by V. Lakshman
Ash was a few steps behind and stopped short at the top of the stairs. “What?”
Kisan looked back at him and said, “I think I know a solution to this mess we’re in.”
“Really, what is it?” asked Ash, looking around.
“It’s a good one, kills two serpents with one stone.” She paused, then met Ash’s eyes and said, “I was beginning to like you, Firstmark.” She smiled at his confused look, then snap-kicked him in the forehead.
Ash went tumbling back, falling in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Kisan didn’t check to see if he was still alive. She didn’t have to; she was a master of the Way. Ash would wake with a headache, but nothing more serious than that. She’d been all right with slowing her pace for him, but now the firstmark was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That was all. Something in her didn’t want to leave the man to the mercy of wandering patrols, however, so she quickly dragged him into an alcove made in the hollow of roots, then paused to inspect her work. Not bad, she thought.
Then she checked her surroundings to orient herself, and made her way to the first landing before changing form. A moment later she’d vaulted up and into the interior of the elven city, spreading her wings and spiraling quickly out of sight.
* * * * *
On the ground in the darkened nook that he’d been hastily stuffed, Ash began to stir, groggily shaking his head to clear it. When he finally opened his eyes and looked around, Kisan was gone.
In her place stood the specter of the woman they’d seen earlier on that island, the lore mother, Sonya. She looked barely able to hold her form, as if everything she had left was bent upon keeping herself visible.
As he levered himself up, the shade looked at him with desperation and said, “I beg you, Firstmark, help me stop that woman from killing us all.”
Into the Mountain
It’s good every now and again
to turn and look behind you,
memorize the foliage and details of the path,
as they will appear upon your return.
This is an easy way to avoid getting lost.
- Keren Dahl, Shornhelm Survivor’s Guide
J
esyn wiped her face with her sleeve, the heat wringing moisture from her hair like a mop. The group had split up some distance back, with Dragor and his team taking a right passage and the team led by Sai’ken angling left. They had kept their words to a minimum, and she still had no more details beyond the vague objective of finding Armun and dwarven survivors.
To Jesyn, the entire effort seemed ill-conceived, but she could not argue with the fact that if this was the first time they’d had real intelligence on the interior of Dawnlight, a reconnaissance mission to ascertain possible locations of Dazra’s missing people could be justified. As for Armun, she had little faith they’d find any sign of him within this vast mountain, especially if the corridors moved as Tarin claimed.
Dragor had been strangely silent, giving her no orders or advice. All he’d done was hug her once before sending her on her way. She understood she was an adept now, but a part of her still wanted his reassurance and calm direction. Furthermore, the fact that he was bait only made her wonder if she should say or do something more . . . what if this was the last time she saw him? With a curse she banished those thoughts and the fears they brought with them. Dragor was an adept with more experience and power than her, and he’d survived countless missions. He would survive this too, she assured herself.
“Control thyself,” whispered Sai’ken. “Thy stench wafts throughout these corridors and thy breathing is labored. Thou art an Adept of the Way. Is thy body not under thine own command?”
The dragon in girl form moved on, leaving a confused Jesyn behind. Then it occurred to her that with her newfound powers, controlling her body temperature should be a relatively easy thing. She concentrated on increasing her blood flow, letting heat radiate out. She felt cooler, and realized with wonder why the masters rarely perspired. A small chuckle escaped before she knew it, bringing curious looks from Tarin and Halp.
Tarin brought up the glowing map, consulting their position and the position of Dazra and his team. When Dragor was detected, Sovereign’s forces would be pulled in their direction. She looked down and expanded the chamber that had been assigned as their destination, then routed the shortest path there.
Jesyn watched, then said, “How will we follow it?”
Tarin smiled, then tapped a glyph on Jesyn’s forearm. It looked like an eye, a shape Jesyn didn’t recall seeing until just now. Then again, she’d not paid a lot of attention to her entats. Perhaps, she thought, it would benefit her to do so.
