“Leave me alone and I’ll find a way to rid myself of it so no one else has to die.”
The bridge finished its descent but no one moved. After a tense silence, Kahan burst out laughing. “You really know nothing of what you are and what you carry, do you? I have nothing against you personally; it is because of what you are that you must die.”
Kara threw her hands in the air. “What am I? Just leave me alone.”
“You are a threat to us all. The destruction you witnessed in Deep Cave is only a small fraction of the horror you will unleash if you are allowed to live.”
Herald hurled her javelin. “Die, Half-Blood!”
The missile flew at Kara. Meglen tried to knock it aside with her staff but missed. Without thinking, Aemon tried to interject himself in front of it. But he was a moment too slow.
The javelin buried itself in Kara’s chest.
She staggered a few steps, then turned to Aemon, eyes wide, lips moving but forming no words. They looked at one another for several seconds, then Kara collapsed and did not move. Aemon stared down at her in a stupefied daze. “Ka—Kara. Are you all right?”
As he asked the question, the reality of what had just happened struck him like a falling chunk of rock. He collapsed at her side, grazing his knees. “Kara! No. Kara.”
Blood... So much blood.
A great cry filled his ears. “For Ibilirith!” Moments later came the whacks and thuds of battle, but the sounds were distant, muted. Meaningless.
Aemon stared at the javelin, cold shock numbing his mind. He knew he should do something, but he could not focus on anything except the javelin sticking out of her. Kara...
Someone had started shaking him. “Snap out of it, fool. Get her up and carry her to the temple.”
He did not look away from the blood. Could not look away.
“Listen! We’ll hold them off long enough for you to cross the bridge and retract it.”
He glanced up. “Meglen?”
“Are you listening?” Meglen shook him again.
Aemon nodded slowly.
“Get her to the temple.”
Lydan, help me. The blood. The blood. Kara, I am sorry. I tried to save you.
Meglen was saying something. “There’s a lever on the other side; pull it and it will raise the bridge. Get her to safety, and tell my brethren the patriarch must know of her arrival.”
When he did not move, she slapped him across the face. “Go.”
Finally, he came to his senses. Letting out a great cry of anguish, he lifted Kara, his spine bowing, wounded arm throbbing. A javelin flew past him and a second would have found its mark in his neck had Meglen not batted it aside with her staff.
Aemon stumbled toward the bridge, teeth clenched against the pain in his arm, weak banker muscles straining. A blood trail followed as he carried Kara across, her body limp in his arms.
His heart kicked. What if she was dead? Her skin was bone white and the artifact no longer glowed.
If he pulled the javelin out, would it help or make things worse? It was buried deep, the tip likely perforating her lungs. He quickly decided not to touch it, to let someone who knew what they were doing remove it.
“Please live,” he moaned. “You came all this way.”
He reached the end of the bridge and pushed the lever down with his elbow. The bridge jerked, then began to rise. The fighting continued on the opposite side of the lava. Only three monks remained on their feet; the rest lay dead or dying.
Meglen was locked in combat with Kahan, who used his twin swords to parry a forward thrust of her staff. Her face was covered in blood from a cut on her forehead. The wound looked bad, and the more she swung her staff the weaker her blows became.
When the bridge neared head-height, one of the black-clad women grabbed hold of it. A wounded monk launched himself at her and took hold of her legs. As the bridge continued to rise, they became a human chain and were carried over the edge of the precipice. The monk rocked back and forth, trying to weaken the woman’s grip on the bridge.
Somehow, the black-clad woman held on.
Herald threw a javelin into the monk’s back. The attack came too late for the black-clad woman though. She lost her grip on the bridge and plummeted into the churning lava. The monk fell with her, and both erupted into flames that fizzled out in moments.
Bile filled Aemon’s mouth. What a horrible way to die. At least it was quick.
With a final cry to Ibilirith, Meglen fell to her knees, the tip of one of Kahan’s swords protruding from her back. Aemon turned away. Thanks to Meglen and her companions, he had gotten Kara across the bridge. Now all Kara had to do was live so the monks’ sacrifice would not have been in vain.
A horrible scream made him look back. Herald stood on the other side of the chasm. She pointed at him with a broken javelin and shouted something. Aemon could not make out her words, but the tone had been clear.
She would find a way into the temple and kill them.
Kahan came to stand next to her and they watched Aemon carry Kara away. Aemon wilted as he hurried toward the temple. Their gaze burned into his back, hotter than the lava. But they could not touch him. He was safe now.
Fatigue overwhelmed him as he reached the outer gate of the temple. His arms gave out and he collapsed to the ground, landing on top of Kara. He quickly rolled off her. “I am sorry I am not strong enough to carry you.” He choked back a sob. “If I were stronger, if I knew how to fight, this might not have—”
A dozen armed monks ran through the gate. “What happened at the bridge?” Their leader stopped in front of Aemon. “We saw the fighting from the walls.”
Aemon grimaced. “The people standing on the other side of the lava killed your brethren.” Sticky blood covered his hands. Kara’s blood. “Take me to a healer. She needs help.”
