The Immortal Storm (Sky Chaser Book 1)

by Wilkes, S. D.

  The hatch led to a forest of colossal columns. Reflections from dozens of ice-cool lanterns wriggled in the water of a shallow pool between them. A number of Askian men worked at a waterwheel, steadily raising water. A short distance from their pontoon was a huge pumping station. That too had been abandoned.

  More steps and more tunnels. Endless tunnels. Then, quite suddenly, Kite was in a great open space. So bright it made him wince and shield his eyes. He was in the base of a vast natural shaft. Levels had been cut into the curving walls, with doors and windows and landings. Round and round the levels climbed to a crystal ceiling, reflecting light from a thousand mirrored lenses.

  The people here were Askians. Men and women, whole families. Children tussled and played, their laughter lifted on the crystal air. Kite could only stare at them. All those years hiding under hood and goggles, running from one rumours and shadows. He'd never imagined such a place could exist. It was like a dream.

  Dr.Nightborn breathed in the atmosphere. “Doesn't it feel good to be back home, Fleer?” she said.

  Fleer looked away from her mother. “The Phosphene's my home now,” she said.

  “Wait here,” Helka told them and escorted Dr.Nightborn to a domed building surrounded by a crescent of sparkling water. Above the dome's doorway was a circle of geometric symbols and in the middle was a spiral.

  “What does the spiral mean?” he asked.

  “Memory,” Fleer said, sitting on a stone bench near the pool. “You should know that of-course but mother tells me it's not your fault you're ignorant.”

  Kite shrugged off her sarcasm. He crouched by the water and cupping his hands tasted it. Ice-cold and clean, leaving his gums tingling. “I'd have given anything to grow up in a place like this,” he said. “You don't know how lucky you were.”

  “Lucky was I?” Fleer said, clutching her bad arm again.

  “Sorry,” Kite said, regretting his choice of words. “About what happened... to your father, I mean.”

  As soon as the words left his lips Kite knew he'd said the wrong thing again.

  “I suppose she told you?” Fleer said, fuming. “She had no right.”

  Kite swore silently, taking a moment to congratulate himself on another staggering blunder. Perhaps it would be best if he didn't speak at all.

  Across the pool lines of Askian women had gathered at the dome. Many were the same age as Dr.Nightborn but others were ancient, attended by doting carers. Following them came pretty girls Kite's age. Dressed in ceremonial gowns they had painted their cheeks pink and had plaited their snowy hair into elaborate knots. The youngest of them shot him uncertain looks and giggled into each other's shoulders.

  “Those Maidens like you?” Kite asked, hoping that at least wouldn't upset her.

  “I'm not like them,” Fleer said, pushing a wayward strand of hair over her ear. “They'll be trained to be Ladies of the House. Inherit memories. Take husbands, have children. I abandoned that life years ago.”

  “I don't know,” Kite said, shrugging. “I think I can imagine you in one of those outfits.”

  Fleer gave him a suspect look.

  “I meant...” Kite mumbled awkwardly, feeling the blood hot in his cheeks. He quickly hunted for something else talk about. “Who's that lot over there?”

  A solemn line of elderly men in drab-coloured robes followed the womenfolk. They wore their beards long and plaited and in their arms they hugged ribbon-tied scrolls and leather-bound books.

  “Patriarchs,” Fleer said, giving them a scornful look. “Relics of the old society. They're banned from using technology but they still long for it. They'd give an arm to get their hands on that doll of yours.”

  Had Arcus the Starmaker been one of these men? Somehow he'd always imagined Ember's father as more an artisan than a scholar.

  A sharp bell rang, echoing brightly through the cavern.

  Fleer got up from the bench. “Listen, Nayward,” she said. “Only Ladies and Mothers are allowed to talk inside the Vox Memoria. Men, especially boys, are forbidden from speaking. I don't expect you to understand why. Just try not to embarrass me. Especially in front of the Genetrix.”

  “Right,” Kite said and nodded stiffly. “Best behaviour.”

  40

  Vox Memoria

  The Genetrix sat on an obsidian platform. A fierce-looking woman, aged and unforgiving, with a blood spiral on her forehead and black kohl under her eyes. Her white robe flowed around her like spilled milk and in one bony hand she clasped a long staff, its crown a gleaming gold spiral. The sight of her sent a shiver across Kite's skin. She reminded him of Ersa.

