The Persistence of Memories - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe
Page 25
Alec Poe was indeed cho-nyhndah, and Daniel and Angela had known all this time, keeping it to themselves. He was something more, something stronger than a cho-nyhndah, yet they had never found out what that was. Daniel explained to him that his mood swings were an affectation brought on by spiritual agitation. It wasn't one spirit pressing at another, though. There was something within that was so immense, threatening to get out, and when provoked it would push harder and harder until he reacted physically. Again, Daniel had no explanation for it, as he had none.
When his father stopped talking, he saw no reason to add to it other than to thank him for this information. Then he explained why he had to get back to Bridgetown as soon as possible. He told him everything that had happened back in September, starting with Nehalé Usarai's Awakening ritual. He told him about the effect it had on everyone, especially those closest to the Mirades Tower. With some detailed explanation, he told him about the hrrah-sehdhyn attacks and the true reason behind them, and how he and Christine had used the Benjamin Key to keep the Rain of Light from obliterating the city. He described what had happened at the warehouse before and after the Cleansing ritual, and the failed attempt at the Ascension.
It was then that he explained to his father who the One of All Sacred was, and how he was destined to be a Protector of the One. How he had always been a Protector of the One, one way or another. How he had promised Denni that he'd always be there for her as a friend first and Protector second. He was not about to become a fanatic. First and foremost, he was Alec Poe, partner to Caren Johnson and big brother to Denni Johnson. He would keep their relationship as it had always been.
And when he had stopped talking, he finally looked up and faced his adoptive father, looking him in the eyes. Daniel was crying openly, sobbing and wiping tears from behind his glasses. He was smiling and wringing his hands at the same time. Without having to send out a sensing thread, he could feel the emotional energies swirling madly within. It was relief, it was fear, it was awe, pride, happiness…love. Most of all, it was love.
“Peace, Love and Light to you, Alec Poe,” he said finally. “And to you, Alix Eiyashné.” He reached out and took Poe's hands in his own, grasping them as tightly as possible. “I am so damned proud of you right now. May your strength never waver, my son. We believe in you.”
Alix bowed his head deep, until his forehead touched his father's hands.
“Peace, Love and Light, father,” he said, his own voice wavering. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Vigil
Matthew Davison pulled his head up and blinked himself back into consciousness. He stared at the monitor in front of him for a few seconds, trying to remember what it was he was working on, but it was slow in coming. How long had he been up for, anyway? He glanced at another monitor’s timestamp…two in the morning. What the hell day was it…? Thursday? He’d been up and running for the last thirty-seven hours working in this damn cage when he wasn’t contacting the other core members of Vigil for one thing or another. He could have easily handed this work off to Jenn or Colin, but he couldn’t will himself to do so just yet. There were too many important things still left undone.
Goddess…what was he doing? He pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his dry and burning eyes, frustrated and angry with not just himself but with his lack of progress. The weeks following the One’s failed Ascension had been chaotic, much more so than the ARU agents or even the Governor was led to believe. He wasn’t quite sure about those two Mendaihu agents hanging around with Poe and Johnson, but they were the least of his worries at the moment. Thankfully there had not been any further uprisings or incidents of the magnitude of the hrrah-sehdhyn or the Rain of Light, and there had been no assaults leading to fatalities. But in their place, he’d witnessed the uptick of awakened Bridgetowners attempting to take matters into their own hands, and that shouldn’t be happening. He obviously couldn’t stop each and everyone one of them, but he could at least keep the larger events from getting out of hand. With a little help from Shirai and Governor Rieflin, he was able to keep things relatively under control.
What he hadn’t counted on was Saisshalé.
The vengeance deity had been awakened by the Dahné Natianos Lehanna himself. How and where didn’t matter, and chances were high that he’d been brought forth around the same time as the One’s Ascension. He’d expected the Dahné to do something like this to keep the balance in his own way…with the One of All Sacred in her current form, it stood to reason that the Shenaihu nuhm’ndah had to bring their own deity forward. But why Saisshalé? Why not one of the others, one less violent and chaotic? What was the Dahné up to?
