Why did you do it?”
McCann’s shoulders stooped under the burden of the memory. “After we lost the war, the Captain decided that the only way to get control of the lodestone was to wipe out the Kelanni.
“His first idea was to use a bacterial toxin—one that could destroy all living things over a wide area. We chose a forested area to test it— one with some low-level life forms we figured no one would miss. We knew nothing about the Chandara, although if we had, I’m not sure it would have made any difference.
“Anyhow, the results were less than satisfactory. Dispersal was too random—too dependent on wind and other factors. And the survival rate was too high. Not long after that, it was discovered that lodestone in a gaseous state could be combined with ordinary matter to achieve a rise in temperature that was theoretically without bound, and the Accumulator Device was born. Work on the toxin was discontinued at that point.”
“Great,” Patris said. “So where does that leave us?”
Shann shook her head. “We have no way of reaching the keep without the help of the Chandara. It will give the Keltar a distinct advantage. We will have to fend them off from the ground.”
McCann spoke into the silence. “What if I give myself up?”
“What?” Keris exclaimed.
“What if I offer to give myself up? Submit to whatever judgment they have in mind, in return for their assistance?”
“You would do that?” Shann said.
“Sure. Why not? Anyway, it might not be death. They might just have me sewing mailbags for the next thirty years.”
“Sewing what?” Alondo quizzed.
“Mailbags… never mind. The point is, I did what I did under orders, but that doesn’t make it right. We destroyed intelligent life, not to mention their ecosystem. Someone should pay for that, and it might as well be me. I was as guilty as anyone.”
Contrition. It was the last thing Keris had expected. She had been ready to drag him off by his heels if necessary. Now she felt as if the wind had been taken out of her sails.
“It would mean travelling back to Illaryon,” Alondo pointed out.
“Whilst we wait here?” Patris added. “That would be taking a huge risk. Evacuation of the area around the keep is already underway. The longer we sit around, the greater the likelihood that our cause will be discovered.”
Keris’s gaze fell on each of them in turn. Worry and determination fought for control of their little group. “Remain here, all of you. I must deliberate with Shann.”
She gestured towards the girl, turned on her heel, and stalked off. McCann started after them. “What can I do?”
Keris did not even bother to look back. “You’ve done enough already. Hu-man.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 46
Keris walked off a short distance and settled down on a tuft of yellow grass. She pulled a canteen from her belt, took a swig of water, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The air was a thick blanket—still and heavy.
A shadow passed in front of the suns. Glancing up, she saw the outline of Shann. She picked up a pebble and tossed it away, idly. “It would have been better for all of us if he had died on that mountain.”
“He offered to make amends,” Shann reminded her. “With his life, if necessary. You were too hard on him.”
“You didn’t see what I saw… ”
“So. Will the Chandara help us or not?”
Keris sighed. “I wish I knew.”
Shann took a seat in front of her. “I don’t understand why they would care more about what happened years ago to the forest beyond the Great Barrier than they would about the destruction of their own Great Tree.”
“I don’t know, but I think it’s less about wanting vengeance and more about assessing our worthiness as a group. A Destroyer Walks Among You. That was what the chief said. Perhaps they simply don’t want to work alongside the slayers of their brethren.”
“You think I was wrong to invite him to join us, don’t you?”
They had no time for recriminations. “It’s not your fault, Shann. You couldn’t have known about his past crimes. However, we do face the question of what to do with him.”
“We could ask him to leave.”
Keris shook her head. “No, that would be a bad idea. Even if I thought it might win the Chandara’s cooperation, he already knows our entire plan and the precise disposition of our forces. If he were to go to the enemy with that information, we would be finished.”
“What do you suggest, then?”
“Assign him to me. I will keep a watch on him—make sure that he does not have an opportunity to betray us.”
After a moment, Shann nodded. Then she added, “You know, in spite of all that the Chandara showed you, I can’t believe that Boxx would refuse to help us.”
“I would have thought so too,” Keris said. “But after the other Chandara transformed, Boxx left with them. They were headed back to Illaryon. She gave no indication that they would be returning to us any time soon. I don’t think we can afford to wait. The Prophet’s attack on Sakara is imminent. We have to move tonight, with or without them.”
“Do you think we can manage to hold off the Prophet’s forces from the ground?”
Keris weighed her response. “Lyall obviously felt it was possible. But then, tactics were never his strong point. We can try to move in quietly—muffle the wheels of the carts, but if someone raises the alarm and they attack us from those platforms of theirs, then we will be up against it.
“There’s also the problem of getting people clear. When the keep falls, Grackas’s troops and the tributes assisting them will be right underneath. I was counting on the Chandara to get our people out of harm’s way. Without their help… ”
Shann straightened and smiled, but there was a forced quality to it. “Well, I for one haven’t given up hope.”
Keris joined her and the two women strolled back to the encampment in silence.
Later that afternoon Keris was cleaning her equipment when she heard a shout. Wings beat rapidly as a great white shape hung briefly above the encampment before settling to the ground. She rose to join the others who were gathering around it.
Adult Chandara all looked much the same, but Keris instinctively knew the creature’s identity even before it spoke.
“I Am Boxx. I Have Returned.”
~
“Where Is The Destroyer?”
Alexander McCann appeared behind the winged creature. A condemned man, facing his fate with equanimity. “I believe you’re looking for me.”
Boxx turned and cocked her head to one side.
“Have you come to take me back?” the hu-man asked.
“No. I Have Come To Take You Forward.”
Keris knew from experience that it was generally best to allow the Chandara to clarify statements in their own time, rather than try to guess at their meaning.
“You Must Bring Back The Egg.”
Of course, that didn’t always work. She stepped in front of McCann. “Boxx, what are you talking about?”
“The Egg Of The Tohaca. It Is To No Purpose. It Lies Atop The Hill Near The Tower.”
The Dagmar Tower. There was a steep-sided butte just north and west of there. That must be it. “You want us to retrieve an egg for you?”
“No.” Boxx flicked her beak at McCann. “Him. The Destroyer Must Go. It Is The Decision Of The Chandara. He Must Return With The Egg Before Time Expires. Only Then Will Chandara Help Reach The High Place.”
McCann stepped forward. “You’re kidding, right? I’m trying to help save both your races from destruction—and you want me to go on an egg hunt?”
“Can’t you just fly to the top of the hill and retrieve it yourself?” Shann reasoned.
“The Destroyer Must Go.”
Keris thought rapidly. This could work to our advantage. Send the hu-man on an extended errand. If he returned in time and the Chandara agreed to aid them, then fine. If he were too late, then the assault on the keep would already be underway and it would be too late for him to alert the enemy. Assuming, of course, that he didn’t double back…
“How long do I have?” McCann asked.
Boxx reached under her wing, and with her beak, she extracted a small cylindrical cage of interwoven twigs or roots. Inside, growing from the base, was a plant with thick purple leaves framing a single large bud. She set it on the ground in front of them all. “Until The Flower Blooms.”
McCann regarded the flower as if it were about to explode. “And how long is that, exactly?”
“It Blooms In The Deepest Part Of The Night.”
Keris faced the hu-man. “Then you should go now.” She led the way to the camp’s perimeter, followed by McCann, Shann, and a loose collection of curiosity seekers. Kneeling, she reached into her pack and extracted the black cloak. “Put this on.”
McCann took the garment but held it at arm’s length. “This is Keltar equipment. I have no idea how to use it.”
“Good,” Keris replied. “Then you won’t break it or injure yourself. However, there may be patrols between here and Dagmar. If you are wearing Keltar garb they will be less likely to challenge you.”
He donned the cloak reluctantly. His broad shoulders filled it out and made it look too small. “And how many Keltar do you know with a face like this and no tail?”
“Well, we’ll just have to hope they don’t get too close, won’t we? Now, take this.” She drew her staff in a single fluid movement and held it out to him.
McCann blinked. “You expect me to fight the patrols?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “However, you may need it to secure the egg. In my experience, creatures don’t take kindly to having their eggs stolen.”
“What is a tohaca, anyway?” Shann put in. “I never heard of a beast by that name.”
“Me neither,” Keris admitted. “It may be a Chandara term for something else.”
“Like a giant perridon,” Shann offered.
Keris bit her upper lip. “For this hu-man’s sake, I hope not.”
“What’s a giant perrid—no, no, never mind… ” McCann trailed off.
He gazed at the staff in his hand as if it were the instrument of his own destruction. Her impulse was to snatch it back from him. After all, the likelihood was that he would fail and she would never see him or her staff again. However, something inside her compelled her to give him at least a fighting chance.
“Travel south and east,” she instructed. You will see the tower soon enough and then the raised butte not far from it. Can you climb?” McCann grimaced and stretched his limbs. “It’s been a few years.” Keris ignored him. “All right, get going. And don’t stop for anything or anyone.”
McCann turned and jogged away, looking faintly ridiculous. Keris watched him until he was out of sight. Then she turned to Shann. “Wait here. I’ll be back soon.”
“Where are you going?” Shann called after her.
“To make sure he doesn’t lose his way.”
<><><><><>
Chapter 47
Night’s crimson curtain had descended by the time Keris arrived back at the rebel encampment.
Shann had seated herself next to the dwindling campfire to keep vigil. She felt rather than heard the former Keltar’s arrival and dragged her gaze from the glowing embers.
The tall woman approached and took a seat beside her. “Still awake, I see.”
Shann smiled wearily. “I don’t think anyone is sleeping tonight. I take it you followed him?”
“Only long enough to ensure that he did not turn back to warn the keep.”
Shann felt like laughing, but she did not want to give Keris the impression that she was ridiculing her caution. Instead, she said, “You don’t like it, do you?”
“Don’t like what?”
“That our fate may very well lie in the hands of a hu-man.”
It was Keris’s turn to stare into the fire. “I don’t believe that.”
“You still think we can succeed without the Chandara’s help?”
“‘Necessity cuts new paths of possibility’.” Keris recited the old Kelanni saying. “It is a good plan. We may yet prevail.”
Shann smiled to herself. It was not often that she looked to Keris for encouragement. “You know, I can’t help feeling sorry for him.”
Keris turned towards her. “McCann? You feel sorry for McCann?”
“He stands to lose, whatever the outcome. If the plan fails, then he will suffer along with us. If it succeeds, then he will witness the destruction of his own people. In either case, he will be left with nothing.”
Keris lowered her head, digesting the implications. “Strange creatures indeed, these hu-mans. They seem capable of both great cruelty and self-sacrifice. Either way, they are dangerous.”
“We all have our dark places that we must try to conquer,” Shann responded. A door opened, and spectres filled the air between them. Then, “Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Very well.”
“During your trial at the Dais—what did you see?”
A kaleidoscope of light and shadow worked across Keris’s features. Finally she answered. “Defeat. I saw my defeat at the hands of Mordal, my former mentor. Only… it wasn’t exactly Mordal. He turned into a gigantic beast. It’s difficult to explain… ” She frowned, grappling with the memory. “Mordal said I would know the taste of defeat. Like bile. Or ashes. He was right. But I discovered something else— something I had not expected.”
“What was that?”
“That if you face defeat—confront it head-on—then it can actually make you stronger, more determined to work all the harder to protect those you love.”
Shann nodded, reflectively. “I’d like to tell you of my experience, if I may.”