  “The Vox Memoria has been called to hear a request from the House of Nightborn,” the Genetrix said, her crisp croak lifted by the acoustics of the dome.

  In concentric circles, narrower and narrower, each of six levels alternated from red to white, mimicking the spiral on the women’s foreheads. Geolumes washed all the shadows to the edges of the chamber where the Patriarchs cowered in a humble gallery.

  Kite had been expecting to be banished there with them. Instead Fleer took him to the second level, where Dr.Nightborn was waiting. She glanced at Kite, but didn’t speak to him.

  The Genetrix pointed her staff. “You may address the Vox Memoria, Lady Nightborn,” she said.

  Dr.Nightborn rose to her feet. “Mothers and Sisters, I come here to make a request of the Vox Memoria. One that I do not make lightly,” she said, her voice bright and clear. “The Murkers have found a working memory machine, one made before the end of Skyzarke.”

  Kite could see the excitement amongst the Patriarchs. They rustled and conferred amongst themselves, nodding and whispering.

  Klak!

  The Genetrix cracked down her staff and instantly the Patriarchs fell in to an miserable hush.

  “Data from the memory machine suggests something of great importance lies in Skyzarke,” Dr.Nightborn continued. “A Cloud Room.”

  Kite watched the Patriarchs as they chatted quietly amongst themselves, shaking their heads and shrugging. Clearly the Cloud Room was a mystery to them.

  “We believe this Cloud Room contains powerful information that could be used against the First Light Foundation. Information that could finally see us bring them to justice.”

  Kite frowned, wondering if these were Dr.Nightborn's words or Shelvocke's.

  “Therefore I humbly ask the Vox Memoria to grant us permission to enter Skyzarke.”

  The Vox Memoria fell into a hush.

  “You appear to have forgotten, Lady Nightborn,” the Genetrix said. “That such Patriarch technology was the cause of the war in the first place.”

  “It is not in my blood to forget, Mother Magnale,” Dr.Nightborn said.

  “And yet you still seek to acquire it,” replied the Genetrix. “Despite the legacy it has left us with?”

  “I seek only justice for the lives of our sisters and brothers lost in the many years since the Foundation came to our land,” Dr.Nightborn said, turning to the others. “That is what I believe can still be achieved. That is why I left my home in the High Hollows to join the Murkers.”

  The Genetrix narrowed her gaze further. That same glass-hard look Ersa used to aim at him.

  “Yes, we are all aware of your adventures, Lady Nightborn,” the Genetrix said. “These Murkers you have joined, have they not declared war against the Foundation? Have they not killed Weatherens?”

  Dr.Nightborn looked cornered. “The Murkers want peace but -”

  “We are not deaf to news beyond the borders, Lady Nightborn,” the Genetrix interrupted. “Word of the Murkers' activities leads me to believe they do not seek justice, but revenge. And that you and your daughter have become part of their campaign, willingly or not.”

  “I cannot deny that the Murkers have been forced to meet the Foundation's aggression head on. But I only seek justice,” Dr.Nightborn said, as much to the womenfolk around her as to the Genetrix. “And the Murkers seek the same. They have many supporte
rs amongst the common folk. People who are willing to believe that one day the Murkers can bring the Foundation to rule.”

  “There is no evidence of this,” the Genetrix said. “And I cannot help but think that the influence of the Weatheren Captain Shelvocke has clouded your judgement, Lady Nightborn. Your reasons for going to Skyzarke are questionable at best.”

  “I can see you have not changed, mother,” Dr.Nightborn said, bitterly.

  Mother. They had different names but they had the same proud nose, the mesmerising eyes. One headstrong, the other tough as old leather. Kite could now see how Fleer had been moulded from qualities of both and much more besides.

  “Let us not waste more of each other's time,” Dr.Nightborn said. “Your decision please, Mother Magnale.”

  The Genetrix raised an eyebrow. “Let it be remembered,” she said to the five Maidens of Fleer's age who knelt in front of her, each with scarlet blindfolds. “On the Seventh Day of the First Lunation AC1197 Lady Nightborn's request to enter Skyzarke is refused. The Murkers are forbidden from entering the city.”

