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

by Mark Whiteway

  “Talking about me?” The broad-shouldered figure of the hu-man McCann strode towards them. “I suppose I can’t blame you, given the history between our peoples.” Rael and Alondo parted to allow his approach. She tossed away the rind from her mystery meal and stood in an effort to meet him on equal terms—a futile gesture, as her face was barely level with his chest. He looked down at her from beneath fleshy brows. “I’ve managed to circumvent the security lockout. The flight controls will now activate on command.”

  She smiled formally. “Thank you for your assistance. We will set out at first light tomorrow. Rael will fly your machine and carry Alondo with him. You and I will take that one.”

  McCann’s steely blue eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute; you think...

  you think I sabotaged it.”

  Shann kept her eye fixed on him, silence driving home the unspoken accusation like an iron spike.

  To her utter amazement, he threw his head back and began laughing—a bass, deep-throated sound, unlike any she had heard before. Eventually the paroxysms died and he shook his head. “‘Embrace everyone; trust no one’. Spoken like a true leader.”

  “I’m not the leader,” she corrected him. “He is aboard the sky ship.”

  McCann raised his eyebrows. “You left him behind?”

  She flushed. “Not exactly. He... chose to stay.”

  “Interesting,” McCann mused. “So he’s planning some sabotage of his own. What’s your role?”

  She felt as transparent as glass. “Let’s get back to the mainland first. Then we’ll discuss it.”

  His eyes narrowed like blue jewels set in a rough crag. Then his features relaxed and she felt the tension flow out of her. “Fine. But there’s something you should know. There are only six avionics here. That means that the ones that raided Kieroth are still out there somewhere. And when they find out that the shuttle was attacked, they’re gonna be as mad as hornets.”

  “As mad as what?” Alondo echoed.

  Shann stared him to silence, before turning back to face McCann. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t plan on sticking around long enough for them to find us.”

  “Your vessel out on the flats—you plan to use your Diametric Drive. Sorry, but I have some more bad news for you. My people destroyed it.”

  Rael looked as if he had been punched in the stomach.

  “Destroyed? Are you certain?”

  “I didn’t see it with my own eyes, but the pilot I talked to had no reason to lie. He told me that the Captain had designated it as a primary target, so they hit the launch site before moving on to Kieroth.”

  “Why?” Rael wailed.

  McCann shrugged. “Payback. And, no doubt, to prevent you people from pursuing him to the other side.”

  “Could we use the hu-man avionics to cross the Aronak Sea?” Alondo inquired.

  “The fusion power source would give them the range,” McCann replied. “But they are essentially light aircraft—they couldn’t fly sufficiently high to clear the storm front, and with gusts of 300 to 400 kilometres an hour, it’d be suicidal to try to push through.”

  “What about the Reach?” Shann suggested. “Could we use the ship?”

  Alondo shook his head. “Patris did no more than patch her up, remember? I don’t think he would be too keen to attempt it in her current condition. And we don’t have time for a refit, even if the people here had the necessary shipbuilding skills.”

  The hu-man folded his massive arms. “So then, how are you going to get to the other side?”

  Shann stared into the abyss. “Unfortunately, I can only think of one way.”

  McCann’s eyes went wide and his fuzzy jaw dropped to the floor. “Oh no. You can’t be serious.”

  <><><><><>

  Chapter 29

  With a dreamlike slowness, Keris picked her way through the monochrome nightmare that had once been Kieroth’s artisan district. Grey dust hung in the air. It streaked her flying cloak and filled her nostrils with an acrid odour—the odour of death. Smashed hulks of once-proud mechanical marvels lay scattered amidst the broken carcasses of workshops. Keris could not help but be reminded of the crazy old-timer who had sat in the corner of one of them and told her tall tales of a forest named Atarah, a dead Great Tree, and a ruined ancient city beyond it known as Kynedyr. A part of her hoped that he was safe somewhere.

  Patris trailed after her, squinting at the surrounding devastation. His weathered skin was stretched tight over his angular features, giving his face a skull-like appearance. “We should have anticipated this.”

