“Letty,” the voice echoed his thought.
Its hand twisted all the way around, the fingers gesturing for calmness.
“Fine.” He braced himself for it to lay a hand on his forehead.
When it did, Andy felt like he had been hit by a wave. A rush of sound and sight tore across his senses and shocked the breath from him. He felt like screaming. His mouth was shut but a sharp cry tore through his mind.
The sensory rush halted. He was standing in the museum. Dean was there. Andy could see that Dean was talking, but couldn’t hear his voice. It was like listening to someone underwater.
Why am I seeing this? Andy wondered.
“Here, here! Lysandy boy! Here!” It was inside his head, talking alongside his own inner voice.
He turned and saw the bronze statue. Instead of burnished bronze, the statue was aflame. White and silver arcs of light raced off its body. The serpent however, dripped with very different colors, deep purple, crimson red, and sea green all twisted in a flux.
“Look, boy!”
The images moved backwards. Andy watched his conversation with Dean rewind. The movements paused at the moment he had brushed against the statue.
He saw Dean fall out of his chair laughing.
The moment faded away and the rushing tide of images and noise swept back over him until he was gaping at the thing’s face.
The head twisted around slowly, the sad face gave way to the grimace, and the other hand came up. Andy didn’t resist, but he noticed something.
The grimace was wider.
When the hand reached his forehead, he felt a buffeting wind from behind. The force of it pushed him violently forward. The flashes and noise were different; they were disjointed and broken, half-formed and discolored.
“Andylys Navarre! Ensconced, ensorcelled, enveloped, entombed. No word quite catches the way you are caught. Destined for freedom, yet unfree from destiny. Where most sparks are mere punctuation—commas and colons at worst, periods and indentations at best—You! You will be spoken like an Argument. Hahaha! That was a joke that you do not yet know to hate, just as I was once companion to a person you will not know how to hate.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What are you being about, Dylysand? Every hand will grasp for you, yet one has already won.” The voice cracked with laughter like lightning across the sky, as a moment in time froze before his eyes. In this moment, he was looking up at a giant silver orb.
The moment passed and the voice cried, “Thus solvent!”
Andy blinked, and instead of the orb, saw Letty bound and laying on a stone table.
“She lays, tied, trussed, an offering! Seer’s blood for knowledge is their accord.”
“Where is she?”
“See! Eyes thee see!”
Like a pair of blades, two massive yellow eyes floated in the air above Letty’s body.
“Ahh—ahah!” The voice cracked wildly, as if in pain.
Letty disappeared, and her agonized face burned like fire across his mind. He felt a pop, reminiscent of pressure change, and his eyes opened.
“Flense the wretch!” Titus’s voice rang out, followed by a roar of loosed crossbow bolts.
“No!” Andy shot up and yelled.
The thing was peppered with glowing bolts. It tumbled backwards and deftly leaped into the pool.
Titus was on his shoulder in a flash and speaking into his ear, “Calm down lad, we’re here!”
“He was showing me! Letty’s in trouble!”
Titus ignored him and called out orders. “First maniple, ring the pool! Shoot at anything that moves. Second, to the boy! Apply the minoe.” Titus was looking down into his eyes, “My boy! I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have let you go—it was just beyond the twins—I was certain you would come to no harm.”
“It’s okay, Titus; it wasn’t that bad.” Andy rubbed at the back of his head. The mice were applying a salve. He brushed their paws away, and looked at his fingers. There was blood coming from the back of his head. His throat hurt, like he had been screaming.
“The Twister is a murderer. We shall burn a million aphids in thanks for your survival.”
Andy didn’t follow. “Burn—what? Titus, don’t burn anything. And don’t take this—” Andy grunted with the effort of standing, “—as an excuse to treat me like a child.”
Titus laughed; a few of his mice tried to join in, but Andy felt their sense of dread would not abate. He groaned and sat back down, letting them go to work on his wounds.
