Layela scrambled over the seat. The ship shuddered, jostling her into the shuttle’s low ceiling. She felt blood in her mouth and realized she had bitten her tongue. Swallowing the bitter metallic taste, she straightened Josmere and strapped her in, before falling beside her and doing the same for herself.
“Never a dull moment.” Josmere smiled weakly.
“What in the world…” Ardin muttered from ahead. Layela saw the planet, its dark shapes coming into view below them. The white cloud that had shimmered around them was gone.
“It looks like it just upped and left,” Ardin muttered, the ship jostling again. “We’re going to land quick,” he shouted back, surveying the dark land before him.
“I know this,” he mumbled just loud enough for Layela to hear. “I know this! There’s a lake here!” He grew increasingly excited. “My father used to take me here!”
“That’s nice,” Layela mumbled. She strained to see, leaning as far forward as she could with her seat belt on. “But can we land on water?”
Ardin looked back and shot her his first grin since Cailan’s death. “She’s fully equipped. We could land on a turbulent ocean with no problem!”
“My stomach would have a problem with that,” Josmere mumbled, and Layela reached over and grabbed the Berganda’s hand. Ardin’s excitement was contagious.
“Just over there...That depression in the land,” Ardin said, steering the rapidly falling shuttle, barely keeping her under control. “It’s not going to be a great landing, so hold on!” He pulled two levers, releasing air and inflating the emergency water-landing gear.
“We’re almost there,” he said through gritted teeth. The shuttle nosed too fast and he struggled to keep her aloft long enough to reach the lake. “Almost there.”
Josmere squeezed Layela’s hand, and Layela returned the gesture.
“There!” Ardin screamed excited, almost bouncing in his seat. “There’s the lake! Now we just…Bones!”
“What?” Layela asked, sitting forward.
“No water! Hold on!” A second later the shuttle impacted the bottom of the old dry lake. Layela’s body was thrown forward, the seat belt cutting into her skin. Her head jerked back just as quickly and banged into the seat. Stars exploded before her eyes as the sounds of crushed metal deafened her.
She bounced high in her seat twice as they passed over rocks, the air cushions exploding as jagged stone scraped the bottom of the shuttle. She clenched her teeth and her fingers dug into the seat’s arms as firmly as the belt dug into her. The shuttle tilted sideways, tumbling once or twice. Blinded by her hair, she closed her eyes and tried to keep her feet on the floor. She heard the crush of synthetic glass and then silence.
Through some miracle, the shuttle had landed upright. Josmere appeared to be unconscious but still well strapped in her seat. Green blood dripped onto the seat belt. Layela looked up front and met eyes with Ardin, who was turning to check on them both. The side of his face was covered in blood, but he was still grinning. “Touch down.”
i
Josmere felt the warmth of the fire on her skin, but it penetrated no deeper than that. She was cold. So cold.
When they had first pierced the purple sky and seen the sun of Mirial, she had realized that it would be the last true light she would ever see. This fire, whose light flickered through her closed eyelids, was nothing compared to its intensity.
Layela and Ardin spoke softly in the background, and she could only make out a few of their words. They were excited over their upcoming adventure, discussing plans to reach a nearby city, which Ardin swore he remembered, and Layela teased him about the lake. Josmere was glad. It had been a long time since she had heard such a wonderful tone in her friend’s voice.
And last night, Josmere had been happy to see the look the two had shared when Layela had parted from Ardin to come sleep with Josmere and keep her warm. Most of the shuttle’s supplies were unsalvageable after the crash, but Layela had kept her warm throughout the night with her own heat.
And Josmere had loved her even more for that.
“Are you ready to go?” Layela knelt beside Josmere. I guess my thief’s breaths are no longer what they used to be, Josmere mused. She opened her eyes only to see the worry in Layela’s.
Josmere smiled at her.
“I’m not coming.”
Layela’s look suggested that she had expected the Berganda’s response and wanted no argument.