Balance. Opposites. Equal response.
No, something more.
Matthew was at a loss. All his energy had been focused on trying to keep tabs on this deity, but nearly all his work was proving fruitless. He’d been following his actions the best he could, which varied wildly and unexpectedly; there were days Saisshalé would do little more than harass the newly awakened, only to be followed by dangerous attacks on those who took him on. Saisshalé was a reactive deity — true to his word, he would exact the same amount of damage he’d witnessed elsewhere.
“Goddess…” he grumbled, and pulled himself out of his work cage. He was getting nowhere, and he desperately needed sleep. Somebody on the team would be coming in to cover him eventually…Jenn? Colin? Hell if he knew at this point. He’d stopped thinking straight a good few hours ago.
Go get some rest, he heard within. Jenn, from the back bedroom. I’ll take an early shift.
Thanks, he responded with relief. He curled himself out of a slouch and stretched the kinks out of his back and neck, and left the room without looking back. Jenn would be in soon enough, and any emergencies would set off an alarm. He trusted his team and his systems enough to chance them being unmonitored for a little while. And to be honest…he need to extract himself from the action for the time being. He was getting too close again.
Scuffling out of the main apartment, he closed and locked the door, and made his way down the long hallway towards his own personal quarters. For a brief and random moment, he thought of the mansion out on Sachers Island. He’d need to move operations out that way soon enough. He had to time it just right, though. Couldn’t back away from the action too soon, or he’d be disconnected, and he couldn’t have that. There was…he…
He’d have to…?
Where was he going with this?
“Goddess, stop thinking so damn much,” he grumbled to himself, rubbing at his eyes again.
You’re almost there.
The unexpected voice made him twitch. Who the hell are you? he growled, continuing down the hallway. He’d be damned if someone was going to mess with his head before he could get to his own quarters.
The response was a quick laugh. You know me as Dolan, edha Davison. I’m sure you’ve met me before.
“Dolan…?” he mumbled aloud, grabbing the keycard from his back pocket as he approached his apartment door. The name and voice sounded familiar. Perhaps one of his visits up to Trisanda? Yes, that had to be it. Dolan Usara…that was his name. Emha Eprysia’s assistant. Always off to the side, listening and watching, never taking part in the conversation.
Somfei, edha Usara, he said, yawning aloud as he entered his quarters. You’ve caught me at a bad time, actually. I’m dead fucking tired and too damned annoyed to be of any use right now. Can it wait?
“I’m afraid it can’t,” Dolan said aloud from behind him. He dropped a heavy hand on Matthew’s shoulder and pushed. Matthew barked out in surprise as he sailed into his den, tripped over the rug, and went sprawling into Light…
…and never landed. Matthew wriggled and panicked as he suddenly found himself in a dark enclosed room in zero gravity. His stomach lurched and his head spun in an attempt to find which way was up. The air was stale and cold, much colder than it should have been, and it stung at his throat and lungs with each breath. Calm
. Calm. Come on, Matt. Calm down. Center yourself. Hra khera, hra mehra. He slowed his breath and untensed his arms and legs, letting them float freely. He was alive, he was here. Wherever here was. He saw shadows and shapes but little else. Where the hells am I? His feet slowly found purchase on the floor, which triggered the lights to flicker on. He felt a slight grind and spin, followed by microgravity pulling him down to the floor, much to his relief. He was on a satellite somewhere. A station that hadn’t been visited or maintained for a long time. He was standing at one end of a small rectangular room. Monitors and keypads lined the side walls, with stationary chairs every few feet or so; it looked like his own cage setup at home, only elongated and unwrapped. The far wall was empty — no, it was laid out in white rectangular squares. An old vidmat wall? He hadn’t seen one of those in at least a decade.
