Across a Sea of Stars

by Michael E. Gonzales

  As the stone fell, it took the bridge with it. The ropes attached to the far side where Tattie stood could not hold. Their great age had turned a once mighty cable into frail twine. It separated, and the entire bridge fell.

  Cris felt the bridge fall out from under his feet as he, too, dropped. His world seemed to move in slow motion. He looked up and saw Tattie's face awash in shock and terror. She stretched out her hands toward him and screamed, "No!" Her voice echoed in the cave and in his ears as he fell.

  Cris's uncontrolled descent was halted when he hit something, hard, with his chest—

  The bridge! He grabbed it and held on. Then, he felt the remnant of the bridge being lifted upward. He held his light stick up to see the edge of the pit coming closer.

  In front of him and to his left stood Tattie, her hands to her mouth, her big eyes wider than possible. The piece of wreckage Cris clung to was tossed onto the ledge near Tattie, and Cris rolled clear of it. He jumped to his feet, held out the light stick, and saw a great tentacle-like root writhing over the pit beyond. With great speed, it pulled away and vanished back into the hole where the boulder had once been.

  The dozens of other roots that had erupted from the wall had served to stop the advance of the Ahs Dormis, so none were lost as the boulder and bridge fell. Now, these roots, too, returned into the soil beyond the cave wall.

  Arrows began to fall around them, so Cris grabbed Tattie and together they plunged into a dark, narrow tunnel and vanished into the depths of Nazer.

  Chapter 14

  The Mouth of Omnez Avai Avory

  The tunnel was narrow and started out rather small. After proceeding about twenty meters down the shaft, the ceiling arched up until no ceiling could be seen at all, but the passage remained narrow, about a meter wide. A deep, oppressive silence came over them. All they could hear were their own footfalls echoing in the seemingly endless tunnel before them. The urgency of their escape had passed, and they slowed their advance.

  "Any more pits like that last one you are aware of?"

  "No one has been this far and returned to tell. Cris, do you understand what happened back there?"

  "I understand we're still alive."

  "Cris, the Avory intervened, they stopped the Ahs Dormis and they saved you. Cris, the Avory have chosen a side."

  "A side?"

  "Yes, by interfering with Bruckna's plans and aiding us, they have made an enemy of Bruckna. She will not suffer this insult lightly. She will strike back swiftly and harshly."

  "That will escalate things."

  "Yes, open war could come to Nazer."

  "Oh, God. And all because of me."

  "No, Cris, all because you inadvertently killed the evil son of an evil dictator. That accident only accelerated what was inevitable."

  "It still boils down to being my fault. Tattie, I know war…and it's seldom ever a good thing."

  "True, but good things can come out of bad. Wars have destroyed evil and left future generations in peace. Is that not true on your Earth, as well? Cris, a fire is needed on Nazer to burn away the evil infestation; so many are oppressed by so few."

  "Fire? Have you ever seen war, Tattie?"

  "No."

  "Ask your uncle about it, I can see he knows war. It's horrible."

  "Cris, I don't think it can be averted. The Sorgina will retaliate against the Avory. She will not apply reason, or consider the consequences; such concepts are alien to her. She will strike back. Then, all on Nazer will be forced to choose. War's dark hand will grip us all."

  Cris walked on in silence. Obviously, his situation had changed drastically. Moreover, it was now fluid, and like all fluids, it flowed downhill—rapidly. His original plan, to get home in one piece, was now secondary. First, he had to save the people of Gala—after he kept his word to Mag'Osnik, of course.

  Well, I started all this. I have to see it through. Am I likely to get killed? Yeah. But glancing over his shoulder at Tattie, he realized he had to stay.

  "You are opposed to war, and yet you are a soldier," Tattie observed.

  "One of my nation's great military leaders once said, ‘The soldier, above all other people, prays for peace, for he must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war.’"

  "You carry such scars and wounds, don't you, Cris?"

  "What?"

  "I have seen the burn scars on your arm, and felt your heart throbbing in your chest as you wake screaming in the night."

