With warm cups clasped in their hands, Huldar led Andel the short distance to the Djan’rū. After many long hours incorporating the improvements Shamkarun Kandät Enna had shown him when they first landed, the charm was ready for his arrival. Its shimmering distortion spread in a large hemisphere, the vibration even and true. He liked to think the special bond he had with this planet had helped him – though without the regular input of a specialist, the work would gradually decay.
It’s amazing, Andel said. “You’ve gained such skill with Qalān, you’ll be apprenticed to the navigators next.”
“Now that’s an idea.” Huldar laughed. “But seriously, I have no idea how they do what they do. Space is so much bigger.”
Across the valley, the remains of vegetation poked like skeletons through the snow. The sun peeped over the dormant volcano like a child surveying the day’s possibilities from the cover of warm blankets. Huldar pulled his fur-lined coat tighter, wishing a little volcanic warmth for himself.
As the dawn’s first light brightened Andel’s face, her sandy-brown eyes sparkled. She took a mouthful of rapidly cooling tea, tipped her head back and expelled a sputtering spume. Frozen droplets wreathed her in a bright cloud of ice.
His sudden bark of laughter was out before he could stop it.
You’re an idiot! he said.
Made you laugh! she replied.
Her eyebrows lifted as his mind pulled her close, then her free hand felt its way around his neck and the sensuous tingle as their hazes began to blend inured him to the weather. The cold nose pressed against his cheek added fire to the heat of her lips, and as she drew him into a long kiss, her psychic touch feathered his body with a teasing caress.
Huldar’s song shivered between them, building slowly with the whispered rhythm of his voice. Thin wind whined through cracked boulders. Above them, a squally mass of cloud loomed closer, its ragged edges illuminated as sunrise tiptoed across the land beneath. As if called by their song, an elemental gust battered stone with sleet, and he drew on its power, singing the wildness of storm into the music that bound them. As the raw note of harmony was reached, Andel’s cup fell from her hand and shattered on the stones.
For a long time he held her, sharing the lingering heat; protecting her body with his as the elements rattled the rocks around them. Then as suddenly as it had arrived, the squall moved on.
They lifted their heads as the sun re-emerged on a landscape encased in translucent shards of ice.
He studied her face, unwilling to relinquish the moment. “I wish we had more time,” he said. Time with you here in this pristine place, away from the distractions of the Realm.
Storyteller, she laughed. You can’t fool me! There’s always one more mountain to look behind. She reflected an image of himself back to him – a view of eyes as blue as a summer sky. He wondered if they really looked like that.
He pushed a damp, half-frozen strand of hair from her face. You love this place too, he said. You wish we could stay …
She looked outward to note the approach of another blast of sleet. But the weather – and then there’s Lind and the Overlord … it needs redress.
Hmm … He tipped his head toward the camp, and with a last kiss, they turned their backs on the dawn.
He watched the top of Andel’s head as she walked beside him, reminded of the strange, peaceful creatures, the Went, and a pang of regret crossed his heart. They were vital to the health of the planet, he was certain of it.
“I wonder how they cope with the big freeze,” he said. “Do they hibernate? Their coats are thick, but they don’t seem thick enough.”
“Hibernation,” Andel mused. “The sleep of death. Do they dream they are awake, or does darkness descend, making no choices? And how do we know when we have chosen? Maybe sentience merely glosses the driving of instinct with the veneer of free will.”
She saw his mystification and smiled.
“Veneer or not,” he countered, “I’m looking forward to coming back when the cycle warms again. And what about that road?” Huldar linked arms with her then jammed his hand back into his pocket. “All the way around the continent – a continuous clearing. Thousands and thousands of paces.” He bumped her with his elbow. “I wonder how it would be to walk on six legs instead of two?”
Andel snorted. “I have heard there are creatures, the Simurgh, who can change shape at will,” she said. “You should ask the first one you see!”
