James introduced new cell types that focused on cancer, free radicals, and radiation. Many of these caused even more problems as they consumed perfectly healthy cells. He had to continually tweak and refine every single gene he introduced.
James’ head had turned into a perpetual motion machine of dragon genes. So many ideas buzzed around his head at once that he felt incapable of containing them all. He chose as many as he could and hammered them into the dragon, bit by bit.
He barely ate, much to Angie’s frustration. He did little outside the BOCS other than sleep, and that he did fitfully. Fire, symbols, and DNA still surrounded him every time he closed his eyes. There would be no real rest until this project was complete. James knew that from years of experience, deadlines, and papers. His book had nearly killed him before it killed his career.
As he dreamed, tossing in his sleek, silvery bed, the computer whirled to life somewhere down the maze of corridors. An empty white room hummed as it filled with dark smoke, fire, and reptilian features. Symbols swung through the air and strings of genetic code shot in and out of the dense smoke like lighting.
Dr. Stephens stood tall as he strode down the hall toward the office of Vander Carlson. Despite his fear at being in the same room with the man, he had nothing but good news to share today.
James had shown marked improvement in his latest IQ test. His healing abilities also continued to develop at astonishing rates, his cells showing little sign of aging.
A sharp beep brought Stephens’ attention away from his daydream of Vander’s face filled with pride and astonishment. He tapped his wrist. Cell phones wouldn’t work in this building.
“Yes? This is Dr. Stephens.” He chimed happily into the air, hoping that Vander’s voice wouldn’t come from the implant by his eardrum, even though he headed that way now. Being called to the man’s office turned out to be much more troublesome than arriving with a preplanned appointment.
Stephens had learned that Vander Carlson’s patience lasted longer with news he didn’t already know. When Vander had to call someone to discuss something the man had been stewing over, the full force of his anger could be unleashed with one ill-chosen word.
“Ah, yes. What do you need?” Dr. Stephens breathed out a sigh of relief as the voice of his assistant came through the tiny speaker inside his skull. What she had to say stopped him dead in his tracks.
“What? You’re not making sense. No, I understand you fine, but that’s just not possible. Someone has to be inside the BOCS for that to work. We have no sensors anywhere outside…no…no. No! I will tell him myself. Don’t send him anything yet. We have to find out what went wrong first. I’ll be right there.”
Even though Vander Carlson’s office sat a few steps away, the good news would have to wait. Dr. Stephens glanced toward the dark mahogany door that stood out from the sea of metallic gray doors down every hall. He could almost feel the cold malice that flowed out from beyond the warm wood. He turned slowly, for some reason he disliked having that door at his back, and walked back toward Section Six.
Chapter 15: A Knife for a Life
In the near perpetual darkness of the northern reaches of Ealdar, deep within the canyons of ice and rock, slave gangs of Dwaros dug into the frozen earth. Their dark purple fellstone chains rattled and clanked as they clawed like wild animals at the ground, singing without ceasing as they did.
Diresh had left her throne of ice behind for the evening to watch them dig. Their Song was powerful magic and she respected them in a way for this. It aided their digging and sent out waves of images and sensations.
Diresh licked her lips. She could taste their sorrow and despair as they sang, their only hope finding the point of darkness below that called to their masters. As much as she detested the little beasts, she enjoyed watching them work. There was a desperate rhythm to it, and they so longed for death. Delicious. After generations had died in these pits, the Dwaro had become very much like their Tyninian masters.
We all long for oblivion, do we not? To be embraced by the darkness and absorbed into Rho. To cease to exist and be one with a god. Diresh shivered with the ecstasy of the thought.
She whispered a word of power and sent a bolt of electricity into one of the Dwaros who had slowed, knowing it would pass through the chains to the others. Their song stopped for a moment, but then picked up again even fuller of longing for freedom and death.
“Don’t worry, my little pets. You are very close to finding what I want, what I need, and then you will all be freed in one form or another.”
They sped their pace at this, their song almost jovial at the prospect of an end to the suffering they had inherited from their ancestors so long ago.