Josmere laughed, but pain flared from her belly and turned her smile to a wince.
“Layela,” she whispered when she found her voice again. Layela leaned closer, her eyes wide and richer than the dark sky. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust your strength. I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you, and I’m sorry I kept so much from you.”
Layela’s eyes clouded with tears. Josmere knew the last few days had pushed Layela close to her furthest edge. The one she had barely returned from, years ago.
Josmere took a deep breath. She didn’t want Layela to leave with the horrible burden of guilt. “I stayed to protect you, well, because I didn’t think you’d get me so banged up,” she grinned. “But, also, because I love you like a sister. You and Yoma.”
Tears were falling down Layela’s face. She had accepted Josmere’s lie about the severity of her wound, but the lie was crumbling now with each new word. Josmere blinked back some of her own tears. In the background, she could see Ardin’s profile, his head lowered. She was glad she had the chance to know him. It made her feel better about leaving Layela in his care.
It was time for her to stop running. She clutched the ground beneath her with her hands, her tears now falling from joy. It was so fertile it made her body ache and her blood sing in tune with it. Where only a year ago she had felt the life-giving properties of her blood wither and die, a piece of her own self vanishing with them, she could now feel a dance of joy in her blood, so strong it energized her very soul. Her body ached in anticipation, her fingers tingling and electricity running through to the tips of her hair.
The mystical planet renewed her ether. She could feel its power begin to heal her wound slowly, but maybe fast enough...She hurled the thought from her mind, clutched the strong earth beneath her in her still-weak grasp, and let the ether wash over her with its only important truth. A bit of her blood would certainly sprout a new Berganda.
All of it would save her race.
“Layela, I need you to be strong for me one last time.” Josmere brought her hand up to Layela and let the dirt caress her fingers as it escaped her fist. Layela reached up and caught some of it.
Josmere gave her a thin smile. Realization suddenly dawned in Layela’s eyes, as Josmere had known it eventually would. She knew Layela would remember their time in the dead gardens on Thalos IV.
“Josmere, I…” she began, shaking her head vehemently. Her dark hair veiled her face.
“Please, Layela.” Josmere’s body ached from the wound, her blood urging to be free. She swallowed hard and steeled herself. “I’m dead anyway.” She paused and ignored the tingling at her wound where the ether was already beginning to heal her. The lie didn’t feel bitter on her lips. “I can’t heal myself and you know it. Let me die knowing I did my part for my people.” Josmere winced as pain shot up through her. She waited for a bit of her breath to return before she spoke again. “Please, Layela. My blood is only good while I live.” Please, before too much of me is healed, and not enough blood escapes. In case this is just temporary renewal of my ether. In case I lose this hope again.
She didn’t need to say what needed to be done. Layela understood, she was certain. Layela nodded and more tears rolled down her face. She rose and vanished from Josmere’s view. The Berganda closed her eyes and let the flickering fire grace her vision. She wished she could see the stars one more time, beyond the great purple beast. She wished she could see Yoma, and know she was safe.
A shadow came between her and the fire and she opened her eyes, smiling as Layela knelt beside h
er. She heard Ardin digging on the other side of the fire.
“He’ll be good to you,” Josmere said. She raised her hand and wiped a tear off Layela’s cheek. She paused, catching sight of her skin, profiled by the fire. It was turning translucent, already so different and dead it didn’t seem to be hers. She had lost so much time, she doubted even the ether could save her body now. But my people...
“I saw your death,” Layela whispered, her eyes endless depths. “I saw your death, and I tried to stop it.” She took a deep breath. “I thought I could save you.” She trailed off and looked down, her mouth trying to form words that couldn’t get past her lips.
Josmere shifted. She had never seen that vision, and she had seen all of Layela’s visions — she was the one to unlock them from her mind. Unless... Unless another ether creature had unlocked Layela’s visions, too?
“Who showed you those visions?” Josmere asked, ignoring the fire gripping her body.