“Who are they and why are they after—” The man caught sight of the artifact and his eyes widened. “You... you were right to bring her here.” He motioned for two of his companions. “Get them to the healer, then inform the patriarch.”
As two monks picked Kara up, the rest hurried toward the bridge. Aemon got to his feet and followed the monks, who carried Kara through the gate and into a large, paved courtyard. Strange, rusted machines cluttered the pavement, many looking like they had not functioned in years. A group of acolytes meditated in front of a flashing machine while three others tinkered with its innards. Not one of them looked up as Aemon and the two monks rushed by.
Reaching the entrance to the central keep, Aemon and the monks burst through the great copper doors of the temple. They hurried along stone corridors, through an antechamber filled with plants and then into a brightly lit room. A short, elderly woman with a large, metal-framed magnifying glass over her left eye peered up at them from behind a heavily bound book. A younger woman sat beside her, taking notes on parchment.
The elderly woman opened her mouth to speak but must have seen something on the monks’ faces—or perhaps she saw the blood—for she rose from her chair and ordered her young assistant to gather equipment. Then she hobbled over to the operating table as Kara was placed upon it.
The two monks left without a word, their robes splattered with blood, hands dripping with it. The healer, shorter than Aemon, looked up at him, her left eye magnified to an almost absurd proportion through the glass. “Who is this woman and why has she been brought to me?”
“Her name is Kara. She is important. Sister Maglen gave her life to defend us.”
The healer ran her eyes over Kara and spied the artifact. She tried to take it off but Aemon stopped her. “Do not remove it. The last time it was taken away it nearly killed her. It is bound to her somehow.” Kara’s wan face ran with sweat, blood trickling from her mouth. He swallowed back panic. “Normally it glows, but it went out after she—”
She snatched her hand away as if she had burned it on a candle. “I have read of such a thing in the old files...”
The young woman retu
rned with the healer’s equipment and the two of them set to work. They cut Kara’s clothes away, revealing her naked breasts. Her skin was covered in blood and Aemon quickly turned away. He did not want to see Kara like that.
He took her hand and listened to them work, staring out the window. It overlooked the churning lava hundreds of feet below.
“See the residue around the wound?” the healer asked her younger aide. “The end of the javelin has been dipped in some form of poison.”
Poison? Aemon’s heart sank. As if things had not been dire enough already.
“It looks deep,” the assistant said.
“Yes, it has pierced her left lung.”
“Can she be saved?” Aemon asked without turning around.
The healer wrinkled her nose. “There is a distinct odor rising from the wound. I believe it is the poison of a fungus that grows somewhere in the Great Dark. But...” She whispered something to her aide.
Aemon half turned. “But what?”
The healer opened a jar. “There is no antidote. Kara will almost certainly die.”
Tears flooded Aemon’s eyes. He faced Kara and gripped her hand tighter, silently willing her to live. Her breathing was labored, and he expected each breath to be her last.
Aemon knelt and prayed. “Oh Lydan, Shield of Heaven, protector of the weak and holy, save Kara. Please save her. Let her live.”
“You might not wish that when you find out what she is,” the healer said.
The prayer died on Aemon’s lips. “I do not care what she is. I want her to live and rid herself of all this madness.”
Shaking her head, the healer poured clear fluid over Kara’s chest. “If I had not made a solemn oath to protect human life, I’d let her slip away into the dark.”
Why would the healer say such a thing? Maybe he had made a mistake bringing Kara to the temple. Back at the river, she had said she was afraid to come here and he had convinced her it was the right thing to do. The only thing.
Closing his eyes, he resumed his prayer, listening to Kara’s ragged breathing, guilt eating away at his soul.
Chapter 11
KARA
Kara woke and found herself at the end of a concrete corridor. The corridor was empty except for a pile of rubble fallen from the roof. The place was freezing, like it was buried under ice.
Where was she? The last thing she remembered... pain then blackness. Little else.
Kara hugged herself to retain some of her diminishing body heat. The low temperature reminded her of the strange visions of the surface. Perhaps that was where she was now. But what had brought her here again? The invisible woman who’d accosted her above the lake or the shadow that had tried to kill her?
She spun around, scanning for movement. If the invisible woman or anything else was around, she needed to be ready.
There were no lights in the corridor, yet she could see. How was it possible?
The world was a blend of grays, whites and blacks. She held up her hand and studied it. She could see so well that the lines running across her palm were visible.
This had to be a dream. No one could see so well in the dark.
Dropping her hand, she spied a corner farther up the corridor and hurried toward it. Her bare feet padded across the floor, the sound breaking the deep silence.
Reaching the corner, she found herself facing another corridor, but this one had six doors, three on each side. At the far end stood a set of metal doors with long daggers of ice hanging from their handles.
Kara cautiously made her way to the first of the doors and tried to open it. The knob snapped off in her hand and the door fell off its hinges and crashed to the floor. She winced as the sound echoed along the corridor.
Hopefully, nothing was around to hear it.
Inside she found a small living quarters with a bed, table, chairs and a washroom. A thick layer of dust covered everything, some still settling again after the falling door disturbed it. The blankets on the bed looked so old that if Kara touched them they’d probably disintegrate.
The room appeared to have been undisturbed for a very long time.
