Abruptly, the Awakener lifted his scepter and discharged the weapon in fury into the air above him. The gathered Imbirri drew back in awe from the Awakener’s fearsome presence.
The blazing discharge of the scepter ceased and the Awakener’s voice boomed out, filling the vacuum left by the extinguished power. “We go forth as a people to seek out the aliens and destroy them. Only then will the sacred spirit of Cru be healed.”
The Imbirri sighed in unison, like the restless groan of a vengeful sea. A tide that would rise to engulf the aliens and their devices.
The Awakener signaled, and the First divided the massed ranks of the Imbirri into smaller groups for the trek through the forest.
“We must be silent and cautious as we move through the forest. It is only by surprise that we overcome and destroy the aliens,” he said.
At length, the Awakener’s army was arrayed. His urge to protect the Imbirri burned in his chest like a flaming sun. Surely nothing could stand between him and his goal.
As the ragged army was preparing to move into the jungle, two of his scouts — a pair of reds known for their swift feet — ran from the forest to stand before him. He signaled impatiently for them to speak.
“We have found the aliens.”
The Awakener trembled with excitement. It was as I thought. All his plans now fell into place.
“They were in the darkened valley, as you said, surrounded by magical devices that glow with blue and green lights.”
“Are all of the aliens there, including the winged one?”
“Yes. Yet also within the valley are three of the Imbirri, far gone into the Changes, one of the shells raised high on a platform of wooden stalks.”
“Utar!” The Awakener’s urge to discharge his duty of destruction could no longer be contained. “Take us to the darkened valley,” commanded the Awakener.
The scouts ran ahead, and he signaled his First to lead the other groups from the village.
The destruction of Utar’s remains would mean the end of a long chapter in his life. Yet he knew that until the remains of Utar were dealt with, a new future for him and the Imbirri would always be elusive.
The army of the Awakener melted silently into the tangled green, leaving only a single leaf swaying within the cathedral of its brethren, as though stirred on a gentle breeze.
CHAPTER 18
The Awakener walked alone through the silent ranks of his army. He was constantly in motion, spurring each of the smaller groups onward with the power of his presence. Around them, the deep greens of the jungle gave way to the duller pigments and broad leaves of the shadowed lands.
The force comprised the whole of the Imbirri people, welded together and driven headlong solely by his will. Most were simple beings, accustomed to roaming the verdant hills in endless, carefree repast. They feared the shadow-lands, those areas where the life-giving light of the towers did not reach. Now, as the ragged army moved further into the darkened zone, the more innocent of the Imbirri began to experience a numbing fear. Some turned to run, only to be caught and spurred onward by the more determined followers of the Awakener. Others slipped away …
The Awakener himself was growing more restless as his goal neared, time running faster as the crisis neared. Holding the scepter visible as a clear threat, he watched the marchers carefully for the slightest sign of the Changes. So far the effects of the recent Elixir and the unifying flame of their purpose had kept even a single Imbirri from succumbing.
The crystal ranges were soon lost from sight. The light in the sparse jungle fell rapidly until they were in deep twilight. They stumbled on through the rough terrain, the silent Imbirri drawing closer together for support.
Then the small army drew to a sudden halt.
Angry at the delay, the Awakener made his way to the front of the column, where the scouts were leading the advance parties. They had stopped on the crest of the hidden valley itself. When the Awakener reached them, the scouts sang in recognition, then pointed into the darkness below, explaining how the location of the bier could be reached. The Awakener could just make out the dim blue glow of the humans’ protective screen. That distant point of light became the focus for his dark, boiling hate.
The Awakener was galvanized by the sight of the enemy. He climbed onto a high knoll in full view of his people. Here he spoke of revenge, of the future, of the need to surprise and destroy the aliens and all their craft. His speech was short and impassioned. As he made his way from the hillock toward the darkened valley, he had no doubt that the Imbirri — his people — would follow him. Yet as the Awakener marched into the pitch black, only his scouts, their rambunctious red caste-mates, and the braver of the First, remained at his side. When he turned to check on the forces arrayed at his back, he was bereft of melody. The rest of the Imbirri stood at the rim of the valley, fearing to cross from twilight to dark.
The Awakener was seized by an irrational fury. To be thwarted within sight of his enemies was unbearable. The passions that drove him captured him like a whirlwind.
So they feared the darkness?
They will fear me more!
His thoughts were lost within his howling mind, and in moments, he had done the unthinkable. He raised his staff, depressed the activating stud, and brought the weapon down on the heads of his people. The Imbirri screamed and fell down onto the earth of Cru, fully expecting to die.
