The Cycle of Galand Box Set

by Edward W. Robertson

  Dante got out the three living seeds. "Well?"

  "I've been thinking," Winden said. "The twelfth chamber, maybe it means nothing. Maybe we should simply harvest the seed the way we would any other."

  "You know more about this than I do. Let me know if you need a hand."

  She got a copper trowel from her bag, its surface worn and green. She dug a shallow hole, placed the seed inside, and covered it loosely. Dante moved his mind within it. Winden drew nether from the grass, surrounding the seed with it. The shadows moved oddly, swooping back, as if wary of what hid inside. Dante could see her urging them forward, but only a trickle of them would touch the seed's surface. And none would enter.

  They went still. Winden frowned. "Something is wrong. It's like the seed doesn't want to grow."

  "Or the black gunk is afraid of getting eaten," Blays said. "What is this thing?"

  Dante massaged his forehead. "Maybe the nether knows it isn't natural."

  Winden returned to her work, probing the seed with the shadows. Twenty minutes later, she stood, hurling her copper trowel down with a clang.

  "I don't understand," she said. "I can't find a way in."

  Dante crossed his arms. "You shouldn't have to find a way in. They should just absorb."

  "I could force them to."

  "And that might kill this one, too. Try some more. Maybe we're missing something."

  She exhaled and got out her water skin. After pacing around the island, she came back to the patch of overturned dirt and resumed her attempts. She lasted another thirty minutes before swearing, standing, and stamping to the island's edge.

  After she calmed down, Dante took over, with Winden providing instruction. She might be the Harvester, but he was far and away the superior nethermancer. A part of him was sure he'd find a way inside the seed in seconds. Thirty minutes later, he was still searching for a way in.

  "There," he said. "I think I see a seam."

  Winden squinted. "I don't see it."

  Keeping an eye on the shadow-filled chambers, Dante forced the nether into the hair-fine crack he'd found. As it penetrated the surface, a fissure formed in the largest chamber. It burst open, followed in turn by the chamber next to it, and then the one after that. He watched as the seed died.

  "Son of a gods-damned bitch!" He lurched to his feet. "I thought I had it."

  "This isn't working," Winden said.

  "You don't say! Well, we have two more chances to not fail. After that, everyone on this island is stuck here forever."

  She glared at him. Dante grabbed his temples, squeezing hard. At the island's edge, a crab crawled up a rock, waving one oversized claw back and forth like it was leading a sing-along.

  "That crab there." Dante was instantly calm again. "Could you harvest it?"

  "Of course not," Winden said.

  "Why not? If the Star Tree is part shell, then maybe it has to be harvested as a shell, too."

  "Animals, they're different. They're born knowing their size. But a plant can grow forever."

  "So you say. But maybe it's just difficult. And that's why growing Star Trees was so difficult for the Dresh." He hissed air through his teeth. "They knew what writing is, right? Would it have been that hard to make a permanent record of the most vital knowledge on the island?"

  "Here's an idea," Blays said. "Let's go for a swim."

  Dante glanced at the pool. "How's that going to help grow the tree?"

  "By cooling our boiling heads. Come on."

  Before anyone could voice objections, Blays peeled off his shirt and leaped into the water, landing in a ball. It seemed pointless, but Dante was hot and sweaty. A quick dip would improve his mood; mood, in turn, had a great deal of influence over the efficiency of the mind. Muttering profanity, he dived into the pond. The water was bracingly cold. He swam beneath the falls, letting the water batter his head. Shivering, he paddled a loop around the pool, then returned to the island.

  He felt much better. The physical activity had stirred his brain as well. As the others climbed ashore and dried off, he paced about, letting an idea take shape.

  "I think we should try the chambers again," Dante said. "It can't be coincidence that there's twelve, and only one is empty."

  Winden wrung her hair over the grass. "The last time we tried to fill the empty chamber with nether, the seed broke."

  "Correction: it broke when we filled it with outside nether. But these seeds probably came from the same tree. That means they're like the loons—part of the same whole. The nether within them will be linked."