On a whim, Kara entered the washroom to look at herself in the cracked mirror. What she saw made her recoil. A strange woman wearing a colorful courtesan gown stared back at her.
Wait. Kara blinked. It was no stranger. It was her. But what had happened?
Her hair had turned white and her eyes... looked like they belonged to a blind woman. She was thinner, her cheeks sunken, skin almost as pale as someone who didn’t live under the sacred lights. The artifact still hung around her neck but the bulb was as dead as the room, the silver chain so cold it left a pink mark across her skin.
Your body is poisoned, Imogen, and near final death.
Kara jumped. “Who-who are you?”
I am vengeance. This is my world and I can hurt you here and make you suffer for what you did.
It was the same voice from the other dreams.
The faint outline of a woman appeared in the mirror behind Kara. Swinging around, she raised her arms defensively but no one was there. “Where’d you go?”
Invisible hands grabbed Kara’s arms and lifted her off the ground. You must suffer, Imogen. I shall enjoy hurting you.
The next thing Kara knew she was flying through the air. She slammed into the wall and fell to the ground, landing on her stomach. The impact left her gasping. Something heavy landed on her back and cold hands wrapped around her throat and began to squeeze.
“Stop, please. Kara, my name’s Kara.”
You are Imogen, Mother of Steel Children. You wear her beacon.
“I’m not. I worked as a courtesan at the Golden Keg Tavern. My mother’s name... Kristia. We lived-”
The invisible hands tightened. Kara’s vision dimmed. The woman was going to kill her!
With fading strength, Kara reached behind her back to grab the woman. But there was nothing to grab. Her assailant wasn’t there. “Please-don’t kill me... I’m Kara.”
The hands slowly loosened their grip. Kara sucked in lungfuls of blessed air and her vision cleared, though her throat throbbed. “Please stop. I don’t know who Imogen is. The thing around my neck was given to me against my will by a man named Wrynric.”
The invisible woman climbed off her back. You are Imogen. The voice sounded less certain. You have returned to finish what you started. Your children have woken and seek to purge the world of life.
Kara rolled onto her back. “Where are you?”
Where I have been since you murdered me.
“How could I have murdered you? I don’t even know who you are. Why won’t you show yourself?”
I do not want you to see me, Imogen.
Kara sat up. “For the last time, I’m not Imogen, I’m Kara. Now, can you at least tell me your name?”
My name? The voice fell silent for a moment. I do not remember my name.
“What do you mean?”
The code has become corrupted through the degradation of time or through the deliberate machinations of those who want the truth forgotten. This corruption has fragmented my memories... Much is lost to me now.
“What is a code?”
The code is the language of this place. It is what brought you here and made everything you see around you. This world is shaped from the real and the real can be shaped from it.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying. Why do you keep bringing me here?”
I do not bring you here, Imogen who is not Imogen, the code does. You are not the first living person to come here, but you may be among the last.
Kara caught her breath as something occurred to her. “Wrynric said my father was a scion and that he and the people like him had visiondreams. I’m a half-blood, for he was a scion while my mother wasn’t. Is it possible I’m in a visiondream?”
I do not know. The name visiondream has the same duality as this world. It might be so.
“What do you mean duality?”
Visions are fantasy—dreams are real. The duality of this place is that it exists between life and death, dark and light. It is real, but not real.
Kara studied herself in the mirror. “Is this what I’ll look like when I wake up?”
Poison has ravaged your body and it will never recover. Cold fingers stroked Kara’s cheek. How is it you are not Imogen? You carry her beacon around your neck. What is different about you?”
The woman’s touch made Kara shiver. “What do you mean different?”
The world has begun to thaw, Imogen’s beacon is lit and her children stir. What has happened to Imogen? Why has she not returned like she was meant to? Something is different about you, for she has not claimed you as her own. The fingers stopped moving. Has her code been corrupted too? Does she still languish in the void? What of my poor lover who left to find her?
Kara clutched the dormant artifact. “I don’t know who Imogen is or why she hasn’t claimed me, nor do I know of your lover. All I know is that since I was given the artifact around my neck, I have been hunted by a group led by a man called Kahan. They murdered everyone I ever loved and forced me to flee my home.”
It took close to a minute for the voice to speak again. Imogen once carried your artifact around her neck. It would work for no other because it was bound to her. For you to be able to activate it proves she must be inside you.
“No one is inside me. Please, can you tell me how to get rid of it—or better yet, destroy it?”
The fingers withdrew from her face. You will die if it is destroyed and perhaps with you, the human race. Imogen’s steel children are linked to the beacon, as is she. Until we know where Imogen is, I suggest you try not to die.
Kara climbed to her feet and brushed dust from her clothes. “How are her children linked to it?”
That part of my memory is corrupted, Not Imogen. I no longer remember.
“Then tell me what the artifact is.”
It is a beacon, a tool and perhaps more. I remember little else other than it is important and that I once carried one much like it.
Kara sobbed, “There must be something I can do to get rid of it. I want things to go back to normal. So many have died because of this stupid thing.”
Heir to a Lost Sun: A Caverns of Stelemia Novel Page 16