Diresh closed her eyes and could feel the pulsating rift in space that sat beneath them. It defied reason and magic. She had no idea if it was several hundred feet below or just a matter of inches, but she knew it called to her and each swipe of a Dwaro claw brought it closer.
It had called to her grandmother and then her mother for hundreds of years. It had brought the Tyninians to the North a thousand years ago. Patience was a part of being Sidra, but Diresh’s patience had withered. She would be the one to uncover it if she had to work every last Dwaro she had left to death in the process.
One of the Dwaros cried out as the stone beneath it gave way and it tumbled into a dark chasm. The scream cut short. The other Dwaro pulled up on the chain only to find it had broken.
“Impossible!” Diresh stepped forward and allowed her staff to glow slightly. She didn’t need much light and she didn’t like using the light globe often. The Dwaros looked down as the light came near. The chain had been singed where it broke, blackened.
Diresh raised an eyebrow and approached where the slave had fallen. She could see nothing even with her light. She plucked the globe from her staff and dropped it in the hole. It fell, lighting up a small cavern of crystal, ice, and blue stone. It had fallen only a few feet before it vanished, swallowed into nothingness like it had never existed.
Diresh grinned at the Dwaro who cowered away from her. “You will be free sooner than I thought.” She turned to her soldier who had been watching the Dwaros before she’d arrived. “Go, get the other slaves. We must uncover this cavern fully. We must make it grand. We have found our god once more.” Finally.
Evandrel felt the communication between the Dwaro and the human. He could taste the foul King’s English in the air, a coarse language that lacked the depth and beauty of his own. He had never understood why the Elders required him to learn it. Because they are wise. There is always a reason. Now may be the first time any Sidra has spoken with a human in generations.
Evandrel let his words of power slow his speed. He bled the excess heat from friction away, channeling it into the air around him to be dissipated by the wind as he slipped into the clearing.
Evandrel glimpsed the Dwaro first, amazed at how much life could be packed into such a small frame. The song that flowed from the being was unlike anything Evandrel had ever experienced. His heightened senses took in the full depth of the harmony, thousands of minute counterparts cutting in and out in perfect balance.
This rivals even the Song of the Grove, as though the universe itself sang with all the voices within its great scope. The Dwaro reminded Evandrel of life itself, a complex interweaving of subtle powers moving in balance and precision. The tears he saw wet on the human’s face when he looked upon her didn’t surprise him.
The splendor of the Dwaro’s song failed to keep Evandrel from filling with hatred when he saw the human female. Hate for the humans who had murdered his ancestors, for their arrogance, for the way they filled the earth like a fungus taken root in an old tree. Never stopping, filthy, diseased things.
He was surprised by the girl’s beauty. The stories never spoke of humanity and beauty together. Even these things are children of the Goddess, after all, though we would like to forget it. Shorter than I imagined, but taller than the Dwaro. Hair the colo
r of sunlit bark. Her eyes were visibly interesting even from a distance. Gray blue and green storm clouds full of life and valor. Unexpected.
Her left eye reminded Evandrel of a hurricane, the gray and blue of swirled storm clouds. Her right eye held another storm, the gray-green of a tornado. Also the same colors as the Goddess’ Eyes of Heaven, the dual moons. Interesting.
Evandrel hadn’t anticipated seeing anything of merit in the creature. He had also felt the fear ebb away from her as the Dwaro sang, replaced with understanding, love, and warmth. It felt strange to discover that humans were not just the filthy, eating, breeding, soulless creatures out of myth and legend. This didn’t sway his hatred though. He marched on the beautiful girl and fed that hatred, letting it burn and build as he drew nearer.
Aren reacted without thought. She stepped away from the desk and behind her small friend with a squeak. The Dwaro turned and looked with wonder at the tall green-haired man. His wonder did not last, nostrils flared and teeth bared in a snarl as he caught the scent of malice and danger.
