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Altered Intentions

Page 13

by G David Walker


  “I will be adding Jason’s power to my own,” Nyala said. “With both, I can restrain the Altered and remove their dimsai. As I do so, I will give you a portion of that power to help you replace the dimsai bonds with natural ones.”

  “I understand what you are asking of me. I am just unsure if I am able to do what you ask.”

  “Are you unwilling to even try, then? If so, tell me now.” She turned to Jason. “Every moment we delay is another moment the people of Teleria suffer under the rule of the Altered. How much longer do you intend to wait?”

  “All we’re asking you to do is try,” Jason said. “If you can’t, then you can’t, but Nyala’s right,” he frowned slightly, “we have to get started.”

  She took a deep breath. “Very well. I do not know if I will succeed, but I can do no less than to make the attempt.”

  “Good. Now that that is settled…” suddenly they were standing in the middle of a forest path. “…it’s time to get started. We will go to Haras first. She is the weakest. Her palace is in Teradis, where this trail leads.” The shimmers around her faded away, revealing, not the auburn-haired woman Jason was expecting, but a slightly older and different woman, streaks of grey flowing through black tresses. “I must subdue my power and disguise myself until we confront her, or else she will sense me coming.”

  “Ah,” Jason said. There was something familiar about her appearance, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He decided to let it go. She probably just reminded him of someone he’d met once back home.

  Jason looked around as they started walking along the path. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary at first. Then he began seeing flowers with blossoms apparently made of paper-thin gold. Soon, the path broadened into a road lined on both sides with a hedge of golden blossoms, the gold now extending down the stems and becoming a fine filigree against the rich green of the leaves.

  A whisper of melody tickled his ears, growing stronger with each step. Then an off key note made him wince. Not exactly Top Forty.

  “What is that sound?” Seryn asked.

  Nyala started, as if Seryn’s voice had pulled her out of a secret world of her own. “Sound?” she said, cocking her head to listen. “Oh, that. That would be Haras trying to impress her subjects.” She shook her head. “She always fancied herself quite the singer.”

  As Jason listened to the wavering melody, he decided Haras must be tone deaf.

  “So did you two know each other well?” he asked. “Before the war?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose so. We were friends, at least on the surface. We worked in the same research facility. But I’m pretty sure she held a bit of a grudge against me. It didn’t bother me really. I always thought she was a bit of a twit.”

  “Why would she hold a grudge against you? About what?” He watched her from the corner of his eye. She seemed a little off today. Maybe it was because of what they were getting ready to do. He hoped that was all it was.

  “We started working at the research facility at about the same time. I advanced more quickly than she did. She claimed she was happy for me, but I could tell it bothered her.” She snorted. “It wasn’t my fault she couldn’t string two thoughts together in her head at the same time.”

  “Did she work with you on the protophasic stuff?” Nyala had told him that her research into what she called protophasics was at the heart of the Devastation, the war that ended the technological age of Teleria and ushered in a new way of life for what was left of the planet’s population. That had been fifteen hundred years ago, before she and the others had become Altered.

  “No, she was in another department, but she wanted my project. Although she never said it, I’m sure she thought she could have made it work the way we wanted it to before we shut it down.”

  “Oh.” She'd said the protophasic wave could break organic material down into its basic elements, the ultimate recycling technology. When they found out it only worked on living tissue, they tried to shut the project down, only to have it appropriated and weaponized by their leaders.

  “But she was with you at the picnic?”

  “Yes, she and her husband, Ekim, and their two-year-old son were there with us.” She sighed and looked away. “Her son didn’t survive. She and Ekim blamed me. As our powers developed and we gained more control, the tension between them and me was one of the main reasons for the Covenant.”

  Jason didn't know what to say to that, so he turned his attention back to the road. Up ahead he saw a golden statue. When they drew closer, he saw that it was cast in the likeness of Haras. As they passed by, the statue suddenly spoke.

  “You dare pass by a statue of Haras the Golden, without bowing?”

