Heights of the Depths

by Peter David

  “Yes! All right? Yes! I’m one of the Phey! All the Travelers are!” He yanked back his hood and his silver metal face glittered in the reflection of lightning that tore across the sky. “Are you happy? Are you satisfied, you stupid bitch! Now take my hand and get up here or—”

  She didn’t wait for the alternative to be presented. Instead she grabbed his outstretched hand and he started to pull her to safety.

  As if the Vastly Waters had taken on a spiteful life of its own, a massive wave chose that moment to slam up at Jepp like a fist. It literally tore her out of Graves’ grasp and Jepp was thrown down into the water. The water folded down and over her and Jepp vanished beneath the surface. The last thing that Graves saw of her was her hand reaching up in supplication, and then she was gone.

  Graves screamed her name, which he realized distantly was odd because he had never spoken her name before. He didn’t even remember trying to clamber over the side, and the only thing that prevented him from doing so was Trott. Trott, who had appeared at his side as if from nowhere, yanking him back from oblivion. “You’ll sink, you fool!” he shouted at him. “Sink like a damned stone!”

  “Gods damn it, Trott, she was fated! You know it! She was a Fated One, and we had to—”

  Trott was shouting into his face. “This was her fate! We did not seek it for her nor wish it upon her, but it was hers, and neither you nor I can gainsay it! It is what it is, Graves! You of all people know that!”

  “She knew Gant! She knew my brother! She—”

  Trott’s hand flew as if it were doing so on its own, cracking across Graves’s face and making a hollow ringing sound when it did so. “He is as dead to us as she is! Forget her, Graves! And forget him! We need never think upon either of them again!”

  Graves looked at the churning waters beneath which Jepp had disappeared and said grimly, as much to himself as to Trott, “Would that it were that easy.”

  Perriz

  I.

  Clarinda had never acted as if reaching Perriz was anything other than a foregone conclusion. Her concerns about the eerie dreams that were pervading her sleeping mind more and more, her worries that they were somehow being played and that the Piri were going to pounce upon them at any moment…all of those she kept entirely to herself.

  It was a heavy responsibility. She desperately wanted to talk to someone about it, but she didn’t feel as if there was anyone in her ragtag army and core of defenders to whom she could confide.

  Perversely, the only one she could really talk to was her mother who kept taunting her whenever she sought to bury herself in slumber. She managed not to wake up screaming every time, but it wasn’t easy. The dreams were become so forceful that the last time she had awakened, she had bitten deeply into her lower lip and blood was trickling down her chin. She still had the puncture wounds in her mouth. One of the Ocular had inquired about it but she had brushed it off.

  The closer they drew to Perriz, the more concerned she became. She started to convince herself that a devastating Piri attack would befall them once they drew within sight of the city. That Sunara Redeye was just sadistic enough a creature to take her and her defenders down with sanctuary within reach. There was always the possibility that the Piri would wait until they were settled in Perriz and then send in warriors to destroy them, but she didn’t really think that was going to happen. Would the Piri really be so precipitous as to attack the Firedraques? Would they cross that line?

  Then again, why not? Sunara Redeye had made it clear that as far as the Piri were concerned, there were no such things as lines.

  So it was that, the closer they drew to their goal, the greater was Clarinda’s anxiety.

  As they continued to walk the tracks, Clarinda found herself wishing that Eutok was at her side. Yes, she had been disappointed in him that he had been unwilling to stand up to his mother and bring Clarinda down into the world of the Trulls for safekeeping. But she couldn’t claim that his concerns weren’t valid. There was little likelihood that the queen would have been willing to issue any sort of decree that Clarinda’s life was sacrosanct. And even if she had…what of it? Sooner or later—most likely sooner—someone would have stolen in upon a sleeping Clarinda and killed her rather than allow her to continue congress with Eutok. There was no guarantee that the queen would seek vengeance; she might actually be relieved to have Clarinda disposed of. Even if she did track down and destroy Clarinda’s murderer or murderers, so what? Clarinda and the child who was growing within her belly would still be just as dead.

