Covenants: Elegy (Hymn of the Multiverse Book 8)

by Terra Whiteman

  “Don’t know.”

  “And… you think this might be why someone is after me?”

  “Don’t know.”

  I clicked my tongue. “You’re so annoying.”

  “I promised to tell you what I knew. I warned you that my knowledges of our circumstance is extremely limited.”

  “I think I’m bleeding through my ligar again. And, I have to use the toilet.”

  Zira sighed. “Alright, change. I’ll keep watch. Make sure to bury your waste.”

  *

  When the sun went down a few hours later Zira and I had no choice but to stop in a shelterless place, at the lowest point within an army of dunes. The wind picked up as soon as the light disappeared; luckily the surrounding hills served as breakers from the worst of it. I even told him how glad I was to not be exposed to the wind, and he swiftly crushed my happiness by informing me that here we faced the threat of being buried alive.

  Zira gave me his coat again and I decided against asking how he wasn’t frozen solid. He was an impossible creature; I just had to accept that.

  I asked to make a fire and he said no—that it could attract our pursuers.

  “We’ve seen no one since the crash site,” I argued. “How do you know anyone is pursuing us at all?”

  “I don’t,” he said. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

  So I huddled into his coat, shivering as I opened the satchel to retrieve more food. I stacked several cans of creamed meat and preserved vegetables between us, but he made no move to take any of our supplies.

  “You’re not having any?” I asked.

  “No, that’s for you.”

  “But you have to eat, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I don’t have to eat the same way you do.”

  “What other way is there to eat?” I said, giggling at the absurdity of his statement.

  Zira leaned in, and his sudden nearness startled me until I realized he was reaching into his coat pocket. “Like this,” he murmured as his lips were inches from my ear. He slid away and opened his hand, showing me a stone much like the one I’d seen earlier that day. It was red like the sand with grooves etched into the surface, spiraling like a maze.

  “What are those?”

  “Some worlds call them desert roses. They’re selenite clumps, made from sand exposed to extreme weather.”

  Before I could reply, I watched the desert rose crack down the middle and split in half in his palm. Then it broke down further, its contents disappearing as they crumbled onto his skin. I knew what I was seeing, but couldn’t believe it. Even now, having seen everything else that Zira could do. He’d just soaked in a rock, as if his skin were a sponge.

  Frazzled by this observation, I fell silent and grabbed a can of meat and vegetables. Zira stood and took his post at the top of the southernmost dune soon after. Before leaving he’d said, “Get some rest. We should reach the outpost by midday. Hopefully that’ll be where our journey ends.”

  I finished my meal, watching his silhouette crouched in the moonlight. I’d begun this day wishing him gone, and now the idea of our journey ending left me hollow inside. I didn’t know why. What I did know was that whatever came next could never surmount the wonder and awe that he had shown me. I’d been raised to believe the fantastical to be intangible, based solely on my faith. Now I knew there were entire populations of godlike people far beyond our system. To go back to living a normal life after this seemed…impossible.

  And so I went to sleep praying to the Twin Gods that we’d find nothing in the outpost.

  X

  ATCA_QRY_09b.G87

  Search term: “_abdeakka gift “!”

  Ophal System Confederacy CLASSIFIED Records

  Ophal-II, 126th Cycle

  Voice recording; language Fevarian, dialect Nara-ko

  Thuuli-Lanei, O-REACH Director of Enlightened Sciences

  OR-Initiative, Mekkal Region

  The abdeakka gift finally presented itself in subject (S) 34, three seasons after paradigm transference from adolescence to adulthood. The hypotheses of hormonal changes in the body contributing to gift expression is supported by S-34, however his state of mind destabilized and the subject was euthanized twenty-two days after gift expression in fear of the safety of the staff and other subjects. Characteristics of gift expression, as observed, include:

  1) A sheer-blue pigmentation of the skin

  2) Rapid pulse and rise in body temperature

  3) Interference with electrical equipment

  4) Telekinesis

  5) Hypnosis of surrounding individuals

  6) Cyclical fits of rage and catatonia

  S-34’s body will be examined and a further report on genetic and physiological effects of the abdeakka gift will be tentatively submitted to OR-I. S-34 was extracted from Indigenous Svissa in the 130th cycle after his parents suffered fatal effects of abdeakka forest burnings from the O-3 surveyor teams’ efforts of clearing the area of hostile tribes. It is urged that medical screenings of the indigenous Svissans remain enforced and any children presenting symptoms of the abdeakka gift be transported to O-2 for further observation.

