The Seedbearing Prince: Part I
Page 23
“Thank you,” Dayn said in an awed voice. “Traders back home say a messenger can bound for days with water from Mount Patel.”
“Well, let us hope you don’t need to bound away from the next Arans you meet,” Feerthul said dryly, “or they will not receive another drop from our transports so long as peace grants me breath. Fair well, Seedbearer.” Feerthul looked at him a moment more, then broke off with a sweep of his fur-lined cloak, barking orders as he went. “Why are those prisoners still in my sight? I want this wall down if we must set fire to it!” He disappeared among the bustling workers and guards.
“Come, farmer.” Nassir's hard grip fell on Dayn's shoulder. “I have much to prepare you for and little time to do it.”
“I will guide the vapor for you myself,” Kenit said. “The leap point is this way.”
To Dayn's relief they stayed inside, snaking through cramped, frozen hallways that forced him and Nassir to duck in places. The tunnels were rippled and smooth, melted right through the ice. Dayn could still see his breath, but better this than the deeper cold outside. The Preceptor looked truly miserable, as though a thief had stolen all the scrolls in his study.
“Shardian, your interest in coursing confounds me,” Nassir said, handing him a fist-sized cask of sheath. “But you shall have your fill soon enough.”
Dayn glanced at him in surprise. I didn’t think he knew anything about me. Nassir handed another cask to Lurec, who seemed to move his feet by sheer force of will alone.
“Preceptor! Quit fretting and pay attention, or I shall leave you behind.”
Lurec's face reddened with anger. Despite how well the Preceptor pretended to agree with Nassir in the Overlord's presence, there were limits to his submission. “You clearly value our lives less than your own, but at least pause and consider the Seed! It is infinitely more important than a water treaty between worlds—more important than any one world! This decision reeks of poor judgment.”
Nassir spun around, eyes burning. Dayn cringed, expecting the worst. Kenit hopped anxiously from foot to foot like an alarmed bird. Dayn could not decide if the Defender's expression reminded him more of a ridgecat defending a fresh kill, or one gone mad with foaming sickness. Lurec faced him down obstinately, which Dayn silently commended. He himself would rather face the ridgecat.
“You forget yourself, Preceptor,” Nassir said, his voice colder than the Suralose air. “The Ring is days from learning of this assault, days more from responding. We can stand before the High within hours. The Force Lord herself directed you to follow my orders, yet you balk now, when we are needed most!”
“I can hold my own in the torrent. I meant to go to Montollos, and enter the Course of Blades,” Dayn blurted out. The herald's eyes widened, and the two Ringmen turned together to stare at him. “I've practiced a lot. You already know I'm good with a rope, from the transport. I―I've seen the Detritus Chamber too, so I know what to expect. We'll keep the Seed safe, Lurec. I know we will.”
“Beltbound are not to wander about the Ring like some Ista Cham pleasure garden.” Nassir's eyes bored holes into Dayn, and Lurec mirrored the Defender’s disapproval.
Forgive me for bringing you trouble, Eriya, Dayn thought. Yet his admission worked, distracting the Ringmen enough to break their stalemate, at least for the moment. Their stern looks mirrored one another perfectly.
“Ringmen, please,” Kenit urged. “The Belt turns against us. Suralose needs your aid, should these Aran madmen strike again. Feerthul will not stay his retribution long.” The herald spun on his heel, and they followed, quickened by his pleading. The tunnel sloped gradually upward.
“We could not have picked a worse time for this,” Lurec muttered. Face ashen, he looked as though he were walking into a gravespinner's nest.
Kenit peered at the Preceptor before addressing Nassir delicately. “Defender, I do not doubt your abilities within the torrent, and I will aim you as far away from the resonance wake as possible. But...ah...how exactly do you plan to survive?”
“The boy does have some talent with a wingline,” Nassir conceded. “I'll tether him with a Vatdra Collar until we find an erratic.” The Defender bared his teeth at Lurec, who frowned uncertainly. “I'll keep the Preceptor much closer.”
