Working his way laboriously through a bristling set of bushes, Tren almost tripped over the shortig that sat, panting, in the midst of the undergrowth. The dog grinned up at Tren, tongue lolling, with the air of a workman reaching the end of the day's business.
'What? That's it?' Tren stood still, looking in puzzlement at the self-satisfied creature. He couldn't see any reason why the animal would consider its task finished. He hadn't found Griel, or Ana, or Eva. He didn't appear to have discovered anything.
Tren groaned. The absurd creature had probably been following the scent of one of the brightly-coloured tree beasts that Tren had repeatedly glimpsed as they journeyed. The dog hadn't been tracking Griel at all. He exhaled slowly and sat down where he stood, weary and discouraged and afraid.
Rikbeek swooped down from above, chattering. Tren frowned. He couldn't place the meaning of the gwaystrel's utterances the way Eva did, but the string of notes sounded like a warning. Tren surged to his feet, alert. His straining ears caught the sound of cracking underbrush as somebody made their way through the jungle ahead of him.
He grabbed Bartel and slipped into the bushes. Rikbeek stopped chattering and followed, settling once again on the dog's back. Tren took up a station several feet from the little clearing the dog had found. He wanted to be out of the sight of whoever was approaching, but he also wanted to observe that person himself.
After a couple of minutes, a whurthag emerged from the trees. The beast moved with the sinuous grace of an enormous feline, at ease and apparently docile. Nonetheless, the raw power in its muscled limbs sent shivers down Tren's spine. He hoped it was fully under control.
Then Griel appeared, walking a few paces behind his terrifying companion. He whistled briefly and the whurthag stopped and sat on its haunches. The sorcerer paused approximately where the shortig had been sitting moments earlier. Tren couldn't see what he did, but he did see the door that opened in the ground. Griel and his companion walked through, their figures diminishing as if they descended a staircase. Then the door closed neatly behind them.
Tren darted forward, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the patch of ground that had apparently held a door. He knelt before it, searching with eyes and hands. He could see nothing but damp earth and the sparse fungi that struggled to grow under the heavy canopy. His fingers, however, met wood, smooth and warm and unmistakeably forming a rounded door like the one he'd seen in the sands.
Tren cursed himself for having failed to expect that. It was an advanced illusion, one bound into the darkness that held sway beneath the trees. It wouldn't have been possible under the strong moonlight that bathed the exposed white sand, but here it was a relatively simple matter to replicate the appearance of shadow-bound earth.
He didn't expect to find a handle. The door in the sands had not had one, and he couldn't find one here either. He dispelled Griel's illusion, and a neat round door materialised in the ground. Tren blinked. There was a stylised face painted into the wood, a congenially happy face composed of a mere few lines. Beneath it was an arrow pointing to the bottommost edge of the door. Tentatively, Tren pressed the spot beneath the arrow. A latch sprung and the door popped open.
He paused for a moment, sitting on his haunches. It occurred to him that he was being toyed with. Had Griel known he was there, crouched in the bushes? Had he expected that Tren would discover the entrance to his home, or were the face and the arrow aimed at someone else?
No matter. He had no choice but to proceed. Checking that the shortig and Rikbeek followed, Tren descended a set of packed earth stairs into a dark underground passage. The staircase was long, leading him far under the earth. The door closed silently behind him.
***
Eva followed Ana through a series of rooms, each sumptuously - if somewhat fancifully - furnished. Their underground dwelling was impressively expansive, but then, why not? People who could so freely manipulate their surroundings could have anything that they wished. She was beginning to understand the importance of the so-named "istore" stone, an example of it still adorning her finger. She'd felt the surge of empowerment from the ring as she manipulated her former prison. It was more than that, though. It seemed to bring her closer to this off-world, make her a part of it. With the istore on her finger, she could see through the solidity of Ana's house. The outlines of the furniture and objects held a degree of insubstantiality; she could easily reshape them herself, move them around, alter everything as she chose. The possibilities were staggering. But this did not seem to be a preoccupation to Ana. What, then, was the mysterious purpose she spoke of?