“Have a seat,” Dolan said.
Matthew twitched again and jumped sideways. “Damn it all, don’t do that!” he said, glaring at the man. He was dressed differently than his usual robes on Trisanda. Here, he wore a simple tunic and loose pants with sandals. He stood a few yards away, actually, much farther than he’d expected him to be. He stared at him for a few moments, wondering why he was here and why he’d brought him up here. He’d never expected edha Usara to ever leave Trisanda or emha Eprysia’s side. Warily, he walked over to one of the chairs and sat sideways, keeping an eye on him.
“Okay, so talk,” he said.
Dolan flashed him a crooked smile and hunched his shoulders in a quick laugh. “I do apologize, Matthew,” he said. “I meant no harm, but obviously you have very nearly worn yourself down to the nub. I know you’re exhausted, so I will keep this short. To borrow your well-used motto, the playing fields are being leveled. Extraneous players are being taken safely off the field. You, my friend, are one of them, whether you like it or not.”
Matthew glared at him. “What the hells is that supposed to mean? If you’re trying to shut down Vigil, good fucking luck.”
“Oh, far from it,” he said quickly, eyebrows raised. “The kiralla would not dream of doing such a thing, especially when they’ve become such a valuable asset. No, you are correct in your own earlier judgement; you have become much too close to your subject. In order to save your sanity, not to mention your health, I am offering to help you refocus. Do you know where you are?”
Matthew’s head spun, and not just from the recent zero-g experience. “Does it really matter, Dolan?” he snapped. “You said the kiralla. I thought they were impartial. Are you saying they’ve been behind everything all this time?”
Dolan laughed. “No, no! That is not what I meant, my friend. They are certainly watching, ensuring events don’t spiral out of control — much like your team, I should add — but they are most definitely not influencing any actions. As I said: they are taking the extraneous players out of the picture for now, for their safety, and for everyone else’s. Let’s start with you: why are the kiralla wishing to pull you? Any thoughts?”
He shrugged and waved at him. “You tell me, Dolan.”
“Balance,” he said. “Think about it. Have you noticed how things have been aligning the last few weeks? Natianos Lehanna and Nehalé Usarai. Governor Rieflin and emha Eprysia. Denysia Shalei and Saisshalé. The motives of each individual have become the reactive opposite of whatever their respective analogues have done. You and I are more alike than you know, Matthew. We both act by reacting to events at hand, never instigating them. And if we keep doing so, we’ve all fallen back into the same ridiculous, persistent cycle again. One of us has to make the first move to make that change in path, break the cycle. Denni has done so by Awakening Gharra. The Governor has done so by withholding the military troops. Natianos has done so by stopping the Ascension. It’s a completely new history, my sehnadha.”
As angry as he felt at that moment, Dolan had a point. Vigil had always been about enforcing balances, and he’d been aware of these analogues. They were the main reason he’d been able to control as much of the Sprawl’s recent actions as he had. It was only recently that he’d lost that ability, and he’d mistakenly blamed it on exhaustion and loss of focus.
“So where do we go from here?” he asked. “Goddess knows I’d love to take a week or a month or a season or a year off and regain my sanity…but I’m not completely out of the game yet, am I?”
“You are only being reassigned,” he said. “Again, to ask: do you know where you are?”
To placate him, he took a look around and thought about it. “Obviously we’re on a sat station,” he said. “That would explain the cold and the change in gravity. This is a comm room, by the looks of it. Couldn’t tell you what it’s monitoring, as the screens are dead. We’re on Tigua, aren’t we?”
Dolan nodded. “Obvious, once you stop to think about it, Matthew. I bring you here because why?”