Layela met Josmere’s eyes. “The Kilita, years ago. I saw death, Josmere, so much death, yours included. Yours was at the hand of that other Berganda. I thought...I thought that by killing her, I would save you, and...” Her voice broke and she looked down again.
Some of Josmere’s blood escaped her wounds, and just as it parted her body, just as it slid down her yellowed skin, she could feel it sing, like the strings of a violin vibrating with sound and life. Then it struck the ground with a crescendo. She could hear the music of life all around her, and she was certain she had just given birth to another Berganda. She felt her life flow into the new being, the sprout that she had seeded, the Berganda she would become, and the children she would in turn seed. Her mind grew heavy as the rest of her body joined in the song of birth.
“Oh Layela,” Josmere whispered, unable to hear her own voice for all the music around her. “Oh Layela, you did save me. You let me live long enough to save my people. It’s not about death, Layela, but about life.”
The music soothed Josmere as Layela met her eyes, the tears still clinging to the corners. Josmere could feel the strength flow from her too; her ether, which she was beginning to embrace, joined the symphony.
“I don’t know what to say,” Layela whispered, taking Josmere’s hand. Her coldness broke through the music that was filling Josmere’s mind.
The Berganda fought back a sob. “Say goodbye, darling. Say goodbye.”
Layela wept bitterly and hugged Josmere. The Berganda held her back with what little strength she had left, tears streaming down her face as well. She wept for what was and what could never be. She wished she could see her daughters grow up. She wished she could see the sun again.
“Never doubt yourself,” Josmere urgently whispered in Layela’s ear. “Remember, it’s about life, not death. We all forge a path for those who follow us, Layela, and no path is fully laid out before us.”
Layela lifted her head and searched out Josmere’s eyes. She held them for a long time, and then nodded. Josmere wondered if she too could hear the song of the Berganda and feel what she was feeling — life, blossoming all around them on this dead landscape.
In the darkness, Ardin had stopped digging. It was time.
Josmere leaned heavily on Layela as she walked her around the flickering flames, so cold and distant now that Josmere felt she was in a dream. Her friend’s tears were dry. She ached with hope that Layela’s life would be long and filled with few occasions for such sorrow.
As the grave Ardin had dug came into view, Layela’s steps faltered, but Ardin walked beside Josmere and supported her for the last few steps. Josmere smiled weakly to him.
“Do you think your sister would mind if I kept her jacket?”
He swallowed hard and forced a smile. “I’m sure she would insist on it.”
His eyes shone with tears, which made Josmere feel a bit better. It was a comfort to know that more than one person would grieve her.
Layela crouched and jumped into the hole. It was only about a metre deep, but it would be plenty. Layela reached up and helped Josmere down.
There was nothing left to say. Josmere wanted to joke to Layela that she was a plant, she would be fine. But she didn’t trust her voice, and she didn’t want her friend’s determination to falter.
Layela held Josmere’s shoulders firmly as she lay down. The Berganda closed her eyes, letting herself slip into much needed rest. She didn’t open her eyes again as Layela bent down to kiss her cheek. She didn’t want her friend to see the fear in them.
“Goodbye,” Layela whispered, and then she was gone.
Josmere was alone, so very alone, and so very afraid.
She didn’t want to die, but now was her time. For herself and for her people.
Seconds were lost. She heard nothing, but imagined Layela was looking at her and hesitating. Josmere wanted to scream at her to stop looking. She didn’t to be remembered as this broken, withering creature banging on death’s door. She wanted Layela to remember the lively Berganda she had been, beautiful and feisty.
Josmere smiled. It had been a good life.
A few seconds later, earth fell on her. Quickly. Without hesitation. She felt her blood mix with the earth, could feel it sing. She could sense Mirial’s ether infiltrating every wound, every scratch, and travelling the length of her blood from her heart to her hair. The earth was still filled with enough ether to merge with her blood and do what even Seela’s still-fertile blood failed to do, no matter how many different planets she had shed blood on. Still, she was afraid. She hummed Layela’s Lacile song, imagining her friend in the shop once more, happy and fulfilled.
