The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series)

by Mark Whiteway

  “I have never actually seen one. They disappeared after the war. You say yours came with you, through the…Barrier?”

  “Yes.”

  “How come it is travelling with you?”

  “Why don’t you ask it?” she said innocently.

  “Your Candachra can speak?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  The shelled creature was ambling along behind them, sniffing at the air and taking in the sights. Byrdach turned to address it. “Candachra–”

  “Its name is Boxx,” Shann interposed.

  Byrdach looked at her oddly, then raised his eyebrows and began again. “Boxx, where do you come from?”

  “The Great Tree,” Boxx responded in its thin, high tone.

  “Where is that?”

  “It Is In The Midst Of Our Forest. Kelanni Had A Name For It In The Before. Illaryon. Kelanni Name All Things, As Is Their Way.”

  “And where is Illaryon?” Byrdach asked.

  Boxx appeared wistful. “Far Away. Over Storm And Sea. Deep Pits And High Hills. Crowded Prairie And Empty Desert. To The Heartwood. My Home.”

  They had left the last vestiges of the town behind and were wending their way up a hillside covered with an unbroken blanket of the white powder, its crystalline surface glinting in the light of the suns. A flock of birds took to the air as they passed, before gradually settling back to the ground. Large cylindrical structures were set back from the path at odd intervals.

  “Why are you here?” Byrdach continued his interrogation of the Chandara.

  “For All Kelanni. I Am The Key.”

  “The key? The key to what?”

  “You Are Not The Key. I Cannot Speak It. Only To Keris.”

  He looked back at Shann, who only smiled sweetly.

  The hill they were ascending was dominated by a large building, quite different from any she had seen in the town. The main part formed a huge silver dome which rose majestically over the white landscape. To one side, there were other constructions of the more familiar grey stones. A palace, perhaps? It would make sense that they would be taken to a higher authority–someone with the power to decide their fate. She briefly considered the possibility of flight once again, but she could not guarantee Boxx’s safety, and she needed more information. Not to mention food.

  They walked up the final section and through an ample gateway to a large wooden door, set with a bronze coloured ring. Byrdach grasped the ring and banged it loudly twice.

  “We are here,” he announced.

  <><><><><>

  Chapter 3

  “Go Away.”

  The words, though heavy with dialect, were unmistakeable. A door opened and a portly woman came bustling through it before closing it behind her with utter finality.

  Shann and Boxx stood next to Byrdach in a spacious hallway lined with wood panelling and set with lamps that looked like miniature versions of the ones lining the streets of the town. The decor seemed appropriate to the dwelling of a rich person, but it was hardly the palace Shann had envisaged earlier. Byrdach stepped forward, and there was a frank exchange of words. Finally, the woman acquiesced, after a great deal of tutt-tutting and shaking of her head. He made for the door she had come through, then stopped with his hand on the door lever as if remembering something. He turned back and whispered to the woman, his head inclining slightly in Shann’s direction. Then he opened the door and disappeared through it, closing it behind him as if he did not want what was inside to get out.

  The plump woman hustled over to Shann, then her face fell, as if she had just noticed Shann’s condition. Her hands went to her round cheeks, then smoothed down the apron fronting her workmanlike dress, as if she were preparing for battle. “You…come.” She grabbed hold of Shann’s arm to emphasise her point, aggravating the girl’s shoulder injury.

  Shann winced. “Oww.”

  The woman instantly let go, unsure what to do next. Then she went to a side door, opened it and waved Shann through. “You come…”

  Shann was too weak and tired to argue. With Boxx in tow, she allowed herself to be led through a generous sitting room whose walls were lined with strange clicking devices and more books than Shann had ever seen in her life, to another wood panelled hallway, and finally to a smaller room with white walls and a white tub against one wall that she recognised as a bath. Boxx was standing on its hind limbs, its head cocked to one side. “Go, wait outside,” she ordered it. Boxx looked at her uncomprehendingly. “Shoo, shoo.” She waved her hands dismissively. Reluctantly, Boxx dropped to all sixes and scuttled out of the room.