  ***

  DAY TWO OF NO SLEEP. I WAS BEGINNING TO hallucinate. At the same time as the previous day—in the early morning hours—there were red and white lights in the distance. They never approached us, only swirled on the black horizon, and each time I tried to get a reading on the source, they vanished. All I could gather were blips of halogen-decay. They were real lights, I just didn’t know to whom (or what) they belonged.

  Pariah’s thoughts shook me awake, just as I was nodding off without realizing. I’d closed my eyes to a still-dark sky, only to open them to the pink light of dawn. Pricked with fear, I looked down the hill and found Laith still asleep under my coat, and breathed a sigh of relief.

  —Zira, can you hear me?

  Yes, I replied, although I hadn’t actually heard what he’d said. I updated the thread several hours ago. Add a REF-2 to the abdeakka query for communications by O-REACH.

  —Done. I’ve confirmed there is an aerial port at the trading hub. Several towers have transmitted atmospheric flight coordinates since we last spoke.

  I reached into my pocket and popped another stimulant-capsule into my mouth. I was down to four left. Good.

  —Will you be heading there now?

  No. I’ll be detouring to the OSC outpost. Plan-alpha is to attempt communication with O-1. Hopefully the devices aren’t too weathered.

  —Be careful.

  Unless you’d like to send a message to O-1 for me, I said, a bit ruffled by that useless piece of advice.

  —You know the rules.

  Yes, I knew the rules. One contract, one scholar. Good old tradition. One would think with the reform decades ago we would have thrown that inefficient rule out first.

  But there was a reason; competition. We worked contracts for multiversal governing bodies to keep ourselves with resources, yet the obstacles and danger we faced was tracked. We kept a tally amongst ourselves, which served as entertainment, or something. The more challenging the contract, the more clout and reputation for the scholar who fulfilled it. I was just tired and hot; I’d been a scholar longer than most and would have liked nothing better than to have a third party radio O-1 for a pick-up. Alas. Well, gotta go. I’ll update the thread once we’ve reached the outpost.

  I severed the connection before Pariah could respond and headed down the slope where Laith lay completely huddled under my coat. Only her feet were visible, twitching every so often as she dreamed of who knew what.

  I watched for a while, regretful of having to wake her. The horizon’s canvas was painted differently today—brown and blue cumulous clouds tumbled toward us; stumbling over each other, producing streaks of lightning that lit up their form. The sun was nowhere to be seen any longer.

  Attica informed me that the clouds contained 79% water, 15% liquid silica, and 6% sulfur dioxide. The blue tint represented hail, mo
st likely icy silica. Wind speeds of the clouds were 96 miles per hour.

  Well, that was alarming.

  I shook Laith awake, which took more effort than I’d hoped. “Come on, come on; we have to go now.”

  When I removed my coat from her body, her sleep-fogged eyes immediately widened with clarity as she gazed at the sky. “What are those clouds?”

  “Imminent death if we don’t find cover.”

  I realized how unhelpful my answer was when Laith subsequently started to panic. Within moments we were packed up and racing north, not bothering to cover our tracks. The impending storm would do that for us.

  Laith made it longer than I thought she would; a full half an hour in full-sprint—at least for her—until I felt resistance against my grip on her wrist. I looked back as she staggered, the clouds now looming over us like a muddy-blue wall of murder.

  “Don’t stop,” I snarled, already coming to terms with what I’d have to do next.

  She didn’t reply, only looked at me in absolute terror. Sweat poured from her hairline and her pulse ran a mile a minute through her fingers.