“The Simurgh?” He looked at her. “My family believed in their existence, but no one has ever seen one.” His mind ranged ahead to the activity in the campsite. The tents wouldn’t come down until the next day, but everything that could be packed beforehand should be. They could not keep the navigator waiting around in these conditions. He thought again of the Went. How intriguing they were!
“Someone must have made that path.” He bumped her again. “I think it has something to do with your friends, the Went.”
She shook her head. “Not enough of them, and you know how soft their foot-falls are.”
“Maybe there’re more of them somewhere else. Look at the way they stick to that trail. Maybe they’ve been following that exact path for so long that they’ve worn a hole in the biosphere, like a river.”
“A river of hair? I wonder where the river w-a-e-n-t?” She snuggled closer. “Poetic, but I’m not singing along just yet.”
Huldar looked across to the Gok’s tent. Something about their ex-Overlord niggled at him, but it was probably nothing. It was easy to find fault in someone so despicable.
He returned to Andel. “I’m going for a last look at the inner shores, see whether ice is forming on the inner sea yet – and to say goodbye. Would you like to come?”
Don’t you ever get tired? she sighed. “I think I’ll get some packing done.”
Huldar smiled as she rubbed her eyes. “If you had any sense you’d get some sleep.”
“You’re tired too!” she said. “You must be.”
He opened his arms and pivoted around. “But this planet, ‘Went’, it’s one of the most remarkable I’ve ever … She spoke to me, Andel. I want to fix one last image of her in my heart before we return to the tameness of Giahn.” He continued walking. “I’ll go to the central sea. It’ll be the last thing to freeze over.”
“Should I be jealous?”
He smiled and shook his head.
She paced beside him. “Why not take Casco?”
“Casco’s busy, and I won’t be gone long –”
Andel stopped. Oh, no you don’t! “You’d be angry if you caught anyone else heading off alone.” She crossed her arms. “I’ve changed my mind. And besides, you’re right. It will be a long seven years before we come to Went. She’s like a beautiful woman with veils and screens … the Kaskarudjan of planets.”
He tipped his head toward the portal. “Let’s go then.”
But before they could take the step, Casco called out from beside the marquee, “Hey, Huldar! Join us for an ale or two before we get started? Warm your bones?”
Huldar grinned and gestured to the shimmer in Qalān. “Shall we?”
ON THE BEACH
Evidence of the big freeze hampered every step as Huldar and Andel made their way to the inner shores. Most things had died or retreated beneath their icy blanket to patiently await their time of rebirth. As he neared the final branch of portals, Huldar noticed one that was more stable than the others, as if from regular use. It led to a long beach on the eastern edge of the inland sea.
They stepped through it onto a sea of dunes and squinted against the prevailing winds. From this vantage, the long, graceful curve of sand contrasted with the rugged parapets of the ranges.
He touched Andel’s arm and indicated a jumble of low mounds left high above the distant waterline.
As they made their way toward the shapes, Huldar began to recognize skulls and bones, as if a mass death had occurred. As he explored the tragic remains he thought of the strange life cycles of
many species here, and the absence of age difference. Were these carcasses the remains of a natural event?
Andel crouched to examine one of the skulls. Look at this … Her fingers followed deep incisions around the creature’s single eye-socket. Multiple teeth-marks?
He hunkered down beside her. The skull in question sent chills down his spine. It appeared as if it had been stabbed.
Maybe the mystery predator of the southern seas has a nasty equatorial cousin? Andel suggested.
Maybe, Huldar ran his finger over the wounds, but they appeared too random for teeth-marks. Something terrible had happened here. He wished he could understand. The orange charm-stone came to mind, but what relationship could an unknown former visitor to this planet have to this slaughter?
Andel got to her feet.
Not the goodbye I had in mind, he said.
It highlights how little we know. She drew him up beside her and hugged his arm. This has been the best three years of my life, and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.
Even though you nearly died twice?
Definitely! She paused, then added, “And this is where we found each other.”
