The Seeds of Dissolution (Dissolution Cycle Book 1)

by William C. Tracy

  In their haste to stop the Life Coalition, Sam wasn’t entirely sure the others had followed that train of thought. This was their home. They were protecting it. Sam, as an outsider, had a clearer perspective.

  Why do they have ‘Life’ in their name if all they do is destroy? What possible reason did these people have to make Drains? How did they do it?

  They had been up all night and Sam’s arms dragged by his sides. Even his anxiety was a small thing, hammering at his mind as they walked. The Bazaar was nearly quiet at this time of early morning, with many stalls closed, and the smaller carts and blankets gone. Sam dozed on the tram, and then on a carriage, curled up with Enos. It would take several lightenings to get back to High Imperium and the absence of Inas’ familiar warmth picked at his sanity.

  He woke to Enos shaking his shoulder. “We’re here,” she said. Her face was tight, eyes pinching at the corners.

  “We’ll find him,” Sam told her. I hope we find him. Please don’t hurt him. I don’t know what I would do.

  They were at the terminus of the carriage system, right under the growing brilliance of the walls, stretching overhead. Sam fought down a stab of panic, and brought his watch to his ear. Calm. You’re used to this place. He just hadn’t been so close to the walls. They were rippled and smoothed, like glowing waves crashing vertically.

  Even in early morning, it was bright, and rich, dense foliage sprung up in every crack and plot of dirt. A group of little birds—or bird-like things—shot overhead as their group descended from the station back to street level, and Sam heard the bird’s chatter echoing as trills and glissandos in the Symphony. There were little creatures in the brush, too, finding and becoming breakfast, communicating in waltzes and gallops. He ducked his head, keeping out most of the vastness of the Imperium. There was no time for his anxiety here and he had to keep his triggers to a minimum.

  Majus Ayama took the lead, as usual, heading to a huge cylindrical building with a dome of what looked like crystal. The former councilor’s long black braid practically vibrated with energy, and her jerkin and pants creaked as she walked, stretching their range of motion, as if she was trying to pull herself along by sheer will.

  Figures were already entering the Dome of the Assembly in the early morning light, and Majus Ayama hurried to intercept a lone figure in a black cloak and a hood. Sam traded a look with Enos. Was she going to accost every Sathssn?

  “…heard about the program for today, Hathssas?” Her words drifted into Sam’s hearing. Majus Ayama was gripping the Sathssn’s shoulder, and the figure turned so Sam could see an insignia on its chest, half orange and half bright pink. He suddenly realized the Life Coalition members had not worn those insignia.

  The others grouped around and the new Sathssn councilor for the House of Power looked between them, her cowl twitching from side to side. Sam saw a flash of dark green flesh in the bright morning light. Their group was bruised and dirty, clothes dusted with ash, Majus Caroom’s shirt torn around the places they were injured. Majus Ayama had a splash of crimson on her jerkin. Blood? From her or someone else?

  “What is it you mean, Council—Majus?” Hathssas quickly corrected her slip, ducking her head as she did so. She was short, like most Sathssn, not even reaching his chest. “Has there been a change? This, I would hope to hear of first since my rise to the position of councilor.” She sounded unsure.

  “What’s on the schedule?” Majus Ayama demanded. “What are you discussing? What’s the agenda?” Majus Cyrysi slipped fingers across her back, maybe attempting to quiet her.

  “I—nothing special, I do not think,” Hathssas stammered. “Today, it is the last of the Assembly for three ten-days. It should be only the ends of business.” Then her cowl cocked to one side. “Although—”

  “Yes?” Majus Ayama pushed forward. “What?”

  “Let her be thinking, Rilan,” Majus Cyrysi murmured, but the majus flicked a hand at him.

  Hathssas raised a gloved hand to tap at the air, and Sam glimpsed fine dark green and yellow scales between the end of the glove and the robe’s sleeve. She was showing more skin than most Sathssn. Not as conservative as others. It was a mark in the new councilor’s favor.