  Dr.Nightborn closed her eyes. Fleer hissed 'cowards' under her breath.

  Kite couldn't believe it. Forbidden? Before he could stop himself he was shouting, “but we have to go to Skyzarke!”

  A stunned silence.

  “I...I promised Ember,” he mumbled.

  Mothers and Ladies were soon their feet, hissing and booing, demanding punishment. Someone called for the housemen to arrest him.

  “Now you've done it, Nayward!” Fleer said. She grabbed his arm and started pulling him toward the entrance.

  “Stay where you are Maiden Nightborn!” boomed the Genetrix in a voice that silenced them all. “Who is this boy who speaks out of turn?”

  Kite looked at Dr.Nightborn and she nodded. He cleared his throat and said, “my name's Kite Nayward.”

  “Who is this Ember you speak of, Kite Nayward?” asked the Genetrix.

  A hundred silver eyes rubbed at his confidence. He tried to calm his nerves. “She's this memory machine. She's its personality I suppose. She’s looking for Arcus the Starmaker, the one who built her.”

  The name set the Patriarchs off again.

  “Ember calls him her father,” he went on. “Ember says he told her to go to the Cloud Room. In Skyzarke. She made me promise to take her there.”

  “You mean to say,” the Genetrix said, bemused. “That you have come all this way to keep a promise to a machine?”

  Fleer watched him, wrapped up in an embarrassed silence. Put that way his reasons did sound daft. “Ember doesn't accept no for an answer,” Kite said, laughing a little as he remembered her red-eye raging on the Tailwind. “Plus a promise is a promise, right?”

  The Genetrix studied him. Her glass-hard eyes burrowed into his mind the same way Ersa's used to. “You come from the eastern enclave, Kite Nayward?” she said, eventually.

  He shook his head. “Old Coast,” he said.

  “I see, and are there other Askians there?” the Genetrix asked.

  “There was…but Ersa is dead now,” he said.

  The Genetrix's hand tightened around her staff. “Mother Ersa?”

  He wiggled a finger over his eyebrows. “She did have one of those funny spirals on her forehead,” he said. “That was...before the Umbrella Man killed her.”

  A different kind of silence filled the Vox Memoria. The Genetrix trembled, clinging to her staff for support.

  “Lady Amberdawn,” she said. “Bring Kite Nayward and Lady Nightborn to the Resting Lake. The Vox Memoria is adjourned.”

  41

  The Genetrix

  “Come closer Kite Nayward,” the Genetrix said, beckoning him to the shore of the frozen Resting Lake where she and her five blindfolded Maidens waited.

  He shuddered at the Maiden's bloodless lips and snow-crisp skin. Their spiral-embroidered blindfolds gave him an eerie sense of being observed by other, alien eyes.

  “Did Ersa suffer?” the Genetrix asked.

  “I-I don't think so,” he mumbled. “It was all over in a second. She was trying to stop one of the Correctors...”

  The Genetrix let out a long sad sigh. “The old crow always was headstrong,” she said. “What a waste of memories. I had hoped when she found her son that one day she would return. Perhaps even succeed me.”

  Kite was stunned. “Her son?”

  “Aster was the reason Ersa left High Hollows,” the Genetrix said. “He was one of our Ambassadors who tried to make contact with the enclave in the Ashlands. Ersa refused to believe Aster had perished. We have not heard from either for a very long time.”

  Kite remembered the old photographs from the bothy and at last he knew Ersa's reason for never leaving the Old Coast. All those years, despite never seeing another Askian, she'd never given up hope of finding her son. In the same way Kite had clung on to the hope that one day he'd find out the truth about his own family.

  “Why did you think I was from the eastern enclave?” he asked.

  “Your eyes,” the Genetrix said, softly. “They reminded me of an old friend. He was also from the eastern enclave.”

  Kite gave this some thought. The Sand Eaters travelled all over the Ashlands. Not hard to imagine them crossing to the east.

  “Does the enclave still exist?” he asked, hopefully.

  The Genetrix nodded. “But they are not beyond the Foundation,” she said. “Nor are we. I fool myself into thinking we are safe underground but I fear one day the patrols will find a way in. Then this enclave, like so many others, will fall and once again we will be forced to flee our homes.”

