NanoSymbionts

by Joseph Philbrook

  We of the sisterhood tend to live long healthy lives. But while he still had the appearance of youthful vigor, my mother's skin had begun to wrinkle. To his credit, he did not even seem to see her age and they spent a few years in happy dalliance while he tried to persuade her to become his wife. But though she still had many years left of health and vigor. Pewanist pointed at the signs of her aging.

  Then my mother said to him. ‘If you truly love me, you will not ask me to watch myself wither away before you. Go forth and know that my love will always go with you.’

  For several years our Questor returned every few seasons. But in time he perceived the pain it caused my mother to be reminded of his youth. And his visits became shorter and further apart. I was but a girl of 3 years when I first met him. I was nearly 8 when next I saw him. I was 127 years when my mother passed from this life. It was not until I was 136 that I found out how deeply he loved my mother. For that was when I had the sad chore of telling him that she was no more.

  He had stepped through his portal to bring her a message from an old friend. He found me in her favorite spot by the falls. He started to ask me where she was. But in his heart he knew she was gone before I said a word. He saw it in my eyes. Even as I saw within his, a desperate plea for me to say it wasn't true. When I could not, I saw the strongest man I've ever met crumble into a useless wreck. Who spent most of the next two years weeping before her memorial tree.

  Eventually though he realized that she wouldn't have wanted him to waste the rest of his long life in lament. And so he left us once more. In the 1298 years since then, he has returned but rarely.

  Though through his portal, a few of his associates have visited us more often. Those occasions when he has graced us with his presence, have usually been to bring some new friend or other, who needed a place to rest and recuperate.

  But every time he did come, he would spend much time silently staring into the falls at night by the light of the moon. By sunrise he would invariably be weak with grief. I once asked him why he tortured himself so. He told me that reliving his memories of her was more than worth such pain. The last time he was here was nearly 25 years ago.”

  Kernislarn fell silent. She held her teacup upside down above her head. So that all assembled could see that it was now empty. Then she added, “That was a true retelling of things that were.”

  Then Kernislarn turned to face Cindy. As she stepped down from the central pedestal.

  “That Cindy, is also why I almost wish your Jake had strayed from you,” Kernislarn admitted. “That he might have accompanied our Questor here the day when Jake first learned what he had become. I would have had the pleasure of a visit with an old friend who I rarely get to see.

  But then had he done so, it isn't very likely that you would ever have become my apprentice. So perhaps it is better this way after all.”

  Chapter 18 Something Odd In The Sky Of A Strange Land

  Darg didn't bother much with people. He was self sufficient. He didn't really need anything the local villagers had to offer. Though sometimes he traded with them anyway. Occasionally he traded furs for certain fresh farm raised fruits and vegetables that he couldn't get in the wilderness. Most of the time however, he avoided them.

  It wasn't hard. His woodcraft was such that even an experienced snowlander like Amid would be hard pressed to track him when he didn't want to be found. Of course, staying out of sight around here was almost too easy because there were very few who knew what to look for. In fact Darg sometimes even doubted that the average farming village raised ‘hunter’ could properly track a stampeding heard of Woolbeasts. Even so, he covered his tracks like he would if he thought Amid was looking for him.

  Darg made sure there was no one to see him come out of the brush. Then he carefully approached the fish trap that he had placed in the stream yesterday. He hoped to find enough of the tasty skippers to make for a good meal. Along with enough leftover smoked fillet strips to last him for a journey of three or four days. He had been in this valley long enough. He thought that three or four large skippers would make enough fillets to get him to the next valley. He could of course forage for enough edible plants along the way to keep himself alive.

  He would however, need the protean in the fish if he expected to keep his strength up well enough, to outdistance the howlers that had begun tracking him. Especially if he actually had to fight them off before they gave up the chase.