  Shann stripped at the woman’s insistence, and there followed a brief but comical tug of war over the clothes. Shann retained her flying cloak and staff, but grudgingly allowed everything else to be whisked away.

  Moments later, she was sitting in the tub behind a screen, waiting for the water to arrive. Nothing happened. Bored, she began fiddling with the bronze fittings, and to her amazement warm water came gushing forth. Soon she was luxuriating in the light steam and testing her injured shoulder–a job for Boxx later. She got out and peeked behind the screen. A towel had been draped over one chair and fresh clothes over another. Her flying cloak still lay crumpled on the floor where she had dropped it, but her diamond-bladed staff which she had propped up against the wall was gone. She cursed her carelessness and dressed hurriedly, bundling the cloak under her arm.

  She opened the door, expecting to find Boxx, and recoiled as she was confronted by the two blue coated figures from before. Standing guard. She looked around, but the Chandara was nowhere to be seen. First my staff is gone, now this. The place was starting to feel ominously like a prison–a comfortable prison to be sure, but a prison nonetheless. “Where is Boxx?” The watchmen looked at her uncomprehendingly “The Chandara; where is it?” she demanded.

  The two men looked at each other. Then the taller, dark skinned one addressed her in a firm voice. “You–to come–.” His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his odd silver staff. Even with no weapon, Keris could have disarmed them both and had them lying unconscious on the floor without breaking a sweat. Shann, however, was not her. There was nothing for it but to allow herself to be taken meekly to her cell.

  Instead, they led her back to the sitting room with the books and the odd machinery, and indicated that she should wait there. The door closed, and she heard the unmistakeable sound of a lock turning. She got up and tested the door lever, but of course, it did not move. What did these people want with her?

  She turned and looked around the room she was in. It was the machines that immediately captured her attention. There were large contrivances nearly as tall as the ceiling, and small ones no bigger than her hand, set on shelves. They were all different, yet they were all moving internally. Whirring. Clicking. One of the smaller devices erupted into a peal of tinkling notes and then settled down once more. Shann walked over to it and peered into its inner workings. Beneath its pure glass dome, she could see wheels–wheels within wheels. Tiny components of bronze and silver, interlocked and moving together in a common purpose, the nature of which she could only guess at. It was like looking into a whole new world. Beautiful. Alive…

  A key turned and the door behind her opened. Shann spun around. Two men entered. One was Byrdach. The other was old and balding, with bleached olive skin stretched too tight over sharp cheekbones and a hook nose. He was slightly bent over, but his movements were sprightly. Byrdach selected a couch and settled himself into it. He tossed a reassuring smile in Shann’s direction which only succeeded in making her more wary. The old man remained standing. He was watching her intently, like a hungry perridon.

  She ignored him and addressed Byrdach. “What have you done with Boxx?”

  It was the old man who responded. “Who?”

  “The Candachra she was travelling with,” Byrdach explained. The old man nodded thoughtfully, then went to a bookcase, dragged down a thick leatherbound volume and began rapidly thumbing through pages, seemingly
engrossed.

  “Yes the Chandara. Where is it?” Shann lent her voice a sharp edge.

  “It is quite safe,” Byrdach assured her.

  “I want to see it, now.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Byrdach replied evenly.

  “Why not?”

  “We have it in… protective custody,” Byrdach said.

  “What does that mean?”

  Byrdach looked at the old man, and then back at her. “There is a wild animal…place, near here, where we keep some specimens in cages…”

  Shann could scarcely contain her anger. “You have it in a cage?”

  “It is for its own safety,” Byrdach soothed. “You have my personal assurance that it will not be harmed in any way.”

  The old man glanced up from his book. “You were a fool as my student, Byrdach, and you are a fool still. Don’t you realise the scientific importance of discovering one of the first race alive and well?”

  Shann’s curiosity was piqued. “The first race?”

