And it was headed straight for them.
<><><><><>
Chapter 31
“Get down!”
The avionic filled her vision as it hurtled towards them; a creature of doom, trailing thick black smoke from its flaming snout. Yonach and Patris reacted instantly, diving face-first onto the stone platform, but Yaron simply stood, open-mouthed. Keris grabbed the boy unceremoniously by the collar, shoving him down and throwing herself on top of him.
She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth as the mechanical beast screamed in her ears and choked her with its brumous breath, leaving a grimy taste in her mouth. She heard a loud bang, followed by horrible rending. The sphere—it’s been hit.
She twisted her head around and forced her smarting eyes open. Through the acrid fog, she could see the great globe at the centre of the roof platform, resting securely on its clamps. It appeared to be intact. Then she glimpsed the avionic. It had impacted the far side of the platform, destroying the parapet and ripping open its undercarriage in the process. She watched in horror as the wreckage toppled under its own momentum and disappeared off the end of the tower.
The smoke began to clear, and the four of them rose to their feet slowly like sleepwalkers. “That were close,” Yonach said.
“Too close,” Patris agreed.
Burning debris littered the tower’s roof. She was tempted to rush to the other side and check on the fate of the crashed avionic, but it was the drama being played out in the skies above that held her attention. The new arrivals had been outnumbered three to one. Now they were even.
The remaining machines wheeled and dived and chased each other in an elaborate dance, the cadence of their engines rising and falling in a bizarre musical accompaniment.
A single note rose to fever pitch as one of them broke off and began to climb steeply. The avionic reached its zenith, hung for an instant against the brilliant orb that was Ail-Gan, then plummeted as if someone had gouged a burning piece out of the yellow sun and hurled it towards the ground.
As the avionic streaked downward, engines screaming, Keris extrapolated its flight path and spotted the target vessel executing a slow turn. Suddenly the enemy craft banked sharply. At the same instant, a brilliant flash shot forth from the descending avionic, slicing through the air and narrowly missing the enemy’s port quarter.
Keris winced. In her mind’s eye she could see the enemy pilot’s self-satisfied smirk. He executed a tight turn so as to face his attacker, bringing his weapon to bear.
Veer off. Veer off. At the last moment, the falling aircraft executed a sudden roll. The enemy beam grazed its underside, and as it shot past, the enemy craft was punched sideways by an invisible giant hand.
It pitched and tumbled towards them, then dropped below the level of the parapet. The four onlookers rushed to the edge and craned their necks just in time to see the pilot regain control—a fraction too late. The avionic slammed into the side of the tower, causing the ancient stone to reverberate like a bell. The wreckage fell away, the sound of its impact muffled by the deep drifts of snow at the tower’s base.
The last enemy aircraft flew overhead and altered course westwards, making a run for it. The attackers pursued like enthusiastic gundir seeing off an intruder. Finally, they gave up the chase, turned in a wide arc, and made their way back to the tower. Keris withdrew from the parapet and took up a position with her back to the great silver globe, flanked by Patris and the two guides.
The victorious avionics hovered over the stone platform. The downdraft from their immense fans ruffled her crimson cloak and blew her long raven hair unceremoniously about her face. She watched intently as they descended side by side, settling back on their landing struts. Their engines died and the first of the canopies popped open.
The front seat was occupied by a full-faced individual in a ridiculous red cap that could only belong to Alondo. A wave of relief passed through her; the wayward musician who had impetuously jumped ship was safe. Folded awkwardly into the rear pilot’s seat was the lanky form of the boy Rael.
The second aircraft’s canopy released, and the slight figure of Shann stood up in the rear seat. In front of her, a powerful, broad-shouldered creature with a repulsive growth of facial hair sprouting from his pale, sickly face—McCann.
What was he doing, travelling with the others? Was he a captive? Or was this part of some elaborate deception? Her fingers involuntarily brushed the haft of her staff. Then she heard voices. It sounded like... an argument.
“I am never doing anything like that with you, ever again.” The hu-man’s bass growl sounded like a threat.
“I’m sorry we had to go up against your people,” Shann said, “but there was no choice.”
“That’s not what I meant,” McCann replied. “I feel like a shirt that just got put through the spin cycle. Who on earth taught you to fly an avionic?”
She gave a slight shrug and climbed onto the fan housing. “No one. I taught myself.”
“You might have mentioned that before you insisted on taking the flight controls.”
She stuck her nose in the air. “Might I remind you that I downed three of their machines? It would have been four if the last one hadn’t taken off like a scalded barrog swine.”
“Oh really. Sorry, I didn’t notice. I was too busy watching my past life flash before me.”
“She did the same thing to me,” Rael broke in. “Twice. I figured it was someone else’s turn.”
“Hey, what is this?” she spluttered. Rael extended a hand to help her down. He was smiling. Her tone softened. “You’re just jealous.”
“I think you’re confusing ‘jealous’ with ‘nauseous’,” McCann returned.
“Look,” Alondo said breezily. “It’s Keris and Patris.”
Shann stepped forward and bowed slightly. “It’s good to see you both. Byrdach told us you were headed here. It looks as if the hu-mans who attacked Kieroth somehow found out as well.”