  The trap consisted of a small well placed round net like basket, with it's only opening nearly flush with the surface of the stream. If he placed it well, the skippers would have skipped along the top of the water fast enough to jump over the rock his trap was fastened to. If they landed inside the ring shaped opening in the top of the basket, they wouldn't have enough room to get going fast enough to jump back out. While the less desirable fish wouldn't find it easy to get into the basket, to rob him of his prey.

  He was disappointed to find only two skippers in the trap but he decided they would have to do. So Darg quickly gutted and boned them. Then he headed for his current camp where he cut the flesh into strips and made a small cook fire. He wrapped the fish in stinkweed leaves while the fire built up the hot bed of coals he needed, to cook and preserve the fish with the odorous oils from the stinkweed leaves.

  He was then careful to stand upwind of the smoldering stench until the oils burned off and the smell faded. By the time the fish was ready, evening was fast approaching so he decided to eat on the run. While the fishy bundles smoldered he had filled his pack with everything else he was taking with him. Now Darg quickly pealed back the charred leaf far enough to extract a couple strips of fish and stuck the rest in his pack. He kept his bow strung and handy, as he began walking further north.

  It wasn't long after nightfall that he heard the blood curdling sound of a howler pack on his scent. They were too close for him to outdistance this night, so he quickly climbed a stout tree. Then he made ready his entire stock of arrows. First he tied his pack to the tree trunk. Then he carefully unwrapped his three remaining poison tipped arrows. That he had prepared last spring with the poisonous slime from the spines of a freshly caught yellowfin fish. These he carefully poked through some of the leather like leaves of the stonewood tree he had taken refuge in.

  Darg was careful to ensure that he could quickly retrieve these arrows one at a time. Next he slung his quiver with the rest of his arrows over his shoulder and fitted one of the nonpoisonous arrows to his bow string.

  He didn't have long to wait. Soon the pack of howlers were gathered around his tree. It was a large hunting pack of six adults and three juveniles who were still learning how to hunt. He waited until one of the reckless juveniles tried to climb his tree, before he sank his first arrow into it's neck. It was mortally wounded but not yet dead. It's ‘pack survival’ instinct made it keep coming. The second arrow sunk deeply into the soft tissue of it's cavernous nasal cavity, piercing it's brain. Even so, it screamed in rage for a few seconds before it fell to the ground dead.

  During those seconds, two of the more experienced adults tried to climb up the other side of the tree where he would have difficulty getting a clean shot. They were quick climbers so he wouldn't have much time before they reached him. He fitted one of the three treated arrows and shot the nearest one in the shoulder. It took less than two heartbeats for the poisoned beast to loose it's grip on the tree and fall. It's dead body nearly dislodging the second one as it fell. To keep from being knocked out of the tree this howler had changed it's position slightly. Giving Darg a brief, but clear shot at it's face.

  He felt a need to conserve his two remaining treated arrows so he took the shot with one of the untreated arrows. The beast was close enough that his first shoot passed through it's eye socket, sinking deeply enough into it's brain that it was unable to keep it's grip and fell howling to the ground where it died. Filled with rage, the four remaining adult howlers charged up the tree all at once, with the two remaining juveniles following c
lose behind them.

  He felled the nearest beast with one of the remaining two treated arrows. Then as the small fast moving moon called Windchaser, rose in the western sky, Darg took advantage of it's light. To see the exact position of both the next nearest adult howler and the juvenile below it. Darg aligned his last treated arrow for a risky trick shot that passed through the adults scrotum on it's way to sticking into the back of the Juvenile.

  Neither beast got a full dose of the poison but enough of it had transferred to the adult's bloodstream, that it didn't last more than two heart beats before it fell, dislodging the rapidly weakening Juvenile on the way down. Both were dead by the time they hit the ground. Then he managed to sink two arrows in rapid succession into next nearest adult.