  Blays flicked a lacy fly from his bare shoulder. "So what? You want to try drawing the nether from one of the seeds into the empty chamber of the other?"

  "Exactly! The others are filled, yet they're stable. Maybe that's how we keep the last chamber stable, too."

  Winden insisted on a detailed rundown of the loons. After Dante explained how the parts of a body could be separated, but the nether within those parts remained sympathetic to itself, she dug out the dead seed and replaced it with the two live ones.

  "Be careful," she said. "If anything starts to go wrong, stop at once. Or we'll lose everything."

  As carefully as he knew how, he sank his mind into the nether within one of the seeds' chambers. When nothing smashed into pieces or burst into flames, he touched it, then pushed it forward. It moved easily enough. He reeled a thread of shadows from the chamber, directing it toward the the empty chamber of the other seed. The first drop landed. A second. When the third hit, a tiny fissure formed in the chamber's wall.

  Dante dropped the shadows like they were a pot left on the stove all day. Winden bit her lip. The drops of nether frittered away from the chamber. But its wall held.

  "That's not going to work," Dante said. "It was right about to break."

  Winden touched the dirt covering the seed. "I didn't see any sign it was ready to grow. I don't think this is the way."

  "What are we missing?" Using his hand, he dug out one of the seeds. "Maybe we should regroup. Go speak to other Harvesters. The Boat-Growers do some wondrous things, don't they? Maybe they'd have insight."

  "The Boat-Growers have chosen to ally with the Tauren. Besides, I've seen their work. It's nothing like this."

  "Then let's try another angle. Are there any other trees similar to this one?"

  "You're asking if there are other trees with bark like a seashell, seeds like a shaden, and fruit that cure a fatal disease."

  "The Star Trees had to come from somewhere," Dante said. "If we know what type of tree was used as their base, we may be able to extrapolate answers from the seeds of that tree."

  "They were created at least six hundred years ago. How would we know their lineage?"

  "Easy. Look for anything else with a five-pointed star on its seeds."

  Blays grunted. "Who says that marking wasn't harvested?"

  Dante cocked his head. "What purpose would that serve?"

  "To instantly identify the seeds? Or maybe just to look fancy? These trees are completely fabricated, aren't they? Harvested to hell and gone. Maybe the Dresh named them Star Trees and then changed them to grow the marking."

  "This is getting away from…" Dante trailed off. Gears in his mind clicked into place. "Then why would they be named Star Trees?"

  "Once again, I am bereft of answers. Maybe they wanted something that sounded grand."

  "I think they had a reason. Winden, you said that of Kaval and His Eleven, Kaval's the only one who can reach the heavens. Right?"

  "That is so," she said. "What of it?"

  "The heavens and the stars are the seat of the ether. Its source. Maybe the empty chamber represents Kaval. Maybe it needs to be filled with ether."

  "That's a pretty story," Blays said.

  "Why not? The nether can't do anything to help with the ronone. But back in Bressel, the priests were able to soothe my symptoms with ether."

  Winden quirked her mouth. "As Harvesters, we all use nether. Ether is virtu
ally unknown. If it's needed to grow the seeds, maybe that's why the Star Trees were lost in the first place."

  "We have two seeds left," Dante said. "I want to give this a try. If we lose one, then we'll save the other one for after we've done more research on the Star Trees."

  Winden nodded. So did Blays. Dante kneeled beside the dirt. Nerves thrumming, he reached out to the ether, pulling it from the light and the air into a glowing bead. He sent this within the still-buried seed, guiding it to the empty chamber.

  It flashed with blinding white light. Nether flowed out of the eleven other compartments. Dante cried out in panic. But the shadows weren't leeching out into the soil—they were moving inward. Congealing around the innermost chamber. And sinking into it.

  A white sprout curled from the dirt.

  25

  Dante laughed, a rushing exhalation, releasing all his worry and stress. Winden grinned with the beatific glow of a mother looking down on her newborn. Blays jumped up and did a quick dance. Between them, the sprout unfurled a head of teardrop-shaped leaves with a pearlescent shimmer.