“You already told me, remember? At the Tower of Akalon. You said you saw me take your parents away.”
“Yes, but there’s something I left out. I intervened to try to stop you. We battled and I defeated you.” Keris raised one eyebrow but said nothing. “Anyway, I could have killed you. I think I would have, if Boxx hadn’t stopped me.”
“You passed your trial,” Keris pointed out.
“But that was only because Boxx gave me a second chance, after we had been to the tower and I had managed to resolve my feelings.”
Keris shook her head. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself. Those… trials at the Dais. They were designed to probe our weaknesses, to threaten the things we love the most and then see how we would react. For an instant, you cracked. But you can’t allow that to define your existence. You learned from your experience and tried to do better. Really, that’s all any of us can do. Learn, and then try to do better. And if it means anything… I forgive you.”
“Thank you,” Shann said, quietly. The two women stood and embraced by the fire.
Finally, Keris stepped back. “I must prepare.” She turned and strode away.
Shann resumed her seat and stared into the fire once more. Long ago, Lyall had said that she and Keris were both on a journey. Who would have believed how far each of them would come—still less that their paths would come together? Now, she could not imagine going forward without the other woman’s counsel.
She sensed another presence next to her. “Patris.”
The sailor-thief sat in the place Keris had occupied. His long black hair was tied back and his weathered face was softer than she remembered. All of us have come a long way.
“I wanted to thank you,” he began.
“Thank me? For what?”
“For Sakara. For moving on the keep before the Prophet has a chance to destroy the Free Port.”
She smiled at him. “Well, Oliah is my friend too. And there’s another member of our group that would never forgive me if I allowed anything to happen to her.”
Of course, it was not just Oliah. To Patris, Sakara represented friends, family—his entire way of life. Keris’s voice rang again in her head. The tests at the Dais. They were designed to probe our weaknesses, to threaten the things we love the most.
“At the Dais, during your trial. You saw your Sakara, didn’t you?”
His eyes widened. “How—?”
“Just a guess.”
The lines on his face deepened as the recollection took hold. “Yes. I saw the city in flames. And there was nothing I could do to prevent it. Until Keris made me an offer.”
“Keris?” she exclaimed.
“Well, it wasn’t really Keris. She was just a part of the vision, or whatever it was.”
Shann forced herself to ask the difficult question. “How was it that you failed your trial?”
His eyes hardened to points, and she flinched, thinking she had gone a bridge too far. Finally, he said, “I didn’t exactly go in willingly, if you recall. However, when I was there, it was as if it was… real. The death. The destruction. It did something to me inside. I was prepared to do anything to save the city. Even compromise with evil.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s all right,” he said. “In a strange way, I owe Lyall a debt of gratitude, because I learned a valuable lesson. In fact, it’s the main reason I’m here with you now.”
“What lesson was that?” she asked.
“That some things come at too high a price.”
She stood and bowed formally. “Your presence honours us.”
He smiled and bowed his head in acknowledgment; then both of them sought solace in the fire’s heart.
~
A last tour of the camp. That was what she told herself. Her steps, however, were guided by unspoken necessity, and presently, she found herself standing in front of the Chandara.
Boxx had not moved from the spot where she had first arrived at the camp. She sat motionless on her haunches, staring at the nascent flower.
Shann settled cross-legged on the ground in front of the creature, like a child with her teacher.
“Greetings, Shann,” the Chandara said in her cantabile voice. “Has The Destroyer Returned?”
Don’t call him that. She waited for her irritation to subside. She did not want to begin this exchange with an argument. “No. No, he hasn’t returned yet.” Boxx’s gaze returned to the flower, imprisoned in its delicate cage of woven wood.
The Chandara had said that it would bloom some time tonight, although she did not say when. Since it was a plant, the likelihood was that even she didn’t know, which made the whole idea of using it as a time limit seem pretty ridiculous. Shann had to resist an overwhelming urge to get up and stomp on the thing.
She took a deep breath. “Boxx, do you understand what is at stake here?”
The creature lifted her head once more and cocked it to one side. “At Stake?”
“Yes. The survival of both our races may very well depend on what happens tonight. Our chances would be greatly improved with your help.”
“I Will Help Keris And Shann. But I Am One.”
Shann’s heart quickened. She could reach the keep on her own if she had to. She quickly thrust aside selfish concerns and forced herself to refocus on her responsibility. “What about the rest of your people?”
“They Say That The Destroyer Must Bring Back The Egg.”
“I don’t understand. You have already transformed. What use is an egg to you?”
“It Is To No Purpose.”
She was not sure whether Boxx was speaking of the egg or her question. Conversations with the Chandara always seemed to end up in this sort of conundrum. She pressed on. “Could you not reason with them—persuade them just to fly us to the keep?”
“And If The Destroyer Is Preserved. What Then?”
“That… Look, what he did happened a long time ago. Kelanni have a tradition. When someone commits a wrong and they are sorry, we forgive.”
“How Can Kelanni Know They Will Not Do The Wrong Again?”
“We… well, I suppose we don’t. Other than their word. But trust has to start somewhere.”
“Chandara Do Not Trust. We Know.”
Shann’s mouth opened and closed, but try as she might, she could not think of a suitable response. For all the time they had spent together, it was as if a great gulf still existed between the two races. The ways of the Chandara were different—incomprehensible even. Perhaps it would always be so.
She got to her feet slowly. “Well, I thank you for all you have done. And for agreeing to see it through with us.”
Boxx ruffled her wings, gazed at her with great lustrous eyes, and went back to staring at her flower.
Shann excused herself and headed off in no particular direction.
She spotted Alondo sitting on the end of a cart, tuning the vortex arm. She felt her spirits lift. “Mind if I join you?”
The musician theatrically brushed imaginary dust from the place next to him. “Have a seat, fair lady.”
She climbed up and sat beside him, feeling safe and secure. Her legs dangled over the edge so that she felt like a little girl.
“Wanna hear a song?”
She smiled, politely. “Not right now, thanks.”
“You seem preoccupied.”
“I just had a conversation with Boxx.”
“Ah.” He fiddled with a lever and plucked at a string. “What’s the difference between a flower and a Chandara?”
“How do you mean?”
“What’s the difference?”
“I don’t know.”
“You can get scents out of a flower.”
She smiled. “Very funny.”
“You think so? I’m considering adding it to my repertoire.” The fresh face, ready smile, and sociable air had not changed, but now they overlaid something else—a meditative quality that made him appear older. Less sure of himself. “Any sign of our hu-man friend?”
“You’re the only one who calls him that.”
“I was being polite.”
“You think I was wrong to invite him along, don’t you?”
He turned a key and grimaced, listening for the change in pitch. “A leader should never second-guess their decisions, Shann, at least not in public. It can make you appear indecisive.”
“It’s just you and me, Alondo,” she said with exaggerated patience.
He looked around to confirm that no one was listening and then shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, I think Lyall would have done the same.” A moment of companionable silence passed between them. “You’re going after him, aren’t you?”
A shock wave passed through her. Somehow he had seen through to her secret as if she were glass. She swallowed. “After who?”
“Lyall,” he said. “We both know he has to be up there in the keep. You’re planning to get him out.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Shann.” He looked at her, askance.
Her facade cracked. “All right, all right. So what are you saying? That I shouldn’t attempt it?”
He set the instrument beside him. “I count you and Lyall as my closest friends. Ask one to risk their life for the other?” He shook his head slowly. “If Lyall were here, I know what he would say. He would strictly forbid you to go after him. But then again… ”
“What?” she pressed him.
“I know you, Shann. Nothing stopped you from descending into the fire pits to rescue Lyall from the Kharthrun serpent. And nothing I say is going to stop you now. However, there is one person you need to be concerned about.”
“And who’s that?”
“Rael, of course,” Alondo replied. “I spoke to him. He intends to be by your side every step of the way.”
Irritation blossomed within her. “Nonsense. He doesn’t own me. Besides, we already determined everyone’s role. He will be needed on the ground to supervise the placement of the slag.”
“I think he has other ideas,” Alondo said, gently.
She sighed and shook her head. “How’s Oliah?”
“I don’t think she’s speaking to me.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Unfortunately, no. I told her to leave Sakara for her own safety. She refused. We had an argument about that. Then I told her of our plan to bring down the keep. We had an argument about that, too. She made it clear she doesn’t want me to go in with the rest of you. By the time I finished, she was in tears.”
He was just a musician, after all. If anything were to happen to him, she did not know how she would face Oliah. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe you should stay here.”
“Forget it. I’m not backing out now. Besides,” he continued while patting the vortex arm as if it were a beloved pet, “I’ve got a feeling you’re going to need my unique skills.”
He might well be right. However, there was no telling what tomorrow might bring. Tonight of all nights, each of them needed to find peace. There was no room for stray emotions or words left unsaid.
“I think you should Ring her again.”
He nodded. “Perhaps you’re right. And maybe there’s someone you should talk to as well… ”
She found Rael inside one of the wagons, his lanky form bent over and scribbling on the tablet he carried with him. He looked up in surprise.
“What are you up to?”
“Just… checking some of my calculations.” As he fumbled, a sheaf of papers fluttered to the floor. She picked one up and frowned. It was a picture of her, and it was quite good. She had not known that he had such talent. How little she really knew him. She glanced up from the sketch and was greeted by his horrified expression.
She smiled reassuringly. “It’s lovely. Can I keep this?”
“I… er, yes I s… suppose so.” He stuffed the rest of the papers selfconsciously into his jacket.
“I never knew you could draw.”
He lowered his head. “I can’t. It’s just a silly habit.”
She wished he wouldn’t deprecate himself like that. It was his father who had filled him up with the notion that he was no good at anything—something that Hannath had later exploited. Now Hannath was dead and Rael’s father was half a world away, yet their influence was still plain to see, like blood marks on his soul. It’s not an easy thing to escape one’s past. She decided to change the subject. “Is everything ready for tonight?”
“What? Oh, you mean the slag. Yes, it’s loaded and ready to go. There’s enough to cover five of the transformed ground deposits on the north side, which should be enough to bring down the keep. It will mean splitting up into five groups. Alondo has designed a chemically fuelled rocket, which they will send up as a flare just before the final sections are hauled into place.”
“Why the north side?”
He shrugged. “It’s nearest to our present location.”
She nodded. “Very well. However, if the Chandara decide not to accompany us, there will need to be a slight change in plan. We will divide into four teams, not five. They will nullify four of the supports. Then three teams will withdraw, while the fourth tackles the final deposit.”
“Because when the keep falls there should be as few people in its path as possible,” he completed the thought. “All right, I’ll go in with the fourth group.”
“No. I want you well away by then.”
“I’m not leaving you behind.”
She averted her eyes. “I will be… occupied elsewhere.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“That won’t be possible.”
“Why not?”
She turned away.
“Why not?” he demanded.
“Because I won’t have time to wet nurse a… a scientist.” She instantly castigated herself, but the words were already out.
He stiffened. “I can take care of myself.”
No. You can’t. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but—”
“I won’t let you do this alone.”
“I don’t want to fight you over this!” she exploded.
I don’t want to fight you. Tonight of all nights.
She saw his pained, desperate look and felt a twinge in her heart. “Just hold me. Please.”