Minutes later, Titus said, “Brave lad, independent to the last. Is there any pain?”
Andy put his hand to the back of his head and found it dry. “No, I feel fine. The pain is gone.”
“That’s the minoe, you might remember it from the night we first spoke.”
Andy did recall waking to find them brushing his limbs. It was the night after he ran into the mist at the gallery.
“This minoe was what they used to cleanse the mist,” Titus said, watching as the mice arrayed themselves in marching columns.
“We can’t sit around and hunt all day, but the Twister can sit at the bottom forever, so we’re back on directive. Second maniple, send a squad of runners back to refill our stock of minoe, it may be needful ahead. The squad will regroup with us on the road.”
The order was relayed by the Second manipular commander, a centurion, and then a more specific order was given by the centurion. Andy watched as Titus pointed out the details of the maniple reforming. Titus had taken to commanding from atop Andy’s shoulders.
They made their way to the road as the runners headed back into town. “Are you going to stay on my shoulders, Titus?”
The mouse wrinkled his brow as he held a paw out to Andy’s collar for balance. “Well—it is a damn good view up here—and,” he trailed off.
“And what?” Andy asked seriously.
“A human mount is a rare badge of honor.”
Andy bent his neck to glare at him.
“No, no—don’t think of it that way—think of a knight on a warhorse!”
“That’s not much better, but since you saved me from the—you called him the Twister?”
“Yes.” Titus said with an edge of concern. “You are feeling normal—nothing strange at all?”
“Besides the blood, which your minoe took care of, I’m fine.”
“Good,” Titus said.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Certainly, we have some time on the road.”
“How is it that trees and grass can grow down here?”
Titus laughed. “We don’t have biologists and the like, which you have grown used to on the surface, but it is said that vinlight from above acts much like sunlight in your world.”
“Vinlight? You must mean the light coming from the glowing plants.”
Titus nodded.
“Are there few like me? It sounded like you haven’t had a Seer around for some time.”
Titus tugged at a whisker. “The ryle are effective. We try, but as you experienced, most fall prey to their examinations.”
“When was the last Seer here?”
“Well, there are others living in the Netherscape—”
“Netherscape,” Andy repeated glancing up at the cavern ceiling.
“Of course, where’d you think you were?”
Andy scowled.
“Not all of it is reachable via traditional methods, but yes, this realm is part of the Netherscape—the details of which I will let others bore you with, but to return to the question of Seers. Consider the Elazene, for instance. Their cowardice aside, they share blood with you. Seers from the surface are hard to find, and harder to keep. The Usurper is worse than anything else—but you won’t need to worry about that for some time.”
“What?” Andy asked. “Who is the Usurper?”
“Just another monster who will try to enslave you,” Titus spat.
Several mice shared nervous glances.
“Fine, but what is a Seer then?”
Titus took a long moment. “To be a Seer has meant many things. The past few thousand years were tumultuous. At one time it meant being a warlord, at another, it made you a philosopher, and in more modern times, it makes you a fugitive. Our order is old enough to encompass this all. Despite a certain rigid timelessness and certainty, we may not serve you best in these late days, Lysander. For in every age, being a Seer has meant being a hunter, a killer, and the most valuable commodity to your ancient enemy, the ryle.”
“The ryle,” Andy repeated, the word almost familiar.
“Keep your thoughts and let them branch. Questions and fears should fight within. When one defeats the other, then you might know what path is right. Until then, you are going along with us on a simple mission. I will make certain you have a chance to go back to the surface, if you reject this life.”
“What if I want to find Letty?”
“That may be beyond you, Lysander. There are beings down here even the champion Seers of old would flee.”
Andy remembered the yellow, viper eyes.
“The Twister showed me something.”
Titus shook his head and his ears flattened, as if nervous.
“What? Does it lie?”
“No one has ever survived an encounter.”
Andy was silent. They walked on quietly.
If no one has survived, that means no one knows if it shows you the truth.