  “Now, I remember. Yesterday, late in the day, there was an addendum to the schedule for today.” She paused to think again, and Sam thought Majus Ayama might throttle the little alien to make her speak faster. “The one who raised it, I am not sure who it is, but the motion was to pass a resolution on the attacks by Aridori in the Imperium today.” Her cowl twitched again as she twisted to look at the streams of people going into the Assembly. “Maybe this, it is why so many attend today.”

  “You did not remember this until you were being prompted?” Majus Cyrysi asked incredulously.

  Hathssas shrugged, the folds of her robe popping up and down. “Me, I was never convinced the Aridori were behind the attacks.”

  “Hmmmm. This one thinks we may have misjudged Councilor Hathssas,” Majus Caroom rumbled.

  “Agreed,” Majus Ayama snapped. “She isn’t one of them.” She turned back to the Sathssn, who was peering at them all in confusion. “If you see anything strange happen today, be ready to get the others out of the Dome as fast as you can.”

  “Which others?” Hathssas asked.

  “All of them.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Aberration

  -The Drains were to be formed by one of each house of the maji, in conjunction. All the greatest works were done so, but never were any so destructive. It is still beyond my understanding how a negation, or void, can be generated by melodies existing in the Grand Symphony. Were they able to counter every strain of music with an inverse vibration? It seems an impossible act.

  Journal of Origon Cyrysi, Kirian majus of the Houses of Communication and Power

  Rilan struggled through the halls of the Assembly that circled around the main chamber, swimming through throngs of delegates on their way to the floor. The Assembly was big enough to hold over one hundred thousand representatives of the ten species, and even the lower floor was packed today.

  “Out of the way! Move please! Majus coming through, on service of the Effature.” Well, she would be once they talked to him. She elbowed and pushed. They were surely behind the Life Coalition, with so much time wasted traveling between the Bazaar and High Imperium. The others strung out behind her. She hoped Enos was helping Sam deal with the crowds, and then shook her head at the thought. How easy to fall into trusting the Aridori. One hand rose, almost by itself, to make that stupid warding gesture. Rilan forced it back down.

  At last, the crowd thinned near the Speaker’s Entrance, and soon she was in the Assembly proper, Ori beside her, ignoring confused and hostile looks from the guards. The loss of her seat, to Vethis no less, fed a pit of ice in her belly. Her one shred of hope came from the certainty that Vethis wouldn’t be a councilor much longer.

  Among the chairs of the speakers, most still empty, she searched for the one face that could help her. Ori was past the guards, and so was Sam, hanging from Enos. They were near one wall—Sam would likely stay there a few moments, acclimatizing to the new surroundings. She scanned the Assembly, ignoring rising calls and shouts that she was not in the correct place. Jhina glared over from the sparse seats for the Council. Hathssas was beside her, and Freshta, but the others had not yet taken their places.

  Before any of them could accost her, or thankfully, question her part in the recent events in Gloomlight, a quiet voice addressed her, near her left shoulder. “Majus Ayama.”

  She turned, feeling like an apprentice called to the house head, and found the Effature standing behind her. He looked ancient and timeless as always, his little wisp of a beard trailing in the breeze from her movement. The coronet of Nether crystal on his head glowed faintly.

  “Sir,” she began, but the Nether’s caretaker held up a hand and she stopped.

  “I have no doubt you have something
of great importance to tell me, but I believe we should leave the floor first.” He raised one pale white eyebrow and glanced over the gathering speakers, many of whom were turning their direction.

  “Yes sir.”

  She followed him to a nook in the wall rising from the Nether floor, which supported the rings of seats above. The little setback was behind his chair. Along the way, Ori collected Sam and Enos from where the young man was pressed against the wall, urging him forward with one hand. Sam clung to him as much as to Enos.

  Hand Dancer and Caroom were just entering the rotunda, the Lobhl supporting the Benish. They were arguing with the guards, Caroom holding one hand to their chest, and Rilan made sure they saw where she was going. They would have to talk their own way in.

  The little indentation in the wall of the rotunda was cramped with the five of them. It was inside the thick rock wall that supported the first row of seats, dark and quiet, distorting the sounds of the Assembly. She had seen the Effature vanish in here before, to rest in the middle of a long session, but she had never been here before.