“Yes, of course,” Kenit said, but he still looked doubtful.
“Heed me, Shardian. A resonance wake makes the torrent unpredictable. Stable rock will careen wildly, and breathable air comes and goes in a heartbeat. Swarms of animals can appear suddenly, fleeing the storm.”
Lurec flinched at each new danger, but Dayn's heart just beat faster at the anticipated challenge.
Nassir glowered at Dayn's grin. “The torrent will temper your eagerness soon enough. We’ll search out erratics to shelter us until we’re close enough to a wayfinder. From there, we can travel easily to Ara. Do you at least know what an erratic is?”
“Rock big enough to resist the torrent’s pull. Big enough to hide in, too,” Dayn answered at once. He knew that easily, from Guardian Benlor’s Third Circuit, his favorite book back in the Elder’s repository. “They are larger than mountains, and there’s some strength to their ground.”
“You are not completely ignorant, good. You’ll move faster than you’ve ever imagined, and breath will be fleeting.”
Dayn fished in his pack for Nerlin’s leather pouch. “I have these. Wind draughts.”
Kenit gaped at him, and Lurec's morose expression gave way to surprise.
Nassir blinked. “Do not interrupt again, farmer. The greatest mistake of many coursers is to pay mind only to the very large. Small things, invisible things, hold equal danger. Dust clouds can blind you, or overheat your sheath. They harbor the worst sorts of creatures. Avoid space that shimmers, but has no color. Do you understand?”
Dayn swallowed, nodding. The tunnel rumbled around them, a whisper in comparison to the Aran rockrider's assault. Kenit paused, listening. “Overlord Feerthul has collapsed the storeroom. Forgive me Ringmen, but we must hurry. I don't fancy being trapped in this tunnel should more of the mountain's ice fail us.”
Nassir continued issuing directions as the herald broke into a trot. “One thing you must remember, Shardian. Speed kills in the torrent. Coursing against the natural current of rock is certain death. Avoid oncoming debris, unless you want to test the quality of Suralose sheath.”
Dayn nodded, silently thanking Eriya once more. He knew so little of the Belt, but her help made him feel less a fool, along with Nerlin's wind draughts. They didn't expect me to have those, did they? He tucked the wind draughts back into the pouch, allowing himself a grin.
Dayn wished the Preceptor would offer something more than Nassir's terse warnings, and he brightened when Lurec spoke up. “And if we do not find a wayfinder, Defender?” he asked. “What then?”
Nassir said nothing. The herald risked a look back at them, a strange mixture of awe and disbelief on his face. Peace, Dayn thought. I wish Lurec had kept his silence after all.
“We’re here. The leap point is just outside.” Kenit pulled his furs closer about him. The tunnel dead ended abruptly, with only a metal ladder fixed to the ice before them. Kenit bounded to the top, then brushed his hand over a metal hatch which immediately groaned open. Frigid air poured in. They followed him into the blinding light.
Dayn's eyes quickly adjusted, and he took in a bleak horizon. They stood upon a slippery area hewn from the mountainside, but with none of the striking blue crevasses they saw earlier. An ice crusted structure with a stone dome stood next to plunging cliffs on their left. The size of a small inn, Dayn guessed it held another vapor room. He looked around expectantly for a hole like the plaza in Terabin Round as they approached.
“Where is it?” he asked.
“Not all workmanship in the Belt is...equal,” Lurec said carefully. Nassir disappeared inside. The Preceptor followed after heaving one last resigned sigh. Dayn lingered a moment longer, watching his frozen breath gust away on the howling wind.
The Lord Ascendant's charge returned to mind. The threat of Thar'Kur must be known among the people, high or common. Dayn believed her more than ever, especially after how the Overlord changed.
Hiding on Suralose while the voidwalkers ran free...the thought made Dayn sick. His decision felt right. “I gave her my word.”
“Shardian, I was just about to come find you.” Kenit reappeared in the entrance. “Are you alright?”
Dayn nodded. “I didn’t think I’d get to see the torrent so soon. Kenit, what’s a Vatdra Collar?”