They paused at last in a small room that looked like an antechamber to something larger. Griel walked in through a door on the opposite side of the room, a whurthag at his heels. Ana smiled and crossed to him.
'Griel, dear, look who found us!'
Griel smiled at Eva and offered her a courtly half-bow. She inclined her head frostily, refusing to be drawn by his display of manners.
'Were you successful, darling?' Ana tugged affectionately at the lapels of her husband's coat, smiling winningly at him.
'Everything went very well, yes. Here.' Griel placed something into Ana's hand. She beamed sunnily at him, holding up a silver-wrought pendant worked with a pattern of stars.
'Beautiful,' she said, then plucked the stone from the centre with the ease of picking fruit. She bounced it in her small hand, admiring the way it sparkled.
'Your timing is really excellent, dear. I was just taking our guest to see the project. Now I will be able to add this at the same time.' She kissed Griel's cheek.
'You're welcome,' he said affably. He nodded politely to Eva and turned to follow his wife as she opened the door through which he'd arrived.
But just then it clicked open and Tren appeared. His eyes were a little wild and he looked startled to walk straight into a cluster of people. He saw Eva, and for an instant relief suffused his face. But only for an instant.
'Have you seen this thing?' He ignored Ana, ignored Griel and the whurthag. He looked so aghast that her own relief at his safety quickly dissipated.
'What thing?'
'The project!' Ana clapped her hands like a child, and flung the door wide open. 'You're quite resourceful after all, boy - Tren, was it? - so you can stay. You can help Griel.' Tren's eyes had lingered on Eva's, but at that he refocused on Ana, nonplussed.
'Help with what? This is your project?'
'Isn't it marvellous?' Ana swept through the door, Griel trailing after her. Eva tried to smile at Tren as she moved past him, touching his hand briefly as she did so.
Then she stopped, frozen with shock. She understood, all at once, what Ana's 'project' was, and Tren's wild look was all too clearly explained.
She stood in a vast chamber, far bigger than any room she'd seen before. The ceiling stretched away and away, its precise reaches lost in shadow. Tiny light-globes bobbed everywhere, softly illuminating the skeleton of an animal so big that it barely fitted into the room. Ana and Griel had to hug the wall in order to edge around it. Tilting back her head, Eva stared at the vast rib cage that rose before her eyes, overlapped by a wing as large as the city square in Glour.
The bones resembled nothing she'd seen in biology before. They were polished and perfect, indigo in colour, and gleaming silver. Not just a faint sheen but a strong glow that pulsed as if with a heartbeat.
She swore under her breath. The istore, as it had been called, was certainly no stone. It was the bones of a creature easily fifty times the size of anything she'd ever heard of.
Worse, it was more than a collection of bones. Eva could feel the energy rippling through this marvellous construction, the hint of an awareness clinging to the physical remains. It slept, but not deeply; it stirred as Eva's mind touched it, and she sensed an obstruction, or rather, an absence. A gap yawned in its skull, not large but sufficient to retard its progress. Sluggishly, sleep-fuddled and confused, the beast was trying to close that hole, generating new bone matter t
o complete itself. It tried and repeatedly failed, as if it needed wholeness for complete renewal.
The missing piece was exactly the size of the stone Ana had plucked from the pendant.
Dragging her thoughts back, Eva stood reeling. One word repeated in her mind, a name previously confined to legend and forgotten memory. It worked its way to her lips, relentless though she tried to stifle it.
'Draykon?' The word emerged cracked and breathless, but even so it echoed in the vast hall, seeming to grow larger. Every story she'd ever heard about the draykon rushed in upon her all at once: never many tales, but all horrifying when applied to the undeniable solidity of the beast that crouched on four legs before her, wings half-open as if it was about to launch into flight.
'Isn't he beautiful?' Ana's voice, full of pride and delight, floated back to her from somewhere on the other side of the beast. Eva sensed her probing ceaselessly at the ancient draykon's consciousness, nudging it, pushing it towards wakefulness.