Together they descended, strands of kelp entwined and spiralling downward in the undertow…
~
“Shann… Shann… ”
She heard her name and stirred, rising and pulling aside the flaps of the wagon. Behind her, Rael lay still, eyes closed, breathing slowly and peacefully. Let him be.
The night was well along. Ail-Mazzoth hung overhead like a single rheumy eye. The axle creaked slightly as she hopped to the ground and pulled her cloak about her.
A knot of people had gathered around Boxx, voices raised in consternation. She hurried towards the source of the disturbance. “What’s going on?” Keris and Patris had their backs to her. They turned at the sound of her voice, their faces grave. “What’s going on?” she repeated.
“See for yourself,” Keris said, stepping aside. There, on a clear patch of ground in front of the Chandara, the wooden cage had opened up to reveal a flower, its pale white petals fully exposed to the purplish stain of night.
<><><><><>
Chapter 48
The butte was a thousand staring faces set in stone. Alexander McCann pushed fingers into eye sockets and rammed boot caps into open mouths. Erosion, that master sculptor, had done some of his best work, making it an easy climb—or at least it would have been had he been twenty standard years younger.
He grappled, groped, and grumbled his way higher. Stranded on some far-off planet, hauling himself up a useless rock in a pointless exercise to retrieve some worthless egg. Are you having a bloody good laugh now, Max?
He pictured his childhood pal taunting him from the summit. Why you takin’ so long? You got lead in your pants or somethin’? Wide-open eyes and manic laughter. He was the king of the castle; Mac was the dirty rascal. Not if I can help it.
He gritted his teeth, knotted his muscles, and renewed his assault, finally dragging his tortured body onto the flat tabletop.
Huffing and puffing on hands and knees, he recovered slowly. Max’s grinning idiot-face was nowhere to be seen. Near the middle, however, occupying a shallow depression, a haphazard collection of twigs and branches was piled high, as if someone had been gathering fuel for a massive signal fire.
McCann got to his feet unsteadily and moved towards it. A cool wind mopped the sweat from his brow. As he got closer, a disturbing thought came to him. Could this be a nest of some sort? If it was, then the occupant would have to be the size of a small car. And all he had to fend it off with was the equivalent of a wee pointy stick.
He shielded his eyes and scanned the heavens nervously, but there was nothing in sight. Muttering a choice assortment of curses, he began to clamber and pick his way through the tangle of wood.
The boughs parted reluctantly, revealing a flattened centre. Within it were two distinct objects. One was an egg—ruddy with dark speckles and nearly as long as his arm. Getting it down from this rocky perch, let alone all the way back to camp, was going to be a trick. His gaze was drawn to another form beside it, twisted and unmoving like a broken puppet. It took him several heartbeats to realise it was one of the adult form Chandara.
What was it doing here? The woman, Keris, said that after they had transformed in the town of Lind, the Chandara had headed west, in the direction of their forest, but this peak lay in the opposite direction. Then it struck him. Food. Maybe the Chandara had been taken as food for the fledgling… whatever it was, when it hatched. His stomach churned at the prospect. This was a sentient being, however alien.
He parted the last few branches and entered the heart of the nest, bending down on one knee to examine the creature. His heart hammered in his chest, reminding him that the denizen of this particular lair could swoop down at any moment.
At first it seemed that the Chandara was dead; then its beak twitched. On impulse, McCann unstopped his canteen, lifted the creature’s head slightly with one hand, and tried to pour water into its mouth. Some of the precious fluid leaked away to the sides, and he lessened the flow to a dribble. The rose-hued beak opened wider and the great white wings fluttered, weakly.
He glanced at the egg lying next to him. Boxx’s instructions had been very clear. He had to get it back to the Kelanni camp before her peculiar flower bloomed, or they would be on their own. He didn’t have time to play paramedic. Yet if he left the stricken creature here, like this, then he was under no illusions as to what would happen when the owner of the egg returned.
He could not carry it off the butte. That left only one alternative. He stood erect, drew Keris’s diamond-bladed staff, and prepared to defend them both against a monster that laid eggs close to a metre in length.
This is turning out to be a very bad night indeed.
~
Rag week, Eridani Station. Mac and Max, dressed as Tweedledum and Tweedledee, waddling from public house to Indian restaurant, rattling buckets of loose change in the humorless faces of scientists and administrative staff alike. (People will put up with almost any degree of high jinks, so long as it’s for charity.)
Later that night at Max’s parents’ place, dancing to ancient teenage anthems from some time called ‘the sixties’, before Quintessence Dark Energy had kicked mankind’s juvenile backside off the porch of their solar system and sent them packing to the stars. Yet even out here, kids would always be kids. Some things never change.
Tonight he stood alone on a hilltop, an absurd parody of the caped crusader, awaiting the arrival of some unnamed arch villain. It felt like rag week.
The creature swooped in from the south—a storm front with wings. Dark and threatening against the fire-banded sky, it filled his vision, stopping his heart and bringing a lump to his throat. Slowly it turned and began to circle the nest, surveying the trespasser. He gripped Keris’s staff like a nine iron, preparing to swing it at anything that came within reach.
“The Tohaca. It Has Returned.” The Chandara raised its head slightly and spoke with a voice like the oboe that McCann had tried and failed to learn as a child. “There Is Great Danger.”
“No kidding,” he returned as he tracked the flying creature’s progress.
“Leave Here. Save Yourself.”
“Sure, just as soon as I’ve gotten rid of Tweety Pie over there.”
“You Cannot Hope To Combat It.”
He smiled wryly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“You Risk Your Life For Chandara. Why?”
Some ancient words swam into his conscious mind. “Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand.” He glanced at the alien creature at his feet. “I guess, like my fellow Scot, Macbeth, I’m just looking to pay some kind of a penance for past misdeeds.”
Without warning, the Chandara arose before him, a late lamented Banquo. Like Macbeth’s former friend and confidante, it appeared to have staged a sudden and remarkable recovery. “You Are No Longer The Destroyer.”
The Destroyer. It was the same phrase Boxx had used when referring to him. But that would mean…
“So was this the real test—to see whether I would defend the life of a Chandara at the risk of my own, or abandon you to your fate?”
“We Must Go. Kelanni Have Already Departed For The High Place. There Is Not Much Time.” The Chandara bowed its head and spread its wings.
“What of the egg that your people sent me to retrieve?”
The creature turned its head and regarded him with eyes of gleaming gold. “You Were Told. It Is To No Purpose.”
They had been told. But in the rush—in the demands of the moment— they had ignored Boxx’s saying. Perhaps the long-lived Chandara possessed a virtue that both hu-mans and Kelanni lacked. Patience.
The huge pitch-black beast they called the tohaca suddenly twisted in the air and dived towards them, talons outstretched, crowned head swept back, long-toothed beak wide open.
McCann scrambled astride the Chandara. “Hi-ho, Silver.”
The sudden upthrust was as shocking and thrilling as a roller coaster simulation. Or rounding Ganymede at five Gs. The flat tabletop where he had left his stomach receded rapidly. The tohaca pancaked on its nest, spread its ebony wingspan, and trumpeted victory.
He heard another cry, this time from behind. He twisted in his seat. Dozens of Chandara filled the sky, like a flock of pure white valkyries.
They set their faces to the north, seeking einherjar to bear to the halls of Valhalla.
~
In silence they advanced through deserted streets, the muffled wheels of the wagons betrayed by the occasional creak of an axle. Before them, looming over the rooftops, the sky-borne keep grew ever larger in their vision. The weight of it seemed to crush the very air. Shann had to resist the urge to turn tail and run.
Pinpricks of light shone from windows in the tower. Behind them, the Keltar and the Prophet himself stared out over the great city, aloof and unassailable. Challenging their might suddenly seemed an act of the greatest folly.
When she had seen the lone white flower blooming in the middle of the camp, her heart sank. Despite Keris’s obvious scepticism, Shann genuinely believed that the hu-man McCann would do his best to redeem himself in the eyes of the Chandara. But ultimately he had failed, and with the night already well along, they could not wait any longer for him to return.
Boxx had kept her word and accompanied them, but without the help of her brethren, they were at a clear disadvantage. Since they could not reach the keep, they would be entirely dependent on stealth. If the lookouts got wind of what they were doing and attacked from those platforms of theirs, then they would be in a fight for their lives. If they were driven back or the wagons containing the slag were destroyed, then the whole enterprise would fail.
However, they had no choice but to try. Keris was convinced that Sakara’s destruction was imminent, to be followed, no doubt, by Leota, Kalath-Kar, and any other city that did not bend utterly to the will of the Prophet. It was now or never.
Keris appeared at her shoulder and pointed. A lone figure stood in the middle of the main thoroughfare, blocking their path. Shann could make out a tattered jerkin and a balding crown. Have we been discovered already? Her hand moved towards her staff.
Keris signalled the driver of the lead wagon to halt and strode out to meet the newcomer. Shann followed, with the intention of backing her up. To her surprise, he greeted the tall woman with a formal bow. “My Lady.”
Keris returned the gesture. “Greetings, Miron.”
Shann allowed her hand to relax.
So this was he. The self-styled chief of Lind’s underground resistance movement, the ‘Fourth Circle’. Short and unprepossessing, with small eyes and a rounded back that looked as if it had borne too many burdens, he looked less like an influential leader and more like a subservient peasant. Although perhaps that was the point.
“Preparations are complete,” he began. “The houses near the tower have been evacuated. We have also marked out the areas of transformed lodestone, just as you asked.”
“What about the soldiers?” Shann asked.
“We encountered a few,” he acknowledged. “Suffice it to say they won’t be giving either of us any trouble tonight.”
Keris nodded. “There do not seem to be even the regular patrols. I expected to have to talk our way past a couple of them at least.”
“Most have sought refuge in the keep,” he replied. “It seems there’s a persistent rumour going around that a dangerous group of insurgents has taken to prowling the city by night.”
Keris responded with a wry smile. “Now I wonder who could have started that?”
“The very best rumours are those that have a basis in fact,” he observed. “I must also inform you that your fears concerning Sakara appear to be well founded. The soldiers that we… chatted with confirmed that the forces formerly occupying the Free Port have now returned to Chalimar, and a massive celebration at the keep is planned for tomorrow night. The Keltar have boasted that Sakara’s destruction is imminent.”
“Then there is no time to waste,” Shann declared.
“The Fourth Circle remains at your disposal.”
“Thank you, Miron,” Keris said. “But you have done your job. Now we must do ours. Please ensure that your people are well clear of the city centre.”
His eyes began to mist. “What of you, my Lady?”
“Me?”
“I trust the Chandara will bear you away from the keep before it falls.”
“The Chandara will not be joining us,” Keris said, flatly.
A bemused expression passed over his face. “Then what, may I ask, are those?”
The two women tracked his gaze, turned, and gasped. A huge flock of Chandara filled the sky above the city, wings silently beating the night air.
Ragged cheering broke out along the column of assorted wagons, carts, and drays, quickly doused by warning hushes.
“I don’t understand,” Shann said in wonder. “McCann failed to return before the flower bloomed. How—?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Keris cut her off. “None of that matters now.”
They came in like hope, like petals on the wind, dreaming summer.
<><><><><>
Chapter 49
Wings beating steadily, the blood-white Chandara bore their green-tailed riders high above the rooftops.