Aren stepped back as the two men regarded one another. Complete opposites in size and appearance, but similar in many ways too. Her gift told her that the tall man would win in a fight, though at great cost. Hopefully my small friend can keep me safe.
Her friend spoke in his sing song language. The tall man froze and squinted down with a hint of marvel. He replied in kind, but it didn’t carry with it all the images and sensations Aren had experienced from the smaller man.
The exchange went back and forth for several moments and then the tall man reached a hand out toward Aren. She shivered. Her friend snarled again and drew the blade from his back. Aren realized it was not a sword, but a large knife.
The metal glistened and hummed as though alive. Symbols swam across the blade. Instead of slashing at the taller man, he held the knife out, handle toward Evandrel. Aren didn’t need to understand what he said next to know that he offered the beautiful weapon in exchange for her safety. The green-haired man looked at the blade and back at the furry face of the Dwaro.
Aren watched the hate pull back. It didn’t disappear. Aren could see it there, waiting in the depths of the almond eyes, but he kept it in check. The two creatures made the exchange, and the tall man slipped away into the trees.
Aren let out the breath she’d been holding. “Thank you.”
As Dveldor turned, Aren saw the loss in his eyes. She couldn’t understand the sensation, but she felt certain the small man had given up more than a knife. He saw the weapon as a part of himself, more like a child, something precious.
“I’m so sorry, my little friend.”
He nodded. “Dveldor. Not little. Dveldor Dho Shaun Dwarden”
“Thank you again, Dveldor. I’m Aren. Aren Call.” She thought about shaking his hand, but the claws still frightened her. Don’t know if it’s his custom anyway.
Dveldor’s English was atrocious. He put way too much accent on the “A” turning it from Aren to Aaayren.
This didn’t bother her much, endeared him to her in a way, and she knew she murdered his name. “Dveldor Dho Shaun Dwarden.” The words felt rough in her mouth and failed to come close to the songlike sounds he’d used.
“Aayren. We moust gou now.”
Aren shook her head. “No. I must wait for Kaden.”
“Sorry, Aayren.” He pointed to the forest where the tall man had disappeared. “Dangeer. Not sayfe. Gift nout protect after Dveldor gou. Aayren must come with.”
Aren shivered as she thought of the hateful green-haired man stepping from the trees once Dveldor had returned to his tunnel and left her alone. “I can’t leave without Kaden. How will he find me? You don’t understand. I don’t even understand.” She slipped back into the desk and peered out at the forest. “He should be back by now.”
Aren had seen into the Dwaro’s soul. She knew his fierce loyalty. She knew he’d given away a precious gift to keep her safe and he would continue to guard her life without thought for himself. She should’ve known to what lengths he would go to protect her. She should’ve seen it coming, but she was looking for Kaden when the dense metal of the lantern made contact with her skull.
“I sou sorry, Aayren.”
Aren woke to a vague feeling of movement. Darkness enveloped her on all sides. I’m on my way home. Kaden? She floated on a slow moving cloud as song filled her with warmth and comfort, unknotting her muscles and deadening the pain in her head. Wait. There wasn’t any song the first trip, was there?
“Dveldor?” The music ended.
“Ah. You wayke.”
“What happened? Where am I?” She tried to rise, lost her balance, and toppled off her cloud. She had a moment’s thought of falling for miles in the darkness, but she fell only a couple feet. The fall still sent the air out of her in a huff and she banged an elbow on something hard as stone. “Ouch.” She touched the elbow and felt something warm and sticky. “I think I’m bleeding. Dveldor?”
A tiny light blossomed in the darkness. Aren welcomed the warm light. She’d felt starved for it even though she’d been awake for only moments. She checked her elbow, expecting a fountain of blood, but she’d only skinned it.
“Better, Ayrren?”
“Yes, much. Now, what happened? I was sitting in the desk and then…”
Dveldor shrank back and looked down. “I proutekt you.”
Aren touched the back of her head. “You hit me!” She stood and hit her head again on the low ceiling. “Ouch, ouch, ouch!” She kicked at the cart. The thing was more solid than it looked. Her stubbed toe stung, but she tried not to show it this time.
