“How does that benefit us?” Ekatya asked. “There must be a way we can use it.”
As if it had simply been waiting for the right question, Tal’s mind snapped into focus. She saw their tactical situation unfold like a map, revealing a few poor options and one clear path.
“We already have,” she said. “Thanks to Lhyn, we know who’s in charge of that ship. We know how to get to him.”
“Except we’re here,” Ekatya noted.
“Yes, and you’re there.” She indicated the command chair in its sphere of coruscating light. “We have a physical presence to work with. The political liaison wouldn’t take your call before. He’ll take it if you say you want to discuss terms of surrender.”
“Um. Whose surrender?” Lhyn asked.
“Ours. For now. We only need to stall them long enough for you to find Salomen.”
Lhyn’s eyes rounded. “Me?”
“All of our disparate abilities, remember? Ekatya and I are the warriors. We’ll deal with this side. Wherever Salomen is, it’s not a warrior she needs now. She needs a tyree.”
“You’re her tyree.”
“So are you.”
“Not like you! You’re her divine tyree. What can I do that you can’t?”
“Make her your sole responsibility!” Tal exploded. “Do you think I want to send you in my place?” She held up a hand in silent apology and forced a calmer tone. “You were right. Part of her thinks she died with that captain. Even fully trained healers won’t let themselves be caught in a dying mind, and Salomen was deeper than any healer has ever gone. Her instincts took her somewhere safe. Somewhere she could recover from the shock. I don’t know where that is any more than you do. We have the same chance of finding her, but you have the time.”
Lhyn stared at her, frightened and doubtful, but Ekatya understood.
“Andira would give her left arm to be the one to bring her back, but she’s responsible for everyone on that planet.” She pointed to Alsea, which had flipped over their heads and was now on the starboard side. “I’m responsible for everyone up here. You’re the only one free to be what Salomen needs.”
“You know her heart,” Tal added. “Let that lead you to her.”
“You have got to be joking. I don’t even know—”
“Share with her.”
“I am Sharing with her!”
“On the physical plane, yes. Now do it on this one.”
“I—oh, fucking stars. Really? But we’re not—”
“It’s time,” Ekatya said. “I’m sorry I made everyone wait. But if Fahla exists, she’s beating me over the head right now with all of these clues. Go get Salomen.”
Tal nodded. “Go get her.”
Lhyn looked between them and swallowed hard. “Okay. I’ll do my best.” With tentative movements, she slipped one hand beneath Salomen’s neck and stroked the other down her jaw. “Is this—?”
“You’re in the right position,” Tal assured her.
“Good.” Still she hesitated, anxiety filling the air before a surge of determination forced it aside. “Here goes nothing,” she mumbled, and leaned down to touch their foreheads together.
Tal watched and waited, still clinging to Salomen’s hand. There was no time; she had to trust Lhyn and let go. Yet even on this spiritual plane, her fingers would not obey.
Lhyn gasped, the inhale as large as if she had been holding her breath. In the same moment, her emotional signature winked out.
“Great Mother!”
“What?” Ekatya demanded.
“I know where they are.” Had she realized Salomen was there, she wouldn’t have sent Lhyn. A sonsales Gaian should not have been able to find that path.
But Lhyn had followed a tyree bond.
“They? Lhyn found her?”
“Yes.” Awash in sudden gratitude, she kissed the back of Salomen’s hand and laid it on the deck. Her bondmate was not alone.
“Can she bring her back?”
“If Salomen is willing.”
“Then it’s done,” Ekatya said decisively. “She won’t say no to Lhyn.”
Alsea whirled around the bridge displays again. Flares of light streaked beneath them, a terrifying reminder of the stakes.
“They need to hurry,” Ekatya added as they climbed to their feet. “I don’t know how long I can string out a surrender.”
“I have an idea for that.” Tal inspected the glowing body in the command chair. “How do you feel about impersonating a goddess?”