Ahead of them, the fortress brooded on a foundation of solid rock, gouged from the city’s heart and made to float in the palm of a giant, invisible hand. Burning yellow pinpricks studded its foreboding grey walls. Jagged towers, chisel-bladed and spike-toothed, grazed the ruddy clouds.
Shot through with fear and exhilaration, Shann watched the keep grow until it blotted out the sky. She rode at the head. Behind her, Alondo, Rael, and Patris clung to their respective mounts, along with a score of Grackas’s hand-picked troops. Far away on the other side of the mountain-like structure, a similar party was making for the southern entrance, led by Keris along with Boxx and the hu-man, McCann.
She had no idea how many soldiers and Keltar were sequestered within. Both of the attacking groups would be severely outnumbered; that much was certain. However, if all went to plan, then it wouldn’t matter. They did not have to overrun the keep. All they needed to do was to bottle up both exits until the slag was in place and then use the Chandara to make good their escape. At least, that was how Keris envisaged it.
Shann, however, had an additional objective—one that she had purposely not revealed to the other woman. She was going to get Lyall out, no matter what it took.
She was close enough now to see the entrance. A stone platform jutted out from the keep’s base, leading to wide-open double iron gates and a flat area beyond that had once been the mustering yard. A wafer-thin guard of four soldiers rubbed sleep-starved eyes before scrambling to shut the gates in a futile attempt to keep out the would-be intruders.
The Chandara sailed blithely over the barrier and swooped down on them like perridons seeking their prey. The guards turned tail and fled into the depths of the fortress.
Shann’s mount alighted in the middle of the yard, followed by the rest of its brethren. They stomped, ruffled their wings, and discharged their riders. So far, so good.
She blipped her neck control. The push from the transformed lodestone in the keep’s base was strong and steady, promising nearly total freedom of movement in the air. She recalled the aerial ballet she had performed alone on the lodestone roof platform of the vacuum hole tower in the Cathgorns. Unfortunately, any Keltar she encountered would have the same advantage.
Spiteful gusts ruffled her hair as she went to the ledge and stared at the view far below. A myriad of tiny roads and houses, workshops and inns, warehouses and stables—all of the paraphernalia of a great city—jammed into her field of vision.
The sound of tramping feet dragged her gaze back to the yard. Grackas’s well-drilled troops had already drawn up in formation. The others were gathering around her.
Rael’s bony shoulders filled the red cloak like a clothes hanger. His downturned mouth was a hook, and he held the staff as if it were an unpleasant object that had gotten stuck to his hand. Patris’s hawkish eyes were everywhere, seeking enemies. He seemed to be weapon-less, but Shann knew better. Alondo appeared pensive beneath his enduring red cap, the vortex arm slung over his shoulder.
“The entrance is secure for now,” she announced. “However, the guard will no doubt be returning at any moment. And they will bring reinforcements. We must be prepared.” She turned her attention to Grackas. “I want you to open the gate and have two of your men ride the platform to the ground.”
The broad-shouldered man dwarfed her. “And then what?”
“And then I want them to destroy it.”
Grackas raised an eyebrow. “I was not aware that was a part of Keris’s plan.”
“It is essential to the success of the mission.” She studiously avoided saying which mission.
“The platform is the defenders’ only means of escape,” Grackas pointed out.
“Not so,” Shann said. “If they capitulate, we can call on the Chandara to help get them away.”
It was a tipping point—the first real test of her authority. The troops seconded to Keris would follow their ‘Heroine’ into a fiery pit if called on to do so, but Shann’s position was a good deal more ambiguous. She was acknowledged as the leader of her little party, but the detachment was loyal to its commander and there was nobody to say that he was obliged to take her orders. Theirs was a loose coalition at best.
He looked her up and down as if appraising a raw recruit. She felt her flesh crawl. Then he turned away. “Open the gates.” The soldiers broke formation and scrambled to obey.
Shann let out the breath she had been holding. The gates creaked open once more and she strolled through, stepping onto the aerial platform.
It was nothing more than a flat circle of cut stone, open to the sky with no guard rail and a single raised column at the centre. A quick test informed her as to which control corresponded to which layer. The two volunteers joined her on the platform and stood at loose attention.
“This is lower lodestone,” she informed them. “Ignore the others. Just pull this back slowly. When you reach the ground, destroy the control mechanism. Any questions?”
One of the soldiers—a thick set individual with piercing eyes—took a step forward. “Why not just push the lever all the way over and let the thing plummet to the ground on its own? It should smash on impact.”
Because no one knows I’m doing this and I don’t want anyone to be caught underneath it when it falls. “We have to be certain that the platform has been put out of action.”
It was weak, but the man merely shrugged and took his station at the control column. She rejoined the main body of Grackas’s men, who promptly released the three large mooring clamps. The platform drifted slightly and then began to descend with its two occupants.
She watched as it steadily grew smaller, merging with the cityscape. Somewhere far below, the remainder of Grackas’s troops, along with Leskin’s tributes, were dragging hastily hammered sheets of slag over the pockets of transformed lodestone, weakening the unseen arms that held the keep aloft. She did not have much time.
Angry shouts dragged her back from the sheer drop. The reinforcements had arrived.
Grackas’s men had formed into a defensive wedge, bristling swords, pikes, and polearms. Facing them, an unnumbered press of leather-clad soldiers filled the entranceway. Among them, she spotted three Keltar. Her intention had been to try to negotiate an early surrender. However, this group did not seem in the mood to negotiate.
The Chandara shook their wings and heads in apparent consternation but stayed grounded. Of course, if the soldiers from the keep broke through their lines, then that could change.
Keris, what would you do in this situation? To her great surprise, the answer came almost immediately. Eliminate the Keltar. Easier said than done. If you discounted Rael, who was possessed of little or no skill, she was the lone bearer of cloak and staff. Even with the enhancements afforded her by the red cloak, it was still three against one.
Grackas urged his men forward in an attempt to push the soldiers of the keep back. On the face of it, the tactic was sound; the opening could accommodate no more than five or six abreast, limiting the number that could attack his phalanx directly. However, the entryway was high and if the Keltar leaped over their heads…
The yard resounded with the grunts of the combatants and the clash of wood and metal. Alondo and Patris stood their ground. Rael surged forward impetuously to join the melee. She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back. “Stay behind me.” He rounded on her, his face a mask of resentment. “Our job is to protect the rear and the Chandara,” she added.
The boy appeared mollified and stepped back, arms and legs posed in a most ungainly fashion. She was already regretting her weakness in allowing him to accompany her. Simply keeping him alive was going to be a challenge.
All of a sudden, a dark flash shot over the heads of the embattled soldiers. A black-cloaked figure twisted in the air, making straight for her and Rael. Her initial impulse was to leap away to avoid the downthrust, but that would leave Rael and the others exposed. Instead, she held Saccath’s staff out before her in a classic defensive pose.
The Keltar swept down, staff outstretched. Her tendons knotted. At the last moment she shoved the other’s weapon aside with all her strength. A burning sensation erupted in her side as the diamond blade grazed her midriff and she was knocked sideways. As she rolled onto her back, a face appeared over her—loose shock of hair, eyes wide with concern, red cloak draped about his shoulders. Rael.
“You’re hurt,” he said.
Her fingers went to her side and came away wet and stained with white blood. No time for that now. She pushed up on her elbows just in time to see a shadow rise up behind him.
“Out of my way.” She got her feet under her and shoved him aside a little too roughly.
Her assailant stood with bent limbs and a crooked smile set in a pinched face. A second cloaked figure alighted behind him. At the entrance, Grackas barked orders with ever more stridency as the cry and clash of battle intensified. She could see no sign of the third Keltar.
“Is this it?” Pinch-face taunted. “Did you seriously think to take the keep with so few?”
So long as they believed this to be a straightforward assault on the fortress, they would not be looking down, which meant that the teams on the ground could continue their work unmolested. She and the others were buying them precious time.
“‘They will prevail whose cause is just,’” she recited.
He threw back his head and laughed like a corpse being dragged over rocks. “You see, Cavan. They even quote the sacred verses. Full of arrogance and self-righteousness, this rebel faction. It’ll be the death of them.”
He roared once more, his younger fresh-faced companion joining in; then he held up a hand and cut laughter’s throat. “Time to end this.”
Reaching into a pouch, he withdrew a small silver sphere and gave it a half-twist. Lodestone grenade. It started to emanate a low hum which rose steadily in pitch. Smirking, he tossed it straight at her.
“Take cover!” she yelled. Her fingers went to her neck control and she shot into the air without pausing to see whether Rael had obeyed her or not.
The blinding flash caught the periphery of her vision, and the detonation slammed against her eardrums. She twisted for a better view.
Panicked Chandara flapped frantically, some of them taking to the air. Alondo and Patris had retreated, and Rael was lying on his back.
Pinch-face launched himself skyward, making straight for her. Cavan, the younger Keltar, advanced on Rael. Her heart clenched, but she was in no position to help him. As her ascent slowed, her assailant rose to meet her, readying himself for an upward strike. Time for your little surprise.
She waited until he was almost on her and then snapped the boost control on full. Her shoulder harness did its best to drag her shoulder bones out of their sockets as she instantly shot higher.
She caught a flash of wide-eyed disbelief as her opponent thrust his staff at empty air and flailed past her, fighting to recover his balance. As he fell in disarray, she cut the boost, withdrew her lower lodestone layer, and extended her upper. Lodestone pushed bronze and bronze pulled lodestone, accelerating her descent, as she chased him down.
Rael was on his feet and fending off the other Keltar somehow. The Chandara milled around like frightened children. She could not see either Alondo or Patris.
As the yard came up to meet her, the clamour and confusion of battle filled her ears once more. It was impossible to tell who was gaining the upper hand. At the last moment, she extended lower lodestone to act as a brake and swung her staff. The diamond blade raked across his back, slicing through his black cloak and exposing part of the mechanism. He stumbled forward onto hands and knees.
Her boots hit the dirt and she advanced towards him, ignoring the dull ache in her side.
He arose, swaying slightly.
“Tell your soldiers to stand down, and I will let you leave peacefully.”
He bared his teeth. “I don’t know how you managed to pull a stunt like that, but you’ll pay.”
Flaring the tattered remnants of his cloak, he vaulted into the air once more. In spite of the damage, the cloak’s operation seemed unimpaired.
She shot a glance in Rael’s direction. The boy wielded his staff like a crazed field hand. Fortunately, the Keltar facing him was scarcely older than he was and did not seem to be able to figure out how to get inside his superior reach. She spotted Patris’s lithe form moving in on them, fast and low. If Rael could just keep him occupied for a few moments more…
No time to wait to see the outcome. She extended bronze, then lower lodestone and hit the boost control. Springing upward, she angled away from Pinch-face, seeking greater height. Immediately, he altered his trajectory to cut off her ascent. Clearly, he was not about to be fooled by the same trick twice.
They clashed high above the field of battle, darkwood cracking like claps of thunder.
She parried a blow aimed at her head, twisting his staff aside, and countered with a lunge at his midriff. He dodged the thrust, pirouetting and making a low sweeping pass. She brought her knees up and extended upper lodestone, intending to hover on the resulting balance of forces. To her great surprise, she continued turning under her own momentum and somersaulted in mid-air. When she righted herself she saw that he was starting to fall back under the effects of gravity.
