Artemis Awakening

by Lindskold, Jane

  Griffin’s next words were in a language Adara didn’t understand, but she understood the shock and surprise in his tone all too well.

  “That’s a burn scar from a heat weapon! It looks as if it took off half the mountainside.”

  “It did, or so I’ve been told. The seegnur had something hidden there. Bruin suspects defenses or perhaps weapons.”

  “And the attackers destroyed what was there,” Griffin said, “just in case their nanoviruses didn’t disable everything or countermeasures were available. You’d think I’d be used to it by now … The power the Imperials had at their command was incredible.”

  Adara nodded. “We have a legend about how that burn was made. I don’t know if it’s true.”

  “Tell me?”

  “The story is that one person did that. A person in armor. A person who could fly. She—the story always says ‘she,’ though I don’t know how they could tell if she wore armor—flew in, using the river as a guide, then came up here. Light flashed from her hands when she held them in front of her and the mountain exploded. After, when the seegnur were either dead or gone, some came to look and found traces of the facility that had been there.”

  Griffin took a step forward, as if he would climb the mountain and look for himself.

  “There’s nothing left,” Adara said gently. “Bruin likes to send his senior students there as a test of climbing skill and—I think—to remind us how dangerous the seegnur could be.”

  “Nothing?” Griffin said.

  “Nothing. I have been there myself. Only certain lines where structure met rock show that there was ever anything to be destroyed.”

  * * *

  They slept that night in the promised greener regions, dining on scanty provisions from Adara’s pack before collapsing to sleep. In the morning, Sand Shadow proved she was feeling stronger by providing them with breakfast in the form of a furry round-bodied creature Griffin couldn’t identify, but which tasted just fine when cooked over the fire.

  At Adara’s direction, Griffin dug some tubers from the edge of a stream, a task that not only provided additional food, but which loosened his stiffened muscles. As soon as they had eaten and packed their gear, they started hiking down the mountain once more.

  When the trail widened out, Adara dropped back so she could walk next to Griffin.

  “We have a problem.”

  Griffin was taken aback. “Only one?”

  “Our problem,” she replied, “is how do we explain you?”

  Griffin frowned. “I hadn’t really considered it.”

  Adara looked puzzled. “What did you plan to do before your shuttle crashed? I mean, how did you plan to explain yourself?”

  “I didn’t,” Griffin said, then realized how stupid this sounded. “I mean, not at first. My shuttle had camouflage coating and sound deadening on the engines. I intended to cruise over population centers so I could study whatever cultures I found. Only after careful study would I have attempted contact. My first choice would have been a university or something similar—if I could have figured out where one was.”

  “And your second choice?”

  “My second … Well, that would have depended. Governments can be touchy but—if I could have found someone reliable in charge, I suppose I would have sought that person out. However, I would have delayed speaking to anyone at all until I understood more about Artemis. My initial investigation might have taken months, even longer.”

  Adara tilted her head and looked puzzled. “How could you have found a government from orbit?”

  Griffin shrugged. “Well, usually the people in charge live or work in a palace or some other structure that is conspicuous. I would have looked for someplace like that. Even so, I would have needed to figure out whom I should contact.”

  Adara looked thoughtful. “That’s interesting. I’ll admit, there’s some truth in what you say. However, in this region, at least, you’d have to look very carefully to find a significant structure. Most of the towns and villages rule themselves. There might be a town hall, but I doubt it would stand out for you.”

  “So the towns are completely independent?”

  “More or less. Trade is the link.” Adara shrugged. “The lore tells us that the seegnur wanted Artemis to be ‘unspoiled,’ so no large population centers were created. Shepherd’s Call, where I live, is on the small side, I admit. However, from things you have said, even Spirit Bay—the biggest town I’ve ever been to—would seem small to you.”

