The guard led them to a single door at least a sal from the elevator bank. Silent as the smart cars were, they were not permitted on this level. Jimini’s feet ached by the time the guard halted to knock on the door and she wondered how poor Chaim felt.
“Enter.”
The young man opened the door, stood aside gesturing significantly, and closed the door the instant they had entered, leaving them with their mystery man.
He smiled as he rose from behind a dark-wood desk. Tall, with long dark hair, cold blue eyes, and a strangely moth-bitten frock.
“It’s him,” Jimini whispered.
“Who?” Chaim said out of the side of his mouth.
“Gabryl.”
“We don’t know that.”
“It is him,” she insisted, and then they were in front of the desk.
“Please sit.” He waved them to the seats there.
Chaim perched cautiously, but Jimini regarded the man in his old-fashioned clothes without moving. “I can smell other shapeshifters,” she spat. “Who are you?”
He bowed over his hands. “As you suspect, I am Gabryl.”
“Shapeshifter.”
“As you are? I shift, but not into shapes. Sit, Kaval bitch, or I kill the old man right now.”
She sat.
Chaim, meanwhile, studied the man with absolute serenity. How did he do that? Despite all her time, she had not yet mastered the art.
“You have no soul,” he murmured, cocking his head thoughtfully. “You shift between a body long buried and a replica resurrected form, but not as soul, as something akin to soul. You are thus both dead and alive. How fascinating.”
Gabryl stared at the old man and then laughed. Sitting, he leaned back to rake Chaim with a speculative look. “Impressive. Thus far the Kaval have surprised me. I am now beyond thankful that I prepared the battlefield before beginning this, for you have seen through me more swiftly than I had envisioned. I do, however, have a soul; it simply isn’t with me in this form.”
“You have Tristan and Alusin.” Jimini offered it as a statement.
“I do, along with other hostages.”
“Why are we here?”
“You are unimportant. Chaim is the one I seek to converse with.” He ignored Jimini. “The Kaval, having realised two of their own are missing, will have set certain factors into motion. I may not foresee all of those, but I did suspect you or the young genius, what’s his name? Ah, Galarth. One of you would pay a visit to Titania, no doubt tasked with the duty to discover more about this Gabryl.” He gave a laconic smile.
“Here I am,” Chaim said equably.
“Alusin proved sneakier than I thought,” Gabryl mused. “I had a suspicion he sidestepped to the Dome, which you have now proven in knowing my name. How insightful of me to prepare this particular battlefield as well, in the event.”
“Is there a point you are attempting to reach?”
Jimini could have kissed the old man. He appeared frail, but he was stubborn and tough.
“This; if you bring the Dome into Petunya airspace, the daetal will attach to its carapace and eat their way through. They are, after all, immune to magic. They are also immune to the effects of vacuum.” Gabryl leaned in menacingly. “Stay away.”
“Anything else?” Chaim asked. Not a muscle had ticked on his face to betray his feelings.
Those cold eyes became as ice. “Search the accounts of my life stored here all you desire. All of it is true, but none of it will tell you the real story. Feel free to waste your time; it will keep you busy. While you search, look up the Kemir, and then tell me who the real enemy is.” He stood. “Please avail yourselves to this space for your research. You may access the database from here. I have paid well for this service.”
“Thank you,” Chaim said.
Blinking, Gabryl stared at him.
“Are you leaving?” Jimini taunted. “You’ve said your piece, right?”
“The Kaval is not all-powerful,” he snapped. “Beware your arrogance.”
“Take your own advice,” Jimini laughed.
After raking her with his icy gaze, he vanished, leaving a puff of rotten smelling vapour in his wake.
Chaim sniffed. “At this very moment he is in fact dead. He has confirmed the daetal for us, how kind of him. Jimini, go to the Dome and tell Belun, then come back. Bring Jonas, if Belun can spare him. We will be looking at every minute detail of this creature’s life.”
“What about the Kemir thing?”
Sighing, Chaim stood and moved to the monitor against the far wall. “We will do that also. Go.”
She transported out, refusing to walk the long walk again. It was against Titania’s rules, but she did not care.
Elsewhere
IT WAS NOT the state of matter that determined result. Gabryl’s life or death was not the issue, although they believed such. His energy mattered.
She grinned sourly. Energy mattered; what a contradiction.
Her energy was more important than the state of her body as well, and yet she wished for physical strength also. To escape this prison, she needed everything she was in place.
Xen III
THE LIBRARY ON Titania might have copies of everything, but for weapons and their parts, the chemicals and consequences, Xen III’s military archives were where to find what one was looking for. Mercury, its uses old and current, and its availability, would be on file.
As the Kaval and Xen’s Peacekeepers had an understanding, Fuma and Amunti swiftly gained entrance to an underground bunker system.
In the present era, Xen III had no standing army, but all Xenians trained for a period of five years, between the ages of twenty years old and thirty, men and women alike. This meant that Xen had access to a trained population in the event of emergency. The archives were thus up to date.