It was almost comical, the way Ekatya looked exactly as shocked as Lhyn had a moment ago. She stared at her body, then shook her head in resignation. “I don’t suppose we can bring Lanaril up here?”
“Certainly, if you can convince the Voloth to take a short break from trying to destroy Alsea.”
“Shek! Of all the people—” Ekatya lowered her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’d better give me a light-speed training in how to be Fahla.”
14
Surfacing
When Lhyn found herself in a heavy, liquid darkness, her first instinct was to fight it.
Then she remembered Salomen and Andira telling the story of how they had held Micah in mental stasis after he was shot. The Path of the Return, Andira had called it.
This fluid darkness was exactly what they had described.
She forced herself to relax. Sure enough, her body floated upward. Black turned to gray, gray turned to soft green, and she broke the surface with a gasp. Treading water, she searched for a familiar dark head.
The ocean stretched to the horizon in all directions, and Salomen was nowhere to be seen. But straight ahead was a rocky island that seemed to exist for one purpose: to provide a habitat for the great tree whose branches reached higher than any mountain she could think of.
It was physically impossible. A tree this tall would crack and shatter under its own weight.
“It’s not real,” she said aloud. Craning her head back, she tried and failed to find the topmost branches. “But my stars and asteroids, what a magnificent sight.”
The tree’s massive roots had broken the cliffs into large boulders. One root, thicker than she was tall, grew right into the water just ahead of her. She swam for it and climbed onto the rough wood.
No water dripped from her clothing. She held up her hands and turned them over.
Dry as a bone.
“Metaphorical,” she reminded herself.
The width of the root made walking easy. She followed it up, down, and up again until it rounded a boulder and joined the great trunk.
There, at the juncture of root and trunk, was Salomen.
She had looked like a queen on the flagship bridge, standing straight-backed beside the captain with a fierce expression as she bent his will to hers. Now she sat against the trunk with her back bowed, legs drawn up, and forehead resting on her crossed arms. Though she must have heard Lhyn’s footsteps on the bark, she gave no sign. Nor did she stir when Lhyn settled beside her.
“I’m sorry you’re here,” she said in a muffled voice. “So sorry.”
“I’m not. This is hands down the biggest intellectual ride I’ll ever take.”
Salomen rolled her head to look at her sideways. “Lhyn, you’re dead.”
“No, I’m not. Neither are you.”
“Then why do I not sense you?”
“Because we’re in some sort of pocket reality? I mean, this is a Sharing within a Sharing. There has to be a point where the biological connections don’t apply.”
Abruptly straightening, Salomen flung out an arm to point at the water. “I’ve been here before. With Corozen. But there was nothing above the surface then, because he hadn’t fully Returned. The moment I saw my Sharing tree, I knew it was over.”
“This is the tree you see when we’re Sharing?” Lhyn rubbed the bark beneath her hand. “Wow. I’m envious. You’re so much more literal than I am.” Her hand stilled. “Wait, this is your Sharing tree. I’m seeing thr
ough your eyes. The link is working even in here, but without the empathic aspect.”
“There is no link!” Salomen cried. “I couldn’t manage it. I couldn’t hold him without forcing him too far. I’m dead and now you’re dead and oh, Fahla . . .” Her head fell back against the trunk as she closed her eyes. “Please tell me it’s just you and me. Tell me I didn’t fail my whole world.”
“It’s just you and me because I’m the one who came after you. Ekatya and Andira are still out there fighting because they’re the tactical brains. But they need you. You have to come back. You’re not dead, Salomen! You only think you are.”
She might have been speaking in Terrahan for all the indication Salomen gave of hearing. This was not her brave tyree, standing tall against a threat. This was a broken woman convinced of her failure.
Her stomach twisted with recognition. She had felt this way once, alone in a windowless room, in pain and utterly bereft of hope. Ekatya’s appearance had saved her sanity. At the time, what she had needed most was assurance that she would not die alone.
