Face Of The Void (Desa Kincaid Book 3)

by R S Penney

  Nari walked into view with a clipboard in hand, watching Driala through the lenses of her spectacles. “I must protest this,” she said. “The last three attempts ended in failure. I see now that this project was doomed from the outset.”

  Baring her teeth, Driala stared up at her. “They were weak and unprepared,” she insisted. “I am not!”

  “But our initial hypothesis was flawed,” Nari protested. “Simply communing with the Unifying Field at the moment of molecular disintegration is not sufficient. Brin, Colm and Athon were all in direct contact with the Field, and they died anyway.”

  Driala tried to sit up, but the restraints held her in place. Her body trembled for a brief moment, but she took control of herself. “And we don’t have a choice,” she said. “You have seen what the enemy can do.”

  “Yes.”

  “No weapon that we have devised can stop it!” Driala went on. “We were ill-prepared for what came through that gateway, and if we want to survive, we must embrace new tactics.”

  Nari seated herself on a nearby chair, clutching the clipboard to her chest. Her face was a mask of anguish. “Dri, this project was never meant to create a weapon,” she said. “It was meant to-”

  “Expand the limits of human consciousness,” Driala cut in. “Yes, yes. I’ve heard it all before. Turn on the damn machine, Nari.”

  She must have been referring to the large, red device that was pointed at the slab. Desa had no idea what it did, but it looked like a gigantic gun. No doubt this was the moment when Driala became Vengeance, but Desa couldn’t even begin to guess how that might have been accomplished.

  “Power up the glanashti,” Nari said.

  Desa had experienced this several times before. Mercy had given her the ability to comprehend the ancient language of her people, but sometimes, they used words for which there was no Aladri or Eradian equivalent. Words for concepts that did not exist in the Aladri or Eradian lexica.

  “Subject has made contact with the Unifying Field,” Nari reported.

  Driala had her eyes closed, but Desa couldn’t feel anything. That didn’t really surprise her, but she had wondered if the sensation of someone communing with the Ether had been captured by this device.

  Nari stepped in front of her, blocking her view. “Dri, what are you doing?” A brief moment of silence passed. Was Nari communing with the Ether as well? She seemed to be deep in concentration. “The subject is trying to create an Infusion within her own body. The lattice will not form.”

  “Now,” Driala croaked.

  “What?”

  “Now!”

  Turning away from the slab, Nari paced across the room, passing right through Desa. “Begin,” she said. “Full power. There’s no point in holding back.”

  The strange, red device began to hum. It was a cannon with a barrel twice as long as Desa’s arm, and it fired a pulse of light that hit Driala and transformed her into a being of pure radiance. The change lasted for only a moment, and then Driala broke apart into a thousand motes of light that scattered.

  Nari shuffled up to the slab with her head down, a soft sigh escaping her. “Failure,” she said. “As expected, the process induced complete molecular disintegration. The initial theory behind the Transcendentalist Project has proved to be-”

  She cut off when those tiny flecks of light began to coalesce, swirling together in a cyclone that hovered over the slab.

  Desa gasped.

  She was tense with anticipation, eager to see the birth of Vengeance. Not that she had much admiration for the being she had met six months ago in the Borathorin Forest, but how many people could say they had witnessed something like this?

  Her hopes were dashed when the image vanished and the crystal went dark. It was all she could do not to get up and kick the damn thing. A bad idea if ever she’d had one. She was fairly certain that the crystal wasn’t fragile – it had survived for months in her saddlebags, after all – but violent outbursts would accomplish nothing.

  “Come on, Midnight,” she whispered. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  She had been in the desert for five days. Her food was almost gone, and she was down to her last few mouthfuls of water. The townsfolk had given her three canteens full, and now those were all but spent. As was the supply she had taken from a small oasis that she had passed two days ago.