On impulse, she shifted her grip to one end of her staff and sliced at the sinking figure. The diamond blade raked across his back once more, tearing cloth, scoring metal, and shattering stone. The cloak mechanism folded, and he plummeted like a black star hurled from its orbit.
Gradually she dialled back upper and lower lodestone and sank to the ground. Pinch-face was lying face down. The boy called Cavan was also motionless on the floor. Patris leant over him, no sign of a weapon in his hand. Rael’s hands rested on his knees and he was breathing heavily. He looked exhausted.
Her side still hurt, but she had no time to seek the Chandara’s ministrations. Something nagged at the back of her mind—something important. At first she thought it was the heightened state of her adrenaline-fuelled brain. Then it flashed in the corner of her eye, like a deadly tap on the shoulder. The third Keltar.
She spun around, too late, as the dark shape blotted out her vision, then shot away at right angles as if knocked aside by a giant hand. The cloaked figure cartwheeled through the open gates and disappeared over the ledge.
She turned back to see Alondo standing firmly with the vortex arm at the ready. “See, I told you my skills would come in handy.”
“Couldn’t you have used that thing a little earlier?” she complained.
“I have to make sure it’s tuned right,” he said, affronted.
She couldn’t decide whether he was joking or not. In any case, right now there were more pressing concerns. Several of Grackas’s men were down, and the line was fracturing. The soldiers from the keep looked as if they might break through at any moment. She had to get their attention. A wild idea came to her.
She bent her knees once more and leaped up and over the heart of the melee. A small but insistent voice sounded in her head. What if this doesn’t work—what then? She had no answers.
Reaching the apex, she extended upper lodestone and tweaked the controls until she was floating some distance over the heads of the soldiers. She had no idea how long she would be able to hold this configuration.
“Hear me.” The noise of battle continued unabated. She spread her arms. “Hear me.” Weapons disengaged and upturned faces gazed at her. Eyes widened. Jaws dropped. Hands scratched heads. “Your Keltar are gone. Defeated. As we speak, the forces holding up this keep are being undermined. Soon it will fall. The platform has already been destroyed. Your only means of escape is the Chandara. You may stay here and perish along with your Prophet, the Unan-Chinneroth. Or you can relinquish your weapons now and we will transport you safely to the ground.” Feet shuffled in the silence. She began sinking lower and did her best to correct the drift. “What is it to be?”
The keep’s soldiers glanced about nervously, as if expecting their Keltar to appear and begin railing against them. Then resignedly, one by one, they began to lay down their arms. A loose cheer went up from Grackas’s men. He quickly silenced them and began to supervise gathering the discarded pikes and swords.
Shann allowed herself to settle to the ground. Soldiers parted to make way for her. She could smell their fear. She wanted to grab each of them by the shoulders and shake them. I am not Keltar. Am not…
No time for such indulgences. She singled out Grackas. The commander’s handsome face smiled down at her with newfound approval. “Well played, my Lady.” His sudden use of the title only added to her feeling of discomfort.
She pressed on. “Those who are willing may join your men and help guard the gate. The rest should be transported to the city along with the injured. Any Kelanni who appear at the entrance should be offered the same opportunity. Try to evacuate as many as possible. However, when the signal goes up, you and your men must withdraw immediately. Do not wait for me. Is that clear?”
“Why? Where are you going?”
“Is that clear?” she repeated.
“Yes, it’s clear.”
She saw his confusion and felt a pang of guilt. No time for regrets. No time for goodbyes. She turned abruptly and headed for the entrance. A desperate cry from behind pulled her up short. Over her shoulder, she saw Rael, arm outstretched, eyes filled with anguish. Alondo was restraining him bodily.
Her heart broke and her tears flowed. I’m so sorry.
She ripped the sight from her eyes and forged ahead, down the keep’s dark throat.
<><><><><>
Chapter 50
Doing her best to ignore the ache in her side, Shann quickened her pace, driving towards the heart of the ancient keep.
She rubbed dried tears from her eyes. Rael will be safe, she told herself. Alondo and Patris will see to that.
Leaving them behind was the hardest thing she had ever done. But Lyall was the closest thing she had to a father. She could not just abandon him. She hoped that Rael would understand. And that he would forgive her.
Sconces holding oil-filled lamps lined the walls, pouring forth weak pools of illumination. She kept to the shadows as much as possible, wary of any resistance she might meet, but the bare corridors seemed strangely deserted, like the veins of a gigantic beast emptied of its life’s blood and turned to stone. Perhaps news of the attack had spread and people were in hiding. If she could find them, perhaps she could urge them to get to the gates before it was too late.
She wound her way through the keep’s labyrinthine structure, encountering more dead ends than she could count. Time was running out, and her frustration was growing. She found a set of stairs, climbed up a level, turned a corner, and almost tripped over something lying on the floor.
It was a soldier, face down and unmoving. Bending down, she touched her fingers to the man’s neck, but there were no signs of life. She frowned as possible explanations besieged her, each more unthinkable than the last. Murder? Revolt? Had Keris decided to lead a direct assault on the keep? Had Grackas’s men moved in on their own?
She fought down a wave of nausea and reached out to turn the body for a closer examination. A thin humming sound. She raised her eyes. Before her floated a ball—copper-coloured and set with a glass iris. A watcher. She had seen the hu-man machines twice before—once at the top of the tower of Akalon and again on the island of Helice— and knew what its presence meant. She had been discovered.
She gazed into its crystal depths. There could be no doubt that the one observing her was foe, not friend. I must destroy it.
She rose slowly, trying not to give any clue as to her intention. Before she could react, another contraption drifted around the corner. The watcher moved higher, like a deferential courtier stepping aside for its sovereign.
The second machine was larger, silver in colour and shaped like a flattened cylinder with odd protuberances topped by a tiny, intense red light. It looked like an inverted washtub. Without warning, one of the protuberances erupted in orange fire.
She dived to one side. The beam struck the stone floor behind her, throwing up shards of stone. Scrabbling to get her feet under her, she dashed back around the bend and retreated down the stone steps. Her injury complained bitterly at the renewed exertion. Near the bottom, she slowed and gathered up the courage to check over her shoulder. The machines were not following.
Cautiously, she re-mounted the stairs and approached the bend. She peeked around the corner. The two machines hung in the air, moving slowly up and down as if mocking her with silent laughter. A pencil-thin shaft of cherry-coloured light swept the passageway. She started forward. Another bright orange shaft raked the space in front of her, causing her to pull back.
She crouched down and tried to think. The machines did not seem interested in chasing her down, but neither would they allow her to advance. If Lyall was somewhere beyond this point, there did not seem to be any way to reach him.
“Need a hand?”
The gruff voice made her jump out of her skin. She spun around and was greeted by the repulsive features of the hu-man, McCann. The broad-shouldered creature was bending over her, a half-smile half-hidden beneath his facial bush. Close behind him, she saw the raven-haired, red-cloaked figure of Keris.
Shann’s heart backflipped with joy and confusion. She hissed. “What are you two doing here?”
“I might ask you the same question,” Keris said with a tinge of rebuke. She continued in a more conciliatory tone. “We formed up at the south gate, unchallenged. Then a handful of people began to arrive in ones and twos. They told a disturbing tale. The Prophet is holed up in the audience chamber with the lodestone device, which was bound for Sakara. He is threatening to detonate it and destroy Chalimar if we do not withdraw.”
Shann struggled to digest this latest revelation. “If he sets it off up here, wouldn’t that simply bring down the keep, which is what we are trying to achieve anyway?”
McCann shook his head. “You don’t understand the destructive power of this thing. An explosion this high up will actually increase the blast radius. The entire city and everything in it would almost certainly be obliterated.”
“Are you saying we should retreat?” Shann asked.
Keris stepped between them. “We can’t do that. If we back off now, we lose our only chance to stop him.”
“So, all we have to do,” McCann summarized, “is to make it past any HKs without dying, reach the audience room, shut off the lodestone device before it blows, and then get to one of the gates before the keep falls out of the sky. The Queen of Hearts could do six impossible things before breakfast. Me, I’m just a humble engineer.”
As usual, Shann found herself lost in the maze of his stray thought paths. “HKs?”
“Hunter-Killers. Machines designed for protection from predators and such. My people used them during the war with your people, sixteen years ago. They are programmed to exterminate all life forms that stray into a given area. From the state of that poor fellow, it looks as if they aren’t bothering to differentiate between friend and foe. Wang isn’t taking any chances.”
“He’s killing his own people?” Shann exclaimed.
“The soldiers and Keltar are not his people,” Keris reminded her. “He is Unan-Chinneroth. Hu-man.”
Shann hazarded a glimpse around the corner. The machines hovered greedily. “So how do we get through them?”
Keris straightened her back. “I will draw the machine’s fire while you strike it down.”
McCann shook his head. “I don’t think so. It has multi-targeting capability.”
“Smoke,” Shann blurted out. “If we could blind it somehow…”
“Ingenious, but it won’t work. HK sensors work on the infrared band. They can read heat signatures through smoke… ” He trailed off while the others waited patiently. “Fire. If we could create a sufficiently strong heat source, it might be enough to confuse or overload its targeting scanners.”
Shann reached into her pouch and extracted one of the silver spheres she had claimed from the fallen Keltar. “Will this do?”
“A Keltar lodestone gas grenade. Perfect. Where’d you… no, never mind. All right, you toss it; then I’ll jump in and disable the HK.”
“I’ve never actually used one of these things,” Shann confessed.
“I’ll do it.” Keris took the sphere from her.
“Okay, Alice in Wonderland, let her rip.”
“My name’s Keris.”
McCann shrugged. “Whatever.”
Keris gave the sphere a deft half-twist and lobbed it past the corner. It impacted the stone floor with a clack and rolled forward, emitting a whine which grew rapidly in pitch and volume. The corridor erupted in light and flame.
As the firestorm died, McCann sprang from cover, grabbed the tub-shaped machine, tore open a panel, and ripped something from its guts. The tiny red light went out, and the HK sank to the ground, settling to one side. The watcher stared at it dolefully, like a beloved pet witnessing the death of its master.
Shann and Keris emerged. Keris prepared to strike the watcher with her staff. “Don’t waste your time,” McCann advised. “They already know we’re here.”
“How many of these machines are there between here and the audience chamber?” Shann asked.
McCann scratched his head. “I dunno. How many more grenades do you have?”
“Two.”
“Then I guess the answer had better be ‘less than three’.”
Keris led the way through the next set of passages. On the way, Shann counted at least half a dozen bodies, one of which was clearly hu-man.
McCann’s face twisted with disgust. “The Captain’s gone crazy. We have to stop him.”
“Let’s keep moving,” Keris urged.
Up another level, and a second brooding HK awaited them. Keris set off the grenade and McCann disabled it before it could get off a shot.
Keris noticed Shann holding her side. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” she dismissed. “How much farther to the audience chamber?”
“We’re here.”
Around the next bend, the passage opened up to reveal a heavy, iron-studded set of double doors.
Keris tested them. “They seem to be barred from the inside.”
“I have one more grenade,” Shann pointed out.
Keris shook her head. “Explosive power is insufficient. It wouldn’t put a dent in these doors.”
“Maybe we should knock?”
Keris gave her a look that made her immediately regret the suggestion.
