Darkness Risen (The Ava'Lonan Herstories Book 4)
Page 12
She turned her gaze to the dim other-half of the sphere, where the tunnels of light rarely lit or rang at all, and were dull with disuse. Were these the av’tun paths through the Lora’Lons? Had they used those paths at one time, as the ones surrounding her were used? Had the secrets of the av’tun been lost to them?
Then, as she bent her concentration to her task, she found something disturbing. At regular intervals in the network there were tunnels with a strange, pinkish cast, dim and withered, as if something inimical to their very nature had passed through them. They held many of the echoes she was listening for, so she pursued these. They were slimy-dry to the touch of her mind, unlike the warm velveteen of the regular tunnels. The thought-impressions in them were distorted too, though they resonated with the kinds of malicious thoughts that she sought. What could not be hidden, and was even so clear that it made her wary, were where they originated. Yes, too clear - so she looked at them even more closely - and saw -
Shock almost threw her out of the rited state. The tunnels deviated from the pattern.
She flinched away from the deformed av’tuns. She would not be connecting to these! They would have to be tracked in the normal world. Swallowing in a purely mental throat gone dry, she turned to the task at hand. Holding the image of the av’tun lattice firmly in her mind’s eye, her mind’s hand drew forth a hemispherical map of Ava’Lona. It showed the land following the curve of the world, and arching slightly above the surface was the network of av’tun potentialities that she wanted to track. She imaged the deviant av’tuns and highlighted the associated normal av’tuns. And the brightest was the av’tun that had brought the faux Priest to her present location. Setting the map, she began her exit-rite.
the light turned...
Three san’chrons had passed when Han’vonda stood, her eyes open and glowing. The do’grine and abarine graa also came to their feet, and all five stood facing the sor’weste. The others, turning at their movement, stood and came up to her.
“Du’jidi,” she said, as one talking in sleep. The leader moved into her line of sight. She showed him a crystal hemisphere, with lines of light weaving a lattice above it.
“Where?” he asked quietly.
One of the lattice threads glowed and an av’tun coalesced before them. The others went to hurriedly take leave of the Priestesses. Within granes they were outside and ready, arrayed behind Du’jidi and Han’vonda. He nodded to the rited-woman, but she hesitated.
“What?” he asked.
“We are not certain this leads to what we truly seek,” she replied in her deadened voice. “The ways were - strange.”
“In what way?”
“Strange,” she said again, as if her sleep-like mind did not have the words. “Deviant. We did not connect directly to the Tunnels. We have to av’tun - beside them.”
Du’jidi kept any confusion he felt at her words hidden. He drew his dom’ma and gathered his av’rita. “I understand. Proceed.”
The do’grine graa took the forefront and led them through the av’tun. They came out in a garden, scoured with paths that were paved with shimmering flagstones. Around them were plots of ground and ornate planters, all holding exotic plants the likes of which none of them had ever seen. The felines, as one, hissed and flattened their ears, crouching in the very center of the path. Warned and wary, the warru also clustered to the center, looking around for danger. None immediately presented itself. Then the male warru, Ikan’be, dropped into a crouch, too, and hissed out, “Hold!” His was the ability to see kinds of life, and to read the nature of that life, whether inimical or benign to him and his fellow and sister warru.
“Where is the threat?” Du’jidi asked, following the movement of his eyes.
“The plants,” was the startling reply. “There is more to them than...”
His words were made moot as a tree with vines that held tooth-like thorns pulled up its roots and humped forward, snapping the vines at them. Du’jidi slashed at the nearest whipping vine, severing it with an ichorous spray. Then the quiescent vegetation all around came to life, giant fly-traps opening saliva-filled leaf-mouths, and wuman-sized pitcher plants dripping acid-sweet, clear fluid as they gaped. Huge light-dew ferns waved enticing jewel-tipped fronds. And other mobile plant-animals pulled loose of the soil they slept in to crowd around the new delectables in their midst. Bones tumbled from the soil around their roots, bones of animals - and wumans.
“There are too many,” Du’jidi said in a flat voice.
“Get down,” a softer voice advised them. The warru of the small egwae sheathed their weapons and threw themselves flat, Ikan’be pulling Han’vonda down and covering her head with his arms. They all covered their eyes.
The last member of the egwae struck. This warru, small and androgynous, made three sharp gestures. Then from this warru’s hands came a beam of av’rita like a lance, the waves of light all in line so that they fed each other. This lance cut down everything from chest height around them as the warru turned a tight circle. Flesh and trunk were no match for it - even the far-off stone walls enclosing the garden were scored and in places, melted. The smell of roasting vegetation and rotting, cooking meat filled the air. The smoking stumps, all sheared off at the same height, fell over and turned black, then ash-white.
Du’jidi picked himself up, looking around. There seemed to be only one physical entrance into the dead, deadly garden. The remaining members stood, and as one they moved to the sole doorway of the wall that completely surrounded the place. They arrayed themselves around the doorway, communicating by ‘tunned thought.
*:One sophant,:* Ikan’be reported. *:Strange. Inimical. Many animals, all deadly.:*
*:Stun everything,:* Du’jidi ordered.