  The sun hovered in the blue sky, baking the red clay under Midnight’s hooves. That was all she saw. Red clay in every direction. Nothing but an endless expanse of harsh, unforgiving terrain. Now and then, she passed a cactus. Yesterday, she had split one open to replenish her water supply. The plant was actually quite tasty once you removed all the spines. Almost like a cucumber.

  That had given her enough hope to press on, but hope was a fleeting thing in this place. Last time, she’d had Bendarian to lead her. This time, it was just Desa and her horse. She reached out to the Ether frequently, and so did Midnight. But she never sensed any sign of the ancient city.

  There were no obvious land markers. She saw rocks everywhere she looked, but they offered no clue as to where she should go. North and west: that was all she knew. But that could mean anything. If her angle was off by just a few degrees, she might miss the city by miles.

  She didn’t want to die alone in this wasteland.

  What a fool she had been to send Kalia away. Amazing how the spectre of death clarified things. She loved Kalia. She loved the other woman more than she had ever loved anyone in her life. And the others…Mercy protect them all.

  At least she had kept striving, kept pressing on until her very last breath. In the end, that was all anyone could ask. She had tried. She had journeyed from one end of this world to the other, faced dangers no human had ever dreamed of. Maybe all of this was bound to happen no matter what she did.

  If Timothy Delarac possessed the means to control Adele, then it stood to reason that he knew about Hanak Tuvar. Which meant the knowledge was more widespread than she had realized. Which meant that sooner or later, someone would have been tempted by the power. Someone would have freed Hanak Tuvar.

  All of this would have happened even if Desa Kincaid had never left Aladar. It would have happened even if she had never taught Bendarian how to find the Ether. And if that was the case, then…

  Then it wasn’t her fault.

  Slumped over in the saddle, she started laughing hysterically. She mopped damp hair off her forehead. “I see it now,” she mumbled. “All of it.”

  A pity that this understanding should only come to her now, in the desert, when she was alone. Unable to make use of her new insight, unable to change anything. The world was not cruel; it was simply indifferent, but sometimes the one felt very much like the other. She was going to die.

  Exhaustion crept over her. If she could just close her eyes for a few moments. Just a short rest: that was all she needed. In those quiet moments, with her thoughts drifting away into a dreamy haze, she felt it.

  A pulse.

  Like a thrum in the air washing over her. At first, she thought she had imagined it but then she felt another. And another. Midnight nickered to get her attention. He felt it too; she was sure of it.

  Forcing herself to look up, Desa blinked to moisten bleary eyes. “It can’t be.”

  Midnight was already galloping in the direction of the pulses.

  She drifted in and out of awareness, watching the red clay rushing past beneath her. The pulses were growing stronger. She could feel them like a beacon calling her. How much further? Ten miles? Twenty?

  She got her answer when she saw a faint twinkle on the northern horizon. The crystal atop Mercy’s pyramid. Just the sight of it was enough to start her laughing again. She wrapped herself in the Ether, bathing in its warmth. Perhaps she was just imagining it, but that comforting presence soothed the aches and pains out of her muscles. She held on for a little while, long enough to partially reverse the effects of sunstroke and dehydration, but exhaustion eventually got the better of her, and she had
to let go.

  Midnight pressed on, ignoring his own fatigue. It wasn’t long before she saw the outbuildings of the abandoned city, dilapidated structures of stone that looked as though a strong wind might blow them away. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

  Well, except for Kalia.

  But this was a close second.

  She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew, those buildings were right in front of her. They had made it! After nearly a month in the saddle, enduring cold, hunger and blazing sunlight, they had made it!

  And there she was, standing between two ruined buildings like a vision of death: a ghostly figure in a black hood. Mercy came forward almost reluctantly, reaching for Desa.

  With a great deal of effort, Desa forced herself to sit up. Her vision was blurred; her arms and legs felt as if they had turned to jelly. Even with the Ether’s help, she was still a wreck, but she had dreamed of meeting Mercy ever since she was a little girl. This was a special moment.

