by P. R. Adams
Like everyone else, Tarlayn had turned her focus to the drone. She leaned against her staff for support and didn’t react as Riyun approached.
He stopped at her side, boots rasping against the stone. “You ever see one of those?”
The old woman nodded at the drone. “The mechanical birds? Yes.”
“I thought Beraga might use them to spy on this—your—world.”
“Beraga? He is the one who sent you?”
“You could say that. More like he tricked us into coming here.”
“Meriscoya is like that: a trickster and manipulator. A liar.”
Riyun glanced back at the abyss. “Those things…”
“The winged horrors of the abyss.”
“You’ve seen them before?”
“I’ve heard of them. In legend, and in some of the texts that discuss the abyss and its occupants. And the dark…they are said to be birthed by the same power as our magic, and they are driven mad in that birthing.”
“Is that why you didn’t attack them?”
She twisted around to see him more fully, and her features hardened. “I tried.”
“I didn’t see—”
“You didn’t see because trying is not the same as succeeding. In this place, magic is tricky at best.”
More good news. “What about the information you thought you might gain from coming here?”
She shook her head. “I can feel the power rumbling through the depths, and I can feel his dark influence. He has without a doubt learned to harness more than he ever has before. But insight into his plans and machinations? Those are still shielded from my understanding.”
“I thought you said the orb was sending us here?”
“It might have. I also suggested that we travel to Garelan.”
Garelan. The city near Meriscoya’s tower. She was right—she had suggested that. It had been someone else who had suggested that their destiny might be tied to this place. “Is that our next objective?”
“Yes. And I would expect that Meriscoya is now more aware of your presence than before.”
“Because we came down here? We got near his source of power?”
“Exactly.”
It was a risk they had to take. The orb had sent them. Maybe. It had been Naru’s dream, hadn’t it? “Tawod didn’t scream. When the thing pulled him down, he didn’t scream.”
“Are you asking me if I felt something?”
“Was he already dead?” Did Quil shoot him?
“I…couldn’t sense anything. The disconnect from my magic…”
“But his body. Is it down there? Could I retrieve it?”
“That place is rumored to have no true bottom.”
“What does that—?”
Quil waved at Riyun. “You should see this.”
The pseudo seemed caught between excitement and concern. It could be that the drone was back online, but the glow coming from it didn’t seem quite normal. Riyun couldn’t figure what it was about the light emanating from the saucer-shaped machine that seemed so different…
Sapphire!
The glow was the same as the flashing lights he’d seen in the tunnels.
When he came to a stop at the edge of the semicircle formed by Lonar, Hirvok, and Symbra, Riyun could feel the tension rising off of them. That could just as easily come from Tawod’s death as from the inevitable sense of guilt that plagued survivors—especially those who hadn’t been able to do anything to prevent the death. But it was much more likely that they were feeling the same discomfort Riyun was upon seeing the drone more closely.
It was smaller than he remembered, the surface no longer smooth layers that rose up to a small dome at the center on top. The narrow, transparent wings flickered with sapphire light. Unfamiliar markings covered the machine’s skin.
What was most disturbing, though, was the soft hum emanating from the aircraft.
Coming out of the abyss, that hum had sounded similar enough to the usual motor that Riyun hadn’t paid it any attention. Now, with nothing else to distract him, he realized the sound was nothing at all like what he’d thought.
Up close, the sound was clearly a voice. Not a robotic voice like some drones had, but a living voice.
Riyun swallowed. “Quil? That voice…?”
Quil stepped back from the drone. “It speaks an unfamiliar language.”
“Not the artificial language? Not something we could run through one of the tablets for translation?”
“We have tried. It is like nothing recorded. Perhaps the wizard could give it a listen.”
“I’ll ask—”
The glow around the drone brightened, and the voice went silent. Then it spoke loud and clear. “The wizard is not necessary. You are understood. I have been away for millennia. Time was required to process your words and their meaning.”
Lonar whistled. “I think it’s alive.”
It sure sounded alive to Riyun. “Who…are you?”
The sapphire glow cycled—dim, bright, dim. “You may call me Alush.”
Alush? It sounded familiar. Did the name have meaning? Riyun turned to Tarlayn. “Um, maybe you could join us?”
After a moment of apparent disbelief, the old woman shuffled forward. “Did I hear it right? Did it say its name was Alush?”
“Yeah. Does that have some meaning?”
She squinted as she leaned closer to the drone. “The first prophet.” Her voice barely rose above the hum coming from the drone.
Riyun was long past tired of prophets and destiny and other inexplicable things. He was sure he’d heard the name before. “Is that like a god or a wizard or something else?”
“Something else. Alush was the one who drew the orb from the abyss.”
Lonar snarled. “That thing that blasted me?”
Riyun held a hand up to calm the big man. “It got your wetware running again. Tarlayn, you’re saying this Alush was a person? That he lived among your people?”