  Cris did not respond right off. He kept walking with his eyes fixed on the darkness ahead. "In those days, I was young and eager to prove myself in combat. Today, I would only enter into war if it were forced upon me, as it now appears to be."

  "You lack enthusiasm."

  "You got that right."

  "Once you come to know the enemy, your heart will burn as does mine."

  "Yeah—that worries me, too."

  Half-an-hour passed without a word between them. Cris began to feel bad. He'd been a little harsh with Tattie. He had no idea what horrors her people had seen. He was well aware that this Caval Du Mal and his ally, Bruckna, were indeed bloody tyrants. He remembered the butchered body of Paia Nove, whom he called Vemde, and skulls of the woman and her infant child in Vonkanoor. Cris thought a few innocent words, some light conversation, might mend fences with Tattie.

  "Say—speaking of sleep disorders—"

  "Of what?"

  "While you were unconscious in the woods back there you seemed to be having some nightmares yourself."

  "Nightmares?"

  "Evil dreams," Cris quoted her words back at her.

  "Some, not all."

  "Yeah, what does Am Eka mean?"

  "Where did you hear that?" she asked, surprised.

  "From you. You said it while you slept."

  "Did I say it—to you?"

  "You just spoke the words. So, what does it mean?"

  "It means gimba!"

  "Pardon me."

  They walked on a few meters when Tattie reached out suddenly, grabbed Cris's shoulder, and whispered, "Did you hear that?"

  They both stopped. From somewhere up ahead came a sound, that of dripping water.

  They continued, and shortly the tunnel began to widen, larger and larger, until at last they stood in a vast gallery. Cris could see stalagmites and stalactites of enormous size. Columns, flowstones, and draperies as large as theater curtains; there were massive halite flowers and soda straws as big around as he was. At his feet was a depression as big as a swimming pool, and through its crystal-clear water, he could see thousands of cave pearls, many as big as bowling balls.

  It was beautiful!

  "Wow," Cris uttered.

  "Oh, Cris, I wish you could see this as I do. The colors are spectacular."

  "Where to now?" Cris asked.

  "Can you see the path on the floor?"

  Cris looked very hard. He could just make out a discolored depression on the floor leading in a serpentine fashion off through the formations in the gallery.

  "It must have been made by those who built the bridge," Tattie concluded.

  "Where could it possibly lead?"

  "Another way out, or to some temple deep inside the mountain—either way, we have no choice but to follow it. The bridge is gone and Bruckna's Ahs Dormis will not leave the cave entrance, ever. She will let them starve to death there."

  For the next couple of hours, they pushed on. Cris glanced at his watch. It was still on lunar time, but he guessed the hour was late.

  "Tattie, I figure it must be close to eight or nine at night up above. Are you tired?"

  "I am a little hungry." Everything in the cave was damp or wet, but just off the trail Tattie found a dry spot atop a boulder. Here, they sat and each had a bite of the beteko og and a good drink of the elixir. They were refreshed almost instantly. Tattie stood, ready to continue.

  "Can we just sit a second?" Cris asked.

  Tattie sat opposite him.

  "Tattie, I want to apo
logize for my attitude back in the tunnel. I want you to know that I've decided to stay and see this thing through, regardless of what happens."

  Tattie moved over next to him. "Cris, you know it will be dangerous, but you have no idea of the danger you face. You have never faced a Sorgina, nor do you understand the power Caval Du Mal possesses."

  "Yeah, and I don't know what we have to fight them with, either. I don't know the commitment of the people, or how strong their desire is to be free."

  "Cris, the people of several worlds are ready to be shed of Caval Du Mal—forever!"

  "That will be the big test: when the call goes out, who will respond?"

  "Somehow, you are respected above all others by the Avory—who have twice saved your life, something seldom before seen in the long history of Nazer. There is a blessing upon you, Cris. I feel certain that, with you, we will at last be rid of the cancer of Caval Du Mal!"

  Cris was looking into her eyes as she spoke. Her passion and her desire for freedom were obvious and infectious. Cris had known freedom all his life; now, he wanted it for her.