  The goddess seemed to be examining her. Perhaps she was wondering whether Desa was up to the challenge of whatever she had in store. Well, best to allay those fears right away. They had work to do, and there was no time to waste.

  “So,” Desa rasped. “What is the first lesson?”

  She fell out of the saddle, landing on her side, and passed out right there on that ancient street.

  9

  When Desa opened her eyes, she saw an electric bulb glowing on the ceiling. This despite the ample daylight that came through the window on her right. She was lying on a soft bed, wrapped in a light blanket.

  Slowly, she tried to take in her surroundings.

  That window offered a fine view of tall buildings made from red and white brick. She knew of only one place in the world with such architecture. Somehow, she had been taken back to Aladar.

  Her bed was rather small. The metal headboard and footboard suggested that she might be in a hospital. Which would make sense if she had been unconscious when she arrived in the city. The walls of her room were painted a soft, pastel green, and she noted a small vase of roses on the shelf.

  Desa tried to sit up, but fatigue made her slump over. She pressed her fingertips into her forehead and tried to massage away the throbbing pain that was building inside her skull.

  As if sensing that she was awake, a nurse in a white uniform came through the door. He was a tall fellow, lean and fit with tanned skin and thick, brown hair. “Easy there,” he said, hurrying to her side.

  “How did I get here?”

  The man hesitated, exhaling roughly as he tried to formulate an answer. “We were hoping that you could tell us,” he said at last. “They found you lying in the middle of Baker Street. A car almost ran you over.”

  “I was in the desert.”

  “The desert?”

  Brushing damp hair off her forehead with the back of one hand, Desa groaned as she tried to get her bearings. She felt as though she had been pummeled with clubs for several hours straight. Maybe the nurse was mistaken. Maybe that car had run her over. “The Gatharan Desert.”

  “That’s almost two thousand miles from here.”

  “And I need to get back there.”

  She tried to rise, but a gentle hand on her shoulder restrained her. When she looked up, she saw concern in the young man’s brown eyes. “Miss, when we found you, you were severely dehydrated,” he said. “You looked as though you hadn’t eaten in days. We had a hard time getting some broth into you.”

  “I need to go…”

  “You’re in no condition to go anywhere.”

  She was about to protest, but another wave of fatigue forced her to lie down. Her eyelids felt so heavy. If she could just rest for a little while…Midnight? If she had been brought here, then where was Midnight? Was he still in the desert? Or had he been taken to a stable in the city?

  She knew that she had to stay awake – at the very least, she should try to find out what had happened to her horse – but the siren song of sleep was impossible to ignore. If she just rested for a little while…Everything would be all right if she just rested for a few hours. “What’s your name, Miss?” the nurse asked her.

  “Desa,” she mumbled before sinking into unconsciousness.

  “I think she’s coming around.”

  “Mercy be praised.”

  It was hard to open her eyes. The tiniest crack brought with it the painful assault of bright light. Her head felt like a drum that had been pounded. But the fog in her brain was starting to recede. Slowly,

  Her vision came into focus, a whirlpool of colours resolving into the face of her mother. Leean was smiling. “She’s all right.”

  Sitting up slowly, Desa pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. She moaned at the sudden onset of dizziness. “Mom?”

  “I’m here, little one,” Leean assured her. “Where are your friends?”

  “With any luck, they’re in New Beloran.”

  “Why did you come home without them?”

  Desa threw the blankets off and hopped out of bed, grunting when her bare feet hit the tiles. She was forced to bend double as a wave of vertigo hit her, prompting the nurse to rush to her side.

  With a great deal of effort, she was able to stand, bracing her hands on the mattress for support. “I didn’t,” she answered. “The last thing I remember, I was in the Gatharan Desert. And I need to get back there.”

  “I’m afraid that will have to wait.” a gruff voice said.

  She turned around to find a man in yellow robes standing in the doorway. One of the Elite Guardians. Somehow, she had failed to notice him until now. By the Eyes of Vengeance, she was tired.