That was disappointing, though Andy felt the visions were real. Her face was real.
“You said it showed you something,” Titus said. Andy noticed the Dextra were listening. He knew that no whisper could hide what he said.
He was ashamed to answer but felt he owed it to Titus and his mice to be honest. “I saw my past, a moment from a few days ago. It was when I bumped into the statue, the same day I saw you for the first time.”
Titus nodded, his ears high and attentive.
“Then it—I’m not sure. It showed me what I wanted to know, in exchange for what it wanted to know. I think that was the deal. I asked it where Letty was. It showed me. I saw her bound on a stone table. But there was something else there.”
Titus remained silent.
“Something with giant yellow eyes. They were the kind with bladed slits for pupils.”
Titus huffed in surprise.
Andy expected that Titus wouldn’t know, but he had to ask, “Did it show me the truth?”
“Like I said, no one we know of has ever lived. You are the first. The archivists will want to interview you. Sadly, no one can say if what you saw was true.”
Andy sighed. “Maybe it’s better that way.”
A call went up from a returning scout, “Alert at Cyburn! The yellow banner flies!”
“Hmm,” Titus murmured before giving orders, “We are obliged to investigate. Pacward at the fork!”
The cohort turned left at a fork in the trail.
“What is Cyburn?” Andy asked.
Titus pointed. Andy saw another floating mountain not too far off, at the peak of a natural hill in the caverns. There were low walls and fields zig-zagging the landscape nearby.
“The holds are named for the first family to tame a cyclostone and make it livable. The Cyburns were always independents. They have refused to join with the O.O., the Occidentus Obscurus. Yet they also resist the Vychy, our enemies. In a way, the Cyburns benefit from their neutrality; they can trade goods or knowledge to either side. As long as they preserve a standard of neutrality, either faction will protect them from the other.”
As they approached, conversation on both sides of the wall ceased.
“You mentioned something called the O.O.?” Andy whispered.
“That’s us; try to keep up.”
“Right, but who are the Vychy then? I’ve heard that name a few times.”
“They are the traitor mice who have chosen the wrong path. They radically discourage loyal mice from the righteous life. They would let young people like you fall prey. I suspect our friend Coriolus to be a Vychy collaborator.”
That the mice weren’t unified was distressing to Andy.
“Wait, I saw Coriolus looking after Letty.”
Titus cringed. “Yes, I expect he and his Gulas deliberately failed to protect her.”
Andy nearly screamed in outrage.
“Careful! Careful, now!” Titus said.
I’ll make him pay.
Before Andy could ask another question, a bell rang.
“Hail Expeditious!” A voice called to them from a watchtower.
“Hail! Mice of Cyburn!”
Hundreds of the Cyburn approached and scaled the walls for a look. They were mottled in color. He saw browns and reds, greys, and even some cold blues among them.
“A mighty mount you’ve tamed, Expeditious! You must let us have a look at him!”
Andy ruffled, upset at being seen as an elephant.
“Not today, I’m afraid. He’s on the path to being a Seer! Or close enough now, he’s on the third trial!”
The Cyburn sentinel was hounded by questions from his people, but he pushed them away. “A Seer?”
“Look at his eyes!” Voices called out from the wall.
Titus leaned in and whispered to Andy, “Stare at the pediment above the gateway into Cyburn hold.”
Andy did, and saw a new symbol etched there, he felt his eyes work to focus on it.
The crowd gasped.
“Violet eyes. History walks among us,” The sentinel muttered, loud enough to be heard.
Andy thought he sensed shame in the words.
“What is the alert, Cyburn? We are on directive, but we have time for old friends.”
“No great concern, Expeditious. We sighted the Twister, mere hours ago. The monster was headed sur.”
“Don’t say a thing,” Titus whispered into Andy’s ear. And then loudly to the sentinel, “Yes, we ran him off not long ago, it cost us a few bolts in the process. Say—Cyburn? Is there any other news?”