  The deafening sound of a shattering window permeated the sky. A violent downdraft sent a shower of wet glass shards across the desert; the storm gusts picked up the sand, surrounding us in a blinding red fog as violet lightning forked through the clouds above.

  Laith screamed and fell to her knees, shielding her head.

  I ripped off my coat and covered her with it, grabbing the satchel that had slipped from her back. I scooped her trembling body from the sand and felt her arms wrap around my neck. The sensation made me pause, causing me to question the icy tingles shooting down my spine. The hesitation was short-lived; a piece of glass lacerated my right cheek, just below the eye, and then I was off.

  Laith didn’t shriek this time, only huddled closer into me. I kept my head down, balancing on the line of reaching supersonic speed without crushing my charge in the process. I was able to cover the remaining twenty-five miles in minutes, just as I felt Laith’s body grow slack from the pressure. I’d relied on Attica’s map to keep me on course; even with my heightened sight the storm proved impossible to navigate alone.

  The outpost perimeter was framed by a decaying barbed-wire fence attached to wooden posts. Some of the posts were gone, leaving gaps easily maneuverable through. With a quick scan of the area, my stream detected nothing in terms of heat-signatures, aside from us. It was abandoned, as Pariah had said—a bittersweet discovery, but shelter from the storm was the primary concern now.

  Through millisecond pockets of sand and glass I saw a metallic vault-looking door built into a cylinder slab of cement. The door, unfortunately, was keycard activated and fortified against normal means of force, including explosives.

  Fortunately, I did not belong under the ‘normal means of force’ category.

  Within moments the door was reduced to scrap metal, though dealing with the door had forced me to drop Laith. I slid inside, grabbing both the satchel and her right leg, pulling both inside and onto a staircase that led down into a cold, black unknown. The coat had come off of her, and I cursed as I dove to grab it across the threshold before it flew off with the storm.

  With everything and everyone inside, I slumped against the wall and slid down to a crouch, catching my breath. Blood from numerous abrasions on my face stung my eyes. There were black spots in my vision; attica warned that my energy was at a critical low. Those stimulant-capsules were the only thing still fueling me; I’d been running on empty for a while. No better time to faint than now, I supposed.

  But I didn’t. I knelt beside Laith and smacked lightly at her face. “Hey.”

  It took a few smacks, but her eyes eventually fluttered open and she scrambled to a sitting position, startled by the surrounding darkness. “Where are we?”

  I opened my mouth to respond but then she lurched forward and vomited on the stairs. The words with which I’d planned on answering evaporated into a sigh.

  “Sorry,” she said, wiping her mouth with a trembling hand.

  “Not your fault. We’re at the outpost.”

  Laith’s eyes must have adjusted to the darkness, because she looked at me and gasped. “Your face! Garanthe, help us!”

  Did I really look that bad? “I’m fine.” But I wasn’t fine; that storm had felt like death by a thousand papercuts.

  “I can see your face bones! There is skin hanging from your chin!”

  “It’ll heal. Come on,” I muttered, grabbing the satchel and throwing my coat over my shoulder, trying to keep from staggering into the wall. “Let’s see if we can find a way off this miserable world.”

  *

  The next hour was spent with me standing post by the staircase entrance while Laith cleaned up, ate some rations and then relieved herself in a corner near a group of rusted storage lockers. I watched the storm rage above us through the hole I’d created after ripping off the door, lamenting on how someone familiar with the area might notice the scenic discrepancy. But that was a later problem. The storm had only grown fiercer since we’d taken shelter; debris and whatever had been left of that fence flew by the vault opening in streaks of brown, red and blue. It was like a rainbow tornado, decorated in barbed wire. After updating the thread I’d taken a visual capture of the torrents for Pariah, which he’d seemed to enjoy.

  He also mentioned that a few of the other scholars had tuned into my thread to pass the time on their ‘less-exciting’ contracts. I had to admit that made me feel better about my current situation. Not much, but a little. It appeared I wasn’t too old to soak up some clout, after all.