A blue line appeared in her vision, leading down and to their left. The adept looked at the dwarven healer, her eyes wide with wonder.
Tarin gestured for her to follow and then moved quickly down the path laid out in their vision. Sai’ken had taken the lead far in front, somehow knowing where they needed to go without the benefit of an entat-guided map. Halp brought up the rear, moving silently, his bulk a reassuring presence behind Jesyn.
A voice sounded directly inside Jesyn’s ear. It was Tarin speaking softly to her by the magic of her entats. Don’t use your flame aura. We tracked you with it earlier. Sovereign’s forces can do the same.
“How do I talk to you silently?” Jesyn whispered.
Tarin stopped, then came over and pressed two fingers into Jesyn’s jawline. Envision the person you want to communicate with.
Jesyn tried it. “Halp, can you hear me?”
Well, because we’re standing next to each other, yes, replied the warrior matter-of-factly. However, something in his bemused expression told her it had also worked via this new method.
Sai’ken rounded the corner. “I can hear thee prattle like thou art at an inn instead of infiltrating Sovereign’s domain. Be silent!” She spun then and headed away, following the blue line in Jesyn’s vision.
“She doesn’t seem very happy with us,” muttered Jesyn, to which Tarin gave a small laugh, quickly stifled. Still, the dragon’s words made Jesyn realize that although it was forgivable the dwarves hadn’t briefed her on the entat’s uses—and why would they, as it was an everyday thing to them—she still should’ve sought instruction for herself. Sloppy of her, but she knew if she dug into the reason for it, it would end with Tomas’s face. She quickly buried the thought, along with any other fears that might leak out, and focused instead on her next goal.
They traveled for quite some time without another word, neither seeing signs of life nor running across patrols. The pathway Sai’ken chose always canted downward, with smooth stone below marked only by regular straight furrows, each line demarcating that stone block’s dimensions. Evenly spaced flameless torches were embedded flush with the walls, rectangular-shaped crystals that shed unwavering white light. Jesyn held a hand up to one and felt a low heat, but nothing like fire. Interesting, and not unlike some of the crystals Dragor used in the vaults below the Isle. This didn’t look like the interior of a mountain tunnel, but rather a man-made corridor carved into the rock.
Tarin used their link to show Jesyn how to use her entats to tell direction and to see how dwarven time was kept. More importantly, she showed her the hexagonal imprint on the inside of her wrist.
Tap and hold this, then turn your finger, and you’ll transport to our Dawnlight in phase. If that happens, look for a man named Arcimedis. He’s my teacher, and a good friend. He used to call me his rose. At Jesyn’s raised eyebrow Tarin smiled and answered, Not for my beauty. I used to be a bit more . . . difficult.
Jesyn nodded, smiling too. Dragor says the same about me.
Tarin squeezed her hand, continuing her quick lessons as they moved. Understanding their directional capabilities was welcome, but dwarven time-keeping seemed inordinately complex compared with listening to her own heart.
Breaking the time intervals into sixty spaces made no sense to her. Why not ten intervals to match a person’s fingers, or
better one hundred, or a thousand to give finer units of measurement? Still, there was a certain symmetry to it that Jesyn could appreciate, and the utility of forward planning for rendezvous seemed particularly useful even if the reason for sixty intervals seemed arbitrary.
Then something in her mind clicked. If she thought about the degrees in a circle, that number divided by twelve became thirty equal parts. Also, twelve had many more factors than ten. In fact, using twelve parts for time allowed one to extend many theoretical calculations. Maybe that was it? She smiled a bit, encouraged by her insight.
Tarin came to a stop and held up a hand. “Sai’ken returns.”
Shortly after, the dragon reappeared. She gestured, gathering them closer, and pointed at the ground using a wickedly barbed talon that emerged from her finger. With this she proceeded to carve what she meant into the stone. The furrows created made the rock seem as soft as butter.
“The first of the chambers lies ahead, with four guards.” Sai’ken whispered as she scratched four circles on the corridor floor. She looked up at Jesyn and said, “You and the builder take the first two. I will deal with the others. Tarin, thou wait thither.”