  One of which passed into it's open mouth and through it's tongue. It sunk deeply into the beast's throat at such an angle as to sever one of it's vocal cords. This changed the sound of it's howl. The second arrow slipped past it's ribs and pierced it's heart. Darg quickly fitted another arrow and started to draw a bead on the last adult. Which was far too close for anything less than a brain shot, to kill it before it reached him and he didn't yet have a clear shot at it's eyes.

  Fortunately the beast must have begun to realize that it was now the only adult howler left and that it's intended prey had killed the vast majority of it's hunting pack with arrows like the one that was now pointing in it's direction. Not knowing the difference between the poison arrows and the few that Darg had left, the last adult howler suddenly retreated. Leading the last juvenile down the tree and into the night.

  Darg spent the rest of the night in the tree. Alternately scanning the woods for signs that the howler was coming back and looking up at the night sky, for an omen to explain why he was still alive. It was still dark when Windchaser set in the east. The bigger slower moon, Cloudroller wouldn't be rising until the twilight of the early dawn. Then he saw a strange light in the sky. It wasn't the kind of omen he was expecting but he had seen something like it once before.

  Many years ago when his path had first crossed that of the strange nameless mage who had gifted him with a jewel like crystal disk and taught him to use it to light campfires with the light of the sun. As well as how to use it to see things clearly at great distances. The erratically moving light would have been a frightening omen, even if that mage hadn't warned him of the danger that could accompany such a sight.

  He took his crystal from the leather pouch he wore around his neck and twisted the metal ring that bound it until he could see the light more clearly as it settled toward the big lake that some stupid Midlander had dubbed the Drinkwater sea. As soon as the light of new day dawned, Darg started hiking as fast as he knew how. In order to gain the vantage point of the peak of Sailbird mountain, where on a clear day he could, with the help of his crystal, actually see all the way to the near side of the Drinkwater.

  Chapter 19 The Ruins of XenDar

  They had walked along the ShellWays for the nights of nine days after saying farewell to MoonCloud before they began to pass over an oblong hill. The hill itself wasn't visible in the dark but BillSong knew it was there. Because he was looking at where he couldn't see any of the glowing ShellWays and the hill was just tall enough that only a few of the uppermost BranchCritters passed over it. Lower level BranchCritters curved around and latched on to other trees on the same side of the hill. BillSong looked down at it with some interest.

  “I'm not sure,” he said. “But I think this is the hill I've been looking for. I'd like to be a little further around it's edge. When the morning light gives me a better look at it.”

  Half a cycle later BillSong sat on one of the ShellWay's taller ridge segments.

  “I think,” he said. “That this is where I'd like to be sitting. While I watch the dawn's light shine on the hill below us.”

  Two subcycles later they could see that one end of the hill appeared to consist of a ledge. The exposed solid rock was shaped like a wedge. Near the point of the wedge there was an opening in the rock. That appeared to be a tunnel to the other side. Because an old looking BranchCritter seamed to pass right through it. BillSong pointed at the place where the BranchCritter passed into the cave.

  “We just need to get down there,” he said.

  Three cyclets later they were lowering themselves on nano-morphic threads. Then they walked along the shell of the old BranchCritter that they could see disappearing into the cave mouth.

  Inside the cave they soon came to an ancient looking ForkHub. Where three BranchCritter segments joined into one creature. The one they walked in on, one which exited the opening on the other side and a very odd looking one. The strange BranchCritter segment had a very narrow but thick top shell.

  This third BranchCritter passed into a dark tunnel that led deeper into the hill.

  “Watch your step on this odd narrow shell,” BillSong advised Questor. “It's a little slippery in places.”

  Then with light from BillSong's bio-stove and Questor's stick they walked into the darkness. Questor kept shining his light on the walls of the tunnel. Where there were some ancient markings. Some like primitive drawings of long extinct animals. Then there was an unmistakable painting of a lake or sea. Which was odd here on XenDar where neither existed. Then the markings were replaced by some symbolic characters. Which gradually became more advanced looking as they passed deeper into the cave.