The last, unnamed member of the egwae gestured again. Beyond the doorway a soundless, light detonation went off. At a nod from the leader, another boomed. Then they breached the lain beyond, rushing in, cleared the corners, and secured the lain.
On the floor, a young man of indeterminate age or Tribe was sprawled, as was the squirrel-like animal he had been holding. Han’vonda, still caught up in her rite, felt her eyes drawn down to the man. There was something about him that drew and repelled her both at once, something... and then she saw it, like one of the glittering threads of av’tun construction, but with the pale, pearlescent, pinkish cast of the deviant av’tuns, leading from the heart of the man to - what?
She squatted near the prone figure and brought the crystal close, watched with fascination as the thread interwove through the av’tun potentialities without touching any, and - disappeared. She tried to follow it with her mind, turning the globe to see where it went.
“Han’vonda?”
“A thread,” she said, trying to put into words what she had witnessed. “He is connected - connected... to something far away.” She turned back to the thread and the globe.
The man began to rouse, however, and Ikan’be and N’mbu’yi drew Han’vonda away and moved in to tied his hands behind his back. They pulled the dazed man to his feet. The rited warru woman lowered the globe. Without being close to him, the thread became invisible among the others.
Du’jidi and the small warru looked around the lain. It was almost as long as the Great Laine, and half that wide, and filled with row upon row of iron cages. In those cages, still stunned, were mirrli, lor’ugawu, and many other creatures, all looking starved, all collared with corrupt pearls. The small creature that the man had been holding showed fangs and vanished into the depths of the lain.
Du’jidi studied the cages with an unreadable expression, then looked at the captive man, who was awake and staring at him in terror and fascination. The man wriggled and jerked trying to get away, but the grip of the warru was unbreakable.
Du’jidi turned away and closed his eyes, sending out a ‘tunned message. A shriek from the man intruded on his awareness, but did not break his concentration. When the call had been sent, he nodded to the others, and he studied the captive
as they settled down to wait.
the darkness turned...
The investigative warru were still holding the struggling man ten granes later, when a radiant av’tun admitted the First Voice/Prince Consort Presumptive into the lain. He came forward and looked into the eyes of the captive, who quaked and moved endlessly, though his eyes never shifted, as if the touch of the warru caused itching that he could not scratch.
Luyon continued to stare, silent menace like a predator glaring through his eyes, at the young man until the other began to whimper and shrink back in terror. Around them, in the dim recesses of the lain, were the calls and growls of caged monsters and beasts. Luyon ignored them, focusing all his attention on the hard contemplation of the captive. Then he stepped back and the lead investigative warru took his place.
“What are these corrupted pearls?” Du’jidi asked quietly, pointing to a silk-lined box filled with the deadly gems. “Where do they come from? How were they changed?”
The cowering man suddenly spat in his face and laughed even as he continued to struggle to get out of the vice-like grip holding him.
The lead warru calmly wiped his face, then raised his hand. It glowed with power, with av’rita. He held it up for the captive to see, then casually reached out and took hold of the man’s neck. Though he exerted no pressure, and performed no rite that could cause harm, still the man began to choke and gurgle. His eyes bugged and his mouth opened as if he were strangling and trying to scream at the same time.
Du’jidi held on for another gran then released him, and his captors let him double over to catch his breath.
“What are these...”
“Ha! You think knowing will make a difference, Av’born?” The man burst out hysterically. “You will fail and die, because, ultimately, there is only so much light in your souls!”
“Av’rita is now anathema to you, yes?” Du’jidi asked, reaching with glowing hand toward the man’s heart. The man screamed and began to chitter nonsense.
Luyon touched Du’jidi’s shoulder, and the warru stepped aside. The Prince Consort silenced the prisoner with a look.
*:I am the Prince Consort Presumptive of the High Queen,:* he ‘tunned.
The man screamed and jerked from the grasp of the warru. He collapsed, actually snapping his restraints as he grabbed his head, as if assailed by sound beyond his hearing’s tolerance. But it was light that tormented him.
*:I live deep in the influence of Av, being so close to the...:*
“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” the man shrieked. The thinnest stream of smoke seemed to come from his eyes.
Luyon squatted. “Then tell me what these - things - are,” he growl.
“They - they are Dio’gin pearls,” the man wept.
“Yes, I know that. How were they changed?”
“The - Av’s Companion. They were - they were consecrated to Av’s Companion!”
Luyon’s brow furrowed. “Av’s Companion? Be clear, man!”
The prone man laughed again. He opened eyes that were misted over, as if exposed to great heat. “The dark star. You Av’born think it is a myth, some nansi story to tell little ones. It is no myth, Av’born! The Dark Companion exists, and feeds off the life-stuff of Av, even as we crawl upon this tiny world and feed off of you! The Dark Companion will eventually kill your ever-lasting Av! Drain it of light and life-stuff even as these pearls drain you!”
Luyon bolted up-right, his eyes wide. “Lor’avin Cho’a,” he breathed, making a sign against evil. “The anti-star! You corrupted these pearls by connecting them to the anti-star?!”