“Wait here. I have an idea.” McCann disappeared back around the corner. He returned, his arms wrapped around the casing of the downed HK. He set it heavily on the floor. It looked a little like a metallic sand scarag.
“What are you doing with that?” Keris demanded.
The engineer was on his knees, fiddling with the machine’s components. “Turning up the heat… I hope… there. Stand back.”
The two Kelanni obeyed as McCann went through a series of final adjustments and then pulled something firmly. A finger of fire struck the doors dead centre, searing wood and scorching iron. It pressed relentlessly, pouring liquid flame into every crack, testing the doors’ resolve.
Finally, McCann shut it off. Keris stepped forward to inspect the soot-black circle, scarred and smoking. Without a word, she raised a boot and kicked the line where the doors met. She kicked again. And again. Wood creaked, then rent, then splintered. Iron groaned, then bowed, then screamed. Bonds shattered and the doors flew apart, laying the audience chamber bare.
Shann’s jaw dropped. The great hall was strewn with rubble: parts of chairs, tables, lampstands, tapestries, and lumps of stone, some on the floor, some floating in the air. It was as if a great cataclysm had engulfed the chamber and then become frozen in time. In one corner, a mixed group of soldiers and lackeys cowered, while others lay on the floor, unmoving. Off to one side stood a handcart containing a bronze globe—a smaller version of the devices they had encountered at the human weapons facility on Helice.
At the end of the hall were two more figures whom she recognised. One was the ugly, round-faced figure of the Prophet, Wang. Next to him stood a tall, fair-haired Kelanni. Lyall. Her heart leaped. He was alive.
In front of them, perched on a platform, a large obsidian-coloured lodestone cannon was aimed directly at the burnt, contorted, smashed-open doors.
Wide-eyed and rooted to the spot, she watched as Lyall opened his mouth and yelled.
“Fire!”
<><><><><>
Chapter 51
“Not so fast, my friend. Let’s see what your compatriots have to say for themselves.” Wang’s voice was high as a bird’s cry and taut as copper wire.
Keris registered the shocked expression on Shann’s face and sympathised. She too was struggling to comprehend the evidence of her eyes and ears. Shann had staunchly maintained that Lyall was working secretly to bring down the Prophet. Had she been wrong? Was it possible that Lyall’s true purpose all along had been to lead them into a trap?
All she could think to do was to try to appeal to whatever shred of sanity the hu-man might have left. “Charles Wang. The keep is lost. Your own people have deserted you. Surrender now.”
Lyall was at the Prophet’s shoulder, leaning into his ear. “See? See, I told you. They will try to manipulate you—play for time. Destroy them. Destroy them now and we can take your shuttle; we can leave here and start your work again in another place where my people cannot interfere.”
Anger rose in Keris like a volcano and died back almost as quickly. Something wasn’t right. As an investigator, she was trained to analyse situations. Motivations. Lyall wanted more than anything to save Aune, his sister, but he must surely realise that the Prophet was on the verge of defeat. There was no reason for him to maintain this stance. It was almost as if… as if she was watching a part of some elaborate drama.
She decided to bide her time and see how it played out.
Shann surged forward, her face streaked with tears. “Lyall, no!”
Keris placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we can come to some agreement.” The girl stared at her as if she had just said something blasphemous. Keris ignored her. “Let’s work together to end this, so that no more lives are lost.”
Wang threw his head back. His laugh was like an iron bar being dragged over a grating. “Are these the green-skinned losers you’ve teamed up with, Mac? They crack easily under pressure.”
The heavily built hu-man raised his head. “It’s over, Captain. Don’t you see that? We humans marched out into the stars like we owned everything—like everything was there for the taking. Caesar, Cortez, Custer—the lessons of our own history taught us that if you want something you go out and grab it, and you step on anything that gets in your way.
“But we are no longer ants, competing with one another in our own backyard. The universe is a big place. If we stick to our old ways, then sooner or later, it’s humanity that is going to get stepped on.
“Susan is gone, as have so many other people we cared about. Please, Captain. Let’s just put an end to this.”
Wang shook his head in mock sympathy. “You’re a fool, Mac, and you’re going to die a fool’s death. Power. That’s the only thing that counts. The creatures on this planet don’t know what they have. Ergo, they don’t deserve to have it. It’s all a game of survival. And you and your alien friends just lost.”
Smirking victory, he blew on a smouldering lintstock and touched the cannon’s breech with the glowing match.
The world exploded.
~
Keris pushed herself off the floor, shook the dust out of her hair, and discovered, to her great surprise, that she was still alive. Smoke drifted in stubborn swathes. Behind the smoke, something stirred.
Cautiously, she got to her feet. A quick self-examination revealed no obvious injuries. Behind her, the grey forms of her two companions were rubbing their eyes. She breathed a sigh of relief and peered forward. The cannon looked as if it had been blown apart. How… ?
Most of the floating objects had disappeared in the blast. She picked her way towards what was left of the platform. The Prophet Wang lay face up, eyes fixed and staring at the final moment of life. Shann hurried past her and knelt beside the prostrate figure of Lyall, cradling his head in her lap. His eyes still held a spark, but it was fading.
In the far corner the observers cowered, too terrified to move. “Go,” Keris shouted at them. “Get to the gates. Now.” They began to move towards the burned and broken doors like herded animals.
She scoured the hall for the lodestone device. The handcart lay on its side. The bronze globe had rolled a short distance, but it appeared to be intact. An orange light on its surface blinked rapidly. She had no idea what it meant. “McCann, can you disarm that thing?”
“I’m on it.” The hu-man strode over to the device and began to examine it intently, as if grateful for the distraction.
She turned back to Shann and Lyall. The girl was stroking his face. Hers was contorted with anguish. “We have to get him out of here.”
Keris pressed her lips together. It was a long way back to the gate, and the keep could fall at any moment.
Lyall’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly.
Shann leaned in closer. “What is it?”
“The… Prophet?” he breathed.
“He is no more,” Keris answered.
McCann rejoined them. “It’s done. I fused the intermix valve. The device will be inert until someone replaces it. Hopefully, no one will get the chance.”
“What happened?” Shann said in a strangled voice.
A faint smile played about Lyall’s lips. “I used Annata’s device… transformed the iron shot… into lodestone.”
Shann shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“Recall… your first lesson at the farmhouse, Shann. When you push lodestone, it… pushes back. And if you strike it with a… sufficiently powerful force…”
“Like a detonation in the cannon’s firing chamber,” McCann mused. “Negative matter—lodestone—possesses negative inertia. Instead of being propelled forward, the shot would be rammed back into the breech. The cannon would effectively become a bomb. Ingenious.”
“The… the slag.”
Shann brushed the hair from his face and forced a smile. “It’s all right. I figured it out. The keep is set to fall. The Keltar’s power will be broken once and for all.”
“We must leave,” Keris urged.
“Aune… ”
“What about her?” Shann soothed.
“Stairs… to the roof… one floor up… ”
Shann’s eyes widened. “She’s here?”
“Tell her… ” His breath rattled, fled, and was no more.
“Lyall.” The girl held him close, as if trying to impart her life to him.
“He’s gone,” Keris said. Her words sounded like a knife dropped on stone. She moved a hand towards Shann’s shoulder, then withdrew it. She had nothing to offer, no way to assuage the girl’s agony. She did the only thing she could.
“Wait here. I will find Aune.”
She turned her back on inconsolable grief and headed for the stairs.
~
She located Aune on the next level in a private suite behind a locked door, a bird in a gilded cage. Following the faint but unmistakeable sound of weeping, she smashed her way in. A fair-haired girl in a blue dress screamed and ran for cover.
“I’m here to get you out. Follow me. Quickly.”
Aune emerged from behind a dresser. With her crystal-clear eyes and delicate chin, she looked as if she would break if someone handled her too roughly. Yet here she was, a prisoner of eleven years, ever since the revolt at Persillan—the revolt that had been led by her brother Lyall. Maybe she was tougher than she looked.
Walls shivered. Furniture shook. Things clattered to the floor. It had begun.
Keris beckoned impatiently. “Come on. We don’t have much time.”
The girl swallowed and followed.
Keris led the way out into the hall and back down the stairs. The ancient stone shook a little harder and grumbled a little louder. Pausing to regain her balance, she stepped back into the audience chamber. She pulled up short. Shann and McCann stood still with their backs to her. Facing them was a black-cloaked figure—dark-olive skin stretched taut over razor-sharp bones, piercing eyes beneath an ancient scar, straight white hair flowing over his shoulders. Glaisne.
The blood in her veins turned to ice. She stepped forward.
“Lyall?” Aune rushed over to her brother’s prostrate body and fell forward onto her knees.
Keris fixed her gaze on the Keltar. “Shann, I want you to take Aune and McCann and get to the gate as quickly as possible.” The girl opened her mouth. Keris answered her unspoken question. “Don’t worry. Glaisne here will not attempt to stop you. He is only interested in me.”
A threnody was written over Shann’s face, etched in grime and tears. She had lost the nearest thing to a father she had ever known, yet her voice was steady, held together by a single thread of courage. “We can’t just leave you here.”
Keris kept her voice glacial. “I will be fine. Go now. Quickly.”
Shann approached, placing one hand on the other woman’s arm, while discreetly palming something with the other. Keris felt a cool metallic smoothness. The last lodestone grenade. She slipped it into the pouch at her belt.
Shann kept her expression carefully neutral. “Farewell.”
She and McCann crossed to where Aune still wept softly over her brother’s prostrate form. They lifted her gently to her feet. The fair-haired woman teetered on the brink of collapse. McCann swept her into his arms as if she were a sack of feathers and hurried towards the blasted doors, Shann following in his train. At the doorway, she hesitated, casting a lingering look over her shoulder. Keris broke eye contact with the Keltar. Go on. The girl nodded gravely and was gone.
Keris felt calm—centred. The eye of the storm. She turned her attention back to Glaisne. “The Prophet is dead by his own hand. The keep is about to fall. This conflict is pointless.”
“Keris,” Glaisne shook his head. “You trained as Keltar. Worked as Keltar. It was even whispered that in time you would become part of the keep’s Ruling Council. Yet in all that time, you never grasped what it means to be Keltar.”
“‘The Keltar watch over and preserve the people’,” she quoted from the initiation ritual.
“You are an idealist, Keris. That is your undoing. The Keltar must maintain order. The Prophet granted us the ability to do that in a way we never could before, through the power of lodestone.”
“He would have used that power to destroy us all.”
“That’s absurd. A ruler does not destroy his subjects. Only those who oppose him.”
“Wang was interested in rulership only as a means to an end. He wanted the lodestone to help his people travel to other worlds.”
Glaisne’s laugh sounded hollow in the midst of the great hall. “What fanciful nonsense is this? Kelanni lies beneath the three suns, Ail-Gan, Ail-Kar, and Ail-Mazzoth. There is no world other than ours.”
“There is,” Keris maintained. “I have crossed the Great Barrier of Storms and seen the darkness that lies above the clouds and the worlds therein.”
“Lies,” Glaisne spat. “Heresy. I will not allow you to leave this place and spread your false tales. You ran from me at Lind, but here in the confines of the keep, there is no winged beast to come to your rescue. Prepare to accept the judgment of the Keltar!”
His bony hands gripped his staff and he advanced on her. Keris gave ground as she tried to plan her next move.
