They went through the seven pairs. The door remained locked.
“Now take them two adjacent pairs at a time,” said Ren Fa. After that, it was two pairs separated by one, then by two. “Any change?”
“The resistance is increasing,” said Jessnee. After a few more permutations, they couldn’t budge the knobs. “Your turn, Orokolga. Orokolga? How can a dragon disappear without a sound?”
“They know better how to operate the gateway,” said Melissa. “I don’t want to open the door until they’re almost powered up. We need to move fast to stop them from wrecking the controls or pocketing that orb.”
Orokolga reappeared from down the tunnel. “Those guarding us now number fewer than twenty.”
Melissa put her eye to the glass. “Three quarters charged.” She looked upon the orb and what it represented. With you I can stop this war, stop the madness of the migration. “Do it now.”
Orokolga reached out to insert a claw into the hole in the stickiest of the knobs. “Aaaah!” She fell to the floor. A tail spasm knocked R.J. from his feet. “Don’t eat him! Stop!” She went into convulsions, and foam dripped from her mouth.
Melissa trotted to her side and tried to breathe healing flame, but she was too depleted. “What’s wrong?”
After a minute, the seizure stopped and Orokolga stood unsteadily. “Kilgain is near, and in agony. We are one and suffer as one.” She inserted her claw in the knob. “I am ready. I have been ready for over four thousand years.” She slid the knob over. The stone slab sunk two inches and stopped.
Ren Fa looked stunned. Then he kicked the door.
Howling and screams came from up the corridor. Melissa’s chest felt like a steel band encased her lungs. She hurried back to the glass and stared. A few more lights and the charge would be complete. “What! What do we do now!”
From behind her, a Hand said, “Think fast!”
Melissa spun around. Kozi always tormented her by tossing messy medical things with a grinning ‘think fast’ tacked on. She was going to slit his throat with her… Wait. Kozi was dead. A fist sized rock was closing fast and her snout was its target. She squinted her eyes and wrinkled her nose, and the rock stopped inches shy. She batted it aside.
“What? No hugs?” said Shoroko.
Thedarra curled her lips and took a step in Shoroko’s direction only to be yanked back by Callyglip. She giggled.
Melissa glared. “You want me to ask what brave and clever trick you pulled to escape from the pointy, magic circus ponies. Well, I’m busy.” She glued her eye to the glass again. Insufferable glory hound. She got madder when she realized that throwing a rock at her wasn’t just a gag, it was an answer. She spotted a foot long, silvery metal box on the floor of the gateway chamber and latched on with her mind. Paying heed to where the Greens were looking, she slid the box along the outside of the room until it was near the door. She tipped it up, angled it just right and had a mirror. A door chain, just like at my apartment. When no one was looking, she levitated a piece of metal scrap and used her metal mirror to guide it to the chain. She wiggled the scrap back and forth until the chain came unfastened. The door still didn’t open.
She twisted her mirror back and forth. Beside the door on the inside wall was a diagram showing the combination. Only had one knob wrong. Not bad, Ren Fa. She stuck her claw into the knob. “Two Claws to the right, two lisstai away. Genereef three lisstai straight ahead. Poonrapi beside the gateway, four lisstai away and diagonally to the right. On three. One, two…”
The snarls of big cats interrupted the count and they spun around. In the dim light up the tunnel they saw glowing eyes. Then the taggers were shoved aside by a swipe from a Brown paw as Bannirah charged through, followed by Soomani. “All have fallen! Prepare your hearts. May the Grantor make your passing swift.”
“The only swift thing I’ll settle for is a swift victory!” Melissa slid the knob. “Three!”
* * *
The door slid down. It wasn’t fast enough for Orokolga. She stood on her hind legs, stretched up, grabbed the ledge where Mirrorwing sat and pulled. The door slammed down and Melissa, Orokolga and Mirrorwing charged in, while Shoroko turned to face taggers and sundry other fanged menaces flooding the hall outside the doorway. He pulled out the cursed blade. They knew what it was and stayed put, salivating, pacing, watching. Shoroko backed up slowly until he was inside the gateway chamber, kicked the release and waited while the door slid shut. Now the only exits were victory or death.