“There might be.” The sentinel seemed cautious, and eyed Andy nervously.
They are afraid of me.
Titus motioned towards his men. Andy felt tension rising again.
A dozen Dextra moved towards the gates and left a few heavy bags. Mice from inside came out and retrieved them. A chorus of whispers rose on both sides. Titus quieted his mice with a gesture.
“Very good, Titus! Blue hops are always appreciated.”
“I’d have brought barrels of our blue, but I know how specific you are about beer in Cyburn. Brew it in good health, friend!” Titus answered patiently.
“As to the other news. There is word on the aphid wing that another Seer was retrieved recently. Female, dark hair, about the age of this one here. She’s with a trio of brutox who command at least a cohort’s worth of slithers. They were headed nor by nor-lanticward. The sighting is not three hours old.”
Titus nodded gravely. “The blood is strong,” he said in an almost reverent voice.
Andy noticed the sentinel wince and look to the floor. Many of the other Cyburns were bothered as well.
“We must hurry! Dextra, about face! Double quick to the road!” Titus commanded.
The mice bounded forward on all fours down the path, their weapons slung over their backs. Andy had to pick up his pace. They moved at a speed between a fast walk and a slow run.
“Was that—did they mean?”
“Calm yourself. It may be nothing, but from the looks of their faces—I don’t know.”
“Are we going nor by nor-lanticward, whatever that means?” Andy asked.
“It’s almost the same way to Cair Fromage. But it was hours ago they were spotted, Andy. They are far gone by now.”
Andy kept silent as they jogged across the endless cavern. It was huge beyond description. He was amazed by the farms and cities he had seen, even if they were mouse-sized. Though Letty could have been mere miles away, he knew that he had to stay with
the mice, at least for the moment.
Andy looked over his shoulder and noticed the hill sinking behind thorny shrubs, reminiscent of ragged, hedge-sized trees.
A scout called to Titus, “Blessed stone or Marcus’s switchbacks, Expeditious?”
“We can’t pass the stone,” Titus mumbled sourly. “We don’t have the time for honors, but the switchbacks will delay and tire us as well.”
Andy saw that the path split up ahead.
“Hell—the switchbacks!” Titus called to the cohort, and then spoke to himself, “The stone could take hours, especially when they sense that we are in a rush. We aren’t carrying a satisfactory tribute, not after Cyburn.”
They turned left at the fork and jogged for a few more minutes before Andy saw tiny switchbacks leading up a rocky slope. The slope was about three times his height. Andy scowled and counted the switchbacks. There were at least thirty. It would take Titus and his cohort some time, even at mouse speed, to climb up.
“Wait!” Andy called out.
Titus called the cohort to a halt. “What is it?”
“I’ve got a plan—everyone, climb on my back—just don’t stab me please.”
Titus was impressed. “Fair enough, if you think you can handle it. That is five hundred fully equipped soldiers.”
Andy nodded and Titus waved them up. A surge of prickly paws grasped at Andy’s pant-legs. In a moment, they had reached his arms, and before a minute had passed the entire cohort was hanging onto him.
Five hundred mice, ha! My backpack weighs more!
“All right—” Andy huffed and bent forward to get a grip onto the stone slope.
Okay, maybe this is a bit heavier.
He pulled himself up, using the pathways cut into the slope as hand and footholds. He felt the small bodies sway and grasp tighter with each step.
“Well done!” Titus called. “You’re almost there! This would have taken an hour!” Scores of mouse voices rang with support as Andy paused for a heavy breath.
“Watch out!” One called from his left arm.
Andy felt the pathway tearing apart under his grip. “Hold on!” He grunted as he lunged upward for the next handhold. A few mice fell from him in the rush.
He grasped a rock firmly. “Climb back on!”
Titus climbed over his mice to see. “They’re back on, Andy! Keep moving! By the by—you would make a brilliant siege engine!”
The Python of Caspia Page 13