Nothing happened.
The scepter was heavy in his hands. Cool, inert metal, empty of power.
Darkness surrounded the Awakener, pressing in like a stifling blanket. His emotions drained away, leaving him defeated.
He realized that within the darkness the scepter was useless as a weapon. At last he understood. Utar had commanded his acolytes to move his body here for just this reason. The Deepwatch had always been more gifted than him in the ways of magic. It was Utar who had divined the uses of the scepter, many ages gone by. Now the Awakener realized Utar had discovered many things, not all of which he had shared.
Slowly, the Awakener emerged from the valley into the twilight. Testing the weapon once more, he felt the comforting warmth of the energy within, reduced in potency, yet enough to achieve the destruction he desired. He sat on the knoll from which he had given his speech and laid the scepter across his knees. After a while, he signaled the Imbirri to attend him and sat in silence, staring into the eyes of these simple beings. All had been raised to sentience, yet not all were equal. Most had limited intellect, limited powers of the mind, content merely to eat, sleep and join in games and song. His eyes flickered with sadness and he wondered what he had become. Love had deserted his life. How much more pain would come to fill him before his task was done?
Utar had planned well, yet even so, the final confrontation would come. Turning toward the feeble glow of the humans’ defensive shield, the Awakener schooled himself to patience.
The threat to the Imbirri would end. He swore it.
***
The Fountain roamed the darkness of the valley, deep in thought. There was much to do. Much to prepare. His metabolism, adapted for the extreme heat of the bright side, ran fast here on the dark side, compensating for the relative coolness. It put a strain on his ancient body, and forced him to consume increasing amounts of food. The mundane physical demand — that would have been so easily dealt with in the sophisticated Fintil city of Zenith — was an unwelcome interruption to his work here. He had to use raw materials and devices hidden below the valley to synthesize the right dietary factors …
Suddenly, he stopped.
Just for a moment, he thought he felt another alien mind. Brooding, waiting, watching … The dark, once so comforting with its elegant stillness, now seemed hostile. He raised his angular head and probed with his keen vision. The night side held no fear for the Fintil, whose bodies were capable of dealing with vast environmental extremes. Nothing. He opened his mind and swept the valley with his enhanced senses. Apart from the humans, the valley was devoid of sentient
life. He clicked his mandibles with irritation and pushed the matter from his mind. There were much more important matters to be considered.
He checked the chronometer at his belt. The fusion reactors beneath the floor of the valley would be stirring in earnest now. In scarcely two hours’ time, light would begin to fill the valley. Once the radiant energy emitted from the transmission node reached its peak intensity, he would shield the entire valley, protecting it from any rudimentary weapons the Imbirri might possess.
The Fountain turned his thoughts to the Pact, the ancient agreement among the advanced sentient races of Har Confederation, which he had unwittingly broken by communicating with Karic. What havoc would ensue from his careless actions? The humans were pre-transformation people, their society fractured and without of the unifying power of the mental bond. Now he had tainted them with the mind-touch of an Elder race, the Fintil. Worse still — the Fintil were not even one of the humans’ benefactors! Never in his long life, or within the chronicles of the Har Confederation, of which the Fintil were a member, had the Fountain ever known such a serious error to have occurred. His mandibles ground against one another.
The Pact demanded that the Elder races have no contact with any pre-transformation species, and that under no circumstances should the young races of any single Confederation transgress into the space of another.
No matter how promising a new race seemed, they were kept in total isolation to develop their own path.
In the distant past the Elders were open in their contacts, helping each new race reach beyond the bounds of both their newly found sentience and their restrictive Timespace. That distant epoch was now called the Death of Hope by the Har historians. At the outset it seemed the brotherhood of races would extend and swell with seamless goodwill, yet within the period of mere centuries, the new races had thrown themselves into conflict. System against system, league against league. It may have been fear, perhaps pride, or dreams of holy conquest spurred by ideals of racial superiority; the records of that bloody time were too scattered and fragmented to know. Billions died and worlds with them, ripped apart by weapons so powerful they rivaled the very forces of creation. After several millennia, the Elder races, at first too stunned to act, stemmed the tide of chaos. None of the transgressors were spared — and with their obliteration, their genetic potential was lost to the Universe for all time.
From that time came the Pact.
The memories were still vivid within the minds of the Elders, and in recent millennia even contact between the Confederations had dwindled, caution and reserve replacing the erstwhile joys of union.