  It grew four inches high, then stopped. Hesitantly, Dante peeked inside the seed. All the nether had been absorbed.

  "I can't believe it," Winden said. "The first Star Tree in centuries."

  "It's used all its nether," Dante said. "Should we harvest it higher?"

  "It might not grow as other plants do. We could kill it by mistake."

  "We have a spare seed. Left on its own, it could take years for this tree to grow fruit."

  Winden tapped her chin. "I will try. But if it's damaging the tree, we'll have to let time take its course."

  They had picked up two more shaden in the Dreaming Peaks. Thinking the fledgling Star Tree might be more sympathetic to nether drawn from a shell, Dante got one from his pack and handed it to Winden. She sat cross-legged by the seedling and closed her eyes. Shadows flickered between the shell and the sprout, bringing light, air, earth. The tree wound upwards, leaves unfurling and shaking. It climbed six inches, then a foot. Small white flowers bloomed. As the last of the nether left the shaden, the Star Tree stood as high as Dante's navel.

  "Look." Blays pointed to the underside of the largest leaves. There, three white berries had formed from the flowers. "How long do you suppose until they're ripe?"

  Dante smiled and passed Winden the remaining shaden. "Let's find out."

  She closed her eyes again. The tree crept upwards, branches extending on all sides. By the time the nether gave out, the Star Tree was taller than Dante, its trunk wrist-thick. The pale, rainbow-filmed tree held a mesmerizing beauty, but there was a wrongness to it that made Dante want to look away.

  The berries had ripened disproportionately, swelling to the size of lemons, their skins lightly pebbled. Dante reached out and plucked one, careful not to damage the branch. The fruit felt heavier than it should. Unable to get his thumbnail into the skin, he cut it open with his knife. The pale flesh smelled faintly of the sea.

  "And we're sure this isn't poison?" Blays said.

  "There's only one way to find out." Dante took a bite. It tasted lightly salty, but also sweet. He swallowed. Winden and Blays watched him with the intensity of dogs waiting to be fed. He rolled his eyes. "Quit staring. If something's going to happen, it's going to take a few…"

  Goosebumps shot down his arms as coldness flowed through his veins. But it wasn't a painful cold. It was a cleansing one, like an interior form of the swim they'd taken around the waterfall-fed pool. Ever since the ronone had taken hold of him, he'd felt a vague weariness. Over the weeks, he'd grown so used to it that he'd forgotten he'd ever felt different. Now, though, it lifted, leaving him so buoyant he felt as though he might drift off like a milkweed seed.

  He turned his sight inside himself. The dark specks were still present. His heart sank. As he watched, though, one shrank, contracting on itself until it disappeared.

  "It's working," he said. "We've found the cure."

  ~

  As it turned out, Blays had been inflicted by the ronone as well. He'd shared the same shaden-laced food that everyone ate, though, meaning he'd seen no symptoms. He ate a bite of the fruit—a generous mouthful seemed to be enough—and pitched the remaining piece to Winden. As she felt the sickness leave her, tears tracked down her cheeks.

  "We should get more shaden," she said, voice catching. "People will be eating them to treat the ronone. We should use them to grow more fruit instead."

  Dante nodded. "Blays and I may be rixaka, but I doubt your friends will just hand us their shells. We'll stay here and watch over the tree."

  She smiled, then hugged them both. "Thank you for this. A cure—I never thought it was possible."

  She picked another fruit, tucked it in a pouch, and swam away from the island. Dante watched her recede into the trees.

  "We have a decision to make," he said softly. "The Sword of the South will be back in a week."

  Blays tipped back his head. "You're thinking about leaving."

  "Thinking. I haven't decided."

  "What about our promise to the Dresh?"

  "Winden can use this tree to cure everyone. To unite the other villages against the Tauren. But accomplishing that could take months."

  "We could always ask the South to come back later," Blays said. "Then again, outside of returning to the tower to put a blade in Vordon's heart, I'm not sure how much more help we can be."