Shoroko sheathed his blade. Bannirah was tangling with one Green directly in front of him, Orokolga had a second pinned in the right corner, and Mirrorwing was battling Genereef off to the left. The Hands formed a semicircle around the control panel, with Soomani to protect them. She couldn’t bear to fight her queen directly. Jessnee and R.J. tried to decipher the markings and deduce how to open the way to Nehenoth. Melissa and Poonrapi ran laps around the dais, now fully lit. The orb danced dizzily through the air under the power of Melissa’s levitation as the two olissairn tried to grab it for themselves.
Her brain’s too tired to maneuver that orb. Poonrapi got close enough to take a swipe at the sphere. Shoroko pulled his sling out of his pocket, spun up his last stone and let it fly. The stone glanced off the orb, propelling it off the wall and toward Orokolga. The golden dragon tried to grab it, but the Claw she’d subdued bit her leg and Orokolga fumbled the orb off in a new direction. Shoroko sprinted and jumped up for the catch.
Melissa and Poonrapi flashed equally crazed eyes at him, so he ran between them, ducked and rolled under their respective claws, stood and whizzed up the stairs to the top of the dais.
Thedarra pointed. “I think maybe that button.” Jessnee pushed it.
Everything went black. Shoroko turned and saw a dim circle of light behind him. He heard scuffling. Melissa’s head popped into view. She charged up and through, with Poonrapi shredding stone with her claws to catch up. The bright circle dwindled to a speck, until the doorway closed completely and extinguished all light. They were in Nehenoth.
Chapter 39: Nehenoth
April 28th. Nehenoth.
Darkness made the place feel small, but when Shoroko took a step on the stone, the acoustics spoke of a vast, open space.
“Give me the orb!” said Melissa.
He didn’t like her fierce, demanding tone.
“Give it to me!” said Poonrapi.
They sounded like sisters. “How about we find Silverthorn and give it to him? You both want to find him, don’t you?”
A light on the floor blinked on. It’s recharging. Got to keep them arguing. A second light blinked on. His eyes adjusted to the dark enough to see an olissair approaching on foot. He hurried to the side and hid behind a shadow. The churning air from the other olissair flying past made Shoroko drop to his stomach.
“Caught it. I’ll keep the orb from Poonrapi while you search for where to install it.” Melissa’s voice receded fast.
Shoroko scratched his head. He still held the orb. A trick to lure Poonrapi away while I scout around? He relaxed. Melissa’s demanding tone with respect to the device had troubled him, but she must have been trying to protect him. He crawled about. When sound from the two became faint, he risked tripping a few light switches. From the books and diagrams he recognized some of the equipment. He threw levers, pushed buttons and interpreted failure messages, which guided him to supply closets, where he found spare parts and commenced repairs. Amid objects ancient with rust were some of recent manufacture.
As he worked by the dim glow of the apparatus, he looked over his shoulder at every thud, slap, moan and growl. An invisible battle was being fought out in the darkness – without him. He didn’t like it. Melissa was many times his size and possessed incredible power, but she was a healer and he was a fighter. He wanted to fight for her, but she kept turning things upside down.
* * *
Melissa heard a whoosh. Owww. Poonrapi clawed her back on a flyby. She clenched her teeth and ke
pt quiet. After running a few lengths she leapt into the air, flapped a few times and glided. Slam! She caught a cable across the neck and tumbled to the floor. Gravity was less than on Kibota, but it hurt.
A fireball streaked past, illuminated the vicinity for an instant and was extinguished upon a stone pillar. Seconds later Poonrapi swooped in and kicked Melissa in the head with a foot. Melissa pushed to her feet and took to the air again. She wanted to imitate Poonrapi, but had no flame left. She flew in a tight circle to avoid obstacles, until Poonrapi fired another shot. In the brief glow she saw a large volume of open air and changed course, with her enemy in pursuit.
A diffuse collection of soft, floating debris collected against her face and she sneezed. This provoked more flapping until she felt a cable coil around her leg. Poonrapi gave a jerk and sent Melissa into a spin. She gritted her teeth as she thrashed her tender wings to pull out of the spin, then flew higher. Debris showered her again, then her stomach inverted with dizziness. Her flapping became uncoordinated and she crashed into metal scaffolding.