  Questor could hardly contain his excitement. As he noticed that many of the symbols resembled the indecipherable markings found in some ‘Kindred’ ruins. By then Questor had noticed that this unusual BranchCritter didn't have any foliage vines. Instead it appeared to have some moss like growth on it's lower body. That in places had started to cover the OverShell. These were the slippery places that BillSong had warned him about.

  Eventually they reached the end of the BranchCritter. Where it had latched onto what appeared to be an artificial TreeWell. Which was carved out of the stone itself.

  Just above the artificial TreeWell there was a long stone stairway leading upwards to an archway. Behind which there was a series of five chambers which had been carved out of the rock. When they reached the small landing just outside the archway they could see into all five chambers. Each one was behind and slightly above the one before it. Each with two shallow stone steps visible at the back. Connecting it to the next, smaller chamber. Except for the last which appeared to have a depression in it's floor that fell below their line of sight.

  The walls of the chambers were covered with markings both symbolic and pictorial. Just inside the entrance of each chamber there was a pedestal. Which was placed so that the collection of crystal disks on it's surface could be seen through the doorways. Which were so aligned as to provide a clear line of sight from the vantage point of the entrance to the first chamber.

  With his enhanced vision Questor could see that the symbolic markings on each disk were in fact unique. The first chamber's pedestal had the largest top surface. Which displayed 243 disks. The second was somewhat smaller with only 81 disks. The third had 27 disks. There were just 9 on the fourth and as might be expected the last pedestal held only 3 disks.

  Two of which were exact copies of the ones in BillSong's pouch.

  “I couldn't have described it,” BillSong said. “So I never mentioned the way I feel here. It's like I can sense the presence of some hidden thing. Watching and somehow judging me here. But now that we are here I need to know if you feel it too?”

  Questor hesitated briefly, then he began to speak in a monotone with a steady rhythm.

  “My host-mind instructed me,” he said. “To inform you that he has reported a similar impression. He has had the impression of such a presence since he first set foot on the outer BranchCritter. On the shell of which you entered the tunnel. He reported that the sensation feels much stronger here than it was out there. I can not validate his impression. Without launching a squad of nano-scouts to deepscan the premises. I was also asked to tell you tha
t my host-mind asked me to refrain from the use of any such non-passive scanning techniques.

  He did not request that I refrain from informing you. That while I cannot validate such things as what he describes as a ‘hunch’. I have learned to not presume that his hunches have no value.

  He did however tell me to ask you if your ‘sense’ agrees with his ‘hunch's’ strong impression. That it would be better not to touch any of the disks on this pedestal?”

  As he said the last word Questor gestured towards the pedestal with a wave of his hand. When his hand passed over the outermost edge of the pedestal he detected his host-mind's sudden and intense discomfort. At that same moment he saw BillSong stagger.

  “Yeah, that would be yes,” BillSong said. “Please don't mess with that pedestal.”

  “Don't worry,” Questor replied. In a more human voice. “I've just instructed my nanosymbiont. To monitor my movements and prevent me from accidentally invading it's space again.

  But I intend a closer inspection of the other pedestals. And I want to see what's in that depression in the floor of the fifth chamber. Will you come with me?”

  “Well since I've been there before,” BillSong said. “I can tell you. That there's a hole in the fifth chamber's floor where a circular shaft sinks into the depths below. From this shaft there rises a faint foul smell that doesn't invite closer inspection. But more importantly, I feel forbidden to so much as look into it's depths. I will not again approach the abyss below it any closer than the entrance to the fifth chamber. But if you must see this for yourself. I will accompany you as far as that doorway.”

  As they passed through each chamber, there was always one more graphic image and one more section of symbolic markings on the walls near it's entrance. Where they could not be seen from the previous chambers. Each of the next three pedestals inspired Questor's host-mind. To have the same hunch that he should keep his hands off...