“Oh.” The herald hesitated. “It’s a series of knots made with wingline. When coursers have no proper harness, they'll use it to pull along someone who is injured. Shall we go?”
“But why is it called that?” Dayn persisted.
“Well,” Kenit said reluctantly. “Vatdra was a renowned Jendini courser with an unfaithful husband. As the stories go, whenever she learned of some new mistress, she would string the dull fellow through the torrent until he begged for his life.” Kenit shrugged. “But she always brought him back. You see, a Vatdra collar will never break, but the courser who holds it had better like you.” He shrugged. “I don't know, Shardian. Coursing humor is rather...rough.”
Dayn frowned unhappily. “I don't think the Defender likes me at all.”
“At least he didn't call the collar a birth cord,” Kenit offered. “That's what they say when you don't belong in the torrent at all. Please, Shardian. The Belt turns.”
The herald led Dayn into a rounded room with dozens of dark vertical scores on the white stone walls. Nassir already sat in the center, with the flustered Preceptor attempting to retain some measure of dignity.
The herald fought to hold back laughter, and Dayn hid a smile with his hand. The Ringmen sat back to back, and with Lurec’s oversize armor, they looked like two turtles fighting to squeeze into the same shell. The Defender spoke calmly as he wound his wingline around them, back and forth, securing Lurec to his back.
“Sit, Shardian, so the herald can be free of us.” Dayn plucked Nerlin's old face guard from his pack and snapped it in place upon his brow. “Follow my lead and all will go well.” He tied the wingline off. Lurec gave a loud squawk.
The room began to hum. Kenit bowed deeply before backing away. “Peace protect you, Ringmen. Peace protect you, Seedbearer!” He all but ran out of the room. Slowly the domed roof above them split into seven sections, like the petals of a starwatcher lily, exposing the featureless white sky.
“The countdown has started. Come here. Your armor, and sheath, quickly!” Under the Defender's watchful eye, Dayn awkwardly donned the rest of the unfamiliar armor that Kenit had found for him, arm braces and jambeaus that covered his calves to the knee. They matched the leather chestpiece, which portrayed two rearing stallions etched in silver.
The Preceptor's eyes held a sad look as Dayn tightened the straps. “You look less a farmer every moment you’re with us, young Shardian,” he said quietly.
“No world will escape the days that face the Belt,” Nassir said in a somber tone. “Not even Shard.”
Lurec harrumphed but said nothing. The Defender nimbly tied several coils of wingline to Dayn's waist, so that three individual lengths connected them, one knotted at the belly and two at each hip.
“That staff is a wasted hand,” Nassir grunted as Dayn settled on the platform. “The torrent cares nothing for sentiment, Shardian.”
“You have your sword,” Dayn said defensively. He set his silverpine across his knees, he did not want to lose it. The wind would pull it from his hands, he remembered that from Terabin Round. Some sheath remained, so he smeared that along the grain. “I'll manage. I can drop it if I need to.”
Nassir shrugged dismissively, then held up three small cream-colored wafers, each just bigger than a fingernail. Ignoring Dayn's questioning look, he pressed them to Dayn's chest for a few seconds, then to his forehead.
“In your mouth.” Nassir demonstrated, sliding a wafer between his teeth and cheek. Dayn complied as the Defender handed the last one to Lurec. The wafer immediately began to bubble unpleasantly on Dayn's tongue. The Defender spoke louder to be heard above the increasing hum in the room.
“Speechcasters. These will allow us to speak and be heard over great distances in the torrent. If the sound grows faint, let it foam until you can hear clearly.” Dayn worked his tongue around uneasily. Nassir's voice echoed faintly from inside his mouth! “Cover your mouth if you’re facing a high wind so that your words are not lost.”
Lurec craned his neck around awkwardly. “Do not manage to swallow one without chewing it completely first, or you’ll get the most imaginative sort of bellyache.”
“Take a wind draught,” Nassir commanded. “We will pass through several hundred leagues of void before we reach the torrent.” Dayn did so. The blue pellet felt cool in his mouth, and oddly refreshing.