Again the maniacal laugh erupted from the man on the ground, though it was weaker, as if his life drained away to his own deadly pearls. The laugh was his only answer.
*:Who made these?!:* Luyon thundered, forgetting his composure for the barest instant. The man’s sightless eyes crossed and exploded, and his body convulsed once and went slack; and almost comically, steam came out of his ears and nose. Han’vonda looked to her globe. The fading life of the man had cut the thread. She might have been able to follow it, but the opportunity was gone now.
“Av blast it!” the Voice swore, kicking the dead man.
“We have other leads, Av’lati, “Du’jidi said, unperturbed. “We will dispose of this one and contact you when we have another captive.”
Luyon nodded, his face wooden. “I will leave the questioning to you.” He then left as abruptly as he came, without another word.
The lead warru looked at the corpse. The head was sunken in, as if softened and caved by a perfectly round object.
the light turned...
CHAPTER VIII
the darkness, a masked dancer clothed in veils of sequined silk, turned, slowly pirouetting upon the dome of the house of Av; he danced among the coyly glowing moons, his veils covering the crystal bowl of the sky...
Pentuk returned to the Palace with the High Queen’s entourage, fairly bursting with excitement over her good news. The first thing she did after completing the Rites of Purification was run to find Rukto. He was quite overwhelmed by her exuberance and just managed to glean what it was all about from her rapid-fire account of the whole expedition. Then she was hugging him wildly and bouncing away. He shook his head, smiling, and rearranged his glasses, they having been jostled akimbo. He gathered that the excursion had been good for her.
Pentuk was breathless when she found Denyo.
“Denyo!”
He looked up at the sound of his name and caught her in his embrace when she ran to him, laughing as he swung her about.
“And how is my little adventurer?” he asked, his eyes bright and sparkling, his arms holding her close.
“Betrothed!” she said, laughing. “I’m betrothed, Denyo, to Staventu! Can you believe it?” She looked up at him happily.
His face froze and his smile disappeared like ice in the stare of Av. Then his arms dropped away from her and he stepped back, shaking his head as though there were something wrong with his hearing. Then, abruptly, he turned away.
“Denyo?” Pentuk moved around to face him again, frowning. She caught his eyes, and they were like glass, hard and cold and remote. He gazed at her, her beautiful face, her familiar features, and he wanted to kill something. Her eyes asked silent questions.
He looked away from those questing orbs, to gaze out the window. “I - am happy for you,” he said in a voice devoid of expression. The lie rolled off his tongue as easily as any of his wild stories, but not nearly as convincingly.
“Denyo?” she said again, puzzled, touching his arm. “You don’t sound happy.”
He moved out of contact with her and went to gaze out over the garden below and the curve of the city peeking beyond. “I am happy. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”
“You tell me,” she said, approaching him again, touching his back. He stiffened. “Please, Denyo, I want to understand. Why are you angry?”
He looked at her, and the utter lack of expression in his eyes itself was fierce expression. She backed up an involuntary step. She had never really seen him angry before.
“You are betrothed to one of the Crown Princes,” he said, his voice as knotted as his fists, now stiff at his sides. “That’s quite an accomplishment. Better than half the eligible daughters in the Realm. Congratulations.”
“What!? W - what’s the matter with you?” she demanded, hurt, stung, furious. Did he think that she threw herself at the Prince and tricked him in to the betrothal? “Why are you saying this to me? What did I do that was so terrible? Don’t I deserve to be happy?”
“Happy? Is that what you want?” Denyo’s voice rose, then dropped. “Fine, be happy! You think that’s what he can do for you? He just came in here, swept you from your studies and out of your books and off on some wild journey, and now you’re betrothed and blissfully happy! What does he know about you? Was he there to help you when you cried at night? Did he even know of your existence before you told them about your research with the Heir?”
Then his face did become terrible, an amalgamation of rage and pain and desperation. “I was there, Pentuk, I was there. I loved you before he even knew you were alive! Why does he deserve your love and I don’t? What can his love do for you that mine cannot? Am I not good enough for you now? Is his royal seed the wine that slakes your thirst?”
Her eyes filled with tears as she backed away. Denyo regretted his words immediately and moved toward her, but she turned away.
“Denyo, I -” she shook her head, her voice melting to water, trickling away at a loss. She could not say that she had not known because she had. But she had never quite felt the same way, though she felt she should have. Guilt, like lead, sat on her stomach and turned it sour green.
“Pentuk, I was waiting for you.” His voice was tortured. “I wanted you to decide in your own time that you wanted me. I didn’t want to force you.”
“And that’s what you think he did, forced me? What do you know about it? Maybe I threw myself at him, just like you implied. Maybe I begged him to take me, and use me. Maybe I did trick him. Is that what you want to hear?” She glared at him, but not because she was angry at him anymore, but rather with herself. He was right, in a way. The glitter and lure of the Prince had shadowed her eyes against what had already been there, had made her forget what was waiting at home. Denyo did deserve her love. She did love him - did she not? She was defending against herself.
“Pentuk,” his voice was a soft plea, “do I mean so little to you? I must, if this is what has come of this journey. I must mean nothing to you at all.”