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

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The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) Page 75

by Mark Whiteway


  Enemies... invaders... must be destroyed... destroyed at all costs... But who... who is my enemy? The gargantuan creature of flesh and blubber, brooding beneath a floating wooden monster—a monster that cut off light from above and threatened its domain and its young?... Or are they my young?... The beast must be destroyed—the great wooden beast infested with tiny creatures that gave pain... They must be crushed—dragged down to the depths... The pain... Return the pain...

  Shann’s face transformed into a grotesque mask as she whipped her staff around and drove it straight at the head of the tall, fair-haired creature in front of her.

  <><><><><>

  Chapter 4

  The short, burly man who called himself Lorcar stood, hands on hips, head thrown back, laughing for all he was worth. At his feet, a tall, wiry girl lay on the flagstones of the Keep’s inner courtyard, her face a mask of frustration and injured pride.

  His laughter ebbed away to a light chuckle. “Do you know what you are, girl? Do you? You’re a scrapper; that’s what you are. You go in, feet and fists flailing like some farmhand. ‘Keris, the Scrapper’— that’s what I’ll call you from now on.”

  The girl pushed herself up and dusted herself down. It was her first day of training as Keltar, and she was already taking a profound dislike to the man who had been designated as her Principal Instructor. Finally, he sobered up, and his tone became reflective. “You must think about what you are doing... and then you must forget it.”

  Lines creased her delicate forehead. “I don’t understand.”

  “How to move, how to position yourself, how to conserve strength—to assess and exploit your opponent’s weaknesses—these and many other things you must learn with your conscious mind. But there will come a point where you must forget them. Your actions must flow, not from thought, but from instinct. You must learn to act within the moment. Only then will you truly be Keltar.”

  Keris exploded into action, her staff intercepting Shann’s thrust and deflecting it so that the diamond blade passed inches from Lyall’s face. The girl’s weapon sliced through empty air and struck the deck planking with a thud. Keris’s muscles were taut, ready for the follow-up attack, but Shann simply stood still, staring at the point of her blade as if it belonged to someone else. A titanic battle waged back and forth across her features.

  Lyall gaped at her. “Shann?”

  Shann’s eyes glazed over and she gritted her teeth, raising her staff and shifting her hands to the balancing point of her weapon. Keris stepped between her and Lyall. She had no desire to harm the girl, but neither could she allow her to kill or injure others. She would try to disarm Shann if possible, incapacitate her if necessary. But if it came down to it...

  The short-haired girl shifted her grip and made a sideways slash, forcing Keris to jump back and parry the blow. Even under the influence of ... whatever it was, the girl was fast. Keris used the split second Shann took to recover from her swing to go on the offensive. She swung her weapon, forcing the girl to raise the wooden haft of her staff defensively. The dark-haired woman followed up with a succession of blows driving the girl backwards and forcing her to counter continually. Keep her occupied—off balance. Behind her, she could hear Lyall’s anguished voice calling after her. She ignored him and pressed home her attacks, darkwood clashing against darkwood in a series of staccato blows. The drach parted in confusion as the two women moved through their midst, locked in combat.

  Without warning, the girl feinted, then made a low pass. Keris felt the blade cut into the soft tissue of her leg. She went down on one knee. The drach stopped retreating and began moving towards them. Lyall, too, advanced on her position.

  “Stay back,” she yelled. Keris could feel blood trickling down her calf as she rose precariously. The girl blinked rapidly and shook her head in apparent confusion. Keris hazarded a glance over her shoulder. They were now some distance from the huge eye, which had not moved from its position, suspended over the deck.

  Suddenly, an idea occurred to her. It was risky, but with the injury Shann had just inflicted on her, she was running out of options. She began to back away, hobbling as rapidly as she could, back towards the eye.

  The girl’s expression grew vacant once more and she started after Keris, swinging her bladed staff. Keris fought a steady rearguard as she retreated. Her leg protested loudly at every step, making her head swim. Lyall also backed up, following their progress, his face paralysed by indecision.