  Ultimately, despite his character weakness, she drew strength from him. And right now she needed more strength than ever before. Strength, she was starting to think that she would never be able to develop for herself.

  By contrast to her growing concerns, the young Ocular were positively bubbly in their attitudes. The more they had walked, the greater distance they had put between themselves and their poisoned homeland, the more their spirits appeared to rise. So Clarinda was faced with a situation where the closer they got to achieving their goal, the more depressed she became about it, and the harder she had to work at keeping a positive face about all the concerns that were raging through her head.

  They had once again taken refuge in a building that was riddled with holes and seemed as if it was going to collapse at some point in the near future, but at least not this night. As the sun set and the Ocular prepared to set out again, Turkin sidled over to Clarinda and said in a low voice, “I just wanted to say…”

  She looked at him expectantly. “Say what?”

  “That I am sorry I mistrusted you initially.”

  “Did you? I had not noticed.”

  He appeared confused at first, and then a wry smile spread across his face. “You are being ironic.”

  “Somewhat.”

  “It is just that…you are what you are, and we are what we are. So it is natural there would be distrust and division.”

  “It is the fact that such distrust and division is considered natural that we have many of the problems we, as the Twelve Races, have. For that matter,” continued Clarinda, “according to my mother, it was part of the problem that humans had. Their inability to pull together, to decide on what the best mutual course of action should be about…well, about everything, really…that contributed to their downfall as a race. Do you have any desire to wind up like the Morts?”

  Other Ocular had heard her, making no effort to hide their eavesdropping, and now they were all shaking their heads.

  “Well, that is what’s going to happen,” she said. “As long as the Twelve Races continue to be in conflict with each other, sooner or later we’re going to go the way of the Morts.”

  “And then what?” Kerda said. Of all the youngsters, she had developed the closest bond with Clarinda, oftentimes hanging on her every word. “If we go away, who then takes over the world?”

  “I don’t know,” Clarinda said with a shrug. “Perhaps the humans will rise again. Perhaps something else that we haven’t seen or discovered yet. The Damned World will continue, although there’s no assurance that we will.”

  “But,” said Turkin slowly, “if only one of the Twelve Races could dominate...could be the last one left standing…wouldn’t you want it to be the Piri? Wouldn’t you want it to be your own race?”

  “Of what advantage would that be to me? If the Piri were all that existed, there would be nowhere for me to go. Right?”

  Turkin lowered his gaze. “I suppose not.”

  “You suppose correctly. Come,” and she gathered her things. “Nothing is to be gained by standing around here and talking. We have places to go, and we may as well go there.”

  There were nods from all around, and soon they had set out again, walking the tracks.

  As they walked, Clarinda heard Kerda singing something, and overheard her name. “Kerda,” she said, “what was that song?”

  “Just an old Ocular tune. But I’m putting in new words. Words about you.”

&n
bsp; This drew amused glances from the others. Berola moved closer to her and said with interest, “Let’s hear it.”

  “It’s not ready,” said Kerda.

  “Well, let’s hear what you have.”

  “No.”

  “Do you think,” Turkin said, “it’s so bad that we’ll all keel over and die if you sing it?” He laughed at the notion and only stopped when Berola sharply elbowed him in the ribs.

  Speaking with exaggerated patience as if she were talking to an imbecile, Kerda said, “I don’t think it’s bad. I just think it’s not finished. I don’t want to start singing something that I don’t have the end to.”

  “When will it be finished, then?” He was rubbing the place where Berola had elbowed him and, even though he was speaking to Kerda, he was giving Berola an annoyed glare.

  “When we’re finished, obviously,” said Kerda. “How am I supposed to sing a song about a great adventure when I don’t know how the adventure is going to end? That would be stupid.”