She had the advantage of greater youth, as well as the enhanced red cloak. That would probably give her the edge in speed, height, and power, but would it be enough to combat a Keltar as experienced as Glaisne?
She blipped her neck control and tried to map out the configuration of lodestone in the chamber. The picture was confused, the floor strewn with broken furnishings and scattered artefacts of transformed lodestone, some of which still floated in the air.
She flexed her legs, extended lower lodestone, and pushed against an upturned table to her left, tweaking her boost control experimentally. As she rose into the air, Glaisne shot up to meet her, diamond-bladed staff pointed straight at her like an accusation. She brought her own staff to bear, knocking aside his opening thrust. He offered no resistance, but shifted his grip so that the other end of his staff whipped around, aiming straight for her throat. It was as if he had anticipated her defence and used it against her.
She raised her staff in front of her face. The diamond blade impacted, gouging a notch in the darkwood. If he breaks my staff I’m as good as dead.
She twisted in the air and pushed off a floating lump of masonry that responded by promptly crashing to the floor. As she backed off, Glaisne flared his ebony cloak once more, pursuing her, ploughing into her with a flurry of blows.
The clash of darkwood rang like hollow applause in the immensity of the great hall. His teeth gritted and his muscles knotted as he battered her towards the rubble-strewn floor. He was incredibly strong—her arms ached from the sheer effort of fending him off. Strength isn’t everything, an unconvincing voice in her head reminded her.
Her boots struck stone and she stumbled backwards, tripping over a broken pole and landing on her back. Glaisne swept down, cloak billowing out behind him, eyes aflame.
Desperately, she scrabbled for her pouch, grabbing the lodestone grenade and twisting the two hemispheres against one another. A thin whine grew rapidly in pitch and volume. She tossed it at the descending Keltar, shielding her eyes. The space in front of him erupted in blinding light and sound. Blown backwards, he crashed to the floor, losing his grip on his staff, which clattered away.
The floor trembled again and more objects toppled and crashed. The grenade had set a fallen tapestry alight, and the flames licked at it greedily. The keep was entering its death throes. Truth and falsehood. Honour and treachery. Right and wrong. Soon, none of it would matter. Soon, victor and vanquished would lie entombed together beneath a mountain of broken stone. This battle was all that either of them had left.
Lithely, she sprang to her feet, looking to press her advantage by cutting him off from his staff, but he ignored it, reaching into his pouch instead. She flexed her neck control, readying herself to leap away, but the item he extracted was not a grenade. It was something else entirely.
He held it in the flat of his hand as if presenting it to her as a puzzle to solve. It was an open box with four sides, each a flattened white disc. Within the box were a variety of multicoloured parts. Her natural instinct was to rush forward and smash it from his hand, but curiosity got the better of her and she stared in wonder.
Something strange was happening. At first, she thought her eyes were playing tricks. The box appeared to shimmer. Then she saw that it was not the box itself, but the space in front of it that was warping— changing into something else. Too late she realised what the sides of the box were. The four components of Annata’s device.
The rippling effect shot across the chamber towards her. She tried to turn away, but a pressure wave from the newly converted lodestone gas sought out the lodestone layers concealed in her cloak.
She was flung backwards, the sudden force wrenching her shoulders. Instinctively, she flared lower lodestone and hit her boost control, using the refined lodestone in the wrecked cannon behind her as a brake. She was only partially successful and smashed into a fractured stone pillar. She heard a sickening snap and felt a searing flash of pain and knew that her arm was broken.
The game had suddenly shifted. The stakes were now far higher than the mere settling of a personal score between two old combatants. Somehow, Glaisne had come to possess the reconstructed device. Did he have a personal agenda of his own? Did he have another way off the flying keep? She knew only one thing for certain—she could not risk him escaping with that kind of power.
He leaped towards her, landing on top of the pillar. The capital turned from grey to pitch-black as he transformed it into lodestone, deepening the crack. He wrapped his arms around it and hauled with gritted teeth. The stone creaked, then split, pulling away from him, with what McCann called ‘negative inertia’. As he jumped clear, the lodestone block toppled and fell towards her.
She ducked to a roll just in time to avoid being crushed. A jolt of agony shot through her arm and she was showered with shards of masonry. I have to get that device away from him.
Rising painfully, she turned the boost control on full, flared lower lodestone, and pushed off the transformed capital. She streaked towards the vaulted ceiling. She needed space to move. Time to think.
Dialling back boost and then extending upper lodestone and bronze together, she slowed her trajectory. The devastated hall shuddered and creaked once more. The fire was taking hold, consuming cloth, wood, and stone. Glaisne had reclaimed his staff and stood with his back to the flames, calmly watching her.
She hung suspended in the air, broken arm crooked uselessly against her chest. She could not hope to combat him with the staff one-handed. As she cast about desperately for a solution, a wild idea came to her—a technique she had learned from Shann during their brief clash at the hu-man weapon facility on Helice. If she could just use it to throw him off…
“Come on,” she challenged him. “Let’s finish this.”
There was enormous satisfaction in his voice. “As you wish, Keris.”
He bent his knees and made a high arcing jump. She held her staff out before her one-handed, in a feeble defensive posture. Come get me. I’m here for the taking.
He rushed up to meet her, staff gripped firmly, elbows bent, ready to strike. At the final instant, she withdrew upper lodestone, extended lower lodestone, and hit boost. She felt an instant pressure on her shoulder harness as she was propelled towards the ceiling.
His staff sliced at nothing and he overbalanced, twisting in the air. She angled towards him, pushing off the lodestone in his cloak. She heard the breath being knocked out of his lungs as if he had been punched by a giant fist. She hurtled upward once again, banging her head against a ceiling buttress. The stars in her head faded in time for her to see Glaisne make a crumpled landing on the audience hall floor.
Suddenly, she too began to drop, as if a rope holding her had been cut. She fiddled with the boost control but it was dead. Rael had warned them that that particular feature of the red cloak’s design possessed a limited life. Hers had just run out—and with it, her only real advantage.
Her heart sank with her to the floor. Glaisne was lying motionless, a black heap against the gathering fire. The keep lurched beneath her as she stumbled forward. He stirred, pushing himself up slowly. His eyes burned with anger and there was a deep gash in his forehead. She froze as she saw the box in his palm.
His voice was different. Grainier and with a dangerous edge.
“You’re finished.”
The air quivered in front of the device and then rippled towards her. This time she was ready. Diving forward, she threw herself flat to the floor. The wave passed over her and a crushing weight pinned her to the unyielding stone. Then it was gone. She sprang to her feet and rushed him, swinging her staff with her good arm. It struck the device, sending it tumbling through the air and into the fire.
Glaisne let forth a bestial roar and lunged after it, only to be driven back by searing heat. In the heart of the conflagration, the four components melted, fused together, and blackened. He made to stand. It was then that she noticed for the first time that his leg was at an odd angle.
“You will not leave this place alive,” he bellowed.
He began hobbling rapidly towards the stairs leading to the roof. She watched his retreating back. It was over. She had neither the will nor the strength to pursue him.
She turned and headed out through the ruined doors. Behind her, the unchecked flames burned higher, purging the last vestiges of tyranny.
~
The bare walls echoed to the sound of her boots as Keris dashed down deserted stairways and along empty passages. The keep shivered at its impending destruction, but she forged on, finally bursting out into the open air. The former mustering yard was deserted and the iron gates creaked open on their hinges. Beyond them lay nothing but yawning empty sky, streaked cinder-red and smoke-black.
Behind her, she heard a terrible rending of the ancient stone. The ground canted beneath her, forcing her to her knees. She got up and staggered to the precipice.
A sudden wind ruffled the fringes of her flying cloak, whipping loose strands of hair across her face. She combed them back with slender fingers and thought of her companions. Of Shann, the girl who hated her at first but had come to trust her like her own right arm. Of Alondo, who loved to torment her with his humour. Of Rael, the boy-genius from beyond the Great Barrier. Of Patris, the sailor-thief who infuriated and impressed her by turns. Of Lyall, who had kept them all together and then given his life to save Kelanni. Of McCann, the human engineer who had discovered a conscience. Of Susan Gilmer, who had sacrificed her life for a people not her own.
And she thought of her family. Of her mother and father, who had tried to give her the life that they could not. Of her brothers and sister, and other siblings that she would never see. She hoped that they would understand what she had tried to do.
The ground tipped forward and the sky shifted. The stone walls began to crack. The keep was falling.
A shrill cry from above. She glanced up and saw a familiar shape framed against the sky. Boxx. Her heartbeat quickened as the Chandara descended, swooping past her with great white wings.
Calmly, she took a step back, ran forward, and vaulted off the edge and into nothingness.
A gale buffeted her, billowing her crimson cloak and blowing her long dark tresses behind her like a banner. She plummeted, arm in arm with fear and exhilaration. Suddenly, Boxx rose up to meet her. She landed on the Chandara’s back and was plucked out of the sky.
Keris clung to the downy white neck as the great wings powered away, lifting them both high above the destruction. She gazed at the massive keep as its crown of towers was ripped away, its robes of dark grey stone were torn asunder, and it toppled from its throne in the clouds and fell towards the heart of Chalimar, disappearing finally in a storm of sepulchral dust.
They flew out over the city. Soon word would spread. From city to town. From village to croft. From the labourer toiling in the fields of Dagmar to the smith hammering at his forge in Lind. From the moba vendor on the streets of Sakima to the merchantman dropping anchor in Kalath-Kar. Across the Great Barrier of Storms, to Kieroth and Vandral and Lechem, and the lodestone hunters, scouring the far-off peaks of the Vannath Mountains.
The word that Kelanni was free at last.
Far out on the fringes of the western sky, Ail-Gan, the yellow sun, erupted in the blinding light of a brand new dawn.
<><><><><>
Epilogue
Keris brushed her fingertips against the tiny streak of grey at her temple.
What are you?
Shann had hurled the question at her retreating back on the deck of Annata’s Reach as they sailed for the Great Barrier of Storms and the unknown dangers that lay beyond. The face that stared back at her from the polished silver mirror still had no answer.
It was barely five turns since the keep at Chalimar had come crashing down and the power of the Unan-Chinneroth had been broken; yet already, history was aging into legend. People spoke of the ‘Six Heroes’—Keris, Shann, Alondo, Rael, Patris, and Lyall. The role of the hu-mans Alexander McCann and Susan Gilmer, as well as that of the Chandara, Boxx, had been quietly expunged. It seemed that Kelanni could not come to terms with the fact that they might owe their deliverance to those of another race.
She recalled the look of irritation on Shann’s face. The girl had vowed that one day she would sit down and write a chronicle of their adventures. Set the record straight. Keris had not attempted to dissuade her, but she could not help but wonder whether anyone would want to read it. Most people preferred the comfort of a lie to the cold hardness of truth.
The first few days following the Liberation were marked by idealism and hope. The hu-mans were gone—the last of them having seemingly perished when the keep fell. There were persistent stories that a group of Keltar had survived the destruction and were laying low with the intention of seizing power once again, but as time passed and nothing transpired, the rumours gradually died.