But this was almost the reverse, wasn’t it? In a way, Salomen was dead. This wasn’t a windowless room she could be rescued from. It was the Path of the Return. She had been flung here by a terrible blow, too deeply linked with a soul when it died, and Lhyn’s appearance had made it worse, not better.
With a stifled groan, Lhyn recognized the logic trap. The choice to go back could not be made unless Salomen believed that choice existed. Yet she had taken Lhyn’s presence as proof that it did not.
Sometimes, irony was truly unpleasant.
“This is the afterlife, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes,” Salomen responded dully. “Or at least, the doorway to it. I thought I’d meet Fahla here, but—” She fell silent.
“But what?”
The answer came in a whisper. “If I failed Alsea, then she’s—” She swallowed. “Busy. And I’m probably the last person she’ll come for.”
Lhyn thought her heart might crack right down the middle. But sympathy was not what Salomen needed now.
“If I’m dead, why would I be here? I’m not Alsean.”
Salomen’s eyes opened, her expression thoughtful as she stared at the water. “I don’t know. Perhaps our tyree bond makes you Alsean enough?”
Lhyn shook her head. “I might accept that if we’d sealed our bond, but we haven’t.”
The sound that came from Salomen was an awful semblance of a laugh. “Because Ekatya wasn’t ready. Now she never will be.”
“Now she is,” Lhyn corrected. “That was the last thing she said before sending me in here after you. She said Fahla was beating her over the head with clues. You need to come back with me so we can finish this battle and seal our bonds.”
“I wish I could. You have no idea how much I wish that.”
“Salomen, listen to me. Maybe sealing our bond will get me here eventually, but what we have right now is an enhanced communication between specialized parts of our brains. But if I’m dead, so is my brain. I’m not of your species, so I should be in a Gaian afterlife. Right?”
Salomen didn’t answer, but her brows drew together.
“Therefore, if I’m here, I can’t be dead.” Lhyn waited for the clear logic of that to sink in.
“Nobody comes here if they’re not dead.”
“You did. So did Andira. So did your father and Nikin, all to help Micah.”
“We came to the water surface, not to this.” Salomen slapped her hand against the root. “And we’re all Alsean.”
“That was my point!”
“You’re a sonsales Gaian. You cannot do what we did for Corozen.”
“I’m a sonsales Gaian in a tyree bond with an Alsean. Andira said I should follow my knowledge of your heart. I did, and it led me here. Our bond led me here. You’re trying to say that our bond makes me Alsean enough to come here if I’m dead, but not Alsean enough to come here while I’m alive and still linked to my living tyree. You can’t have it both ways.”
Salomen looked away in stubborn refusal.
This time, Lhyn didn’t stifle her groan. She let her head fall back, thunking it against the trunk and hoping it might knock loose a brilliant idea.
Her breath caught. The tree.
This tree was a manifestation of Salomen’s literal mind. She didn’t need a better argument. She needed evidence. Literal, physical evidence.
She put a hand to her neck, terrified that it might not work in here. For one heart-stopping moment, she felt nothing. Then she shifted her fingers and exhaled in relief. The tree might be metaphorical, but her pulse was not.
Bark flew out from under her shoes as she scrambled to her knees. “Give me your hand.”
“What?”
“Give me your hand. I want to show you something.”
Frowning, Salomen held out her hand.
Lhyn folded down the fingers, leaving two extended, and pressed them against her carotid artery. “Feel that? My heart is still beating. I’m no spirit. I’m on the Path of the Return with you because I’m Sharing with you in your mindwalk. Our bond brought me here, Salomen. Not our deaths. Our bond.”
Salomen stared at her with wide eyes, then felt for her own pulse. “Oh,” she whispered. “I have a heartbeat.”
A tiny smile tilted her lips. It was barely enough to bring out the beautiful lines at the sides of her mouth, but Lhyn recognized it. Salomen could not deny the evidence of her own senses.
“Thank the stars for that,” she declared. “Andira is already so panicked she can hardly think straight. I don’t want to imagine the condition she’d be in if you didn’t have a pulse. Or the condition I’d be in.” She rose and extended a hand, then held it up and stared in startled realization. “I touched you! And you touched me!”