She hoped Layela would sing that song to her children.
That thought made her feel calm, made her let go.
She stopped humming, letting the earth greedily creep into her body, securing with her blood the future of her people.
It still took a long time for her to die.
CHAPTER 35
Drums resonated throughout the caves and the bunker, reaching the crew of the Victory. They stopped working for a moment, wondering what spurred on the distant lament. In the bunker, some wept, others screamed, but most just removed whatever rag was on their head and sat down, sombre, as though their last strength had dwindled from them.
Curious, Avienne followed the echoes to their origin. She passed the weeping women and the fallen men, the frightened children and screaming babies. She ducked below house separations, sometimes crossing through houses. She had already given up on making sense of this place.
The guards did not challenge her as she passed them to head down into a cave, but simply watched her with tears in their eyes. The drums’ echo was loud and beckoning, and with each new beat her heart skipped. The hallway amplified the sound of the drums, so that the sound lingered long after the initial note had been struck.
Reaching the end, she turned and was amazed at the roar that greeted her. She stood above a valley filled with plants, a waterfall and rivers, and below many people were gathered. At the other end, she saw a palace with many small balconies and one huge one, and it was there that three large drums sat. They were accompanied by two gongs, creating a slow rhythm which her heart could not help but follow. The whole cavern was filled with the noise, accented by the waterfall. Six guards led a casket out of the palace, a beautiful piece of oak and gold. They were followed by the stylized gentleman who had escorted Yoma away. Even from where she stood, Avienne could see that he was crying.
She felt momentary panic and looked around, relieved when she spotted Yoma on a balcony of the palace. She saw a shadow in another window and thought it was Zortan looking on, but he was too far and it was too dark for her to be sure.
Guess her time didn’t go too well, either. She turned to head back to the settlement. Her ears could not take much more of the pounding of the drums. Other settlers were now wandering into the tunnel. Avienne accelerated her pace and was soon out, where the sounds of grieving were less intense.
“Can you believe
it?” one of the guards asked her, his eyes wide and filled with tears.
“Honey, I still can’t believe this place doesn’t have an ounce of booze.”
The guard frowned and turned to a more understanding ear.
Avienne sighed and started up the stairs that would lead her back to the Victory, heartened by the thought that Gobran Kipso might keep a personal stash of ale.
i
The drums were still pounding when Yoma broke free of the proceedings and let an old maid lead her to her room. There were more stairs to climb, circular ones this time, in some sort of tower. At the top, a hall spread before them. The maid led Yoma to the last door and opened it. The woman bowed, and Yoma feebly thanked her.
She needed to get out of here fast, before these people drove her insane. She smiled as she closed the door behind her, trying to imagine how these loyal servants would react if they knew of Yoma’s past: a petty thief and when necessary, a killer.
It had only been necessary once. Yoma sighed and walked to the other side of the canopy bed, surprised to see that the room had a window. She walked to it and looked out at the dark night sky. Apparently this section of the castle reached above ground. She could see a bit of the Victory from here, and could make out the large fences that protected the settlers.
She looked up, gasping as white mist stretched across the sky. Wraiths? No, this was different.
The mist clung to the sky wherever she looked, except…she could hear water falling. From here? The waterfall is deep below me. The sound of rushing water slammed into her and she held her breath. The mist cleared and she could see the temple again, above ground and deep red, and she was crossing the bridge. She felt an icy shiver of fear and her breath grew cold. She hesitated, but then looked beside her anyway. She laughed to see Layela, well and alive…and then the blood came. Blood covering her hands, dark and thick and warm.
“No!” Yoma screamed, hitting her fists on the window ledge. The pain dispersed the rest of her vision.
The door opened behind her and the old maid entered. “Is something wrong, Lady?” she asked, hurrying to her side. Concern lined her every tired feature.
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