Fuma, as ever clad in very little, led the way. Amunti eyed him from behind, swathed in layers. “After all this time, I still don’t get how you don’t bloody freeze.”
This was on an on-going gripe, and Fuma merely grinned.
Two soldiers currently serving their time waited for them up ahead, and greeted the Kaval men with curiosity evident in both pairs of eyes. Soldiers did not ask questions, though, and they therefore presented themselves as aides. Both were young men nearing the end of their tours and were now on easier duty.
Fuma gave the reason for their visit, and the four got to work, taking up residence in a warm office where a bank of computers waited.
HOURS LATER, all understood it had been a waste of time. Few weapons used mercury, although a few older devices required tiny amounts for circuitry. None of the latter was anything close to what the Kaval sought.
As to availability, many worlds had a small amount, largely as part of their scientific endeavours, but, even collecting all of it from worlds near and far-flung, would result in less than a filled wine carafe.
“Alusin’s capture does not now make sense,” Amunti muttered.
Fuma tapped at the table. They were alone; the young men had left to fetch refreshments. “Then Alusin is there for another reason, while we waste our …” The Deorc straightened. “We are being kept busy. All this is a smokescreen.”
Frowning, Amunti stared at the heap of printouts in front of him. “This Gabryl suspects we are about to get involved and lays a false trail.”
“Hmm, not false exactly. I think we’re simply being too logical about it. We overlook something and he keeps us busy in order to mask what it is he cannot afford for us to find.”
Amunti sucked at his teeth. “Dome?”
“Yes. We need to unravel this more.” Fuma smiled. “But we eat first, what say you?”
Rubbing his palms, Amunti agreed.
Higunalsier
AS AKHAVAR AND Danaan twirled in isolated space, the one inhabited, the other abandoned, and as Avaelyn had orbited in far-flung ether before its vanishing act, thus was the case with Higunalsier.
If one mapped direction from
Beacon, the populated human world roughly in the centre of the well-travelled routes and occupied territories, Akhavar lay a distant west, Avaelyn further away to the south, Valaris east, and then, far beyond isolated Pilan, world of rainbows, there was Higunalsier, a northern destination.
The Forbidden Zone with its collection of galaxies, among which mighty Luvanor, the Valleur world, orbited, was closer, and one needed to find direction to it from the outer worlds.
Higunalsier was one of a handful of truly distant worlds.
Fortunately for Shenendo and Galarth, it was marked on the universe chart, and they thus had no trouble in finding it.
The instant they put feet to earth there, both men knew that history had lied.
Possibly even Alusin had lied.
With ancient paving under their booted feet, wet from spray, they looked out over a sea undulating as gentle waves lapped upon a pristine beach to the right of them. The jetty they had landed on jutted into the ocean, surrounded by rhythmic splashes. On the horizon the sun was just rising, sending warm amber tendrils of light to skitter upon the water’s unceasing motion. Across from them was a small inlet, sparsely populated with smooth rocks as sentinels of the sea, and, beyond, mountains verdant ascended gradually into the clouds.
It was a magnificent morning on Higunalsier.
Before them, at the very edge of the jetty, there stood a man in homespun robes clutching a staff. Long white hair shifted in the slight breeze. He was otherwise unmoving as he watched the sun rise.
Neither man desired to interfere with his solemn introspection, although they glanced at each other in utter astonishment. Not only was this world wholesome and beautiful, but clearly it was not as abandoned as the records revealed.
As the orb of life and light lifted away from the horizon, the man bowed, and then swiftly swung about. His astonishment was as marked. He halted immediately, facing them, his eyes shifting from one man to the other. With the sun behind him, it was difficult to determine eye colour.
Shenendo stepped forward. “Well met. I am …” He stopped there, for the man frowned his confusion.
“Not common tongue,” Galarth murmured, and spoke the same greeting in Valleur.
That too elicited only mystification.
“Crap, I wish Alusin was …”
“Alusin?” the man repeated. His was a tenor, the kind of voice people listened to.
“Do you know any Kemir?” Galarth hissed.
Shenendo snorted. “Of course bloody not. Alusin strikes a chord, though.”
“Kemir,” the man repeated, and then waved his arm in a gesture to encompass sea and land. “Eurue.”
“Oh, fuck, Gal, this isn’t good.”
“Tell me about it,” Galarth muttered.
Holding his hands aloft, the staff clutched in his left, the man approached. He halted before them, and indicated to Shenendo, a motion that spoke of … touch?
“I think he’s asking if he can touch you,” Galarth said.
Feeling spectacularly uneasy, Shenendo nodded and held his hand out, palm up.
Amusement climbed into the man’s eyes - dark blue, exactly Alusin’s shade - and carefully placed his fingertips on Shenendo’s wrist, over his pulse. He lifted his hand a moment later, and gestured to Galarth. After touching Galarth’s wrist as well, he stepped back.
“I am Savier, and you understand me now because I have made a connection with your language centres.” He inclined his head, studying them.
Inhaling, Shenendo said, “I am Shenendo and this is Galarth. We are Kaval.”