  Clarinda, who had been walking for a time because she was growing weary of being carried around like a sack of potatoes, stopped where she was, She did it so abruptly that Turkin almost stepped right on her, which would have been catastrophic. Fortunately he managed to rein himself in just in time.

  “If that is what’s concerning you, Kerda,” said Clarinda slowly, “then it would appear that we may be able to attend to that once and for all.” She pointed and all eyes turned to see where she was indicating.

  They had just come around the remains of a building and so they had an unobscured view of miles ahead of them. There, in the growing darkness, was the unmistakable outline of a city. Unlike the many small villages that they had passed, this one was vast and spread across their view with such majesty that it literally took their breath away.

  There were even lights scattered about the city, no doubt glowing courtesy of hotstars. What drew their attention the most was a tower, generally triangular in shape, giving off a golden glow in the rapidly spreading night.

  “It’s beautiful,” whispered Berola, and there were concurring murmurs from the others.

  “Is that really it?” said Turkin. “Is that Perriz?”

  “I think so. I truly think so,” said Clarinda. “I’m fairly certain I recognize the tower from a painting my mother had. She even said it had a name.”

  “What is it?”

  “Eyeful. The Eyeful Tower.”

  “I can see why,” Berola said with reverence. “It truly is an eyeful.”

  Then, to their surprise, the lights on the tower flickered. Moments later, it had gone dark. The Ocular looked at each other in confusion and then Clarinda shrugged and said, “We do not need to see the light to be able to find it. Come, children. Let us see what we shall see.”

  Perriz was much further than it initially appeared, and for the longest time they felt that they were drawing no closer to it. It almost started to seem as if it was not truly a city, but rather a mirage that would tempt them with the promise of their journey’s end yet never really deliver upon that promise. The moon crawled across the sky, and the trip was becoming all the more frustrating with its conclusion in sight, but still so far off.

  At some point during their journey, though, when the night had reached the midpoint, Perriz suddenly seemed a lot closer. Several of the Ocular began to move to a slow jog, and then the nearer they drew, the more they began to pick up speed. Soon they were moving so quickly that it became impossible for Clarinda to keep up. Turkin noticed and put out a hand to her. She grabbed it and he swung her up and onto his back.

  “Once, I wouldn’t have trusted you there,” he said. “I’d have expected you were going to sink your teeth into me.”

  Clarinda’s stomach grumbled and she tried to ignore it. “Never even occurred to me,” she lied. “Now move. We’re falling behind.”

  With a grin, Turkin picked up the pace. He kept to the back of the group, bringing up the rear so as not to jostle Clarinda too thoroughly. Even with him moving at half the speed he possessed, the ground still sped past beneath Clarinda’s gaze.

  She laughed.

  The noise startled her, particularly since it was coming from her own throat. She was not one for laughing even on her better days, and it wasn’t as if she had had terribly many of those. Yet here she was, laughing with almost childish delight as their potential sanctuary drew just within reach.

  The area that the tracks were taking them through seemed mostly agricultural, or at least it had been at one time. Much of the area had been burned out in the wars, and only now were the first hints of green beginning to return. Clarinda couldn’t help but reflect on the foolishness that was involved in destroying the natural resources of a world upon which you were trying to establish residence. Destroy some humans, hell, destroy all of them if you must. But leave their means of food production alone because you’re going to need it. That was just common sense.

  A metal bridge stretched over a waterway in front of them with the tracks running right down the middle. Because of their size and the relative narrowness of the bridge, the Ocular were required to go single file or, at most, two by two for some of the smaller ones. That minor inconvenience did not slow them, though, as they quickly started to run across the bridge. The structure shook beneath their pounding feet.

  It was at that moment that Clarinda suddenly sensed danger.

  Since they were bringing up the rear, she did not realize it until almost all of the Ocular were already on the bridge. None of them had yet reached the opposite shore.

  “Wait! Stop!” Clarinda shouted. “Something is wrong!”