  He was a tall fellow with a round face of dark, brown skin and a perfectly smooth head. “The Prelate wants to see you,” he said, stepping into the room. “As soon as you’re well enough.”

  Pressing her hands down on the mattress, Desa hung her head. A soft sigh escaped her. “Does she now? Well, I’m afraid I don’t much care what Daresina wants.”

  “That has always been painfully obvious.”

  Leean rose from her chair on the other side of the bed. “Couldn’t you stay for just a few days?” she asked. “Surely, you need rest.”

  “You will not be permitted to leave the city,” the Guardian stated with all the fervour of a man reading off the items on a shopping list. “The Prelate has questions for you, and you will answer them.”

  Forcing herself to look up, Desa narrowed her eyes. “Fine,” she hissed. “Then let’s get this over with.”

  “Impossible,” the nurse interjected. “You’re in no condition-”

  She silenced him with a look and felt a swell of satisfaction when the man backed away from her. Even in her weakened state, Desa Kincaid could intimidate fools with a glance. She took a strange amount of pride in that.

  Leean rounded the foot of the bed, nudging the nurse aside so that she could wrap her arms around Desa. “Little one,” she murmured. “You will do no good for anyone if you push yourself to your breaking point. Can’t you just rest for a little while?”

  “No, Mom,” Desa murmured. “I can’t.”

  They took her by car to the Prelate’s office.

  The whole way, Desa kept thinking about what she would have to do to escape. An elbow to the face would knock out the Guardian. Then all she would have to do was open the door and throw herself out of a car that was traveling at thirty miles per hour.

  No. No good would come of that. Better to face Daresina and then escape the city when an opportunity presented itself. They couldn’t watch her every waking second. Was Midnight here? If Desa had been transported to Aladar, was her horse here as well?

  She noticed that her Sinks and Sources were miles away, somewhere to the east. Of course, they would disarm her. She didn’t ask what they had done with her guns or her belt. Everything they had taken from her was probably in a vault in the basement of some police station. They were determined to keep her here, and th
ey knew what a danger she was with a full arsenal of Infusions.

  They led her through the columned reception area where she had fought several of Adele’s loyal soldiers last year. She was pleased to see that the bullet holes had been repaired.

  The receptionist behind the crescent-shaped desk went pale when she saw Desa coming. “I’ll tell the Prelate that you’re here.”

  Striding across the room with hands clasped behind her back, Desa smiled and nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “And while you’re in there, feel free to remind her about the time I fought eight men in this very room to keep her alive.”

  The young woman got up and scooted out of the room before she could say another word. Well for her that she did. Desa’s tolerance for pointless pleasantries was at an all-time low. How did she get here? Surely Mercy wouldn’t have sent her back to Aladar.

  She noticed the small jar of marbles on the receptionist’s desk. Perhaps she could Infuse a few while she waited. No. That Elite Guardian was right behind her. He would know the instant she made contact with the Ether.

  Snatching a marble out of the jar, Desa held it pinched between her thumb and forefinger. “Such a tiny thing,” she mumbled.

  “What are you on about?” the Guardian demanded.

  When she turned around, he was standing between the first two pillars, his yellow robes a sharp contrast to the red walls. His mouth was a thin line, his brows drawn together. “Talking to yourself. When did you pick up that nasty habit?”

  “I was just noting that sometimes those things that seem tiny and inconsequential to us can change the world.”

  “Philosophize on your own time.”

  Desa raised an eyebrow, and when that failed to produce a reaction, she sighed. “Do you have a name, Guardian?”

  “Audrin,” he answered. “Why?”

  “Curiosity.”

  The door swung open, and the receptionist hurried out, breathing hard. She paused for a moment to collect herself and then put on a warm, inviting smile. “You may go in.”

  The Prelate’s office was exactly as Desa remembered it. Soft, red carpet stretched from one crimson wall to another. A large, wooden desk sat in the daylight that came in through a massive window with brown muntin that segmented the glass into individual panes about the size of her hand.