Sai’ken did not wait for their agreement, just got up and crouched, her form changing into a lean dragon about eight paces in length from nose to tail. She was not overly large for the corridor, but carried with her a sense of lethality. The black scaled creature let out a low hiss, as if in anticipation, then moved forward sinuously, like a sky serpent flying close to the ground. She moved so smoothly it was hard to discern if she in fact flew or ran.
Jesyn followed, nervous about not being able to use her flameskin. She’d fought these dwarves and won, but only with all her powers at her disposal. No flameskin meant she could make no mistakes. She calmed herself, feeling again the comforting embrace of something surrounding her. A warmth lit her soul, a feeling of invincibility surrounded her. Her true name was Anala; saying it to herself brought peace and serenity. Her breathing eased as she silently moved down the corridor after the black form.
Sai’ken suddenly shot forward, a black streak that passed the first two guards in a blur. They both turned to follow her indistinct form, presenting their backs to Jesyn and Halp, neither of whom needed a better invitation.
Jesyn hit her guard hard at the base of his skull with stiffened fingers and felt the bone snap. She didn’t take a chance, and leapt up, wrapping her legs around the man’s head. Then she twisted herself to the ground, bringing him along with her.
The man’s head spun and faced backward as his neck broke and separated, and he fell making a gurgling sound. He hit the ground next to her, vomiting blood as he died. Jesyn flipped herself quickly to a crouch. It struck her that because of practice she’d become quite good at killing these dwarves, a fact she took some pride in. Though to her life was sacred, the feeling of power, of mastery at something—even if it was killing—gave her training and sacrifices meaning, and it bolstered her confidence.
When she looked at Halp, the dwarven axer was pulling his axe out of his opponent’s chest. From the angle of the strike Halp had chopped down through the man’s neck almost to his stomach. Blood pooled all around the dead guard, black tinged with red smears in the dim light.
Jesyn turned her attention to the dragon, not surprised to see her now in girl form, walking toward them. Behind her on the wall were two lurid splashes of blood but no bodies in sight. Whatever had been done to her opponents, it had been violent and quick. Something in Sai’ken’s eyes said both guards were dead. Jesyn was about to ask, when the severed foot of one showed from behind a square object on the floor.
The room they were in was unlike any Jesyn had seen before. Large pipes fed into even larger boxes made of what looked to be some kind of gray metal. On each were different dials marked with what Jesyn recognized now were dwarven numbers, glowing with a light of their own. Either it was Tarin’s instruction or her entats were helping her decipher things she saw.
Sai’ken moved up to one and said, “This facility is one of many that provides clean water to the people hither. Look over yonder and thou wilt see an evacuation map. Touch it and thine map will be much improved.”
Just then an alarm sounded. The strange torch crystals in the room turned red and began pulsating. Tarin looked up and said, “Dazra.”
Jesyn shook her head and said, “More likely Dragor. He’s got a way of attracting attention.”
Sai’ken moved forward then and said, “We art far enough from thine companions to attempt the chambers. With the marker in place, thou canst move directly below through the very rock, earth sister. Thou may yet still find thy sleeping brothers and sisters.”
“Sleeping?” Tarin asked.
“Aye, though to thine eyes they may seem to wear the mask of death. Fear not, for the means to awaken them is within thee,” answered the dragon. “Lay thine hands upon their brow and their slumber will end.”
Tarin seemed to digest this, her nod this time less confident. Then she pointed at Jesyn and said, “She’ll have to be pulled along by one of us and we’ll need a place with air at regular intervals or she’ll suffocate.”
“I leave that to thee and Halp. Mine destiny lies elsewhere,” replied the dragon.
“What?” questioned Jesyn. “You’re leaving?”
The dragon looked at her for a moment, then replied, “I shine like a beacon, a gemstone within these halls, a star of the Way. Mine light obscures thee to Sovereign’s eye like a candle ’ere the sun. Go anon, whilst I draw the builders of Sovereign to me.”
