The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series)

by Mark Whiteway

  “Keris–” Shann’s voice was insistent.

  “I’ll get to you in a moment,” Keris snapped back. You are not seriously injured –be patient.

  After a short while, Alondo’s chest rose slightly and Keris heard a faint rattle in the musician’s throat. She allowed herself to breathe once more. Wearily, she got to her feet and made her way back to where her pack lay. The girl came after her, grabbing her arm, pulling her round.

  Shann looked small. Her eyes were puffy where she had been crying. “What about Lyall?”

  Keris softened a little. “I’m sorry, child, he’s gone.”

  “B-but we have to go after him,” Shann pleaded.

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

  Shann’s body tensed. “We have to go after him now.” She was holding Lyall’s staff in an attack stance.

  Keris ignored the veiled threat. Do I have to spell it out for you, girl? “Look, we can’t stay here. That thing may come back at any time. If it does, none of us may survive. Lyall is lost to us. We have to go on without him.” Keris turned on her heel, without waiting for a response.

  “No!” The word strangled in Shann’s throat.

  Keris sensed a movement behind her, the whoosh of a diamond bladed staff. I don’t have time for this. In a single movement, she thrust her own staff backwards and hooked it, slicing the girl’s legs from under her. She turned around to see Shann lying on her back, her face a mask of pain and frustration. The older woman’s eyes blazed. “I will not fight you.”

  Shann got to her feet and stumbled off, heaving sobs wracking her diminutive frame. Let her go.

  ~

  She was thin. Scrawny, some might say. Tall for her age, with long dark hair that ran down her back in waves. Pretty, in a severe kind of way. And with the heart of an utharan mammoth, according to her father.

  The smaller children came running up to her. They pulled at her coat, her sleeves. “Keris. Look, it’s Keris. Keris will help us. Yes. Yes.” A little boy was pushed to the front. He was blond, podgy, with a gap in his front teeth. “A boy took Alerain’s spinner. Will you get it back for us? Keris will get it back. Will you? Please?”

  She was dragged along to where a big-boned boy with close cropped, dark hair sat on the ground playing with the spinner. Behind him, the Dagmar tower rose above the manse like a finger pointed at the sky. “Give it back,” she ordered.

  The boy looked her up and down and laughed unpleasantly. “And who will make me? You?” Keris stood her ground. The boy’s smile disappeared in an instant and he rose to his feet. “Why don’t you just try and take it off me?” She flew at him, pummelling him with her bony fists and kicking at him with her long legs. “Give…it…back.”

  The boy staggered backwards, raising his arms protectively. His face creased up. “I’m telling my mother.” She watched his receding back. Then she picked up the discarded spinner.

  The little children were cheering and jumping for joy. “She did it. Keris did it. Keris is our leader. Keris is our leader.”

  Keris is our leader. The older Keris sat with the flying cloak covering her shoulders, keeping night watch, deep in the Fire Pits of Kharthrun. I never wanted that. But then someone had to be there to right wrongs, to protect the weak. Then as now, she was a prisoner of who and what she was.

  The girl had returned to their makeshift camp later that evening. She sat on her own and turned away every time Keris looked at her. Shann needed to reach out to someone, but it was not going to be Keris, that much was clear. Boxx was preoccupied with his ministrations, and Alondo only drifted into consciousness for brief periods. So the girl was left to wrestle with her grief alone.

  “Wh-what happened?” Alondo had asked with his eyes still closed.

  Keris was stone faced. “The Kharthrun Serpent. It’s gone now.”

  “Lyall?”

  “We lost him. I’m sorry.”

  Alondo’s head moved from side to side slowly. He pressed his eyes together. “Where’s Shann?”

  “She’s fine.” It was a lie, but the truth was an added burden he didn’t need right now.

  Boxx stood up on its hind legs and faced Keris. “Alondo Must Sleep. Alondo Must Heal.”

  Keris nodded at the Chandara and stood up. “How long?”

  “Alondo Must Heal,” it repeated.