  “Yes, yes,” the old man responded with impatience, “Surely you know that your ‘Chandara’ is one of the first ones?” Shann looked at him blankly. “Look, there are two intelligent races that originated on this planet. We, the Kelanni, are the second. The Chandara were the first. But there have been no Chandara seen anywhere since the war.”

  Byrdach too had mentioned a war. Had the Kelanni here been at war with the Chandara? It seemed inconceivable–Boxx was the most inoffensive creature she had ever known. However, it was also the only Chandara she had ever known. Perhaps it was not representative of its people. And as for the Chandara of this world–well, who knew what they were like.

  The old man was lost in his book once more. “You called it a name…Boxx…Boxx….” He stabbed a page with a bony forefinger. “Here it is. In the ancient tongue it means ‘opening…portal…key’.”

  “Key,” Shann confirmed.

  “Key to what?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” Shann confessed. “It’s supposed to be the key to some kind of special device which–”

  “Byrdach tells me that your Chandara has the power of speech.”

  “Yes, although–”

  “Then I must speak to it. Byrdach, I insist that you set it free. I will go to the Scientific Directorate if necessary.”

  “I heard that since the business with that new engine of yours, you and the Principal Director weren’t on speaking terms.” The old man had a determined look. Byrdach’s face softened, and he raised a placating hand. “All right, all right–I’ll see what I can do to get it released into your custody.” He turned to Shann. “I must ask, on your honour, that you do not hurt anyone or attempt to leave this house for the time being. Do you agree to this?”

  Shann nodded. Like I have a choice. Byrdach rose from the couch. “Very well, then. I leave her to you, Hannath.” He lapsed into his own dialect and she listened carefully. She couldn’t catch the words, but she saw the old man frown. Perhaps Byrdach was reminding him that the two blue coats were just outside if he needed rescuing from an unarmed slip of a girl.

  The door closed behind him, and she was left alone with the old man. She jumped as Hannath slammed the book shut and threw it so that it landed with a thud on nearby table. “Byrdach is a good man, but he has no sense whatsoever.” He was staring into space, as if talking to himself. “I suppose that’s why he was chosen as Prefect.” He turned to Shann, fixing her with the same intense stare. “Sit down, please. I would like to ask you a few questions.” Shann selected a plush leather stool nearest the door and sat on the edge, holding the flying cloak in her lap as if it were the last remaining shred of her identity. “You seem to speak Old Kelanni–or a version of it, at least.”

  Shann felt her hackles rise. She was already picturing Boxx huddled in the corner of a cage like some wild animal. Still, like it or not, this man had declared his determination to free the creature. She stiffened. “I speak Kelanni, not Old Kelanni. I don’t know what version of Kelanni you people speak, but it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard before.”

  Hannath seemed to ignore her answer. “…and Byrdach tells me you claim to have crossed the Ayronath–Aronak, pardon me.

  “Yes.”

  “You crossed over from Kelanni-Drann.” Shann looked blank. “Kelanni-Drann,” he repeated. “Our planet is divided into two halves by a natural storm barrier. This side is known as Kelanni-Skell; the far side is called Kelanni-Drann. Archaeological evidence shows that the two sides were able to interact before the dark time–the Goratha. Since then, they have been cut off from each other…separate parallel development.” He was staring off into space again. “The language difference would support that…”

  There was a light knock on the door. “Who is it?” Hannath barked impatiently. The door opened and a tall, lanky boy slipped in. He was not much older than Shann, with a thin, serious face and limbs that were constantly on the move, as if signalling that they were too large for his body. “What’s the matter, Rael?” the old man snapped. The boy stammered a reply in the local dialect. It sounded like something about ‘pressure tests’. “Not now, Rael, can’t you see I’m busy?” The youngster bowed reverently and closed the door behind him.

  “So how did you cross the Barrier?” he demanded.

  “We came by ship…it’s a vessel that travels on water.”

  “Fascinating. How does it work?”