  The outpost’s entry chamber resembled a locker room. Vaults of storage compartments and defunct dispensary panels—some holding artillery, judging by the glyphs—framed the room, with loose paper and other trash decorating the metal-grate floor. Whoever’d been here had left in a hurry.

  There were posters promoting medical screens and steroidal boosts displayed on the walls. My eyes lingered on the screening posters—specifically the O-REACH logo at the bottom of each. This was beginning to seem less like a military outpost and more like…something else. There was a door at the other side of the room, but neither of us had ventured that far yet.

  Curiosity pricked the back of my mind, but I was in no condition to explore. I couldn’t even stand, reduced to sitting on the bottom step, with Laith watching in awe as I absorbed pieces of the vault door to heal my wounds. Metal was the best type of source material, but exhaustion was still a factor.

  “You look sick,” Laith commented.

  “I’m tired. Even creatures like me need to sleep at some point.”

  She left her post near the weapons dispensary and sat next to me on the step. “Then sleep. I can keep watch.”

  I lifted a brow. “Can you?”

  At my speculation, Laith frowned. She turned, gazing toward the storm at the top of the stairs. She did a fantastic impression of my emotionless face. “This doesn’t seem too difficult.”

  “And what happens if someone walks in?”

  She picked up one of the metal chunks from the vault door at our feet, smiling wryly. “I’ll throw this at your head.”

  “What?”

  “To wake you up,” she added, stifling a laugh. “Go, rest. You deserve some.”

  I glanced uneasily up the stairs, but there wasn’t another option. At any second I would fall into stasis; might as well get the girl prepared. “Wake me up when the storm subsides. Without throwing anything at my head, preferably.”

  “Only in an emergency,” she promised.

  I resisted a smirk—simultaneously annoyed that she could lighten my mood at all—and headed over to the satchel near the dispensary. There was a bench against the wall and I collapsed onto it, my vision already starting to tunnel. My body was leaden and my chest felt heavy, my breathing became increasingly labored as I turned my diminishing vision toward the ceiling.

  “Sleep well,” I heard Laith call from
across the room. “And thank you.”

  “For what?” I slurred. “Passing out on you?”

  “Saving my life. Out there.”

  “That’s my job,” I replied, though wasn’t sure if my speech was even coherent at this point. My final thought was one of concern. Not for any of the consequences proceeding a failed contract, but for Laith. For the first time in… I couldn’t even remember, I was genuinely concerned for someone’s safety. I was all she had.

  I was all she had.

  XI

  I WAS AWAKENED BY A GLOW behind my eyes and warmth against my face. The ambient noise of a crackling fire invaded my audio-periphery. My eyes opened as my thoughts swirled with confusion.

  I was in some kind of cave, in front of a bonfire. My eyes scanned the darkness, the interior walls illuminated only by the dancing flames. There were markings on the wall, but I couldn’t read them. An illegible script typically meant a dead language, but something told me that wasn’t the case here.

  “Laith?” I whispered, but she was gone. I had absolutely no idea what was going on.

  Was I dreaming? Dreams weren’t usually so accurately visual. I was wearing the same clothes as I’d fallen asleep in, the details perfect. Scholars didn’t really dream without a prompt from an outside source. At least I never had.

  I touched my ear to access the conscious stream. Nothing happened. Attica’s interface didn’t even boot up. This merited a curse word, and then I rose to my feet to inspect my surroundings further.

  Outside of the fire’s glow, it was freezing. I touched the engravings on the wall—some type of calligraphic script with an emphasis on fancy loops—as my breath escaped my lips as steam. I shivered, then realized one minor discrepancy in the detail of my clothes. My coat was on. It hadn’t been, at the outpost.

  Okay, so this was a dream. Maybe.

  Hopefully.

  There was a tunnel on the other side of the cave dwelling, offering a pathway into a black unknown. I didn’t have heightened reception; the usual zig-zags of jumping particles to which I’d grown so accustomed weren’t here to illuminate the tunnel on an atomic level. I was marginally frightened but couldn’t feel any form of pressure in my wrists. I was ‘lesser’ in this place.