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference,” she countered. “We had no way of warning them from the island. Besides, Lafontaine assured us that once the hu-man star ship had departed, Wang and the others would follow.”

  “Hmmm, well, it seems that that prediction was a little off. And since he’s long gone, we can’t exactly take it up with him now, can we? In the end, all we managed to do was to smooth the way for his departure, whilst allowing him to dump the problem of his wayward Captain on us.”

  “That’s a pretty cynical way of looking at it.”

  Patris huffed. “I’m a thief by trade, remember? I know a scam when I see one.”

  Keris’s mouth became a rigid line. “I don’t think we can assume that. Lafontaine may just have misjudged Wang’s stubbornness.” Here I am, defending a hu-man, she thought wryly. It seemed that the experience with Susan Gilmer had affected all of them profoundly. All except for Patris, who had been left to guard the ship and would never meet her in person, never see the kind of woman she was or witness the sacrifice she had been willing to make for a world and a people not her own.

  “You think so?” Patris smiled, but there was no mirth in it. “Let me give you a piece of free advice, dear lady, from someone who’s been around the harbour a few times. You people are too trusting.

  “Back home in Sakara there’s a flat fish with purple stripes and green speckles known as a hasprette. You find them in rocky pools and shallow inlets, staring up at you helplessly with their four round eyes. They make no attempt to avoid being caught. Small children spear them with pointy sticks. In the Thief Guild, we use the same word to describe someone who’s an easy mark. You and the others are a bunch of hasprettes. If I had been there, I would have told Lafontaine to take his proposal and... what’s that?”

  The sudden change in his voice jerked her back to reality. She followed his stare. At first she could see nothing. Then there was the tiniest of movements. A tuft of dirty black hair. A slight form peeking out from behind a chunk of fallen masonry. A female... no, a child. “Stay here. Keep low.” She drew her staff in a single smooth movement and began gliding towards the intruder.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Patris hissed from behind her.

  “Finding out what our friend is up to.”

  “It’s a little kid, not an enemy... oh for the love of... hey there.” She stopped dead and glanced over her shoulder. Patris’s hand was cupped to his mouth. Up ahead, the little figure had disappeared. “Hey there,” he called again.

  Flushed with annoyance, she backtracked to his position. “I would not have harmed the child.”

  Patris shot her a look. “You just don’t get it, do you?” He took a step forward, spreading his arms and smiling expansively. “Hey, come on out. I have something for you.” The tuft reappeared. “Don’t be afraid. My name is Patris. I’m a sailor. Do you know what a sailor is?” He walked forward slowly. “This here is my friend Keris. She’s—well, she can be a bit mean at times but don’t let that worry you. Are you hungry?” He reached into his pouch and pulled out a dried morsel of some wide-snouted, burrowing creature that Keris had caught and cooked on their way here. He heard a loud sniff from behind the broken wall, and a head appeared, followed by a slender torso. “That’s it, there’s nothing to fear. Here... ” He held out the meat. The youngster broke cover, snatched the offering from Patris’s hand, and began chewing, wide eyes fixed on his blac
k-suited benefactor.

  A Kelanni boy, five turns, maybe six—far too young to be wandering alone amidst bombed-out ruins. His brown tunic and trousers were as grubby as his hollow cheeks. Patris went down on his haunches so that his eye level was the same as the boy’s. “I am called Patris,” he repeated. “What’s your name?”

  The boy spoke with a mouth full of food, but it sounded like “Machon.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Machon. We have come here from a long way away. Tell me, do you know where your parents are?” The little boy shook his head slowly. “Well, Keris and I would like to help you if we can. Where have you come from?” The boy gave a slight shrug. “Well, don’t worry about it for now. Oh, I almost forgot. I have something else for you.”

  He smiled secretively and opened the neck of his small sack once more. Still chewing, the boy took a step closer so that he could take a peek. Patris reached inside and with a flourish produced a small dark stone, oval in shape, with dark whorls and eddies playing across its surface. Keris immediately recognized her lodestone tool for manipulating locks and latches. “Hey, that’s mine,” she exclaimed. “You stole it from me.”