  "Don't worry, your children will know freedom, and never know a moment of fear."

  "See, Cris, you can be precise when you speak." She gave him a little kiss on the cheek, stood and offered him her hand.

  As Cris rose, he felt a burning on his cheek where her lips had gently touched him. Was this part of her plan to worm her way into his mind? Had she forced a change in his attitude through some Nazerian voodoo? He hoped not. As he rubbed his cheek, he was starting to enjoy this feeling of warmth she provided. The thought dawned on him: perhaps, like a drug, he was becoming addicted to her voice, those looks, and her touch. This must be the method by which he would become dependent on her and, thus, controlled by her. He shook his head to clear these thoughts from his mind.

  Onward they plowed, refreshed by the bread and the elixir, deeper into the cave. Its wonders continued to amaze both Cris and Tattie. They walked around a dome of massive proportions, and entered a gallery whose roof had caved in tens of thousands of years ago. The boulders were now welded together with a thick blanket of limestone and covered with speleothem. Above, an even larger gallery was evident, at least to Tattie, who could still see very well, even in the slowly diminishing glow of the light stick.

  Tattie noted a set of flowstones that looked like stairs. "Cris, I think we must climb up. The way out must be up."

  "Wait, what about the trail?" Cris had lost sight of their path. "Where did it go?"

  They looked about and Tattie found it. "Over here."

  The path did not ascend the flowstone stairs, but continued winding its way through the lower gallery into a crevasse in the wall.

  "What do you think?" Cris asked.

  "There is no sign the ancient people climbed up there, even though there is a clear stair by which to ascend." Tattie indicated the flowstone steps that descended from the gallery above. "Let us continue to trust the old ones."

  With a last look over his shoulder at the incredible sight in the massive gallery, Cris plunged into the narrow crevasse, Tattie close behind him.

  Just after entering the crevasse, it widened out considerably to about four meters.

  "Cris," Tattie exclaimed, "look at the walls, the tunnel was widened by hand."

  Cris held the light stick close to the left wall where he could see the marks in the wall left by stone tools.

  They were making good time now, though the path was sloping decidedly downhill. After about twenty minutes, they reached a drop off, the first drop was only about a meter and a half, the second was two meters. The problem came with the third drop, which was six meters. They both knew that this would make their return by this path impossible. Once down, it was too high to get back up.

  "Do we continue, or go back?" Tattie asked.

  "Wait a minute." Cris got onto his hands and knees and examined the face of the drop, then he threw his weakening chem-light stick into the area below. He could see there was something down there, but could not tell what. Tattie gasped.

  "What do you see?" Cris asked.

  "Bones, I see the bones of animals and aliens, Geldneth, Parenmerians, and Portigalweg.”

  "What was that last one, porta—what?"

  "Portigalweg, Mag'Osnik is a Portigalweg. You look like a Portigalweg. Two of the Fenanteum, the men you called bounty hunters, were Portigalweg.

  "They were the original inhabitants of this world. It was the disappearance of most of them millennia ago from Nazer that left the door open for the colonization of this world by other beings. Among the colonists were my people, the Geldneth."

  "Really? So, you and most of the people on this planet are transplants?"

  "It could be said in that manner, but we have been here for countless generations, and our numbers far exceed those of the remaining Portigalweg. This is our home, and we love it dearly."

  "Let me guess—the remaining Portigalwegs resent the presence of you immigrants."

  "Some…a small number, really."

  "Caval Du Mal is a Portigalweg, right?"

  "Very good, Cris. However, he is not native to Nazer, he was born on another world."

  "What about Bruckna, is she Portigalweg?"

  "Of course not. She is a Sorgina."

  Cris reached into his pocket, produced a new light stick, bent and shook it. The fresh blue-white light filled the area where they stood.

  "Tattie, down among the bones, do you see a passage out of that area?"

  She scanned back and forth with her large green eyes. "No, I don't."

  "It's a trap. Whoever built all this designed a trap that seems to work."

  "The real path is behind us someplace then," Tattie said.

  "Most likely well camouflaged."