The humming reached an intense pitch, and Nassir looked upward expectantly. He donned his mask. The Preceptor fiddled with his hood until a clear face plate clicked into place. He hastily smeared it with sheath.
The spread tips of the roof glowed in a familiar blue. A sudden wind pressed down on them, whipping Dayn’s cloak about. Blue light shot down the scored walls, shifting from violet to red as it neared the floor.
Dayn wondered if the platform was broken, for it did not budge. He turned to shout the question and received another surprise. The very air was thick as jelly around him!
Lurec gave a miserable groan as a brilliant scarlet shone from the walls and platform. The air squeezed as though it meant to crush them. Dayn thought it might if not for the sheath.
A hollow boom filled his ears, and the Suralose sky rushed into his vision with a roar. His staff pushed against his waist. The wind swirled around him, but the sheath made it feel like a distant sensation. He risked a look down. Mount Patel pulled away beneath them at an alarming rate. We must be moving ten times faster than my first leap!
“Steady yourself, Shardian.” The Defender's gravelly voice echoed strangely from Dayn’s mouth. The Ringmen sailed forward just ahead of him, the Vatdra collar joining them together. The white sky soon faded into an eternal night as they escaped the pull of Suralose's heart. They were being pushed by the leap point, through the nothingness between the worlds. “Soon we will face the torrent.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Torrent
As I feared, the anchors are failing, and I’m convinced the worldhearts will soon follow. From the rate of decay I have witnessed, in a hundred years there will be more torrent in the Belt than there are worlds.
-field notes from the Preceptor Lurec
Lurec Obeth watched Suralose shrink away beneath his feet until he could look no more. Raw terror filled his heart. I am a Preceptor of the First Order, discoverer of the first known Seed in three thousand years! I should be in my study, not lashed to the back of a deranged Force General!
The last blue tinges of Suralose’s air faded rapidly to the void between worlds. Lurec had hoped the leap point would be damaged―indeed, he would have dismantled the vapor array himself if given the opportunity―but it aimed true.
He would never understand the Shardian's fixation on coursing. He himself had cataloged the torrent with great interest during his early studies, to help complete the Ring's bestiary. He found it fascinating how so many creatures had adapted over the millennia, building tolerance to unfiltered sunlight, and establishing migration patterns that followed the scant air pockets. Lensfinders made that work rather enjoyable, but from a suitably safe distance.
/> He had brought his finest handheld lensfinder and the best of his other tools, but they were now scattered across Mount Patel’s ice in the transport’s wreckage. His overcoat and an old notebook were all that remained of his most prized possessions.
A shadowed boulder shot soundlessly past them. “Peace take you, Defender! Be careful!” He craned his head around, but could still see nothing of their path. Tied to the man's back like...like an infant!
“Shardian, are you alright?” Nassir asked, ignoring Lurec completely. “We’ll pass through the void soon enough. The emptiness can be unsettling to some. The darkness.”
His tone left no doubt to whom he referred. Lurec pressed his lips tight, just barely holding his tongue. He had never met a more infuriating man.
“I'm fine. Peace, I can see the torrent ahead!” Dayn's voice crackled excitedly back through the speechcaster. “There’s so much color, more than I expected. I feel like a flea about to swim through the middle of an hourglass!”
The whites of Dayn's eyes were visible, although he trailed Nassir by nearly three spans of wingline, too distant in Lurec's opinion. His breath came jagged and anxious. Much like my own, Lurec thought. Sudden guilt assailed him as he watched Dayn clutch the wingline and his staff. He wouldn’t be in this predicament if not for my actions. I must do my part to keep him whole. He deserves no less for bringing the Seed so selflessly. I’m a Preceptor, I must exude confidence even when I feel none.
He spied some fragile boulders of the outermost layer of the torrent whisking by him now, what coursers called spinners, along with a few plodders covered in dead vines. These were smaller pieces, calved away from larger masses, or pulverized from impacts.