Melissa’s clanging attempts to climb free drew another fireball followed by a volley of stones. Most ricocheted off the metal poles, but one struck her stomach, winding her. Poonrapi lit up again and set fire to a clawful of rock, swooped near and flung flaming ash in Melissa’s face. Now she was blind and in the dark.
“You had your turn with Silverthorn, now I claim mine,” said Poonrapi.
“This is not about turns,” said Melissa. “I came to rescue him from your prison. Haven’t you heard? I am not White Talon.”
“Heard, not believed.” The next communication from Poonrapi was a sharp pole jabbed into Melissa’s side.
Melissa strained against her cage and shattered the bars. She jumped up and flew. The smothering darkness brought her to the edge of panic.
Breathe.
The voice! The excitement passed when vertigo caught hold once more. After careening off a wall and puncturing her wing on a spike she spun and zigzagged. Everything fought against her: gravity, the walls, Poonrapi. She stopped struggling. Her every effort harmed her as much as her enemy’s blows. Then she did all she could do: she breathed. The soft airborne debris entered her nostrils. Before she sneezed it out, she strained to smell what it was.
Petals. She followed her nose. The fragrance of flowers led her on. She glided, pumping her wings only enough to maintain lift. It was easy. The scent directed her and she followed the flowery path, through loops and dives and long straight stretches. Poonrapi’s wings were working hard, and her foe began slamming against unseen obstructions.
Melissa’s eyes recovered from the scalding. She opened them. Poonrapi’s occasional pyrotechnics shone enough to convey that their new world was spherical, with them on the inside. They glided through a forest of tangled wire, splintered rock and long tubes, the wreckage of a vast clockwork. Nehenoth’s pull was outward, not inward, with eddies of force as tangled as the landscape.
As Poonrapi became more battered, her flares became less frequent. Melissa flew on, into a darker light. It was light because when her wings drank in the sun, refreshment flooded her muscles and mind, and she was drinking. It was dark because it illuminated nothing. She remembered a line her mother loved. With your light we see light. Why couldn’t she see the light? Poonrapi’s fire lit the cavern, disclosing what fire can disclose. If this other light was not lighting up the wreckage, what was it lighting up? “Open my eyes!” shouted Melissa.
And he did. She was blinded now by light and not dark. When her eyes adjusted to the brilliance, she saw the trail of white petals that had guided her and followed them to their source. The tubes faded and trees appeared. Tangles of wire became thickets of brambles and bushes. For a few minutes she beheld two worlds superimposed. When her tail slapped a rock, it half throbbed with the pain of the collision, and half rejoiced in the soft grass of the hillside. Her every sense was doubled, with rancid grease and a well-watered lawn competing for her nose, and clanging metal modulated by ripples splashing in a pond. Her every perception was ambiguous, until the harsh and twisted world vanished entirely.
She couldn’t see the other side of the sphere. This must be a hundred miles in diameter. Behind her, Poonrapi was bouncing off one tree after another. Melissa flew down and grabbed some vines, figuring them cables in the Green’s perception. She circled her opponent and bound her in fetters any Claw could snap merely by breathing, were not her mind convinced of their metal tenacity.
Poonrapi shouted defiant speeches, but Melissa could not comprehend them, as they were translated into birdsongs. With that business complete, she set off to explore. Forests, fields, lakes and waterfalls spread in every direction, curving upward. It was a world without a horizon, only mist and fog to prevent eyes from seeing clear to the other side of the expanse. Her nose was thrown into tumult. Rust and dust were gone, but the pungency of a citrus grove pulled her left while the soft perfume of wildflowers tugged her right. Melissa remembered that she had the nose of a Silver, a nose for truth. Once more she inhaled, and she understood. Nehenoth may not be here or there, but it was somewhere, and that somewhere was inside a missing world. She was inside Sister Moon.
The leagues turned below her. I must find Silverthorn. An hour later, she broke for a repast of nuts and berries, then resumed her quest. She remembered her eyes and flew high. Up, down and sideways danced in every direction, but with careful attention to the air currents, she fell “up” for an hour and reached the very center of the space at the heart of the world. She expanded her vision, cut through mist and methodically scanned the entire world. She found Shoroko. Though he was fiddling with machinery, he appeared to be plunging his fists into algae.