“Why are you here? Few visit our world. It is a truth that we are far removed from both thought and proximity to others.”
“We were told this world is deserted, possibly even uninhabitable,” Galarth said. “We did not expect to find anyone here, never mind this …” He lifted his gaze to the wondrous ocean. “… beauty.”
Savier smiled. “You appreciate beauty. Such a man is a good man, but why come to a world deserted?”
Galarth swiped a hand over his face, glancing at Shenendo.
“It is about Alusin, isn’t it?” Those intense eyes studied each in turn. “What has my brother done now?”
Nowhere
FINALLY!
She smiled and murmured something inconsequential to her gaoler. Flicking her a glance, he moved a pawn on the chessboard. He did not trust her apparent civility, but then she did not trust his ostensibly good graces.
His reasons for trapping her here were pure fabrications. He was the darak force, not her.
Chapter 11
A boar is particularly loud in the mist
~ Petunya Saying ~
Petunya
Frond
Northern Coast
THE TWO CENTUAR maintained their humanoid guise for reconnaissance on Petunya’s southern continent. While their usual forms would eat up distance, it didn’t allow for proper scrutiny of the situation.
Assint and Mahler arrived where birdsong had the upper hand. Despite the harmonies, never had a place felt so empty. Everywhere there was sign of habitation, but no people. In this type of cold one expected to see smoke rising from chimneys, but the air was dead and still.
“One plus about these daetal is that they don’t leave bodies behind,” Assint grimaced. “This would be worse if we had to stumble over the dead.”
Mahler nodded.
They walked inland.
Most fields were fallow for winter, ploughed, and sporting a thin layer of green, the winter wildflower seeds that had sprouted before proper cold set in. Orchards awaited pruning time, their branches leafless.
The farms were large, with only the occasional house and barn dotting the landscape. It was agricultural territory, fortunately. No animals were in sight. If it had been about husbandry, animals would now be penned for winter, and that was a terrible state to contemplate. Those animals would now be starving without their minders to feed them while indoors.
“Maybe the daetal ate the animals too,” Mahler muttered after a few hours.
“Maybe,” Assint whispered.
There was no sign of even a dog, never mind a fox or boar or something.
“Horrific,” Mahler said.
“Shut up.”
Eventually they came to a cluster of buildings. It had to be what passed for a town or gathering centre, because saddles were on display in one window, preserves in another. A small outdoor area contained multiple tables and chairs, under a pergola. A vine clambered the structure, as leafless as the trees surrounding the village.
The two Centuar investigated every building, but found no signs of life.
They moved on.
“We’re wasting our time,” Assint eventually said.
“We need to sniff out the presence of life,” Mahler agreed.
Glancing at each other, they shifted into their Centuar forms.
And galloped through the landscape, swift as the wind.
Southern Frond
KILA, A FARMER’S daughter in another life, paled markedly. She and Prima had arrived in a stable to find a skeletal horse barely clinging to life, and the affront of that nearly undid her.
Prima was as horrified, but he clamped it down, and moved to the poor animal, and swiftly put it out of its misery.
She sobbed, once, and then squared her shoulders to exit the stable. Outside, nothing moved. When Prima joined her, she said, “I aim to kill them … slowly.”
Prima was grim. “And I aim to help you do so.”
Together, of like mind, they set out.
IT WAS A FERTILE land and it was also a goddamned wasteland. Nothing warm-blooded lived, anywhere. Trees were mute accusers.
As midday approached, having been through two villages, they rested alongside a fast-flowing river.
“I need to do something,” Kila muttered.
Looking around, Prima agreed. “I am of the opinion that these daetal keep Tristan and Alusin hostage somewhere. They no longer roam the countr
yside, because, well …”
“… there is nothing left.”
“Precisely. I am also of the opinion that we will find nothing to shed light on the conundrum we face in this aimless wander.”
Kila’s red tresses swung his way. “What are you saying?”
“We meet up with Assint and Mahler and together bloody find Tristan and Alusin.” Prima never swore; he had clearly reached a point where action, whatever the cost, was better than simply walking.
“While I agree with you, shouldn’t we inform Belun first?”
Prima was silent a time, thinking about that. “I am of the opinion Belun is too protective of his brothers.”
Kila licked her lips. “He can, um, neigh pretty loudly if crossed.”
Prima snorted. “You should have heard Torrullin in the old days. Now that scared me.”
Laughing, Kila stood. “Let’s do this.”
Central Frond
WITH THE LIGHTEST of mind touches, they agreed upon co-ordinates for a meeting. Assint and Mahler in Centuar form communicated via mindspeak, and were able to keep channels private; if anyone was listening, chances were they were not heard. It was a risk all were willing to take.
The coordinates led to a disused chapel on the edge of a lake. The two Centuar, in humanoid guise, were waiting when Prima preceded Kila in. The quietness was oppressive. Even the birds had ceased singing.
Prima had earlier marked that they had fallen silent, but there was no tell-tale of intruders natural or supernatural. He concluded that the feathered beings had simply surrendered the day to its unnatural state.
Eurue- The Forgotten World Page 9