  Keris took the hint and left. She had not discounted the possibility that if the creature attacked again, they might be forced to try to move Alondo, despite Boxx’s protestations. Or they might have to abandon him altogether. These were decisions she would really rather not have to make. I never wanted this.

  She sat hunched in the flying cloak, burdens weighing on her shoulders like great black birds. Mists drifted over the flat ground. With an effort, she got to her feet and went to her pack. As soon as she opened it, she knew something was wrong. The small oil lamp she carried–it was gone. She rummaged around in the pack. There was no mistake. A wild thought occurred to her. She hurried over to the place where Shann slept. The blanket lay empty and discarded. The girl was gone. So were Lyall’s weapon and the pieces of her broken staff. Keris’ heart sank. You’ve gone after him. You brave, stupid girl.

  ~

  Using the blades of her broken staff as pitons, Shann eased herself down the steep sides of the fissure. Her boots sought toe holds in the rock face. She regretted leaving Alondo, but right now, Boxx could do far more for him than she could. Besides, he would want me to do this. He would want me to save Lyall.

  It was up to her. Keris was not going to do anything; in fact it probably suited her purpose to assume that Lyall was dead. That way, she could take charge by default. Not while I’m still alive.

  How far this chasm went down, she did not know. The passage was curved slightly, so that light from the entrance above was gradually occluded. Soon, she found she was descending in a gathering crimson dusk. The thought of returning to the surface occurred to her briefly but she dismissed it just as quickly. He needs me.

  Shann drove the diamond blades into any available crack or crevice. It was getting difficult to see. Her progress was slower now, as she made her way as much by touch as by sight. Her left side still grumbled from the injury sustained in the battle with the serpent. She gritted her teeth and ignored it. The volcanic heat was becoming oppressive, a steady updraft which washed past her like an exhalation. Beads of sweat began to roll down the side of her face and into her eyes. The odour of sulphur was becoming more persistent. She coughed once…twice. Her head was growing dizzy. Her left boot quested for a hold and found an irregularity. Her toe pressed home, and then slipped. Her sudden weight pulled one of her makeshift pitons free and she was falling backwards. Hot air rushed around and past her body. At last she struck solid ground and her tortured side gave one final angry cry of protest before everything went black.

  ~

  The dark haired waif sat in the older woman’s lap and sniffled. The older woman stroked her hair and the little girl grew quiet. The kitchen at the inn was warm and homely. The silver haired woman smelled of dough and spices.

  A portly man in a blue apron stood over them both. His tail swished from side to side. “Shann–Shann, why did you worry us like that?”

  The silver haired woman spoke on her behalf. “She fell out of a tree, Poltann, but she’s all right now–aren’t you?” Shann nodded, too choked yet to speak.

  “The girl has no business climbing trees. It’s enough that we have the responsibility of caring for her, Gallar. If her father were here–”

  “Poltann…” Gallar rebuked him. “Shann has learned her lesson. She will not go climbing trees on her own again– will you?” Shann blinked away the tears and shook her head. Her short, unkempt hair framed an elfin face.

  Poltann shook his head. “Look at her; there’s nothing of her. She is small and weak for her age. I suppose we may be able to put her to work in the kitchen, but I really don’t know what she will be good for.”

  “Shann will
do her best, won’t you?” Gallar soothed. The elfin face nodded once more.

  Poltann ran his hand over his bald head, smoothing down hair that had long since departed. “The girl has to learn that she is frail, and that she can’t just go climbing trees. One day she’ll attempt something like that and there won’t be anyone there to rescue her. She has to accept that there are some things that she simply cannot do.”

  Shann gradually came to, with Poltann’s words from all those years ago ringing in her ears. “There are some things you simply cannot do.” No–I won’t accept that. Her head felt muzzy and her hand went up to feel a lump on her forehead. Her side still hurt, but no worse than before. She must have been nearly at the bottom when she lost her footing and fell. Shann sat up. The wide shaft stretched away above her. The area around her was a faint circle, surrounded by darkness. The lamp. She found it and fumbled with the tinderbox. Yellow light erupted and pushed back the gloom. She was in a large cavern. Her breathing was laboured. The air was hot and tinged with sulphur. And there were sounds. Distant. Indistinct. Ominous. The beast could return at any moment. She got to her feet gingerly, holding the lamp aloft. The broken pieces of her staff lay nearby on the ground. She gathered them up and then began to explore her surroundings.