  "Camouflaged means—hidden?"

  "Yes, yes it does. We may be in some trouble here."

  They returned to the gallery of the ancient cave-in. After an unfruitful search, there could be only one conclusion. Looking up, Tattie said, "We must climb up the flowstone steps to the gallery above."

  Cris agreed, and they started up. At the top, they discovered that the great hole they had crawled through placed them in a large tunnel. Looking up the tunnel on their side of the hole, it was a rather straight path sloping upward. On the other side of the hole, the path dropped sharply down and curved to the left. As reaching the surface was their intended destination, Tattie and Cris started up the near path.

  After several hours of walking uphill, a positive sign began to become evident. The solid rock wall became a combination of soil and stones. Then small roots were seen hanging down from the ceiling, they formed a sort of basket or revetment holding the tunnel open. The smell of the air changed to that of damp soil and became much fresher.

  The tunnel turned gently to the left, then sharply right; now light was visible up ahead. Tattie and Cris broke into a run. They were stopped by a wall of thick, gnarled, intertwined roots.

  They stood before the obstacle for several seconds, and Cris considered his options. Freedom was but a few meters away. He could see the light and smell the fresh air.

  "Why do you wait?" Tattie asked.

  "Why do I—wait for what?"

  "Ask them to let us out."

  "Ask who?"

  "Ask the roots to let us pass," she said slowly, with that overly patient tone in her voice.

  Cris looked at the roots and said, "May we pass?"

  "No," Tattie said, and took his hand and placed it on the roots. "Now, and be sweet."

  "Sweet?" Cris cleared his throat. "Hello, ancient Avory…may we please pass out of here?"

  The roots began to quiver, then slowly began to unravel and withdraw into the wall. The path out, though small, was now open.

  Tattie and Cris were soon crawling out of a hole between the roots of a tree of titanic proportions. Its trunk was as big around as a house, its tops were lost in the vast foliage of it limbs and leaves. Its roots were massive, t
he largest some twenty-five meters in diameter.

  As they stood, and looked up at the leviathan, they heard the roots close the tunnel.

  Tattie fell to her knees and prostrated herself. She began to chant softly, "Grat po anamebus nos trez Avai. Anamebus nos trez Avai. Anamebus nos trez, Avai, Avai. Grat." Then she rose. "Cris, we just emerged from the mouth of Omnez Avai Avory, the grandfather of all trees. This is the oldest living being on Nazer. His wisdom is vast, his age beyond knowing. Under his roots are the entiae idem, the stones of knowledge that contain the history of the Avory. It is also said that he hides the treasure of the Avory within the caverns below."

  "So, we were just in Aladdin's treasure cave?"

  "No Aladdin; the ancient Parenmer of Avonoch worshipped here. It is said they were given the task to protect the treasure. But when their own greed overcame them, the Avory destroyed them."

  "Then, they are the ones who built the bridge, the path, and the trap?"

  "Somewhere in the depths of that cave is the temple of the Avonoch and the treasure of the Avory."

  Cris approached the old tree and placed his hand upon it. "Thank you Omnez Avai Avory. We ask your blessing and your protection." Cris had lost that strange embarrassed feeling he had experienced when he spoke to the plants and trees.

  As Cris turned, a fruit from the tree fell, landing at Cris's feet. Tattie backed away from Cris, and her large eyes seemed to burst from her head.

  "Cris! Pick it up!"

  Cris reached down and lifted the fruit, it was the size of a plum but looked like a pomegranate. It was bright blue in color with small white spots near one end.

  "Eat it, Cris."

  "How? It's as hard as a rock."

  "Press in on the top and bottom at the same time."

  When he did so, the fruit split open from top to bottom. Inside was an odd meat that resembled wet cotton. Cris pulled at it and it all came loose from the shell. Cautiously, he put it into his mouth and began to chew. He quickly discovered that chewing was not necessary, it just melted in his mouth. It tasted sweet, like milk with sugar in it.

  "Well—thank you again Omnez Avai Avory." Cris walked up to Tattie. "So, do you know—"