  The little man was facing a wall of the nook, and turned back with a miniature crystal goblet of clear liquid in each hand. His long green sleeves nearly covered his hands, and hung most of the way down to the floor. He offered a goblet to her and Ori, then went back to the wall the moment they took them. She stared at his back, tracing the intricate purple and green pattern of scales that reflected the little light in here, willing him to turn back. There was no time for cocktails. She sniffed the goblet. Not a cocktail—it was just water.

  The Effature swiveled, again with two tiny goblets, offering one to Sam, and one to Enos. Sam, trembling, accepted, though his eyebrows almost disappeared into his shaggy hair. Rilan made a mental note to get him a haircut, if they survived the day.

  “Majus Ayama.” The deep words pulled her attention back to the Effature. He had his own glass of water, and reached for another object of Nether glass, this one hemispherical, carved like a curled animal—a cat, perhaps. He tapped it twice, and it rang. Then Rilan realized it was ringing not only in her physical ears, but inside the Symphony of Healing, tuning notes to true. She traded a glance with Ori, whose eyes were as wide as hers.

  “I hear it too,” he said. So that was why they were speaking in here.

  The Effature crossed his arms, hiding them in the opposite sleeve. “Please, drink. You look quite tired.”

  “Effature,” she said, trying not to let the words rush out. “We must hurry. You are in terrible danger. If you would just let me show—”

  “It is pure water,” the Effature said. Rilan fell silent, then raised the crystal goblet to her lips. “From my estates outside the Imperium. There are some mineral deposits filtered in the stream, and I find they improve my constitution.” The water was light and clear, with a faint taste of iron.

  “What about the System?” Ori asked, pointing a finger at the carved hemisphere—how had the Effature carved Nether crystal? It was glowing with a rainbow of colors, all houses of the maji involved.

  “Something left from a long time ago,” the Effature said. “It helps to clear the mind. Now, what is so urgent?”

  Indeed, Rilan found her thoughts more ordered than they had been in days. “There is a splinter of the Fundamentalist Sathssn called the Life Coalition, though they employ other species. We believe they will create a void during the Assembly session today.” Her mouth closed almost by itself. Yes. That was what she had to say, short and succinct.

  The Effature only nodded, then looked between them in expectation. His eyes lingered on Enos for a split second longer, and the young woman looked down into her drink. “I have suspected a rift forming among the ten species,” he stated. “How will you handle this?”

  “We were nearly apprehending the Life Coalition a few lightenings ago,” Ori added, “but they escaped here. According to Vethis, who was among them, they will be creating a Drain. We must apprehend them before they start.”

  The Effature didn’t bat an eye at Vethis going turncoat. “I have the utmost confidence in you and your friends,” he said, then motioned for them to finish their drinks. They did, Rilan licking her lips at the metallic taste, and he returned the crystal glasses to an alcove. “I will organize the retreat of those in danger, and handle the organization in the Imperium,” he said. “For now—” he paused, and Rilan heard a scream echo from inside the rotunda. “You should hurry.”

  * * *

  Sam heard a clink as the man, the Effature—from what he could tell, like a president or prime minister for the Nether—returned the glasses to a concealed bar. The water wasn’t the reason the man brought them in here. That crystal he tapped is doing something to our notes. It’s adjusting us. Cleaning us? Time felt stretched. The Effature’s glittering, scale-like suit whispered as he moved. Enos was near and Sam could even smell her more clearly; a fresh, mint scent, mixed with sweat and smoke. She was shivering. She’s thinking of Inas. I can’t believe he’s gone.

  Majus Ayama and Majus Cyrysi traded looks only they could interpret. When someone screamed outside the Effature’s nook, Sam didn’t even flinch, but squeezed Enos’ hand, pulling her forward as Majus Ayama brushed the fabric hanging aside. As Sam entered the massive stadium of the Assembly, the anxiety that slowed him was buried under the little crystal carving’s effects. He let the Symphony fill him, tracing shrill paired fourths in the screams, how they rippled out to others in the music.

  A portal was open in the exact middle of the rotunda, green and burgundy rotating around it. Dunarn made this. Enos gasped, and Majus Cyrysi murmured something Sam couldn’t hear. The portal was wide enough for three, and rank after rank of black-cloaked figures spilled out, forming an ever-increasing circle around the entrance.