In all the world, she saw no buildings, only natural features, save one: a stone hut. Toward that she flew. Dipping and corkscrewing along the gravitational lines, she glided out to the surface and raced over the glassy mirror of a lake, her tail tracing out her path on the water. The hut was near a beach a few hundred lisstai ahead. The world was so still. For all the vegetation, there was no animal life anywhere. It was an improvement on the dark junkyard, but still a lonely place.
She saw ripples. Ripples meant fish! Splash. A joyful pack of silver swarmed past. A whole school! She stuck out her paw and skewered three on separate claws. She flapped and kicked her way to the shore, filleted and flame broiled and swallowed them whole. She looked back at the water. My own private stock! Silver fish danced before her mind’s eye, then another silver memory intruded. Silverthorn. She forgot her stomach, remembered her promise and resumed her flight.
The stone longhouse before her was adequate to house two dozen lissairn. The steel door swung open. The Silvers marched out and formed a circle. The last and largest to emerge from the house gleamed like morning sun upon the water. It was Kilgain. The golden dragon entered the circle. The leading Silver, whom she presumed to be Silverthorn, rose on his hind legs to speak.
Melissa cast her eyes forward to read his lips, when an explosion of feathers blocked her vision. The longed for life had arrived. Great flocks in swift oscillations darted left and right, raucous in their calls and free in their exultant display. I am still entering this other world. She carved a course through the avian avalanche and the beach reappeared. The lissairn shimmered. They were fading.
Leaving the dark desolation to escape Poonrapi was a relief. Drifting farther and losing Silverthorn and Kilgain was troublesome. But it meant…
“Shoroko!” She spat out his name with such force that flames followed each syllable. Mirrorwing had never pronounced any warning about this property of Nehenoth. Other Claws had disappeared into this hole over the centuries. Had they been vanished, too?
Is it such a bad place to be swept into? The very thought in her head shocked her. Of course it was a bad place, if the man she loved were absent. The scent of ripe strawberries enticed her nose, as the last Silver flickered out. Kilgain alone with his massive, gilded frame remained.
&nbs
p; To reject, she needed a name. Where was she going? Where was she from?
A swarm of bees buzzed past her toward their honeyed tree. The sweetness!
Where am I? Where is ‘here’? Melissa recalled her first lesson on Nehenoth. It meant neither-here-nor-there. She was ‘here’. Shoroko and the dragons were ‘there’. She needed light, water, and food, but she also needed the machines, the gate, and her love. Nehenoth was splitting into a ‘here’ and a ‘there’, while she needed it to be one. When a world splits in two, what can mend it? Where are needle and thread strong enough to suture the wound?
She extracted herself from her contemplation. All that remained of Kilgain were his eyes, gazing at her, unseeing. Melissa screamed his name, but there was no hearing her world from his. She strained her wings to their breaking point and rocketed forward.
He saw her. It was not the explosive flapping of her wings like a flag in a hurricane or the solar brilliance of the fire spewing from her jaws, but a primal need within his soul that opened his eyes, and hers too. The last time she saw eyes like that was when she first looked into White Talon’s. They were eyes looking upon death.
Kilgain screamed and the veil was torn. The suffering in his eyes spread, taking in head, neck and soon the whole of him. Shoroko had spoken of Orokolga’s entranced terrors, the sympathetic paralysis and torment by which she knew her mate lived only from his agonies. He stood before Melissa. Where his tail should be, there was a bleeding stump. Surrounded by a cohort of lissairn, there could be but one cause.
The tear widened and vague outlines of Claws reappeared. Melissa rocked back and landed with her legs upon the nearest lissair. He took it as buffeting by a shadow of a shadow. She galloped over to the stone house and ripped the door off its hinges. She swatted Silverthorn over the head; it mussed his mane. Melissa tossed boulders, trees and anything else at hand, and received for her efforts puzzled looks and claws itching spots that should sport gaping wounds.
A Most Refined Dragon Page 43