In an official ceremony of the new joint Ruling Council of Kelanni-Drann and Kelanni-Skell, the Chandara had been granted unfettered possession, in perpetuity, of Illaryon and Atarah and the land known as the Warren, to be conferred on their descendants… and so on and so forth. And the Chandara, who knew nothing of rights or land or possessions, had sat patiently, like sages listening to the ramblings of young children, before finally returning to their forests to plant and tend their trees and sit amid the branches, singing madrigals and remembering the lives of long ago.
So it was that the two races who had come together for the salvation of their world now drifted apart once more. Every now and then Keris thought of journeying to Illaryon, to pay her respects and inquire after Boxx. To sit with her in the glade of white flowers and discuss the meaning of all that they had seen and experienced together. Yet each time the thought had faded and the seasons continued to turn. This summer it will be different, she told herself. This summer, I will make the time.
Keris had been greeted initially with awe and adulation and quickly found that she hated both. She was offered appointments on various committees set up to explore the finer points of rebuilding, water reclamation, sewage systems, and the like. Rejecting them all out of hand, she awoke early one morning, mounted a graylesh, and headed off into the open countryside.
Fresh air filled her nostrils and banished the fog from her thoughts. Soon, the land started to rise and she saw that she was entering the foothills of the Tragar Mountains. As evening fell, she encountered a mining camp and decided to spend the night. There she learned of a cabin, far back in the hills, that had been left empty for the season. Coins were exchanged, and the following afternoon, she arrived and set up home.
The terrain was rugged and game was scarce. Her days were reduced to the essentials of survival—gathering scraps of wood, fetching water from a tiny brook that gurgled from bare rock, stalking prey for food. It was paradise.
Paradise lasted exactly six days.
Early on the morning of the seventh day, she awoke to a cavalcade on her doorstep. How they had found her, she never discovered. Banners fluttered in the wind, proudly bearing Lyall’s symbol of the two linked hemispheres, symbolizing the uniting of their world. Forty soldiers and dignitaries riding on graylesh, sent to track down a lone hermit hiding out in the hills. She blinked at them in bleary-eyed disbelief.
They begged, pleaded, and cajoled her to return. She steadfastly refused. At one point, she was tempted to fetch her cloak and staff and expel them by force, but common sense told her that one against forty did not make for promising odds, even for her. Besides, it soon became clear that they were not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. And even if by some miracle she succeeded in driving them off, what was she going to do when the next forty turned up, as they surely would?
With a heavy heart, she finally acquiesced. Everything would be fine, a portly, bald, permanently out-of-breath man in fine robes assured her. They had a position for her—one ideally suited to her unique talents. So it was that Keris became head of a new body responsible for the maintenance of world order.
It turned out that it was little more than a symbolic position. The nine deputies who served under her were supremely efficient, leaving her with little to do other than stand around and look important. At one point she had feared that they might raise a statue to her. Now she realised with a sickening dread that she had become that statue.
She turned away from the anguished face in the mirror. Today was an important day. And she had duties to perform…
A short while later her graylesh pulled up at a neat and well-appointed homestead to the northeast of Corte. She patted the animal on its striped flank and dismounted. Two boys were playing in the yard.
“I want to be the Heroine this time.”
“Only if I can have the staff.”
“That’s not fair… ”
Embroiled in their argument, they ignored her as she climbed the porch and entered the house.
Without warning, a tiny figure rushed her, clamping onto her legs. The Heroine of Gort stood immobilized, powerless in the grip of a little girl.
Oliah appeared, bent down, and swept the girl up into her arms. “Shann, you mustn’t do that.” She looked up at Keris. “I’m terribly sorry. She does it to everyone. It seems to be a phase she’s going through. Shann, this is your aunt Keris. She is a heroine to our people. You must show her respect.” The infant buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Oliah repeated. “Alondo will be down soon. Can I offer you some refreshment? I have some freshly squeezed moba juice.”
“Thank you, no,” she responded, regaining her composure.
Moments later Alondo descended the stairs, sporting his signature red cap. Lyall’s death had hit him hard in the days following the keep’s fall. Rumour had it that he did not pick up his instrument for a whole turn. He and Shann had held each other and cried together for long periods. Eventually, time, love, and a new family did much to heal the wound.
“Keris. It’s good to see you. Patris sends his regards. I Ringed him just this morning. He sends his apologies for not being here, but he simply could not get away. I guess the office of Guildmaster is a pretty demanding one. Sakara seems to be thriving—in fact, his people have offered to help out in the rebuilding work in some of the other cities. He said if there is anything Chalimar needs, he can steal it for you, for a fair price. He also said to remind you that you still owe him a great deal of money, but he was only joking about that… ” His smile evaporated. “At least, I think he was joking.” He beamed once more. “You’re going to the launching, right?”
Keris gave her well-rehearsed reply. “As head of the Security Division, it is my duty to attend in order to monitor proceedings and oversee crowd control.”
Alondo’s eyes twinkled. “Of course. Well, we will be leaving in just a moment. You are welcome to ride along with us.”
“I would be happy to provide you with an escort,” she replied.
She watched as Alondo and Oliah gathered up the children and set them in the wagon. Oliah took the reins while Alondo sat against the backboard, and strummed an intro. The family set off, singing a jaunty travelling song as the wagon swayed in rhythm.
They arrived at the launch site close to midday. The snub-nosed Diametric Drive, now freed of its cocoon of girders, squatted on an undulating plain just south of Persillan. The encircling crowd parted and Rael met them, all smiles. The boy had filled out in a pleasing way.
She had not seen him in a while. As Hannath’s successor and head of the combined-world project, he moved in very different circles to her.
He led them to a low, single-storey building inside the perimeter. In a white, featureless room, the small figure of Shann sat, covered in reflective silver and surrounded by an army of fussy attendants in light blue overalls.
As they entered, Shann’s eyes misted and she threw her arms around each of them in turn, lifting and kissing the children, while Rael stood patiently by the door.
Alondo voiced the question on everyone’s mind. “So, when are you and Rael going to get together, then?”
It was Rael who answered. “I made her a promise that I would help her reach the stars first.”
“He’s got a long way to go,” Shann teased. “This trip is no more than three orbits of our world.” There was a ripple of sympathetic laughter.
The first Kelanni to enter the space above the clouds. When the new Diametric Drive project had been conceived, Shann had made clear her fervent wish to pilot the craft. No one was about to veto the ‘fervent wish’ of one of the ‘six heroes’. However, the look in Rael’s eyes betrayed his secret hope that she might yet choose to stay by his side, rooted to the ground.
For the first time since she had met the boy from beyond the Great Barrier, she felt sorry for him.
Greetings and farewells concluded, they parted, allowing the fussy blue army to reclaim Shann and lead her out to where the great, cold ship waited to bear her to the great, cold stars.
~
Later that night, Keris sat alone in her darkened office. Outside her window, fireworks clattered and wailed and burst into flowers of blue and yellow and pink—yet another innovation, courtesy of the scientists of Kelanni-Skell. The people of Kelanni-Drann had embraced the new science as fervently as one might embrace a new religion. Yet in spite of all its wonders, Keris sometimes found herself wishing for the uncomplicated, trusting faith of simpler times.
She felt old. Old and tired.
There was a movement at her back, and a darker shadow filled the open doorway. “Yes, Alber. What is it?”
The youngest of her nine lieutenants stepped into the office as if he were treading on holy ground. “Sincere apologies, my Lady. I was not certain I would find you here at this late hour. A matter of some importance… ” He trailed off, as if frightened by his own audacity.
“Go on,” she encouraged, in a gentler tone.
“It concerns the hu-man, McCann. We received a report from Dannel, the agent assigned to keep watch over him. Seven days ago he left his cabin and headed to the ruined city of the ancients at Gal-Mador.”
Left alone on their world, McCann had chosen to take up residence in the wilds of Kelanni-Skell. He said it was because it reminded him of somewhere called Scotland. As far as she was concerned, the decision to spy on him seemed at best a waste of time and at worst a manifestation of paranoia. However, she had held her tongue on the assumption that the Ruling Council would eventually see the futility of the assignment.
“The Council has determined that McCann has the right to live anywhere on our world and to travel wherever he wishes.”
“Indeed, my Lady. Quite so. However, Dannel reports that while there, he made a discovery—a cache of ancient spheres, similar to the ones found by my Lady at Kynedyr.”
Actually, it was Patris who made that particular find. She refrained from correcting him. “What were they?”
“The experts in Kieroth are still translating the ancient. However, it seems to be a complete history of the Kelanni prior to the Goratha— the dark time. It is said to be the greatest archaeological discovery ever.”
Although Annata had granted her a vision of the thriving city of Kynedyr as it appeared prior to the disaster, almost nothing was known of the people of that time.
“Why does this concern the Security Division?” she asked.
“Dannel reports that after playing the recordings at the central archive, the hu-man left, abandoning them. When Dannel inspected the box, she found that there were sixteen receptacles. Only… ”
“Only what?” she pressed him.
“Only, one of them—the earliest of the recordings—was missing. Dannel believes that the hu-man took it.”
It was a serious charge. Her investigator training kicked in. “Did Dannel see McCann take the sphere?”
“No, Lady Keris. However, he could easily have concealed it about his person. Dannel lost him amid the ruins and he has not been seen since; nor has he returned to his cabin.”
For thirty turns and more, hu-mans had oppressed the Kelanni. It was perhaps only natural that people would continue blame them for every morsel of misfortune—every crumb of calamity. Like putting on a favourite shirt or a comfortable pair of old, worn-out shoes.
She steepled her fingers. “The sphere may simply have been missing when McCann first found the cache. Besides, what possible motive could the hu-man have for stealing one of our ancient artefacts?”
“Dannel has a theory. She believes that the sphere may have revealed that hu-mans were meddling in our affairs in the distant past— that they may even have been responsible for the Goratha itself. When he discovered its contents, McCann took the sphere and ran, fearing what the Council might do to him when they learned the truth.”
It was a garment, threadbare and full of holes—yet compelling enough to anyone who still nursed memories of oppression and would welcome an opportunity to exact revenge against the hu-man. Any hu-man.
McCann sacrificed everything and stranded himself alone on our world. He should have the opportunity to defend himself. Honour demanded no less. Fortunately, being head of the Security Division afforded her a certain degree of freedom.
“I am familiar with hu-mans and their ways. I will take personal charge of this investigation.”
Alber’s eyes widened in the flickering illumination from the window. “My Lady… ?”
“I will travel to Kelanni-Skell using Dagmar Tower.”
“I will arrange for an escort to accompany you.”
“No,” she said. “I will travel alone. You will Ring Dannel and tell her that she may continue with her enquiries, but she is to take no action until I arrive.”
“Yes, but—”
“Brant is to be in charge of the Division until I return. Neither you nor he are to reveal where I am or what I am doing. As far as anyone else is concerned, I am… I am visiting the Chandara in the Forest of Illaryon.”
“The Council—”
“Under no circumstances is the Council to be informed of my whereabouts. Is that clear?”
Alber shifted his feet unhappily. “Yes, Lady Keris.”
She stood up from her desk. “Do not concern yourself. I will be quite safe. I will return as soon as I can.”
She swept out of her office and set out in search of the last hu-man remaining on Kelanni.
— End of Book Three—
**********************
Table of Contents
Book One:The Sea of Storms
List of chapters
Book Two:The World of Ice and Stars
Book Three:The Crucible of Dawn
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46