  As she approached the ship’s port side once more, the flattened tentacle with its revealed eye hung before them like an examiner of souls. Within the transparent tube beneath it, another glistening barb had appeared, aimed directly at them. It’s now or never. Keris turned away from the girl, hefted her staff like a spear, and thrust it into the centre of the eye.

  The diamond blade was swallowed up in the gelatinous mass. Fluid spurted forth, the colour of bile. The tentacle jerked back and shot into the air, almost yanking Keris’s staff from her grasp, before disappearing over the side of the ship with a splash. She turned to see that Shann had collapsed. Lyall was kneeling next to her, shouting her name, but there was no response.

  Before she could move, the air crackled, and a bolt of lightning struck the deck immediately to her right. Across the deck, another tentacle arm had descended and a second lurid eye stared down at them. One of the drach was discharging his weapon indiscriminately as the others dived for cover. Keris started across the deck, wincing at the pressure on her injured leg. She made straight for the eye.

  The rogue drach turned towards her, levelling his silver staff weapon. She recognised Roloff, the man she confronted earlier. His face was contorted, yet his eyes were as blank as Shann’s had been.

  He fired directly at her. Keris ducked and rolled away, regaining her feet as rapidly as she could, her leg screaming in protest.

  Roloff appeared to falter. He cast about, uncertainly.

  She hesitated, then felt a new flash of pain. The creature had loosed another barb which had nicked her arm. Something lurked at the fringes of her mind—a cold persuasion, sapping at her resolve. She gritted her teeth, deliberately putting all her weight on the injury. Searing agony lanced through her, filling her mind with red mist— pushing back the invading presence.

  Roloff stiffened and brought his weapon to bear once more. Suddenly, the deck bucked beneath them as massive tentacles seized either side of the tiny ship. Roloff stumbled sideways. A bolt of lightning erupted from his silver staff and sizzled past her ear. Keris lunged forward and made a low pass with her staff, chopping the man’s legs out from under him. The ship rocked back and forth, and then began heeling to starboard, the hull creaking in protest. The creature was trying to drag them under.

  Keris stumbled down the sloping deck towards the eye. Another tentacle flashed past her and she heard a strangled cry. She turned to see that the monstrous limb had wrapped itself around Roloff’s torso and lifted him into the air. She was the only one near enough to render assistance, but she would have to backtrack, clamber her way up the slanted deck once more. Roloff struggled vainly in the grip of the creature.

  She had told Shann that she would not sacrifice anyone else. At the time she meant it. Too many lives had been lost already—the soldiers at the compound near Gort, Ferenek, Zamir and the nomads of the Eastern Plains, Nikome, Mordal, Saccath... Yet now she realised it was a foolish promise. There were times when necessity laid choices upon people—choices they would rather not make. Leave a man in the grip of a terrifying beast, or go back in a futile attempt to rescue him, thereby jeopardizing the Reach and her entire complement? She had no option.

  Feeling sick to her stomach, Keris turned back, slithered down the incline, took hold of her staff, and drove it into the pupil of the eye. The limb jerked back and up, thrashing in the air before vanishing over the side. The remaining tentacle arms rapidly followed suit; the one with Roloff in its grasp held his screaming body aloft like a trophy before finally dragging
him down into the depths of the Erigone Sea.

  ~

  Keris struggled to her feet and surveyed the aftermath of the battle. The scene was utter chaos. Blood stained the deck—orange from the creature, white from the Kelanni. She began to feel light-headed as she realised that a considerable amount of the white blood was hers. Behind her, Frang and the other remaining drach were attending to their fallen companion, who still lay there, unmoving. Near the port side, Lyall was still kneeling next to the unconscious Shann.

  The creature could return at any moment. Keris went down on one knee and ripped open her trouser leg, exposing the wounded flesh. She began tearing strips of cloth from her tunic, tying them in a tourniquet as tightly as she could manage without passing out. The flow of blood appeared to be stanched for the most part, although there was some seepage of white fluid through the makeshift black bandage. “Boxx,” she called out.

  Patris emerged from the sterncastle. Rael descended the ladder to the main deck, followed by Alondo. They made straight for Shann and Lyall.