  “Amazing,” Nyala whispered. “She’s more of a self-absorbed twit than I gave her credit for.”

  Jason didn’t know if she was talking to them or to herself. She still didn’t sound like the Nyala he had first met.

  She spoke out loud. “We would never think of such a thing.” Then, with a look at him and Seryn, she gave a low bow to the statue. “Long live Haras the Golden.”

  Once he and Seryn had copied Nyala’s bow, the statue resumed its position and became immobile once again. He looked up the road. More of the statues lined it, and in the distance he could see a cluster of golden figures.

  As they drew closer to the group of statues, he saw that, unlike the previous ones, these didn't all look like Haras. And instead of the off-key singing floating in the air, Jason heard sobs and whimpering coming from these figures.

  “Haras is merciful.”

  “Help me.”

  “Haras is just.”

  “Please help us.”

  With horror, he realized the statues' mouths and eyes were not the same solid gold as the rest of the body. Human lips begged them for help. Human eyes wept tears that trickled down golden cheeks. He heard Seryn’s gasp of shock as she saw what he did.

  But the eyes that begged them for help and the lips that pleaded for release weren’t the worst parts. The worst parts were the statues where the lips didn’t move, and the eyes were glazed over and unseeing.

  “Apparently, this is what happens to anyone who displeases Haras,” Nyala said.

  As Jason thought about the last terrifying moments of these people, any doubts about what they were doing flared into ash and blew away.

  Seryn put a hand on his arm. “We have to help these people!”

  “No.” Nyala shook her head. “If we do anything now, it will alert Haras. If you really want to help them, we must take away her power. That should release the victims of her fragile ego.”