  Patris angled his head towards her. “Got any locked doors you need to get into right now? No, I didn’t think so.” He smiled warmly at the boy. “Go ahead, it’s yours. Take it.” The boy reached out a slender, bony arm. As he did so, Patris closed his fist around the stone before opening his hand once more. It was empty. His eyes and mouth went wide. Then he smiled a secret smile, reached behind Machon’s ear, and the stone lay in his palm once more. The little boy squealed in delight.

  “You there.”

  A booming voice reverberated over the shattered ground, and an imposing figure clad in a thick sable overcoat moved purposefully towards them. The parent? Keris stiffened. Straight fair hair settled about the man’s shoulders as he bent down to address the boy. “Machon, you know you shouldn’t go wandering off alone where it isn’t safe. You could have been hurt. It’s fortunate for you that you ran across some friends.” He picked the boy up, half-wrapping him in the fold of his coat. Machon began playing with the lapel distractedly. “You are Keris—an investigator in your homeland, and this is Alondo... no, Patris, the captain of the wooden vessel that brought you here, yes?”

  Keris allowed herself to relax slightly. “I’m sorry; I don’t believe we’ve met. How is it that you know us?”

  The big man smiled. He had a strong jaw and soft dark eyes, and Keris felt drawn to him in spite of herself. “The exploits of the group from Drann have become a topic of avid conversation among the good townspeople of Kieroth. I am Byrdach, Prefect. I command the drach and help maintain order. Today, that means drawing together the shattered remnants of our town. We have a lot of injured and displaced people. Machon is my new assistant, aren’t you?” The boy nodded enthusiastically and went back to fiddling with Byrdach’s collar.

  “We thought you might be his father,” Patris explained. Byrdach’s expression grew solemn and he gave a slight shake of his head. Machon continued to play, giving no sign that he had caught the gesture. Keris felt the urge for retribution rise within her like a wellspring, but this was neither the time nor the place.

  “Might I ask whether your journey to Helice met with success?” Byrdach inquired.

  Keris turned slowly, panning the desolate scene. Her voice became a harsh whisper. “I suppose that depends on how you measure success.” She turned back to him. “Byrdach, are you aware of who was responsible for this?”

  “The hu-mans—yes, I know,” Byrdach replied. “A young lodestone hunter named Yaron found one of them in the Cathgorns. This hu-man confessed to him that they were behind the attack.”

  No, surely, it couldn’t be. “Did your hunter happen to mention the name of this hu-man?”

  “McCann. He said the hu-man’s name was McCann.”

  Keris’s eyes widened. “Listen, Byrdach. We know this hu-man. He is extremely dangerous. Do you have any idea of his current whereabouts?”

  “Dangerous, you say?” Byrdach frowned. “That’s odd, because Yaron said that the hu-man saved his life. Not only that; this McCann also managed to flag down one of the avionic pilots and knock him out.

  He flew off in the direction of the island.”

  “Are you certain?” she asked.

  “Yaron is young, but he is a good, steady lad. Intelligent. Reliable. If he says that is what happened, then that is what happened.”

  It made no sense. She had used the spy’s mistrust and suspicion to send him to an icy death. Why would he save a Kelanni? And why would he turn on his own people?

  She suddenly recalled the casual murder by her escort of a boy taken as tribute and, afterwards, the brutality she had witnessed at the Spring Gratitude Festival in Lind—a mother sitting broken on the stone floor of the chapel, sobbing for the son who had been snatched away. She had not realised it at the time, but each event was one step along a road that ultimately caused her to turn her back on her life as a Keltar. Her eyes took in the broken buildings of Kieroth once more and settled finally on the little boy in Byrdach’s arms, now orphaned. Had McCann been similarly moved by conscience? Or were his actions part of some elaborate deception?

  For the moment, it didn’t matter. She had a task to perform and she was not about to let McCann, or anyone else for that matter, deflect her from her purpose.

  “Might I ask what happened to the rest of your party?” Byrdach enquired.