“I thought that was what Dragor was doing,” Jesyn insisted. She asked Tarin, Did you know?
Sai’ken held up a hand to Tarin, then faced the young adept. “Do not be so naïve to believe the maker of this world will be fooled by thy bawling group, children making noise within his home. Every moment gained gives thee a slim chance, every distraction a slim hope. This mountain will come alive soon and thou wilt see the true folly in thinking thou had ever more than a thread upon which to grasp for success, had I not appeared to lend succor and aid. I am the rope, and thy chances are much improved, but only if thou acts.”
She turned and laid a hand upon Tarin’s brow like a benediction. The dwarven healer dropped her head in response.
“What about finding Armun?” asked Jesyn in a voice tinged with despair.
Sai’ken began to walk away but paused, then turned and faced Jesyn again. “Thou never truly expected to find him, did thee? ’Twas thine own heart that spoke truest.” Then she changed form back into the sinuous dragon sheathed in black armor. Her claws dug into the rock and she said, “Go—others come!”
With that, the dragon shot off, a blur that entered a side passageway and disappeared before Jesyn had time to blink.
“Come on,” Tarin said, holding out her hand. Jesyn looked down at it, and the dwarven woman shook it urgently. “Hold onto me and hold your breath. This will be just like swimming.”
“I can’t tell if I’m glad she’s gone or not,” quipped Jesyn, looking at the space where the dragon had just occupied. Then she turned to Tarin and said, “I can hold my breath for a very long time if I use the Way.”
“Don’t. Use your entat to tell me how you’re doing. I’ll angle for corridors that are uninhabited.”
Halp stuck his head into the ground and looked around, then stood. “There’s a T junction about a hundred and fifty meters away.”
“Thanks for testing our phasing. You could have bashed your face into the ground,” Tarin remarked dryly.
Halp looked at her a little sheepishly. Even if no one counted on him for brilliant thinking, Jesyn understood why he’d been chosen. Halp was steadfast and exuded a feeling of solidity, much like Giridian.
“How far is a meter?” she asked, worried now about how far away the next corridor of air would be.
“You’ll see,” Tarin said, grabbing the girl and diving into the stone. Jesyn almost took an involuntary breath at the
sudden shock of transition. It wasn’t like water, more like sand filtering through every pore of her body. She could feel it flowing in through her skin, across and inside her lungs, even around her beating heart. It was the kind of feeling never meant to be experienced, unnerving and nauseating at the same time. Even worse, something dragged at her legs, like a weight trying to pull her from Tarin’s arms.
She’d closed her eyes the moment they’d entered the rock. Now she didn’t have the courage to open them, fearing the sand would scour her eyeballs from her head. But the fact that it was already passing through her eyelids and across her eyes made her realize how obtuse she was being. She cautiously opened one and then both eyes. She could see!
Not as clearly as one could in air, but her view now consisted of a soft, ruddy glow gathering into orange-lit passageways and tunnels crisscrossing throughout the mountain. It looked to be a central shaft with spokes that radiated outward, with circular tunnels at regular intervals joining each spoke, like rings within rings. She marveled at the sight, and how far down it went. In truth, she now saw they had barely scratched the surface of Dawnlight. Suddenly she wondered with chagrin if they’d only stuck to the open air passageways because of her. She certainly hoped she’d not endangered anyone because they were covering for her inability with stone.
A tap on her arm and Tarin pointed to a corridor below them, unoccupied. She looked back and could see the passageway they’d left and committed that distance to memory. It would take her some time, but soon the measurements would start to make sense. She noted a bright flash above the area they’d left, and watched as Tarin pointed to specks within the mountain moving in that direction.
That star is Sai’ken, Tarin’s disembodied voice said in her ear, and those things moving are the guardians of Dawnlight.
Impossible, she replied. They’d have to be enormous!
She could feel Tarin nod. The guardians are not to be trifled with. They are power incarnate, like the dragons but less structured. They would wreak ruin if not confined to the mountain.