  Shann frowned. “I…I don’t know…wind. It has sails and is powered by wind.”

  “Unlikely. Wind is too unreliable, and the sea is dangerous and unpredictable. A vessel like that would be too unstable. Attempting to navigate the Storm Barrier in it would be foolhardy.”

  Something inside Shann snapped. “I told you; we came here by ship. We risked our lives because the Prophet is building a device to destroy all Kelanni and the only thing that can stop it lies somewhere on this side. I have to find it and I have to find my friends. I’m tired and I haven’t had anything to eat since I woke up in this crazy world of yours. So…so if you don’t want to help, then please just let me and Boxx go, and we will find our own way.”

  She looked at Hannath, but he did not seem to have heard her tirade. Instead, he had the same faraway look as before. “Byrdach did say that you were hurt when those idiots tried to capture you. Perhaps your memory was affected? I will ask Tallia to stop by and have a look at you.” He blinked, as if he had just remembered something. Then he picked up a small bell lying on the table and rang it vigorously. The plump woman who had attended her earlier appeared at the door. She was flushed, her head beaded with perspiration. Hannath rattled off a series of orders. The woman waddled over and spoke earnestly to Shann, herding her through the door. Before it closed, Shann glanced behind her to see that Hannath was pulling books from shelves, tossing them aside impatiently, then taking down others, leafing through them and muttering to himself all the while.

  Shann blinked. I’ve just been interviewed by a lunatic.

  ~

  The kitchen where the thick-set woman led her was sparse and functional, clashing rudely with the studious opulence of the sitting room. It was dominated by a large range, but there was a dearth of pots, pans or other utensils. It looked like a kitchen designed for someone who never got hungry. Shann sat on a stool, sipping a bowl of broth that the woman had produced from nowhere before flitting off on some unnamed errand. The broth was laden with some form of meat and pulses, and tasted wonderful. She was trying to decide whether this place was a private home, an artisan’s studio or an official residence of some kind. It seemed to have elements of all three–one more question to add to her growing list.

  The blue coated watchmen had followed discreetly and were now standing guard outside. Shann was certain she could escape if she wanted to. The place was far from secure and her guards didn’t seem too bright. However, she had made a promise to Byrdach. More importantly, she could not leave Boxx behind. She didn’t even know where the Chandar
a was being held.

  There was a noise from outside and a head topped with a brush of short cropped dark hair poked around the door. She recognised Rael, the boy from earlier. “S-sorry,” he said, and the head disappeared.

  “Hey,” she called out. The head reappeared. An idea suddenly occurred to Shann. She smiled at him with her eyes. “Do you speak Old Kelanni?”

  “Yes,” the head said.

  “My name is Shann. You’re Rael, is that right?”

  “Y…yes,” the head replied.

  “Would you mind if I ask you some things?”

  The head looked around furtively. “I…I guess not.” A body followed the head as the boy slid into the room and sat on a stool opposite her, looking downcast. She put down her bowl. “Do you work here?”

  The boy shifted on his stool, avoiding eye contact. “I…well…yes. I mean, I’m Hannath’s apprentice.”

  “Apprentice–that sounds important. What do you do?” Shann asked encouragingly.

  “I run tests, report on experiments. I learn from the master.”

  “You mean Hannath?”

  The boy nodded, staring down at the table.

  “Is he some sort of artisan?” Shann probed.

  Rael looked up at her as if she had said something blasphemous. “He’s a scientist.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “You don’t know what a scientist is?” Rael sounded incredulous. “A scientist is someone who tries to find out how the world works.”

  “How…the…world…works,” Shann repeated. “What do you mean?”

  “W…well, for instance: why is the sky blue, how far away are the stars, why does a barrier of storms divide our world–things like that.”

  “Why would anyone want to know such things?” Shann inquired.

  Rael appeared stunned by the question. “We must understand how the world works, if we are to make it better.”

  “So, a scientist tries to make the world better,” she said.