“So?”
“So Ekatya and I couldn’t do that before. It’s new to this link.”
Salomen gestured around them. “We’re on the Path of the Return. Andira physically held Corozen here, and I held her. That’s not new.”
“I’m Sharing with you on the Phoenix. Touching your neck and jaw. Andira was holding your hand. It is new.”
She looked up through the branches, allowing herself a moment to absorb the incredible truth: this was the afterlife. She would have given anything to stay ten ticks longer, but Alsea was depending on them.
Fahla had a twisted sense of humor, as Salomen was fond of saying.
“Come on, heart of mine,” she said, offering her hand once more. “As much as I’d love to explore this place and write the greatest paper ever, we have to go.”
Salomen let herself be pulled upright. “But it won’t help. I don’t have any more control now than I did before. Our plan won’t work.”
“It already did. They lost their flagship captain. You stopped the bioforce missiles long enough for our fighters to arrive. Right before I came in here, they caught three missiles the Phoenix missed. You didn’t fail your whole world, Salomen. You saved it and gave us a second chance. Our stubborn warriors are figuring out what to do next.”
She saw the moment when reality hit.
“Oh, Fahla. They’re still fighting!”
“Yes. So how do we get back?”
Salomen raced down the root. “Come on!”
Lhyn gave chase, rounding the boulder in time to see her dive from a frightening height and slice into the water with barely a splash.
“She needs to teach me how to do that,” she grumbled, and leaped off with considerably less flair.
Beneath the surface, Salomen caught her hand. They descended from green to gray to black, and though Lhyn could no longer see, she did not fear.
Like her pulse, Salomen’s grip was no metaphor. It was proof.
15
Unthinkable truth
The Voloth flagship fought on, though not nearly as fluidly as before. It had lost its captain, and while that man had been reprehensible, he was also an excellent tactician. Ekatya considered
his death a serious wound to the ship.
Unfortunately, no tactical ability was required to fire wave after wave of bioforce missiles.
Though concise, Andira’s instructions still took too much time. They lost more time preparing Commander Lokomorra, but could shave no corners there. Once Ekatya went live on the com, she would not be able to speak without her words being shared across the Alsean system, the Voloth Empire, and the Protectorate. She was depending on Lokomorra to take care of everything without further guidance.
When he was ready, she adjusted her open call to Andira’s divine tyree unit to include all bridge communications, translated to High Alsean. She also asked her ship’s computer to mute incoming voice signals from Andira, Lhyn, and Salomen. Her brain had done a remarkable job of filtering the double communication, but she would need unbroken concentration for her upcoming performance.
In the meantime, Andira had updated Lanaril and brought her into the call. Ekatya thanked all the stars that she had come with Lhyn to Blacksun Base.
“It’s enough to make you believe, isn’t it?” Andira asked.
“Shut it,” she grumbled.
“You need not believe in Fahla to be convincing.” Lanaril spoke as calmly as if she were in her temple and not standing with Alsea’s last line of defense. “I’ll do everything I can to help.”
With their preparations complete, they were forced to watch another launch while the political liaison ignored her offer of surrender.
She supposed it shouldn’t be a surprise. He was already breaking every rule of civilized warfare. Refusing surrender was minor compared to murdering a planet.
If Salomen returned from wherever she was, she could jump to the flagship and compel him to accept the call. Once they had him on the com, they could end this. But Salomen remained motionless, and Lhyn hadn’t moved either.
“We can’t keep this up,” she said. “We need to go on the offensive and hurt them enough for a call to get priority.”
“If we go on the offensive, we’ll be leaving planetary defense to the fighters,” Andira said. “This is difficult enough. Making them the sole line of defense is an invitation for disaster. I hate to say it, but we’re better off fighting defensively and giving Lhyn time.”
Alsea Rising: The Seventh Star (Chronicles of Alsea Book 10) Page 8