'What are you doing?' gasped Eva in pure disbelief. 'You can't wake this creature up!'
'But I can! He wants to wake, and he likes me.'
'Likes you? You're completely insignificant to him. We all are.' Even that may be a charitable interpretation. If the stories were true, the draykon had plenty of reasons to hate humans.
'Nonsense. He knows me. He'll be grateful to me for waking him up. He already feels grateful.'
Eva sensed nothing like gratitude in the draykon's sluggish awareness. If anything, she felt a stirring irritation.
'You can't make a companion out of him, Ana. He's far too strong, too wild. He won’t submit to you.'
'Oh, now you sound exactly like Griel. Always caution, caution. If you won't help me I'll do it myself, and when my glory wakes up, you can be draykon food.'
Eva gave up. If even Griel couldn't reach Ana, nobody could. Their only chance was to retrieve the istore piece from Ana, but even that was too little, too late. The draykon was already almost complete, its consciousness too close to wakefulness; sooner or later it would succeed in its efforts to renew itself, with or without that last piece of bone. When that happened, all they could do was hope that Ana was right about her companion elect's feelings.
Because if the draykon didn't feel any kinship with the fools who had woken him up, then they were all in very deep trouble.
Chapter Twenty Five
Llandry couldn't move. When she tried, the world tilted and fell and she fell with it. She suffered nausea so intense she could only lie in the damp moss and clutch her belly, waiting to vomit. The winged daefly-thing flew into her face, beating at her with its tissue-paper wings. She ignored it. The pain and nausea seemed a fitting end to the events of that day. But Devary's face rose in her mind's eye, fighting against dangerous odds, his attackers closing in around him. She pictured him bloodied and weak, wounded, even killed. The image was enough to force her to her knees, then to her feet.
The world swam before her eyes and she closed them. She felt wings against her face again.
'Stop that,' she muttered. 'I'm up.' She caught the thing carefully in her hands and opened her eyes. She could focus on it without falling: good.
'We have to go back,' she told it, firmly. 'There must be another gate nearby, or maybe one will open. There've been enough of them lately.'
The coloured thing beat against the prison of her fingers, trying to release itself. She frowned down at it.
'You need a name. I can't call you “Thing” forever.' She thought for a moment. 'You can be Prink.'
Prink sank its sharp proboscis into her thumb. She winced, releasing it.
'Well, Prink, can I rely on you to help me?' Prink fluttered away from her, distracted by a passing insect. Llandry sighed. 'No. I suppose not. Come on.' She looked around. A twisted replica of the forests of Glinnery surrounded her completely. She could see nothing but towering glissenwol, draping vines and moss. At length, she picked a direction at random. Unfurling her wings, she climbed into the air, ignoring the pain of overuse in the muscles of her arms and back. She didn't care if it hurt. She could make much faster progress on the wing than on foot. She gritted her teeth and flew on.
She flew until her back was screaming with pain and her eyes were sore with staring into the misty skies, searching for the tell-tale ripple in the air that revealed the presence of a gate. She saw nothing, no sign of gathering mist or building heat that might suggest she was drawing close to a gate. Around her the glissenwol rose in unbroken ranks, so similar to her home that she began to doubt herself. Had she indeed crossed over at all? Perhaps she was merely confused. But no: no glissenwol of Glinnery grew to such impossible, regal heights, nor were they decked with such vividness of colour. The jade-green sky spiralling with lights was no figment of her imagination.
She was angling in circles around the location where she'd come through, intent on searching every inch of the forest until she found a way back. She stopped circling when she felt a distant tug, a faint pulse of energy that drew her irresistibly to her left. She'd never felt that kind of a pull before, but things were certainly different here. She followed the sensation, feeling it grow stronger as she flew.
She landed after a time and proceeded on foot. Prink fluttered ahead of her, frequently distracted by the prospect of a fat insect or two. After a few minutes she passed between two particularly majestic glissenwol forming a kind of archway over a silent clearing. Here was where the energy came from: she could feel it filling her body, pulsing in her bones. But no gate was in evidence. Just what was it?