“Well…” he started. “Either you brought me to a decommissioned area, or Tigua’s been unmanned for a hell of a long time.” He stopped, looking around again. “I’ve seen the specs, a long time ago…” he muttered, and pushed himself up with a groan. Muscles screamed in agony, desperately needing rest, but he couldn’t, not just yet. He walked over to the far wall and reached out, touching the vidmat screens with his fingertips. He felt a small jolt of electricity as the screen woke up from its long slumber. Blurred images came into view, unrecognizable.
“This isn’t a part of Tigua that the PGC knows about, is it?” he said, tapping another vidmat, a third, a fourth. “This tech’s not recent at all. I don’t recognize it.”
“Nor does the CNF,” Dolan said. “It’s been at least a hundred years or so since anyone’s used this part of the station for anything other than storage.”
Matthew continued tapping the vidmats until nearly all of them were awake and attempting to focus on a destination. “Topside,” he said, more to himself than to Dolan, and began to understand. He turned to him, eyes wide. He felt giddy and afraid at the same time. “Goddess, you brought me to the original, didn’t you?”
“Because you needed to know,” Dolan said. “This is where it all began, and where it will all end, peacefully and with finality.”
“’…and when we all are awake, we shall all understand.’ Kelley James knew? He knew how to break the cycle, didn’t he?”
He nodded. “But he had no analogue. He, like Alec Poe and Caren Johnson, has no way of breaking the cycle because the cycle is within.”
“The kiralla…” Matthew said, slumping onto a nearby chair. “They’re cho-nyhndah, aren’t they? No — the other way around. True cho-nyhndah are the kiralla. Am I correct?”
Dolan walked over to Matthew and laid a hand on his shoulder. A light, brotherly touch. Not a soulhealing, just a gesture of empathy. “Only when they have completely awakened and ascended,” he said. “Only then have they truly regained their ancestral memories. Now do you understand?”
“I think so,” he said. “What do I do now?”
“You face your fear,” Dolan said. “You face the one last thing you’re afraid to face in order to move forward.”
Matthew frowned. “I don’t understand.”
But Dolan only bowed his head and squeezed his shoulder before letting his hand drop. “You are strong and resourceful,” he said. “I know you will eventually understand.”
“But —”
Dolan lifted a finger to his lips and shushed him, and then prodded him again, much lighter but with equal force, and sent him reeling backwards into Light…
…and onto Ormand Street.
“What the —”
“Hello, Matthew.”
The low, rumbling voice hit him squarely in the stomach and he lurched forward, slamming against a parked car. His knees went weak and he fought to keep himself from falling to the ground. That voice...he knew that voice! A disturbing, ominous voice of distant and painful memories he’d hidden away ages ago. It had to be him…no one else had a spirit signature so cold. He’d been the one —
“Saisshalé,” he growled.
“So you finally hear me,” the voice said, somewhere off to his right. “No longer hiding behind your toys, are you? It’s about time we faced each other again.”
“Show yourself, you bastard,” Matthew called out between clenched teeth and pushed himself up. This bastard would not drain him, not now. “Damn it, show yourself!”
You are not one I choose to kill, Matthew.
Saisshalé's voice hit him squarely in the chest, a knife-pain searing through his heart, and he nearly blacked out. He lost his grip and slid down the front of the car, rolling pathetically off the hood and landing hard against the left side of his face. No, damn it all, not like this. He struggled to push himself back up, but his arms could no longer support him. He lay there on the cold pavement, the smell of tarcrete and exhaust and decades of grime choking him. He pushed again, just slightly, enough to roll over. He could feel Saisshalé’s presence somehow, somewhere down the street, yet he could not. The man was nowhere to be seen or sensed, yet he knew him to be there. He was the one siphoning the life out of him.
And he’d done the same, years ago, to his father.
This wasn't the same kind of attack against the Mendaihu that he'd been pulling over the last few weeks. He had assaulted many of them, leaving many with injuries just this side of fatal, but he had never killed anyone.
“B-balance…” he coughed. Goddess help us.
Yes.
He attempted to push himself up again. “What do you want, Saisshalé.”