  There are so many. None of them wear the badges the maji do. His breathing spiked, and his hand was suddenly slick with sweat, sliding in Enos’ grip. He was certain there were maji mixed in the crowd. No way to tell who could encase you in air or break your arm with a touch, or whether they would just shoot you with a crossbow bolt.

  Maji Hand Dancer and Caroom were outside the Effature’s cubby. The orange and gray film was over both of Hand Dancer’s eyes and he scanned the gathering. Sam thought he used the change as a strategy overlay, letting the Lobhl see the connections between things. Majus Caroom wore a skein of green, though it was patchy in places and they moved slowly, keeping a thick hand near the wound in their chest.

  “Is Inas with them?” Enos leaned forward, peering into the emerging Life Coalition troops.

  Majus Hand Dancer made a negative with his hands, and Sam shook his head. “They probably have him wherever they came from.” No sense in bringing Inas here. That means we have to stop them, and find out where the Life Coalition is hiding.

  Diplomats and speakers stood, some yelling at the invaders, or scrambling to get away. A few auras of color showed where individual maji were trying to help. The Effature directed his guards with hand signals, and they rushed to evacuate the Assembly. Sam recognized a few members of the Council trying to help, though Councilor Feldo was absent.

  “Hand Dancer and Enos, come with me,” Majus Ayama said. Majus Cyrysi had Majus Caroom behind him.

  Enos turned to him, worry in her eyes. Sam’s heart rate spiked as she drew her hand away. I’ll be alone. It’s too much. He was curling in again. He was so weak.

  “I have to help, Sam,” Enos said.

  “Go,” Sam whispered back. First stop the Life Coalition. “I’ll be fine.” It was a lie, and both of them knew it. He fished his watch out, thumb running down the raised design on the edge, and held it to his ear. Breathe evenly. React to what you have to.

  “Sam—can you be helping me and Caroom?”

  Sam’s knees buckled and he fell against the wall beside the Effature’s niche. “A minute,” he managed.

  “We do not have a minute,” Majus Cyrysi said. “We must act now, or not at
all.”

  “Go,” Sam whispered again. “I’ll, I’ll help when I can.” Just have to survive this attack. Too many people here. Too many things happening. Even with the soothing of the Effature’s crystal, he was too weak.

  Majus Cyrysi shook his head, crest high and tight. Distress, the Nether told Sam. Torn between his apprentice and the approaching threat, no doubt.

  “Go!” Sam shouted, and the maji turned away. Sam slid down the wall, watching; the most he could do. After a last figure appeared, who must be Dunarn, the portal closed with a pop. Several other figures stood near her, and auras popped into existence, tinted by secondary colors—blue, then yellow, orange, and white. Dunarn glowed green. They were creating some melody, and Sam could almost hear snatches of it, a strange thing with more pauses than notes, like the melody was halting more than moving. Inverting. A last figure set down something heavy and metal on the Nether floor with a boom that echoed, quieting the chaos for a moment. A rich brown enveloped the figure. There were maji from all six houses.

  Sam reached for the Symphony, letting the intricate music calm his heart, his breathing. Almost without thought, he placed notes around the melody of the air in front of him, making parts of it harder, stronger, more forte. The air coalesced, becoming a magnifier, and Sam got a good look at the instrument on the floor of the Assembly. It had three finely wrought legs, holding up the barrel of something that looked like a cannon. Each leg ended in a foot carved to look like a dog’s.

  Thoughts of Dalhni flashed through his mind; Enos picking up a similar leg, Dunarn hiding it in her robe.

  You know how to stop this.

  The thought resonated through his mind, like the other thoughts that weren’t his own. He hadn’t realized then. The Effature’s System was running his brain in a higher gear. The voice had been speaking to him for days. He blinked, his brain finding the other moments, like when he had made a portal from the Life Coalition’s prison, or when he created breezes under the Drains in Dalhni, and outside ChinRan. It went all the way back to…back to when he opened the portal from his house on Earth. The voice had told him to take the fire’s heat, showed him how to build a portal. Whatever it was, the voice was helping him. Was it the Nether?