“The Captain has a spy network in Kieroth,” McCann explained.
“There are Kelanni who would betray their own?” Rael exclaimed.
McCann turned to him. “Maybe you don’t know your own people as well as you think you do.”
Keris’s reply was cut off, as Yaron, the younger guide, rushed forward and threw his arms around the hu-man. There was a stunned silence. When at last the boy lifted his head, there were tears in his eyes. “I thought I’d ne’er see ya again.”
His elder brother bowed formally, pumping McCann’s hand. “Yaron says this is the way ’u-mans say thanks. I wanna thank ya fer savin’ th’ boy’s life. If there be any way we can repay ya—”
McCann looked as if he were enduring a form of attack. “You rescued me from the mountain. Why don’t we call it even?” The brothers responded by clapping him on the back and shaking his hand even more vigorously.
Keris approached Shann and adopted a formal stance. “I must apologise. I failed in the mission with which you charged me.”
Shann regarded her curiously. “How so?”
“I was to conduct Patris and Alondo safely to Kieroth.”
“Ah.” Shann glanced at Alondo, who flushed and turned away. Then she faced Keris once more. “Well, no harm done. In truth, the fault was mine. I ordered Alondo to leave his friend behind. That was a mistake. I’m sorry.”
Alondo stepped between the two women, grabbed Shann’s hand, and began shaking it in a parody of the hu-man custom, grinning from ear to ear as he did so. “That’s all right. I forgive you.”
“I assume,” Keris continued, as soon as the musician had finished his antics, “that the fact that Lyall is not with you means that your portion of the mission failed as well?”
“Well, no, not exactly.”
She grimaced as if she were settling in for a long explanation, but before she could begin, Rael stepped in. “Shann, we ought to get going while we have the opportunity.”
Shann nodded, “Rael is right. Come on. I’
ll fill you in on the way.” She turned to Yonach and Yaron. “My thanks for accompanying Keris and Patris. Will the two of you be all right?”
Yonach grinned; the lines on his face were like a relief map of the mountain. “Don’ worry ’bout us, miss. Me an’ the lad ’ere can ’andle a few murghal.”
Shann gave a formal bow. “Then we bid you farewell.”
Keris held up a restraining hand. “Wait. There is one more thing.” She regarded Yaron intently. “I—we need you to do something. Something very important. The Chandara—those you know as the ‘First Ones’. They are not extinct, as your people believe. They are still alive. But they need our help.”
She had made a commitment to Annata that she would keep the location of the Chandara in this world a secret, but the woman from the past had been wrong. Her people’s attempt to save them only condemned them to a gradual death.
Keris’s promise to the Chandara of the Warren had been that the Kelanni would preserve them—that they would ‘do what the Tree could not’. What that meant exactly she did not know, but she was determined that the promise be fulfilled.
She reached into her tunic and drew out Annata’s map. “You must return to Kieroth and speak to Byrdach; he will listen to you. He must convince your Directorate to aid the Chandara. Then you must travel... to this location.” She indicated the position on the map. “The Chandara there live underground, but do not worry; they will find you. Tell them that Keris sent you and that you have come on behalf of the Kelanni in order to fulfil ‘the promise’. They will understand. Then you must do whatever it is that they ask you to do.”
Yaron looked to his older brother, who nodded solemnly. He turned back to Keris. “You ’ave our oath on it.” In a moment of panic, she thought that the boy might try to hug her, but mercifully he maintained a decorous smile and a respectful distance.
She strode to the centre of the platform, where the silver globe sat like an immense diadem on the head of a stone giant. She found the triangular-shaped indentation and fit the access module into it. The complex circuitry within the transparent casing came to life, glowing a gentle amber. The light turned to bright crimson and a door slid open. She retrieved the module and stepped inside.
The interior looked identical to the device at the top of the tower on the Eastern Plains—the one that had been destroyed by the Prophet’s forces while she and the others attempted to use it. There was the same mysterious interior lighting; the same curved, silver-grey walls; the same raised area; and the same array of levers at the centre. It felt like stepping back in time.
She moved to the controls. “Grab hold of something.” The others distributed themselves and grasped the available handrails.
All right, four levers. Two blue, corresponding to the towers on this side; two red, which would transport them to the towers on the other side. Beneath the levers were inscribed some symbols she couldn’t interpret—probably because they were written in the ancient script. It didn’t matter. The tower on the Eastern Plains was destroyed, so whichever one of the red levers connected to that tower, it wouldn’t operate anyway.
Of course, after thousands of turns of disuse, it was perfectly possible that the corresponding device at Dagmar might not work either. If that were true, then they would know soon enough.
She made to grasp the red levers with both hands when she suddenly caught sight of something. To her left was a bronze-coloured assembly of parts, set into the central unit. There was nothing like it at the tower on the Eastern Plains; of that she was certain. With a sudden flash of insight, she realised that the exposed mechanism was designed to connect to a different set of levers but that someone had removed them.
“Is everything all right?” Shann called.
“Yes—yes, everything’s fine. Hold on.” Keris pulled both red levers down firmly.