Her shy smile imparted a lightness of being he had not felt before. He had heard of love and the effects it might have, but this was the first time it had happened to him. He wondered if he asked her to be dabaku, would she agree? The exchange of such a bond was a momentous thing, as permanent almost as marriage, although there was no chance of children between dabaku. If the bond was exchanged, their mental communication would be greatly enhanced, and in fact, when lovers took this step it was often a precursor to the most permanent bond of all.
She pulled him closer and kissed his lips. It’s getting colder. Let’s get back.
Getting warmer, I’d say, Huldar replied, but before he could return her kiss she had turned for home. As he bowed his head to follow, a swirling breeze uncovered something shiny beneath the sand.
He bent to pick it up and found a transparent globe that fitted neatly into his palm. As he looked more closely he was startled to see a rainbow of colors, although he had yet to hold it to the light.
What have you found? she asked.
I’m not sure. He held it to the sun. The rainbow neither brightened nor dimmed, although the light shone clearly through it. A gem of some sort?
Andel came to take a look. Breath! It’s so beautiful!
He turned it over between his fingers. When he examined it at a deeper level, a sensation came to him, almost as if the bauble was alive, or contained a soul, yet when he tapped the surface it was definitely solid, like glass or crystal.
Mystified, he handed it to Andel. “Feel anything?”
“Like what?” As she stared, the rainbow reflected onto her face, shining in her eyes. He watched her Mark brighten then dim. She turned to him. I don’t feel anything special. Is it charmed in some way?
He held out his hand for her to return the orb, and examined it again. It trembled, so faintly, as if it was troubled. He closed his eyes and extended his senses as if searching Qalān, but could feel nothing more until he held the stone close and looked into it – and saw something moving.
What is it? Andel asked.
A circle of crystals seemed to look out of the stone at him, and with a start he recognized it as one of the enigmatic creatures, the Went. It seemed sad, and somehow lost. Tears came to his eyes and he closed his hands over the crystal to shield himself from the pain.
Huldar, Andel took his hand. “What is it? Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know. I saw something, a Went … it affected me this way.”
“A Went?”
“A circle of eyes, looking at me.”
“Could it have been the globe reflecting in on itself?”
He shook his head. It could have been that, perhaps, but he didn’t think so. With great reverence, he replaced the globe on the sand where he had found it. The haunting sadness reminded him of Lind as he had first seen her after her rescue from Qalān. He looked up to see Andel’s gaze on him, and words spilled out before he had time to consider. “Tsemkarun Andel of Trianog, would you be dabaku with me?”
He searched her eyes then looked away. Why had he spoken? As the silence stretched, fear gnawed at his insides. He forced himself to look again. He wanted her to see into his soul, to know how much she meant to him.
Then she smiled.
“Dabaku?” She said it as if the sound would make it real.
He nodded. “When we return to Giahn …”
She peered into his face with narrowed eyes, then with a flicker of her eyebrows she turned for the portal. “Let’s get back. Big day tomorrow!”
He thought he heard traces of his accent in her voice.
“Come on!” she said, and he started behind her. The words were out there, waiting, working their influence on the world just as any sound would, but to him they loomed like giants.
She waited at the portal. It was uphill, and she smiled as he approached. Dabaku?
He nodded, certain she would hear his pounding heart.
Her eyebrows flickered. “We’ll have to talk more of this, Shamkarun Huldar of Leth.”
THE SEVEN BREATHS OF EL
By nightfall the most recent storm had passed, leaving drifts of snow huddled high against tent walls. Huldar paused outside the marquee and squinted at fat flakes floating down, thick and lazy like some Faythans he had known. He thought of Duvät Gok, thick and lazy indeed, but it seemed wrong to sully the purity of snow with Duvät’s darkness.
Once inside, he sat close to the fire and wrapped his cloak tighter, watching the entrance.
Since inviting Andel to be dabaku, his emotions had swerved from exhilaration to despair and back again. Every time he saw or sensed her, his heart jumped, but he found it difficult to control which way.