Before she could answer, the drone rose into the air. “I am Alush. The wizard speaks of me. It was I who traveled into the depths of the abyss in search of understanding. It was I who took from the darkness a light that could shine upon the future. My disciple Aheya became one with the light. And now, it is I who speaks to you to share what that light reveals.”
Tarlayn licked her lips. “It sounds like him.”
Quil cocked his head. “You saw the future. You saw our arrival. You saw the rise of Meriscoya.”
“All of these things I have seen.” The drone rose a little higher into the air. “This rogue wizard will be brought low by your hands. Your destiny is written. I will be the one to show you the path.”
Those words seemed to hit Tarlayn particularly hard. She apparently hadn’t seen this moment, and it somehow diminished her. Riyun could only imagine what she was feeling. Had this prophet usurped her position, or had it fundamentally altered her understanding of the prophecy?
Maybe all she needed was some sort of reassurance. He couldn’t see any harm in that. “Does that path take us to Garelan?”
The drone descended slightly. “The grand city of the Plains of Votathka. The seat of power of the White Rose. The home of the great Lyceum. Your path takes you to Garelan.”
Riyun leaned in to whisper to Quil. “Do these prophets always have to be so…?”
The pseudo frowned. “Verbose? It depends upon the creator and the genre.”
“For this genre, this is normal?”
“More than in others. This sort of fantasy is overrun with drawn-out exposition and a staggering focus on minutia. Some characters in these fictions might serve no other purpose than to provide enormous information dumps.”
“Information—?”
“Lengthy descriptions usually accompanying history and—” Quil nodded toward the drone. “Prophecy.”
Tarlayn scowled at the two of them. “This is not some game for your entertainment. You came in search of someone, and now you seek a way home. Alush i
s the first prophet, and he has returned from the abyss to bless you with his wisdom. It would be wise to listen.”
She was right, of course. They had come to the abyss in search of a possible lead, and now they had in their midst some inexplicable manifestation of a figure of great importance. It was crazy, but what could better validate someone’s belief that they were real than to have someone from their imaginary pantheon arrive to guide them? Wasn’t that what religious people always fell back on: some sort of divine intervention?
Riyun caught a look from Naru: She wanted to talk to him away from the others. “Hirvok, get everyone ready. I think we’re done here.”
The sergeant snorted. “No retrieving the kid’s body, that’s for sure.”
Naru winced and turned her back on the others. “I’m going to get the cables.”
Riyun waited until she was past. “I’ll help. Alush, if you intend to accompany us, maybe you could scout ahead?”
The drone flared brightly for a second. “No threat lies in our path, so long as we do not tarry.”
“We’ll keep the tarrying down to a minimum.”
He jogged after the hacker, squatting at the edge of the abyss and helping with the cables. “Apparently, we can’t tarry here long, so whatever you’ve got to say…”
“I heard it.” She glanced over her shoulder at the glowing drone. “And I heard you and Quil.”
Had everyone heard them? “We were just talking about what this thing represented.”
“A convenient reinforcement of belief system in the self. You saw how Tarlayn reacted. She went from being pissed to fully embracing this thing, even though it renders her irrelevant.”
“All right, before you get all down on her, she said she tried to attack those winged things, but her magic isn’t reliable down here.”
The young woman sagged and looked away. “It was destiny.”
“Tawod’s death? Don’t tell me you’re buying into—”
She turned back on Riyun, anger replacing the sadness. “We can’t ignore evidence, Lieutenant. And that’s exactly what we have in front of us: evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“Evidence that we have to accept this world. We have to accept our role here. We have to accept our destiny, which Tawod refused to do.”
Riyun bowed his head. “I thought we all agreed there was software running this world and we’re operating within the defined parameters of that software.”
“That’s just a convenient explanation for what we’re seeing here: magic.”
The way she spoke, the pinched, determined look on her face—she really believed what she was saying. Something had changed her, turned her into a believer. “All right. So we’re part of this world’s reality.”
“We’re part of this reality.” She yanked the other cable free from the anchor rock. “And it’s part of our reality.”
With Tawod’s death, it was impossible to ignore her point. They could be killed at any moment in this place, and the death would be just as real as dying in their own world. Riyun had been looking at Aliat’s escape as encouragement and proof that they could all get out. It was much more accurate to look at the death of the innkeeper and the likely death of the other three investigators and see proof that there was no escape. Coming to this world—to Wholesale Fantasy—was a one-way trip by design. If they were going to return to their old lives, they had to accept that they were not there now, but in this very detailed and very real world.
Failing to do that only guaranteed their deaths.
32
For days, ash and ruin were all they saw following the trail Alush set for them. Riyun spotted areas of fresh growth and resilient old growth, but the damage done to the plains had been all but complete. Still, he was happy to have the ruins of the temple and the abyss behind him. The wound of Tawod’s loss would be raw for some time. Putting distance between them and the site where he’d died would help.
Where the dull, open land offered cover in hollows and the lee of hills, they made camp. The ash was a gummy, black paste that settled in the creases of their skin and clogged their noses, but the greatest concern was always the dragons.