  Griffin nodded. “I think you’re right. One of the reasons I came down in the shuttle was that my orbital survey wasn’t telling me much. I found some towns by tightening my focus to places where humans usually settle—near river junctions or good natural harbors. I was a bit surprised. I’d thought that populations might have consolidated once the seegnur were no longer present—for convenience, if for no other reason.”

  Adara shook her head. “You overlook the importance of the lore. What the seegnur wanted we still do, even if the meaning for the specific task is no longer known.”

  “But I’ve taken us off topic again,” Griffin said apologetically. “You wanted to know how I planned to explain myself. The answer is, I planned to adapt my explanation according to what I found.”

  “Still, at least you do understand the problem you present,” Adara replied. “When I first found you, I focused on taking you to Bruin and letting him figure out what to do with you. That still seems wise, but even Bruin will need help explaining you.”

  “I suppose,” Griffin said, “people from off-planet have not routinely shown up on Artemis?”

  “I have never heard of another from off-planet coming here—not since the slaughter of the seegnur and death of machines. Perhaps there have been landings elsewhere. The world is large and I know only a small part of it. But ‘routinely’? No. Not that. I think we would have heard. Bruin takes interest in such things.”

  Griffin realized he was relieved—a completely stupid reaction, given that he was stranded on this planet—but rooted in his desire to be the first one to rediscover Artemis. There had been times in the course of his research that he’d thought someone else might be following the same line of approach, that he’d get to Artemis only to find another ship in orbit.

  Though he’d like to be able to go back to Sierra, he’d also like to have something to show for his efforts—something other than a wrecked shuttle and a tale of woe.

  “No other? Then I am an oddity indeed. I don’t suppose your village is near an ocean or even a large bay? If so, we could say I was shipwrecked and you found me. That wouldn’t be so far from the truth.”

  Adara shook her head regretfully. “No. My home is far from the ocean. We are in the foothills of mountains that are far from any ocean. Even Spirit Bay is many days’ travel, and in the wrong direction entirely to provide waters on which you might have been wrecked.”

  “So, is there any reason you shouldn’t still take me to your Bruin? I mean, you didn’t seem to think he would need an explanation.”

  Adara shrugged. “No reason. I could sneak you in when most of the village would be asleep. However, this would not solve the reality that at some point an explanation must be found for you. Bruin can be a solitary old bear, but he does not shun companionship.”

  “How about this,” Griffin offered. “You found me … We won’t mention the exact circumstances.”

  “I want to tell Bruin,” Adara interrupted. “He is not only my teacher, he has been my greatest friend.”

  “Then we will tell Bruin the truth. For the rest … You were training and you came upon a stranger. The stranger was lost and incompetent. Therefore, you interrupted your training and brought him down where he wouldn’t starve or freeze.”

  Adara giggled. “I like that. Truth to a point. Your shuttle is well buried. Another hunter might find the place where the rocks and earth cover it, but would they dig? I think not.”

  “Do you think the people in Shepherd’s Call
will have seen my shuttle coming down? You said it looked like a falling star.”

  Adara shrugged. “It’s possible. It also made a tremendous noise when it hit. Still, you and it need not be connected. Things do fall from the skies—sometimes quite large things.”

  She grew grave. “Actually, there are old legends—not part of the lore, for the lore is what we know to be true, though some say these legends are lore nonetheless—of sleepers left when the seegnur departed. Someone is certain to remember those tales. Perhaps someone will offer that as a possible explanation.”

  “Are these sleepers thought to be dangerous?”

  Adara shrugged.

  “Well, I hope the folklore says they’re just sleepy,” Griffin said. “I’d hate for anyone to see me as a threat before I have a chance to prove myself.”

  Adara grinned at him. “I’ll make certain everyone knows how unthreatening you are. Honestly, though, you have proven stronger than I thought possible when first we met. I will never forget how you reacted after the avalanche. I could not have asked for a better traveling companion.”

  “Just returning the favor,” Griffin said, pleased beyond measure. “You got me out of a landslide, I got Sand Shadow out of a snowbank. I just hope Sand Shadow isn’t the next one digging someone out of a hole.”