  The rock floor was surprisingly smooth. She walked in what she judged to be a straight line. Soon the gradient began to incline upwards and she found herself facing a wall. Using the diamond blade on one of the broken pieces of her staff, she carved three intersecting circles into the rock–the Sign of The Three. Shann had never been particularly religious, especially having witnessed firsthand how the Kelanni faith had been corrupted under the Prophet’s influence. However, she needed a mark that would be easily recognisable by her or any one of the others who might decide to come after her and that was the only sign she could think of. Her effort was crude, but effective.

  Turning to her left, she followed the wall. Suddenly the wall disappeared into a dark recess–a passageway leading off from the chamber. Shann scrutinised the entrance. Too small. The serpent could not have passed that way. She continued on, moving along the wall, mapping out the cavern in her mind until she was back at the Sign of The Three, her starting point. There were five exits from the cave. Two of them would not have been large enough to allow the creature passage. That left three possible routes. Shann picked one at random and etched another Sign of The Three into the even rock face before heading away from the chamber.

  It occurred to her that this subterranean maze could go on endlessly, but she had no choice but to press on. She followed the tunnel, lamplight reflecting back from the walls. After a short while, the walls began to narrow and the ceiling became lower. Not this way.

  She doubled back to the large chamber and vigorously scrubbed out the mark she had made. Locating a second possible route, Shann made another mark and moved cautiously into the open passage. A steady current of warm air flowed past her. The lamp guttered. She turned the wick up a fraction before moving forward again. The gradient began to slope gently downwards. After a while, a large shadow on the right wall revealed an adjoining tube. The flow of air was still coming from directly ahead. Shann decided to ignore the side passage and continue on.

  The way continued straight. Then her mind registered something odd–an irregularity in the floor. She had almost stepped into it. Shann stopped and leaned forward, rubbing the perspiration from her eyes with the back of her hand. A depression in the ground in front of her was filled with an orange-yellow glow, framed by a web of dark cracks. A lava pool. There was a ledge near the wall to one side, barely wide enough for her feet. Carefully she moved around the pool and tested the ledge with one boot. Slowly she began edging sideways along the rim. Heat rose from the molten rock within the pool, disturbing the surface so that it seemed to breathe like a living thing. A few more sidesteps and she was on the other side. She took a deep breath and resumed her progress.

  After a short distance, the tube opened out into another sizeable chamber. She held the lamp aloft and peeked cautiously inside. The soft yellow illumination fell onto a huge shape within. The shape moved, scales scraping against bare rock. The Kharthrun Serpent. Panic rose momentarily in her breast. She extinguished the lamp, stepped back into the darkness and began to think. There was no safe way past the leviathan. More than that, she could not stay here. She had seen the speed at which it moved. If it came this way again, she would be crushed or worse. The side tunnel.

  Shann retreated back down the passage, squeezing past the lava pool as quickly as she dared, and ducked back into the adjoining passage. She hunkered down and strained her ears to hear. A low growling sound. It was coming from behind her. She spun round. Half a dozen pairs of red eyes shone out of the pitch dark like steady flames. Shann sat on her haunches, transfixed, torn between the malevolent creatures before her and the gargantuan serpent behind. She made her decision.

  Aarrrrgghh! Grabbing Lyall’s staff, she made the fiercest, most guttural sound her throat could muster, and rushed the red-eyed beasts, whirling and slicing indiscriminately. Snarls turned rapidly to squeals. Bodies scuffled and collided with one another. Fiery eyes receded into the blackness.

  As silence descended once more, Shann listened intently. After what seemed to be an age, she heard and felt a low rumble. Getting closer. Instinctively, she drew back farther into the side passage. The monstrous form of the serpent appeared in the main passageway. Shann watched as it passed directly in front of her. It felt as if her very bones were being shaken. She waited long after the creature’s tail had flicked past and the rumbling had ceased completely, so that all she could hear was the hammering of her own heart.