“Be caulmm, Aayren. Sayfe now. Boy no khome backa. Dveldor tayke you houme.” Dveldor smiled and Aren was surprised at how white his teeth were in the dim light.
She could feel the sincerity in Dveldor. All her anger went out of her, but a cold dread rose up in her chest to replace it. “You’re wrong, Dveldor. I may never make it home now.”
The alien images, ideas, and concepts that bombarded Aren whenever the Dwaro spoke began to make some sense with the help of her gift. He also wanted more answers about the mysterious plastic she and Kaden had brought into his world. She, not being a scientist, offered few answers, but shared what she knew.
Aren sighed as they walked the dark tunnels. She’d been gone from the clearing for hours now, not counting however long she’d been out. She ran a hand over the tender knot on the back of her head.
How does time work between dimensions? Kaden could’ve returned, just a month too early. I don’t know. Or perhaps he appeared in another part of the world entirely and he has to walk back. How would he even know what direction to head?
Her glimpse of the swirling arms around Kaden that led from one reality to another had been brief. She didn’t even have her usual insights into what Kaden might be doing right now, how he would react. She’d thought him a welcome mystery, but it now left her lost, alone, and blind.
“He will come back. He has to.”
“I leefing gnote for ween boy come baack.” Dveldor responded.
“What? Oh. I said that last bit out loud, didn’t I? You left a note? You can write in English?”
“Not weell. Tell him not safe.”
Aren couldn’t help but laugh. She could feel a touch of hysteria in it and clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling longer. “That’s going to be real helpful.”
The Dwaro puffed up with pride. He didn’t appear to understand sarcasm. “Yes.”
“Did you tell him to follow us?”
He looked at her and raised one furry eyebrow. “Follow. No. Not safe. Human alone dead. You with Dveldor safe. Trust.”
“Oh, trust the little man who hit me on the head? Yes, that seems smart.”
“Only to help. Sidra A’Keitane very wise, but not love humans.”
“And the Dwaro’s do?”
Dveldor stopped and looked up at her with wide dark eyes. “No, but not hate like that Sidra.”
“That seems true enough.” Aren glanced back down the dark tunnel they’d come down. “My friend will come back for me.”
“Your friend, he poof, he gone. Left note. Hope smart. We come back ammorrow.”
In the quiet tunnel, her stomach growled loudly. How long ago was lunch? How long ago was Earth?
“You promise we’ll come back tomorrow?” She whispered.
“We rest and eat. Come back tt-amorrow.” He’d begun imitating her use of words the second she used one. She had little difficulty understanding him now.
Dveldor took her hand, and they continued their descent into the darkness together. She couldn’t explain the sensation that traveled up her arm from his hand.
The warmth of his grasp comforted her despite a tickling movement that swam beneath her palm. So strange how real he feels. She’d expected his grip to feel like an animal’s paw, but it was the most human thing in the world to her as she walked deep under an unknown planet in a universe that no longer played by the rules she knew.
Kaden opened his eyes with a groan and took in the view of the hospital room with a distinct feeling of déj� vu. He’d been here just a few days ago to visit Aren. He’d also been in another hospital not too long ago after his accident. Gotta stop ending up in the stupid hospital.
“Aren!” He bolted upright in the bed.
“Kaden, oh Kaden. How are you? You okay?” Tracy sat up in a chair. She had a small bandage on her forehead and her eyes were puffy.
“Tracy? What happened? Where’s Aren?” He looked around the room unsure why he might expect to see her there.
Tracy took his hand and her face turned pale. The words rushed out of her. “There was an explosion at the school. In the middle of class. Six or seven kids were pretty badly hurt, including you. They haven’t found Aren yet. I’ve been asking a lot. Are you okay? Anything you remember? The police are asking lots of questions. Your dad is out there talking to them now. Oh, Kaden, I’m so glad you’re okay.” She squeezed his hand harder.
The Crystal Bridge (The Lost Shards Book 1) Page 12