  “Boxx,” she cried out again. The Chandara came trotting up to her. It stood on its hind limbs and regarded her as if nothing had happened. “There are injured people. They need your help.”

  “Keris Is Injured,” it pointed out.

  “Later,” she commanded. “See to Shann first, then the injured drach over there.”

  “Yes, Keris.” The creature dropped to all sixes and scuttled across the deck. Keris did her best to follow. The tourniquet sharpened the pain, making it feel as if she were walking on knives. She reached the place where Shann was lying. Boxx sat moving its head slowly back and forth. The others stood about, shifting from one foot to another.

  Keris looked down at the Chandara. “What’s the matter?”

  Boxx’s wide mouth undulated. “I Cannot.”

  “What do you mean, you ‘cannot’?”

  “I Cannot Heal. Her Sickness—It Is Of The Mind.”

  Keris felt suddenly deflated. There are some conditions even Boxx cannot fix.

  “We should get her to the sterncastle, where she can rest,” Lyall suggested.

  “I’ll do it.” Alondo bent down and picked the girl up. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared small and fragile in his arms. Keris stood with the others and watched helplessly as the musician carried her towards the cabin.

  She tore her eyes away to see Frang striding towards them. Now what? He made straight for her, putting his face inches before hers. His mouth was a taut line, and his dark brown eyes flashed dangerously. “You stood by and let that monster take one of my men.”

  Keris stood her ground. “I could not prevent it. I am sorry.”

  “Nonsense,” Frang spat. “You were right there. Yet you did not even attempt to rescue him.”

  “If I had, then you, I, and everyone else on this ship would be at the bottom of the ocean right now.”

  Frang’s nostrils flared. “You showed your dislike of Roloff when you tried to falsely accuse him earlier today. You threatened him—everyone heard you. I think you used this crisis as a way of getting rid of him.”

  “If I wanted you and your men off this ship, I assure you I would not need the help of a sea creature to do it.”

  “Is that so? Then maybe you would like to start with me?”

  In a single fluid movement, Keris whipped her staff around and pointed the diamond blade at the big man’s midriff. Frang also moved with surprising speed and grace, aiming his silver lightning weapon squarely at her head. Both stood like statues, each daring the other to blink first.

  “Keris,” Lyall barked. The tall woman did not flinch. Go ahead. Try it.

  “It’s all my fault.” Rael’s anguished voice shattered the tension.

  Frang shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

  “The colcachra. I... tried to tell Shann about the eye but I don’t think she understood. I wanted to warn you—to warn everyone. But I couldn’t leave the afterdeck. I... I was scared.”

  “Are you saying you know what that thing was?” Frang exclaimed.

  The tall boy shifted his feet and stared at the deck. “No... Yes... Wh... what I mean is, I recognised it. From images and texts found in ancient records. The colcachra was said to possess spines with the power to... influence people—to control their minds through chemical means.” He looked up, his eyes pleading. “The accounts were dismissed as stories. The Biology Division maintained that no animal could have that capability. But wh... when I saw it I feared the worst. I... I just couldn’t go down there. Then when it took Shann over, I... ” His voice trailed away and he lowered his head once more. He seemed utterly lost.

  Frang had not moved or lowered his weapon. His flat face was as resolute as before. “That does not alter the fact that this woman deliberately allowed one of my men to be taken by the creature.”

  Lyall stepped forward in a desperate effort to get between them. “Look, I am sorry for your loss. But Keris did what she thought was right—for everyone. We have to work together if we’re going to reach the island and destroy the hu-man’s weapon.”

  Frang scowled. “What they say is true—you can’t trust a Drannie.”

  Trust a what?...Drannie…Drann? The people of this side referred to the other side of the world—the side where she and the others were from—as Kelanni-Drann. Already, the designation seemed to have been turned into an insult. Keris tightened her grip on her weapon.

  Lyall ignored the racial slur. “Look. Boxx, our Chandara, can treat any physical wounds your fallen man has over there. Please, let us help you.”