Instinct drew her eyes to the ground. She saw a carpet of moss, blue like the forest floor at home but twinkling in a way no Glinnish moss had ever done. She knelt, ignoring the seep of moisture through the fabrics of her trousers. Running her fingers over the soft, cushiony moss, she felt the coolness of stone.
She inhaled sharply. Buried in the mosses were motes of indigo colour, shining softly silver. She tugged gently at a piece of the stuff and it came off easily in her hand.
Istore. No doubt about it.
She could feel it, a lattice of stone spreading through the ground beneath her. It felt alive, like some dormant energy struggling to awaken itself. It stirred in response to her presence, straining towards her like a flower tilting its petals towards the sun. Llandry felt instinctively that she held some kind of power over it; that if she lent it some of her own life and vibrancy, the sleeping vigour that lay dormant underground would burst forth. The pattern of energy spread so far around and beneath her that she felt engulfed by it, tiny and insignificant in comparison to its vastness.
No, not insignificant. The piece of istore in her hand pulsed in tandem with its brethren, sending waves of energy through her, sharp and invigorating. Somehow she held a link to this behemoth. It needed her.
The thought terrified her. She jumped to her feet and backed away, spreading her wings. In another moment she was in the air, hurrying to leave the clearing and its mysteries behind.
***
Hours later, Llandry was ready to despair. Her efforts had availed her nothing; only once had she glimpsed a gate in the distance, and by the time she had reached it it was gone. For the first time she cursed the sorcerers of Glinnery for their efficiency; if only they were not so quick to close up the gates that spiralled out of the air, she might be home by now. At last she dropped slowly to the ground, dejected. She'd flown too far, too fast, too hard, and her muscles were worn out. Perhaps she could rest, just for a little while.
She sat carefully, easing her weary muscles into something approaching a restful posture. She composed herself to sleep a little, hoping to wake refreshed and ready to resume her search. She closed her eyes, wishing she had Sigwide to curl his comforting warmth against her. What had become of him, left behind in Glinnery? She felt a stab of loss, missing him fiercely. She hadn't been without him since she was nine years old.
Llandry sighed and twisted, turning onto her side in the hopes of easing he
r muscles. She resented the tear that crept from beneath her closed lids, feeling it a betrayal of her dignity. A crushing wave of embarrassment, humiliation and despair filled her, and she only cried more, wiping her face futilely with her sleeve.
At last the tears slowed. It occurred to her to wonder if her enemies knew where she was, whether there would be a renewed pursuit. A flicker of fear rippled through her at the thought, and all thought of sleep receded. Sighing, she dragged herself into a sitting position.
'That's right, duck. Shouldn't think you could sleep here in all this damp. And don't you know there are beasts about?'
Llandry sprang to her feet, heart pounding. A woman stood ten feet away, grey-haired and a little on the stout side. She was wrapped in layers of coloured fabrics so bright they competed with the bejewelled glory of the foliage around her. In fact, with her rumpled features, bright smile and wispy hair, she resembled some kind of Uppers blossom herself.
'Who are you?' Despite the woman's inoffensive appearance, Llandry backed away. She would trust nobody at present.
'There now, duck, no need to be afraid o' me. A right dance you've led me, all over the dunes, like.'
'The dunes?' Llandry blinked, puzzled. Was the woman mad?
'Well, it won't look like no dunes now, will it? You're homesick.' She spoke kindly, but Llandry had no idea what she meant.
'I haven't seen any dunes,' she said tiredly. 'I've been circling the forest for hours. Do you know where to find a gate back to Glinnery?'
The woman shook her head, advancing slowly. 'I don't think that's the right idea for you just now, duckie. You're in no state to travel. Your Grandpa's out looking for you; he'll be glad you're in one piece. Come along with me, now.'
Llandry backed away again, confusion deepening into a wisp of fear. 'I don't have a Grandpa.'
'Course you do, dear. That's a silly thing to say, isn't it?'
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