  Interlude: Blood of Clouds

  Sharing salt kisses with ocean depths,

  frost caresses with mountain peaks.

  Shapeshifter supreme. Bodiless,

  possessing power to split rock.

  Do you know what you carry? Where shall you leave it?

  4

  Shepherd’s Call

  Adara’s canoe was a surprise. When the huntress had mentioned she had one cached, what Griffin had envisioned was a small, light craft, such as had been made on many worlds by many different peoples.

  Even on Griffin’s home world, where personal flyers had made almost every other form of transportation obsolete, canoes existed. Hundreds of years after anyone but fanatical hobbyists had made these small boats from natural materials, often the plastics and metals would be colored in browns and tans, patterned with wood grain or a black upon white dappling called “birch bark.”

  Adara’s vessel fulfilled Griffin’s vision, but only to a point. Its frame was made from wood covered with hides stripped of their hair and neatly sewn into place. The caulking was a golden-brown resin that reminded Griffin of Adara’s eyes. But this was no little craft. It stretched more than three or four times Griffin’s body length and, at its widest point, was nearly as wide as his outstretched arms.

  “I call her Foam Dancer,” Adara said with obvious pride when she pulled the craft from hiding, “for when she is lightly loaded, she can float in the least amount of water, even, sometimes, so it seems to me, on foam and froth.”

  “It’s so large,” Griffin exclaimed. “I had wondered how two of us might fit in your craft along with your gear. Now I see there will be room and to spare.”

  Adara looked at him quizzically. “Certainly such small boats exist and I have used them, but what good would a tiny craft be for a hunter? I need a boat large enough to bring back the meat and hides of the animals I kill. When possible, I bring back the bones as well. I need to carry supplies for curing and preserving my kills, as well as a few comforts for myself. Then, too, where in a small boat would Sand Shadow ride?”

  “I suppose,” Griffin admitted, “if I thought about it at all—and I cannot claim that I did—I thought Sand Shadow paced you along the bank.”

  “When the current is swift, Foam Dancer outraces even a running puma,” Adara replied. “Besides, what good would Sand Shadow be to herself or to me if she arrived everywhere footsore and exhausted?”

  “I stand,” Griffin said, bowing with his hands against his thighs in his most formal manner, “corrected of unclear thinking.”

  In addition to Foam Dancer, Adara had cached all manner of comforts. That night, along with a fish stuffed with wild rice, they dined on a piping hot broth Adara made from dried meat and some spicy berries. There was tea to drink and chunks of waxy honeycomb for dessert.

  “I had been saving the honey for Bruin,” Adara said, “for he dearly loves sweets. However, he will not begrudge us a bit.”

  Griffin thought Adara might rig him his own tent that night. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Sleeping so near—but so carefully separated from—a beautiful woman had been less of a trial than he might have imagined, since he had been weary beyond his knowledge of weariness. Not even in the worst days of that long-ago boarding school—when Griffin had been kept from sleep to see how long he could go before crossing the line into insanity—had he been so tired.

  Yet Adara did not set up another tent. She did construct a thick mattress from various hides—mostly deer and rabbit—that she had left racked in the trees to finish curing.

  “Tonight we will be more comfortable,” she said, grinning at him.

  “I’ve been grateful,” Griffin said, “that Sand Shadow has let me sleep next to her. I would have been very cold otherwise.”

  Adara looked approving at this courtesy. Sand Shadow who, catlike, had managed to make Griffin aware that she thought him quite amusing, came and bumped her head against him with enough force that he nearly toppled.

  The next morning, for the first time since the shuttle had crashed, Griffin woke with a sense of having rested well. Rejoicing in his new strength, he carried bales and bundles to Adara, but let her load Foam Dancer. Even a cursory inspection had shown him that the canoe demanded a sincere respect for balance.