  It was clear that the thought of leaving these people as they were troubled Seryn. Jason felt the same way, but the sooner they did what they came to do, the sooner this nightmare would be over. They shared a look, and turned back to the path, the anguish of the living statues echoing in their ears long after they could no longer hear their pleas for help.

  ~~~

  They rounded a curve in the path and the town came into view. Haras’ palace was easy to see, a golden monstrosity towering behind the mélange of dingy buildings and houses. The walls of the palace were polished to a mirror-like finish that was almost blinding in the morning sun.

  Other than the off key singing floating in the air, the only sound was the dirt grinding underneath their feet as they made their way through the village toward the palace. Occasionally, they would see someone peeking out through drawn curtains or from behind the crack of a barely-open door as they passed, but no one came outside to greet them or challenge them.

  “They’ve learned fast,” Nyala said.

  “Learned what?” Jason asked.

  “To stay out of Haras’ way, out of her sight if possible.”

  They reached the golden steps and began their ascent, bowing to each of the numerous statues of Haras standing guard. They stopped just inside the massive golden doors at the entrance to a long hallway that looked like it ran for about a fifty yard
s before splitting off to the left and right. Here the singing was even more insistent. Now it was in three-part…well, Jason didn’t think “harmony” was exactly the right word for it, but there were three voices, all singing different pitches, none of them quite right.

  He glanced at the polished wall beside him and stopped in shock. Haras’ reflection stared serenely back at him. He took an involuntary step back, and the reflection did the same but never lost its tranquil expression. Then he noticed that there was only one reflection. The golden mirror didn’t show Nyala or Seryn. He heard Seryn gasp behind him and turned to see her staring at the opposite wall.

  “By Agathon’s Scrolls!” she breathed.

  He looked at the wall, but only saw his own reflection of Haras.

  “I know,” he said. “It’s like they only show my reflection, but it looks like Haras. It doesn’t show the two of you.”

  “No,” she shook her head. “I see my reflection with Haras’ likeness, but I do not see any other.” She turned wide eyes to him and Nyala. “What does this mean?”

  “All it means,” Nyala said, “is that Haras is just as egotistical as I thought. Ignore it.” She turned and started walking toward the far end of the hall. With a last nervous glance at their reflections, Jason and Seryn followed.

  “Which way do we go?” Jason asked when they reached the end of the hallway and bowed to the two statues of Haras that stood there.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Nyala said. “Every hallway will eventually lead to Haras. She wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s not very imaginative.”

  By the time they reached the Great Hall, walking and bowing through what seemed like miles of twisting, branching corridors, Jason’s back was getting sore. They turned a corner, and Jason couldn’t help but gape. If the doors at the palace entrance were massive, these were colossal. They stood at least twenty feet tall, with ornate engraving all around the edges, surrounding a giant relief of Haras’ face.

  As they stopped in front of the doors, the golden eyes opened and looked down on them. The lips parted and a voice boomed out loud enough to hurt Jason’s ears.

  “WHO COMES BEFORE HARAS THE GOLDEN?”

  Nyala stepped forward. “Three petitioners hoping to look upon the beauty of Haras’ countenance and request a boon from her most beneficent person.” She gave them a look and rolled her eyes as she finished.

  “WELL SPOKEN. ENTER AND GAZE UPON THE GLORY OF YOUR MISTRESS.”

  The doors parted and they stepped into the Great Hall. Jason was starting to feel like a fish, considering how much his mouth had been hanging open recently. The ceiling soared a good forty feet overhead and the hall was the length of a football field. And either the hall shrank as it stretched to the other end, or the figure sitting on the enormous throne there had to be at least thirty feet tall.

  There were mirrors everywhere, oriented so that each one reflected the image of Haras on her throne at them. As they made their way along the hall, he noticed that the mirrors swiveled so that anyone approaching the throne always saw Haras no matter which way they looked. It also became clear that the hall didn’t shrink. She really was thirty feet tall.

  Jason tried to quell the butterflies that were trying desperately to find a way out of his stomach. He hoped Nyala’s plan worked. He’d been able to beat Bothan, but Regor had been more than he could handle. Now here they were, about to face another Altered. Then he had another thought. Nyala was in disguise, but he wasn’t. Oh crap.

  “You!” The gigantic figure stood and pointed a golden finger the size of a log at him. “How dare you enter my presence? Are you so foolish as to think I will not recognize you? You who had the insolence to attack an Altered? Prepare to pay the price for your foolish arrogance!”

  “Oh, shut up, Haras,” Nyala said, still in her disguise.

  “What did you say?” The golden gaze locked onto Nyala. Haras frowned. “What are you—”

  “Now,” Nyala said.

  Jason grasped Nyala’s shoulder and closed his eyes, concentrating on calling up all of the power he could muster and sending it to her. His eyes snapped open as he heard the outraged exclamation from the gargantuan figure.