  They didn’t hear her at first. They were too busy shouting and cheering and Kerda was composing new lyrics that were going to write an end to their successful journey. But since she was on Turkin’s back, naturally he heard her. He skidded to a halt, almost causing Clarinda to lose her grip on him and take a spill. She held on, but not without effort. Turkin bellowed, “Everyone! Wait! Clarinda says to wait!”

  This had the desired effect, with the Ocular stopping wherever they were and turning to learn what the problem was.

  That was when there was a splashing of water and then, in the darkness, there were bodies overrunning the bridge. Bodies moving with such eerie silence that they were almost like shadows come to life.

  We’re dead, thought Clarinda, and then the shadows were upon them.

  ii.

  Gorsham of the House of Chen had been bored.

  Before he had risen to the head of the House of Chen, he had been in command of his own time, doing what he wished and going wherever he wanted to. The one downside of his particular situation was the fact that his father, Gorsh, was officious and annoying and physically abusive and tended to complain incessantly about every other family head including, most particularly, Arren Kinklash. Consequently when Kinklash had approached Gorsham about a plan that would remove Gorsh from the grand equation of the Mandraques in exchange for Gorsham attempting no retaliation, Gorsham had eagerly availed himself of the opportunity. He had very much looked forward to being in charge of his own destiny for a change.

  He had been dismayed to discover upon his father’s passing—said passing involving being crushed by a gigantic bell that had fallen with suspiciously convenient timing upon him—that as soon as Gorsh was dead, Gorsham’s time was very much not his own. Suddenly everyone in the House of Chen was approaching him to approve, oversee or overlook this, that and the other thing. It was incessant and it was annoying and Gorsham was starting to think that if he could go back in time and tell his father to get out of the way of the damned bell, he would do so without hesitation. Unfortunately that opportunity was not available to him and now he was stuck trying to accommodate as many individuals as he could lest someone take umbrage and arrange for a bell to fall on him, too.

  At this particular point, it involved patrolling the borders of Perriz, something that was his least favorite way to pass the time be
cause, really, who would be insane enough to try and attack the home of the Firedraques, the wisest and most benevolent of races on the Damned World? A race whose attempts to hold others to peace treaties were widely known to be approved by no less a figure than the Overseer?

  There were squad captains in the House of Chen—which shared such duties equally with other houses—who were perfectly capable of leading and did so at all times. But it was customary for the heads of the Houses to accompany their captains every so often to make certain that the borders and crossings were well watched. Naturally it was impossible to cover every square mile of the borders, but they did what they could. If anything, it was for convenience sake, because if intruders did manage to make their way into Perriz, they would quickly be dispatched by either the patrolling Mandraques or the resident Firedraques. It wasn’t as if Firedraques were incapable of defending themselves. They might well embrace pomp and pomposity and enjoy their self-proclaimed roles of peacemakers. But Gorsham had had occasion to witness a Firedraque in full fury, and it had not been something that he was anxious to see ever again.

  After a lengthy and frankly boring trek across Perriz territory, Gorsham and his squad of a dozen Mandraques had taken up residence under a bridge. It seemed as good a place as any to set up a watch post. There was plenty of room on the banks under the bridge, and the steady stream of water guaranteed that they wouldn’t be going thirsty anytime soon.

  There they had remained, chatting idly about the foolishness of patrols and, generally speaking, how boring life was when various members of the Twelve Races weren’t trying to kill each other.

  The Mandraques wouldn’t have minded taking off after that Zeffer that had made off with Nicrominus. That certainly seemed a challenging endeavor, and there wasn’t a Mandraque alive who didn’t relish the possibility of taking on those walking hairbags known as the Serabim with their renowned high-and-mighty attitudes. But Evanna, the daughter of Nicrominus the Preceptor, had informed them that the Zeffer was acting on behalf of, and presumably the direct orders of, the Travelers and the Overseer. That had put an end to discussion of counterattacks. “What’s one less Firedraque anyway?” had been the general opinion, and that had been more or less that.