  Best not mention the drach. Or Lyall’s act of betrayal. “We destroyed the hu-man weapon, and the main body of hu-mans left, but a small number managed to... acquire the ancient device. The rest of our group stayed behind to retrieve the instrument and destroy it if at all possible. We came back to warn you... too late it seems.”

  “It’s not your fault that this happened,” Byrdach soothed. “What do you intend to do now?”

  “We have to help,” Patris said.

  Keris shook her head rapidly. “I’m sorry, there’s no time for that.”

  “These people need us.” Patris’s voice held a determined edge.

  “Please,” Byrdach intervened. “Do not be concerned. We have the situation here under control. You should return to your side and help your people to mount a defence.”

  “That is our intention,” Keris added quickly. “In fact, we would like your permission to use the sky ship you have assembled.”

  “If you mean the Diametric Drive, then I’m afraid you’re too late. The hu-man avionics attacked and destroyed it before moving on to here. I’m sorry.”

  I should have predicted that something like this would happen. She cursed under her breath and then turned to Patris, who held up a restraining hand. “If you’re thinking of taking Annata’s Reach back through the storm barrier, forget it. My jerry-rigged repairs to the hull would never stand the stress; plus we had three with flying cloaks then and now we only have one. There’s no way you could pull the ship on your own; I don’t care how much more powerful your new red cloak is.”

  He was right, of course. Which left just one possibility. She turned back to Byrdach. “This Yaron you spoke of—he is a hunter?”

  “A lodestone hunter, yes. He scours the glaciers and upland slopes of the Cathgorn and Meurig mountains with his brother, in search of lodestone.”

  “Would he consent to be our guide, do you think?”

  Byrdach blinked. “Your guide to where?”

  “There is a place in the mountains I need to reach.”

  “You must mean the ancient tower. The Directorate were supposed to be organising an archaeological expedition, but as you can see, we now have more pressing matters to attend to. I don’t think they want anyone else going near it, but,” he winked, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  She gave a formal bow. “Thank you. Can you perhaps tell us where we might find this Yaron?”

  “I believe he returned to his village east of here, near the foot of the Cathgorns. I can have so
meone accompany you there, if you’d like.”

  “No,” she said. “I appreciate your offer, but you need every available hand here to help with the relief work. Patris and I will find our way.”

  “I see. Well, thank you for taking care of Machon here. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Actually, yes. Do you know if Hannath is currently at the observatory?”

  Byrdach’s face fell, and Keris braced herself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Hannath is dead.”

  ~

  As they climbed the hill to the observatory, Keris’s boots felt like great blocks. Winter lingered in this land, and snow clung stubbornly to its slopes, smothering any growing thing that might give a hint of spring. Casting a look over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of the town, the once-proud collection of noble edifices now burned, blackened, and beaten. A few thin trails of smoke rose vertically into the sky like silent cries for help. She dragged her eyes forward, but the view was scarcely more comforting. The great dome with its adjoining house was gone. Keris’s heart sank. There seemed little chance that anything could have survived the conflagration.

  Byrdach had handed the orphan Machon to a bright-eyed, spare-boned young woman as she dug through a broken wall with a team of others. The boy did not cry or protest but clutched the small, oval lump of refined lodestone to his chest as if his life depended on it. Keris wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she had neither the means nor the words. Never in her life had she felt so completely helpless.

  As they passed beyond the outskirts of the town, the Prefect’s mood had grown solemn. Patris, too, had fallen into a brooding silence. The brash thief who had snatched their money purse in Sakara, who cared for nothing other than his ‘crew’ and his beloved city—that person was no more. The new Patris was a changed man—willing to extend compassion to strangers half a world away. She genuinely regretted vetoing his offer of help.

  Miraculously, the large iron gates were still intact. They swung open at her touch. Here on the hilltop, the charred ruins had acquired a light covering of snow which filled the cracks and smoothed over the rough edges, giving them an almost pleasing appearance, like a smile on the face of a corpse. She glanced at Patris, and the two of them began to pick their way towards what had once been the back of the house. Stooping down, she began examining the rubble. Patris followed suit.