  “You think to attack me? You will pay for this!” Haras’ voice resonated off the golden walls, assaulting Jason’s ears from all directions. Nyala had one hand extended toward Haras, and a stream of power engulfed the golden figure like a writhing iridescent snake. Even with the power surrounding her, Haras had managed one step toward the group. She threw a blast of glittering yellow flame at them, but Nyala deflected it with a bolt of power from her other hand. The air crackled and thundered with dimsai as the two Altered struggled.

  “I WILL DESTROY YOU!”

  “Get ready!” Nyala shouted at Seryn over the echoes of power shaking the building. Seryn nodded and moved to stand on the other side of her. Nyala’s eyes narrowed as she increased her hold on Haras. Jason could feel power draining from him, and renewed his efforts to give her as much power as possible.

  Haras screamed as the power intensified. “What are you doing?” Then she began shrinking, still struggling to break free of Nyala’s grip. She threw more dimsai at the group, but her attacks could not escape the ring of Nyala’s power. Suddenly, every mirror in the hall exploded into showers of golden splinters. Jason raised his free hand to shield his face, but his grip on Nyala’s shoulder stayed firm, almost as if his hand had become attached to her. Haras was now normal sized, and had lost her golden sheen.

  “Now!” Nyala said as she placed her free hand on Seryn’s shoulder. Haras shrieked as if her skin were being torn from her body as dazzling energy completely engulfed her. The cessation of all power except Nyala’s in the hall made her scream sound that much louder, as it echoed off the now-plain walls. Seryn’s brow furrowed as she focused her senses on the figure writhing in Nyala’s grip.

  “No! No! Please!” Haras didn’t sound like an Altered anymore, now she sounded like a very frightened woman. “Why are you doing this?”

  Nyala didn’t answer. Jason glanced over at her. Her eyes were ablaze with something he had never seen in them, and she wore a grim smile. On her other side, the strain was clear on Seryn’s face as small drops of sweat trickled down the side of her face.

  “I…I can see what must be done,” Seryn gasped, “but it is too fast. Too fast!”

  Haras’ pleading screech escalated higher than Jason thought a human voice could go. He turned back to her just in time to see her head and torso begin to waver. Her screaming became even more shrill and then suddenly cut off as her upper body dissolved into dust that blew away from the force of Nyala’s power. The lower trunk and legs fell to the ground as Nyala released them, and then they too became nothing more than piles of dust.

  Nyala removed her hand from Seryn’s shoulder and the Loremaster sank to her knees, holding trembling hands to her face.

  “I could see… I could see what was happening to her.” She pulled her hands back and stared at them as if they were something alien to her. “I could feel her slipping away through my fingers. I have never, never… I could not stop it.” She looked up at Nyala. “I cannot do this again.”

  Nyala gave Jason a look, and then grasped Seryn’s shoulders and slowly pulled her to her feet.

  “You must. I don’t want to do what I’m doing, but I have no choice.” She cradled Seryn’s face in her hands and looked intently at her. Seryn gave a slight jerk, and her eyes widened as Nyala went on. “I know this is hard on you, but the only chance they have of surviving this is if you use your power to heal them as I take away their dimsai. Please, try again. I won’t go so fast next time.”

  Seryn, her eyes still wide, nodded slowly. “Of course. Forgive me. I will try again. Perhaps I will succeed next time.”

  “Good.” She released Seryn’s face and turned to Jason. “Ready for the next one?” Jason nodded, but noticed that Seryn was looking at Nyala with a strange look on her face. It was almost like she was af
raid of the Altered, although Nyala didn’t appear to notice. With a tight smile, Nyala said, “Then let’s go.”

  *****

  Lenai clung to the wall and ceiling, completely invisible, trying to still her racing thoughts enough to stay focused on her plan. She had been so stunned at seeing Kelsu emerge from Regor’s shadow that they had been able to lead her, unresisting, to this cell. It had taken a while for the shock of seeing her brother in league with the Shadow Lord to wear off. What could have caused Kelsu to join Regor? Had Regor done something to force his obedience? If so, was there anything she could do to free him?

  She pushed the questions aside. There was little she could do while imprisoned. She adjusted her grip on the stone. If she could make them believe she had already escaped, perhaps they would go to alert the others and leave her cell door open. It was a flimsy plan, but since they had removed her weapons from her, it was all she had. The smell of blood, some of it hers, still filled the air. The cloying odor masked her scent enough that the guards had to visually check her cell from time to time to make sure she was still there. Injuries from their rough handling made her grip on the wall uncertain, though. She would have to hurry.

  She pulled out a couple of pebbles that she had tucked into her clothing and tossed them off to the side, the first close to the cell, the second a little further away. The Grithor whipped out his sword, spinning toward the sound and sniffing at the air. Then he moved to her cell, squinting through the bars. He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand and looked again, clearly alarmed at what he did not see. He turned away, sounding the harsh barking that was their alarm, when a voice stopped him.

  “She is there,” Kelsu said as he entered the room. “She merely hides, hoping to trick you.”

  The Grithor stopped and turned back to the cell, sniffing heavily.

  “Reveal yourself, sister. Your ruse has failed.”

  A flood of emotions she had pushed aside while focused on her escape attempt came rushing back. Anger, confusion, and sorrow all vied for her attention. She lowered herself to the floor, becoming visible once again.

 

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