There was a dull clunk as the clamps that were securing the sphere disengaged. The floor canted slightly and the great globe began to lift into the air, supported by the lodestone in the roof platform.
The sound of crackling gathered all around her. For an instant she thought that the device was malfunctioning or that they had come under attack again. Then she recalled the fulgurant display of blue lightning that accompanied the activation of the spheres. She felt a twinge of regret that she could not observe it from inside.
What happened next was hard to describe. At first, it seemed as if the all-pervading light within the sphere had been snuffed out. However, when her thought processes caught up, she realised that it felt more as if she had been snuffed out. Yet there was no period of unconsciousness. The universe simply blinked. When it opened its eyes, everything was exactly the same—except that the odd assemblage of connections to a non-existent set of levers was gone. She opened her mouth—then closed it firmly. There was no explanation, no rationalization she could offer to the others that made any sense.
The crepitation in her ears fizzled as the globe descended slowly. She swivelled around. The others seemed a little dazed, but otherwise they were in good shape. She felt a slight bump and heard a distant clang as the strange conveyance settled into place once more.
Rael exhaled slowly. “Why is it so stuffy in here?”
Keris descended from the central podium and activated the opening. It slid open smoothly, admitting a warm draft of air. She climbed out onto an identical stone platform and gazed heavenward. The giant orb that was Ail-Mazzoth suffused the sky with its soft, warm rubescence.
We’re back.
<><><><><>
Chapter 32
“Quickly, let’s move.” Keris’s cloak whirled about her as she glided unevenly towards the roof exit.
“What’s the hurry?” Shann called after her.
“Our arrival. The lightning storm above the tower will have been seen for a great distance—maybe as far as Chalimar itself. We don’t have much time.”
“Time for what?”
Keris pushed the access module all the way home. It lit up yellow, then red. The lock mechanism clucked its approval. “Come. I’ll tell you on the way.”
“What about the others?”
“Patris will explain it to them.”
“Patris?” Shann ducked through the entranceway and into the tower’s pitch-dark interior. Flame erupted, casting Keris’s face in fire and shadow. Shann blinked away the after-images on her retinas as Keris reposited her tinderbox. “Keris, where are we going?”
The tall woman led the way down the spiral stairwell, limping slightly; dull yellow illumination from her hand-held lamp caressed the curving stone wall. “In a moment. First, tell me of your plan.”
Shann followed, hastening to stay within the meagre circle of light. “I don’t... I mean it isn’t my plan. It’s Lyall’s.”
“So you found him.”
“Yes.”
“Yet he didn’t come with you.”
“He’s convinced them that he’s gone over to their side. That’s all a part of his scheme.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“I... I’m not sure.” Keris stopped in mid-stride, turned, and gave a look that made Shann feel as if she was on trial. “There were two humans with him. He could only reveal his plan to us in cryptic terms, so
they would not catch on.”
“What use is his plan to us if we don’t know what it is?”
“Rael believes that it involves something called ‘slag’. It’s a substance that’s left behind when—”
“Yes, yes, I know what slag is,” Keris interrupted. “What possible use could a waste product be?”
“I don’t know. But Rael is convinced that Lyall gave us all of the clues necessary to put it all together. He and Alondo are working on it.”
“I see.” Keris resumed her descent.
Shann trailed in her wake. “You don’t believe he’s still on our side, do you?”
“I am forced to wonder why he didn’t simply tell us his plan instead of running off and taking the four
components with him.”
“Rael says that’s because he knew we would try and stop him. He didn’t want to put the rest of us in more danger than was necessary.”
“He wants to save his sister. That much is clear.”
“I think he believes that he has a plan that will do that and defeat Wang at the same time.”
“By offering him the thing he wants most—the power to create lodestone at will.” Keris nodded thoughtfully. “Risky. Add to that the possibility that we might not figure out his plan in time to be of any use.”
“Lyall has faith in us... in all of us.”
“Does that include the ‘Morela’?”
Shann concluded she must have misheard. “The what?”
“Morela,” Keris sighed. “You know, you really ought to familiarize yourself with shassatan strategy. Pieces are designated by the player as they are placed on the board. The Morela is named after a creature found in the shoals off the Borgoth Sea coast that changes colour with the tides. In Shassatan, the Morela is a very powerful piece, but it possesses one major drawback. When flanked by an opponent’s pieces, it changes colour—comes under the opponent’s control.”
“Why would anyone designate a piece in that way?”
“It depends on the player’s attitude towards risk. And I suppose it also says something about their estimation of their abilities. Either way, it’s a tactic that can easily backfire.”
Shadowy shapes danced on the walls, like flickering faces of the tower’s long-dead occupants. Watching her. “You’re talking about McCann, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am,” Keris said.
Shann took a deep breath. “The decision to include him was mine. I take full responsibility.”
“I do not mean to criticize. A leader sometimes has to make difficult decisions. I’m sure you had your reasons.”
“But... ” Shann prompted.
“But I would not be fulfilling my commitment to you if I did not point out the dangers. And... the debt we owe to one hu-man does not mean that we should trust them all.”
The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) Page 98