  "You sound like you're ready to go, too."

  "We still have to deal with Gladdic. You have a major metropolitan area to govern. And I have to get back to Minn at some point."

  "We don't have to figure this out now. We can see how the next week goes, then either leave with the ship or ask them to return in a few more weeks."

  Blays scowled at the placid waters. "I really don't like the idea of running out on them. Even if Niles brings some allies on board, there's no guarantee the coalition will be able to stand against the Tauren."

  "Do you want to take another shot at Vordon?"

  "What if we take the Sword of the South back to Deladi? We kill Vordon, then make a big show about leaving on the boat. That way, the Tauren will blame us awful rixen rather than the Kandeans."

  "And that would let you feel like we'd discharged your duty to the Dresh?"

  "If casting down the tyrant driving the Tauren to war won't stop them, what else are we supposed to do? Murder every last one of their soldiers? There's limits to what we can accomplish."

  Dante laughed. "I thought you were supposed to be the good one."

  Blays shrugged. "If the Dresh were that good, they would have helped us find the Star Trees just for the sake of lifting the ronone. They're lucky we don't skip out on them right now."

  The tree provided the only shade on the little island, but standing beneath it felt unnerving. They swam back to shore to get out of the sun. Two hours later, Winden returned with a handful of shells. They used them all to grow the tree and its fruit. If they'd spent that much nether on a palm or a pine, it might have grown high enough to pierce the Mists, but by the end of their efforts, the Star Tree was still only fifteen feet tall, generating a mere twenty fruit. Winden was going to have her work cut out for her.

  "Could try growing more trees," Dante said. "Then again, it's probably more productive to focus on this one than to coax a bunch of seedlings to adulthood."

  Winden gazed up at the branches. "We have many seeds now. More importantly, we have the knowledge. We can grow more later for everyone."

  "Then you know what our next step should be? Writing that knowledge down. So it can't be lost again."

  Winden made another trip back to Kandak, returning with three spearmen she trusted to keep silent. She posted them at the banks of the pool, then walked back to town with Dante and Blays. There, Dante wrote deep into the night, scrawling down everything they'd learned regarding the Star Tree's history and cultivation. In the morning, while Dante returned to the tree to harvest more fruit, Winden trans
lated his Mallish notes into a Taurish copy.

  When he came back to town, Winden sent a runner bound for the Dreaming Peaks. The messenger carried several of the lemon-sized fruit. With any luck, Niles could use them to convince the other groups to rally to the Kandeans.

  Dante didn't yet have the heart to tell Winden that he and Blays would be gone before the coalition could take shape. But the timing might be a good thing. If they were able to strike Vordon down, that might fracture their alliances. Weakened on all sides, they'd be more apt to strike a truce with the other islanders. In the meantime, Dante would continue to grow more fruit.

  The runner should have been gone for at least a week. But the very next day, he burst into the house where Dante, Blays, and Winden were discussing the logistics of curing all of Kandak. His face was so sweaty and red it looked like he'd been running all morning.

  "The Tauren," he panted. "They march on the Dreaming Peaks. Their army is two thousand strong. And they'll be there in two days."

  Winden's jaw dropped. "Who told you this?"

  "Jolo. Niles sent him to warn us. But he was exhausted from running. When he told me, I turned back."

  "What does Niles intend to do? He has two dozen men. He can't fight two thousand."

  "He asks for all the help we can send," the runner said. "Vordon, he says we attacked the High Tower. He means to take the entire island. To pacify us for good."

  Winden's face grayed. She thanked the man and sent him to spread the word.

  "So we got a Star Tree," Blays said. "And in doing so, we sparked the Tauren into waging war."

  Dante massaged the back of his neck. "This isn't our fault. It's always been Vordon's intention to take the whole island."

  "Could be it was inevitable. But we're the ones who lit the fire under his ass."

  "You think we have to fight them."

  "It doesn't sound like we have a choice. They could be here in days."

  "But we don't have to be," Dante said. Blays hesitated, rubbing his mouth.