  Frang’s eyes were still locked with Keris’s. His expression betrayed no trace of uncertainty, but she could hear the cogs of his mind working. Weighing actions. Decisions. Consequences. Like it or not, he was down to three men, and one of them required treatment. If he precipitated a confrontation now, he would be at a distinct disadvantage.

  A cry from the afterdeck cut off her response. It was Patris.

  “Wind. We have a wind. All able hands to sail.”

  A stiff breeze arose from out of the south and began to buffet Keris’s cloak, pushing her long dark hair over her face as it blew fear and resentment away. Yet for how long?

  <><><><><>

  Chapter 5

  Shann came to with an almighty headache. She was lying on her bunk in the sterncastle; Alondo dozed on a stool next to her. As she stirred, he snapped to full wakefulness. “Shann. Shann, are you all right?” His voice sounded fuzzy—drowned out by the pounding at her temples.

  “My head... it hurts.”

  Alondo jerked the stool back against the floor. The scraping sound went through her head like a jagged edge. “I’ll get Boxx.”

  “No... stay,” she managed to get out. “How long... ?”

  “Nearly a whole day. I was beginning to wonder whether you would ever wake up.”

  “Wh... what happened?”

  Alondo swallowed. “It’s not important. You’re safe now—that’s all that matters.”

  The musician was clearly not going to be drawn out on the subject. She sagged back and closed her eyes until sleep claimed her once more.

  When she awoke again, Alondo was gone and the stool was occupied by Boxx. All traces of her headache had vanished.

  Shann thanked the creature and emerged from the sterncastle, blinking in the sunlight. She found Keris and then Rael. Both seemed pleased to see her up and about, but they were oddly evasive. Frowning, she climbed the ladder to the afterdeck. Lyall and Alondo were leaning over the stern, staring out to sea—deep in conversation. They turned and their faces brightened as they saw her approach.

  “How are you?” Lyall asked.

  Shann gave her mouth an ironic twist. “I’m fine. I’m not so sure about the others, though. Everyone I’ve talked to seems... distant. What’s going on?”

  Lyall sidestepped her question. “How much do you remember?”

  Shann joined them, leaning on one of the crenellations
of the raised afterdeck. Grey-green waves slipped noiselessly beneath the Reach’s hull, emerging as foam at the stern, before settling into the wide wake that marked the ship’s passing. She stared down at the murky waters. Somewhere below lurked the monster that had attacked them. She recalled the cold presence at the edges of her mind and shuddered. “I tried to sever the end of one of its arms. It opened an eye. Something stung me. I felt... weird. The next thing I knew I was waking up in my bunk with a splitting headache. I must have blacked out. How did you drive it off?”

  “Keris attacked its eyes and the thing retreated,” Alondo said. “Unfortunately, it took the drach Roloff with it. Frang was upset, to say the least. Things have been pretty tense since.”

  That might explain why people were behaving oddly, but not why they were behaving oddly towards her. Shann could not shake the feeling that there was something that she was not being told. “How come I was the only one to black out?”

  Lyall and Alondo looked at each other. Eventually Lyall spoke up. “You didn’t black out—at least, not right away. You turned on Keris.”

  Shann’s mind struggled to catch up. “Turned on... ?”

  “You assaulted her,” Lyall continued. “Badly wounded her in the leg. It’s all right, though. She still managed to damage the creature to the point where it retreated. Afterwards, Boxx performed its usual healing services. She lost a fair amount of blood, but she says the leg feels almost back to normal. And she doesn’t blame you. We all realise you were under the influence of that thing. It managed to get control of Roloff too. We’re all just relieved that you survived. Roloff wasn’t so lucky.”

  “But how—?”

  “Rael says they are called ‘colcachra’. They shoot spines which have the ability to influence people—take them over.”

  “You should rest some more,” Alondo urged.

  But Shann did not feel like resting. She was filled with an odd mix of horror, embarrassment, and elation. I attacked Keris—virtually disabled her. Her first instinct was to go to her and apologise, but the woman had a strong sense of pride. She might interpret an apology as if the girl were rubbing it in. Maybe it would be better to say nothing.

 

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