He sensed it when she left her tent and headed for the marquee. When she drew the door-flap aside, her slight form filled his senses, blinding him to all else. She threaded between others of the team to settle beside him. Layers of warm clothing buffered physical contact, but the thrum between their hazes drew covert smiles.
She looked up as awnings bowed and creaked. Snow slithered from the roof with a crystalline crash and Duvät Gok ducked through the door.
“What’s he doing in here?” Nachiel hissed.
“It’s our last night,” Huldar said. “If he keeps out of our way, he can share our warmth. Lind has agreed to this.”
“It’s my coal!” Duvät snapped.
“Was your coal,” said Huldar. “Mind yourself or you’ll be back outside.”
Duvät glared at him for a moment, but the fire proved a stronger attraction.
A voice from the dark beyond it announced, “It’s cold.”
Huldar spoke as if to the flames. “If that’s the best conversation starter you can come up with, Casco, our last night here will be a long one.”
His eyes flicked toward the back of the tent as Duvät Gok cleared his throat. Clamped around a fine ceramic mug, the wretch’s stubby fingertips glinted. Huldar shook his head. A spasm of anger became amusement. He still painted his fingernails the Imperial blue.
Orange tongues of flame reflected in Duvät’s glare. He squared his shoulders and cleared his throat again. “Are the samples in order and reports completed? The navigator will be here at first light.”
“Supposed to be,” muttered Casco.
Andel nodded tiredly.
Duvät lifted his chin. “I am still accountable to House Tiamät.”
“Yes, you are,” Huldar said, “and the God-Emperor does not like disorder, as you are so fond of reminding us, so I’m thinking he won’t be too pleased with you.”
Tam slammed his mug down onto the bench. “Neither are we!”
“Peace!” Huldar’s strong voice rolled over the impending melee. “Only a few hours left till we’re on our way home. Let’s not ruin it.”
“What do you suggest, then?” N
achiel said. “It’s too cold to get out from under these rugs, and my tea’s freezing over while I look at it.”
“Sing it warmer,” Ronnin snapped. “Even you can do that.”
Andel butted her elbow against his ribs. “Tell us one of your stories.”
The ether calmed. A murmur of assent came back to them.
“A story?” Huldar’s eyebrows lifted.
“Please?” Andel held his gaze with teasing eyes. I’ll make it worth your while …
Suggestions for personal favorites flew around the fire.
“Apen and Annan?” said Tam.
Huldar considered his collection of Apen and Annan stories. Apen and Annan were the father and mother of the annangi; however, though many stories of their exploits had been handed down through the ages, none seemed right for the moment.
“What about the Sajhar’s nightmare?”
“Or the wings of Rukh?”
“No, we did that last time,” said Nachiel.
Breath clouded from Huldar’s nostrils. The tent bustled as people positioned themselves, ready for their entertainment.
“Tell us the Creation,” Andel said. “The Seven Breaths. I haven’t heard it for ages, and it seems right to tell it now, don’t you think?”
Smiling in his mind, Huldar wondered if he could ever refuse her anything. “All right,” he nodded, “the story of the Seven Breaths, then. The story of the Beginning as was told to me by my grandfather, sitting around a campfire much like this one.”
“But warmer!”
“Not much!” he shot back. “Gets cold in the Lentath highlands. So, the shawl please, Tam,” he beckoned, “if you will.”
As the shawl was passed around the circle, Duvät Gok’s expression was unreadable. When it reached Andel, she smoothed the wool as if she too was thinking of the last time they had seen it. Then she surprised Huldar with a cheeky smile.
“This is just a ploy to gain extra warmth, isn’t it?” she said.
He winked, and with a laugh, she helped him arrange it over his shoulders. He lifted his hand for silence. Around him, friends and teammates stilled as he gathered the story to mind along with the charms he would use for its visual augmentation. In the pause that followed, he could feel the planet waiting, anxious in the creak of leather and subtle hiss of falling snow. Then his voice swept into the hush.
Planet Walkers Page 25