  Warily, she stepped back into the main passageway and headed for the second cavern once more. She checked behind her for any sign of the serpent’s return, but there was none. Striking the tinderbox, she relit the lamp and examined the vacated chamber. There was something different about it. It was strewn with rocks. No, not rocks. Bones. Shann keened her senses and moved into the chamber. There was something that looked like a mound in the centre. As Shann approached, she saw a pile of bones topped by what looked like a clutch of leathery eggs. And there was something else. A dark shape. Her heart leapt and she hurried over. She saw a figure lying, wrapped in a black cloak with a shock of fair hair. Lyall.

  Shann knelt and touched his face. It was warm. Relief washed over her. She placed her hand in front of his nose and felt a faint breath. Quickly, she pulled a flask of water from her belt. Turning him over gently, she put the flask to his lips. The water dribbled from the side of his mouth. His eyes squeezed together and then opened. He looked confused, as if unsure whether he was dreaming. “Shann…what happened?”

  Shann whispered as if the beast might somehow overhear. “The serpent snatched you and dragged you down here. I came after you.”

  “Wh-where are we?”

  “I’m not sure. It looks like some sort of nest. We must leave before it returns. Can you move?” Shann helped him to a sitting position.

  He tried to stand, then winced and sat back. “My left leg…it feels like a fracture.”

  “Wait here.” Shann got up and cast her eyes about the chamber. She sifted through the bleached skeletal remains, trying not to speculate what or who they might have come from. All of the pieces were broken or too small or not the right shape. Then she suddenly remembered her staff. She pulled the two halves of the broken staff from her belt. Yes. These should work.

  Shann placed them beside Lyall and quickly began ripping strips from her own clothing. Then she lashed the broken staff pieces to either side of Lyall’s leg to form a makeshift splint.

  Lyall’s brow was covered with perspiration and he looked pale. “You look as if you’ve done this before. I didn’t know you had healing skills.”

  Shann smiled as she worked. “From time to time, Gal would treat travellers’ injuries at the inn. Pretty soon she gained a reputation for it. She would let me watch and
even help sometimes…There. Can you stand up now?” Lyall struggled up to stand on his good leg, using his staff as a crutch. “Don’t put any pressure on it,” she counselled.

  Lyall looked about him. “Which way?”

  Shann considered. Her plan, such as it was, had been to return the way she had come. It was obvious, however, that Lyall would not be able to make the climb out of the shaft in his present condition. They would have to find another route.

  “How many exits do you think these caves have?” Shann asked.

  “Probably several.”

  Shann recalled her descent into the fissure. “Air from the Fire Pits rises. If we follow the flow of air, then we should find a way out.”

  Lyall grimaced. “All right, let’s see if we can find a way to the surface. After you.”

  Shann lifted the lamp and surveyed the chamber. She located two new passages. One seemed to have a stronger air current. “I think we should try this way.” She waited for Lyall to hobble over. Then a thought struck her. “One moment.” She made her way back to the nest and hefted one of the bones, raising it over her head.

  “Shann, what are you doing?” Lyall called.

  “I’m going to smash these eggs.”

  “No.” Lyall declared firmly.

  “But…why not?”

  “Because the serpent is guilty of nothing except trying to survive, just as we are. We are the ones who invaded its domain. We should let it be.”

  Shann let his words sink in, lowering the bone harmlessly as she did so. Lyall had a unique way of looking at things. Yet she found herself agreeing with him. This creature, fearsome and terrible as it was, was not her enemy. It was an astounding creature that was itself part of a unique world that one individual was bent on destroying for his own ends. If she were to commit such a wanton act of destruction–revenge–would she not in fact be serving the very purpose of the person she most despised? Fortified with this insight, and a renewed sense of purpose, Shann, the little orphan girl from Corte, rose to her feet once more. “You’re right. Let’s go.”