  If the canoe’s size had been a surprise, its method of propulsion proved an even greater one. Griffin noticed that Adara left a space in the middle of the canoe in addition to those in the bow and stern. He had assumed his place would be in the bow and had been hoping he could manage whatever tasks Adara might set him. He’d done some wet water sailing with Gaius, his third from eldest brother, and hoped that would be enough.

  When the time came for them to depart, Adara took her place in the stern. Then Sand Shadow leapt lightly into the bow, positioning herself in a manner that left her rear legs tucked under her in a more or less usual fashion. Next the puma raised herself up so that her elbows—Griffin found himself forced to think of them as such—rested on her thighs. Once she was seated this way, the puma raised herself upright and swiveled back toward Adara, her front legs extended.

  Adara handed Sand Shadow the spare paddle and the puma grasped it neatly between what Griffin now realized were not so much paws as paw-hands, complete with an extra digit that could serve as a thumb.

  He gaped and knew he was gaping. Not until he heard Adara laughing—not meanly, but as someone who has been waiting to spring a joke—did he manage to speak.

  “Sand Shadow has hands?”

  Adara motioned to the neat nest of hides in the center of the canoe. “Get in. Step near the center or we may topple.”

  “She has hands!” Griffin repeated.

  “Get aboard,” Adara repeated, “and I will tell you what you already know.”

  Griffin obeyed, too astonished to be nervous that he might upset the canoe. Adara used her paddle to push them off the bank, then, with a few easy strokes, brought them to where a midstream current would all but do the work for them. Sand Shadow helped, managing her paddle with deftness if not precisely grace. When Foam Dancer was set so that only the least amount of steering was needed, the puma laid her paddle in brackets designed to hold it ready. She turned to twitch her whiskers at Griffin, then settled down in a classic feline “loaf” posture, looking much like a great golden housecat or one of the ancient sphinxes of Earth.

  “I told you Sand Shadow was adapted,” Adara said. “She insisted that you not know how greatly until she knew you better. Anyhow, I’ve never met a cat who could resist a surprise.”

  “Well, she certainly surprised me. How much can Sand Shadow do with those hands?”

  “Not as much as a h
uman,” Adara replied. “She can use a tool like the canoe paddle or tie simple knots. One reason she wears earrings is for practice getting them on and off.”

  “One reason?”

  “She also likes how they look.”

  “I see.” Griffin shook his head in amazement. “I wondered who tied the firewood onto her back that first day. You’re saying she did it herself!”

  “That’s right. First she bundles it, then she slings it. It took us a while to work out the best method for her, but now she can manage the task quite easily.”

  “Does Sand Shadow have an actual thumb?”

  “More or less. Even among unadapted cats, polydactyls—those with extra digits—are known,” Adara said. “Polydactyls have long been the bane of those who would keep them out when they wish to be in or in when they wish to be out. Sand Shadow has a longer than usual dewclaw that she can use like a thumb. She manipulates the digits of her hand with about as much ease as would a human wearing not too bulky mittens. Bruin says that in time and with practice, she may grow more dexterous.”

  “So you were not the only one training,” Griffin guessed.

  “That’s right,” Adara said. “While I was learning how to use my claws, my ‘cat’ was practicing how to use her fingers.”

  * * *

  Adara’s home was in a village with the preposterously ornamental name of Shepherd’s Call. Griffin wasn’t at all surprised to find that the name dated back to the days of the seegnur. It sounded like a tourist attraction.

  “We shall,” Adara explained on the day they would arrive, “first give Bruin opportunity to agree to our plan. There is a bluff outside the village. I’ll leave you there while we take Foam Dancer in. After Sand Shadow helps me bring in the canoe, I will send her back to keep you company. After full dark, I will come back for you.”

  Griffin agreed, although he was not thrilled at the prospect of sitting out in the wilderness alone. He considered suggesting that they throw a tarp or pile of hides over him in the canoe, but he figured that Adara would already have thought of such an option and, for whatever reason, discarded it.