  “Why are they doing this?” Kite said, fearing he might get the same answer Ersa always peddled him.

  “Fairweather fears our memories,” the Genetrix said, tapping her temple with a long-nailed finger. “The Foundation has always relied on technology, rather than human memory, to record its history. Our history and knowledge is passed from generation to generation in our memories. Let me show you.” She turned to one of her blind Maidens. “Threnody. AC1014, fourth lunation. Begin.”

  The Maiden's pale lips parted. “Let it be remembered: In the year AC1014 the treachery of the Fairweather Technologist Mercurius Lux was revealed.” The girl's voice was pure and precise as a bell. “For five years he resided in Skyzarke under the pretence of forging peaceful relations between our two cities. But peace is not what Fairweather desired. Their Correctors had stolen detailed knowledge of Patriarch technology: the manufacture of the corpusant, the method of automemory, the secrets of powered flight and the principles of weather control. For five years Fairweather used this knowledge to build itself an army of air machinery. An army it then turned on Skyzarke in the year -”

  “Stop, Threnody,” said the Genetrix.

  The Maiden fell silent.

  “You see, Kite Nayward, we remember what really happened not what the Foundation had decided did happen,” the Genetrix said.

  Wisps curled over the subterranean lake, its far shore hidden by thin layers of ice fog. Every now and then a soft crack or chink would echo.

  Kite processed this new information. Corpusants. Memory machines. Surely it wasn't possible. Yet Ember had survived all this time hadn't she?

  “Our memories are eternal,” said the Genetrix. “That is why Fairweather still considers us a threat. Our memories are the only evidence of their crimes.”

  “Can't you just tell the Weatherens what really happened?” Kite asked.

  “Don't you think we have tried, Kite Nayward?” said the Genetrix. “For years we sent ambassadors to try and convince them. But they were betrayed for profit long before they could find allies outside of the enclaves. And now the Weatheren truth is the only truth.”

  “That's all the more reason to go to Skyzarke,” Kite said, a rush of anger giving him confidence. “The Weatherens went looking for Ember. They know she's important. There must still be something in Skyzarke that they fear.”

  The Genetrix's face
hardened once more. “The Patriarch's technology brought about the ruin of Skyzarke. Weapons that could change the sky. Humans replaced with memory machines,” she said. “Fairweather lusted after such technology. That is how the war started. The desire for our technology drove them to treachery and murder. If they seek this 'Ember' then the wise thing to do is destroy it.”

  “You sound like Ersa,” Kite mumbled. “She hated machines too.”

  “Hate is easily confused with fear, Kite Nayward,” the Genetrix said, and with those words their conversation was at an end.

  Helka had arrived at the lake shore. She'd brought Dr.Nightborn, who still looked sore from the Genetrix's rebuke.

  “Please, mother, reconsider your decision,” Dr.Nightborn said and bowed low, lower than Kite believed someone of her grace and beauty should ever have to.

  “You can ask as many times as you want, child,” the Genetrix said, her brow crinkling in a frown. “But it will do you no good. My decision is final.”

  Kite sighed, unable to hide his frustration. Then, the Genetrix place a hand on his shoulder.

  “However, so that you may see for yourself why we all must learn from our mistakes, Kite Nayward,” she said. “I grant you permission to enter Skyzarke. Who you choose to take you there is your decision.”

  Somehow Kite managed to tame his grin. “Thank you, Mother Magnale,” he said and bowed.

  “There is a condition,” the Genetrix said, those hard eyes returning to her daughter. “Whatever is discovered in Skyzarke must only be used for peaceful purposes. The Askians seek the truth not revenge. To that I will hold you accountable, Lady Nightborn.”

  Dr.Nightborn bowed once more. “You have my word, Mother Magnale,” she said.

  “Let it be remembered. Now,” the Genetrix said, her face warming with a surprising smile. “Now, where is that granddaughter of mine?”

  42

  Preparations

  Kite hugged his arms, trying desperately to keep warm. The snow was falling thick as ration pack porridge on the black rocks outside the Hangar Deck. The Phosphene had landed in a shallow ravine on the edge of the Wildemark, near a frozen river the Askians called the Lethe. The compacted snow came halfway up the porthole windows. Even with a portable radiator belting out scalp-prickling heat the atmosphere was achingly cold.