After a particularly long march, Riyun smiled at the clearing Javika had found for the night. A bubbly brook fed a small pool of clear, sweet water in a narrow depression. The ground curled slightly overhead, as if the area had been gouged out by a flood or some other disaster. What mattered, though, was the cover provided from potential airborne spies.
They were able to spread out and relax with a little less concern than normal—a welcome change.
Tarlayn knelt beside the pool in the twilight, slowly washing her hands in the clear water. The soft splashes from her activities were a pleasant reminder to Riyun that even in destruction, there could be beauty.
He shuffled downstream from her until the pool narrowed back into a stream, then jumped across and made his way back to her.
She looked up when he plunged his hands into the water. “You seem surprised that it’s warm.”
“I didn’t think there was that much sunlight today.” He scrubbed his hands. “This place means something to you?”
“I have camped here many times. The water eventually joins the Haelok River. We can follow that to Garelan. There is a town not two days from here—little more than an oversized village, really. Ulonz. I grew up there.”
“You think it survived?”
The wizard bowed her head. She glanced back toward the place where Riyun had set his gear down. Javika was unpacking her backpack at the moment, studying the options that remained of their ration packs.
Tarlayn turned back to him. “You two are close?”
“Javika? She’s probably my best friend and a good teacher. We’ve been working together for years now.” How many, he couldn’t even be sure anymore.
“Just friends?”
“In war, even making friends is a risk. Anything more demanding…” He shook his head.
“Then you know the pain of loneliness.”
He thought back to that night at Monisa’s house and the crack of the pistol—the sound that changed his life forever. “I know it well.”
“That’s the pain I’ve known most of my life.”
“I thought wizards had mentors and students?”
“There is the physical aspect of life, and there is the mental. But to satisfy the spiritual requires different elements.”
“Physical meaning you were—?”
“Mentor and student quite commonly share intimacy. It strengthens the relationship. But it isn’t spiritual.” She bowed her head but failed to hide a look of shame. “At least it wasn’t for me.”
“So, you don’t think this place survived, but you were already sealed off from it? From your spiritual needs?”
“That is an accurate enough assessment.” She stood and flicked water from her hands. “This is not the path I would have taken, but Alush knows what he’s doing.”
“You think he’s okay? Being in a machine now and everything.”
Tarlayn squinted at the drone hovering at the north end of the small gulch. Its sapphire lights had gone dim, and the prophet hadn’t spoken since they’d stopped. “He would have seen this in his prophecy. He would already have known this fate.”
“Sure. That makes sense. And you don’t think it would mess with his mind?”
“Have you seen anything to indicate that he is troubled?”
“No. Then again, I don’t know what normal is for a prophet. He could be stark raving mad, and I wouldn’t be able to tell. Being in a machine, he’s a little hard to read.”
The old woman brushed her hands against her robes. “This was his destiny. I believe in him. You should, too.”
“I don’t think I have much choice, do I?”
“Perhaps not. Then again, perhaps none of us do.”
Riyun returned to cleaning himself, looking up when he heard splashing again. Javika watched him with cold eyes
from across the pool.
He groaned inwardly. “I suppose I’ve done something wrong? Again?”
She studied her hands, then rinsed them. “You have antagonized her.”
“Not intentionally. I guess I’m just good at it.”
“Did you treat her as if she were just software again?”
“No.” Had he? “I don’t think so.”
“I have talked to Naru. You must learn to accept that this quest is what we must do.”
“I have accepted it.”
“And you must accept that these people have just as much of a life as you do. They are not simulacra being moved about by software any more than we are.”
“I get it. This is a real world. We’re not in a simulation. Okay?”
The Biwali warrior had driven her sword tip into the ground inches from the water. She scrubbed her face without reply, and when she was done, she glanced at the hovering drone-prophet. “They have their own beliefs and history.”
“I guess I never really gave beliefs much thought.”
“Because your people only believed in the struggle to survive.”
“Yeah. And I guess I sort of never…” He shrugged. “What’s the value of it? I mean, do your people…?”
“Have a religion? We have legends and beliefs. They are there for when the times turn hard and people seek spiritual guidance.”
So she was spiritual, and he had never considered that. “You still have those beliefs?”
Javika stared at the surface of the water, as if she expected a reflection even when there was too little light for that. “It was necessary to set those feelings aside.”
“To be a soldier.”
“To be a warrior in the way of my people. The spiritual aspect was that of the artists.”
“Like your father? He was an artist, right?”
“Yes. An exceptional one. And I wished only to be like him.”
“You never told me that. I mean, you were a dancer—”
“Which is an art.”
“Sure, but I thought you said that you became a warrior…like your mother. I thought most of your women—”
“No. Not most women. Many. They learn to use the faith and belief system as a means to find strength to see through even the worst pain. It is what enables us to be who we are.” She ran long fingers over the blade of the sword protruding from the ground.