What astounded the Fountain was the tenacity of these humans. Transgressing from their system across space as though it were a simple three-dimensional grid, traveling in straight lines! Despite himself, the Fountain laughed at the concept. It was perfectly logical from a simplistic point of view. And absurd beyond belief. The human race had more ingenuity and courage than common sense.
The Fountain growled. They were a pre-transformation species. If they should encounter another like them in their careless explorations … The ensuing strife could be both bloody and tragic. If the Elders were forced to intervene in such a conflict, they would destroy both races without compunction. Harsh justice, born out of a time of abominations.
The Fountain grew tired of his wanderings. He turned and made his way back toward the human’s encampment. As he walked, he noted a soft light was beginning to fill the valley. He smiled as he saw the jagged shape of the transmission node glowing softly in the darkness.
Alarmed, the small, mindless creatures of the valley were fleeing. The Fountain watched them as he strolled through the soft light. Adapted to the vanishing darkness, for the most part they would flee to their deaths, yet this seemed always to be the way. There must always be death for new life to emerge. He considered his plans for the humans. Must they be dealt with so ruthlessly? Perhaps it would be better to destroy them now and plead his case to the Council of Elders.
He chittered in irritation. Enough of these dark thoughts. He must focus on nurturing the new generation of Fintil.
His mind was fixed firmly on the birth of the three new Fintil as he strode through the fading darkness. He paused at Utar’s chrysalis. This one is the key to the Imbirri. He will lead them into the Change. The Fountain focused his power and reached within the chrysalis to the sleeping mind within as he had many times since he had reached the valley. Utar was surrounded by confusion, but the Fountain gently eased his mind. The Fountain showed Utar how to focus his powers and grow accustomed to his new body, hastening the transformation.
Light filled the valley, and with it came power.
***
A single tone sounded inside the lander’s cabin. Then a small screen flared to life on Janzen’s suspension set.
CRITERIA MET. PREPARING FOR SUSPENSION INTERRUPT.
Slowly, the fields sweeping around Janzen grew more insubstantial, until they were gone completely.
Janzen groaned, then reached into his pocket for his odin.
He stood.
“Activation command — Janzen TYXJ 4327 JJXC VVFP.”
One of the struts inside the lander started to quiver, then a long split appeared in the formerly seamless metal. A door slid open, revealing a hidden niche. A small, spindly robot stepped out, slowly raising itself to full height. Its wedge-shaped head swiveled toward Janzen.
“Report,” commanded Janzen.
“All three targets are alive,” said the small robot in a hollow, metallic monotone. “The lander has been moved to a new location. There has been the involvement of a new sentient factor called “Fountain”. Probability confirms factor is likely an alien, co-operating with the three targets. Species: new.”
Janzen grimaced. “Attack mode.”
“Confirmed.”
***
Karic was growing more anxious as the hours fled. The activation of the transmission node, despite the forewarning of the Fintil, had left him more unnerved than ever. At his side, he wore an XR32 recovered from the lander’s core section. Around him, the sparse stands of fungi looked shrunken and ghastly in the light, their pale trunks like dead things. The ground, with its scant cover of grass-like fungi and thick, ancient humus, steamed as the rising heat drove off its moisture. Their hidden haven had transformed to an exposed wasteland.
Restless, the engineer walked to the bier and studied the black casing that enclosed the remains of Utar, now in the final stages of his transformation from Imbirri to adult Fintil. Utar had known that the darkness would protect them from the Awakener’s staff. That protection was vanishing fast. The Fountain had powerful devices at his disposal, yet Karic suspected he was underestimating the Imbirri, still thinking of them as his simplistic children.
Experimentally, Karic reached out toward the Utar’s chrysalis with his mind. He was soon lost within a dreaming sentience, infused with the potent energy of new life. The images he received were in disarray and yet there was no doubting the imperative running through all of them. Hurry! Utar was devoting all his power to emerging from his transformation as quickly as possible. Through the mind-bond, Karic was filled with the same urgency.
It was ironic. Utar had tried to destroy them all, and his attack on the Starburst led to the death of Evelle and thirty-two other crew. Karic had no idea how Utar had sent that deadly burst of radiation through space, yet he had. Then later, from the moment they had touched the soil of Cru, Utar had been their enemy. Janzen, in his attempts to rescue them, had given Utar and the Awakener every cause to despise the humans. Yet inexplicably the tables had turned. Utar had helped them escape, leading them to the sanctuary of the darkened valley. Utar had nothing to gain by leading them to safety — in fact he had much to lose. The humans’ presence could only endanger his chances of transforming into a Fintil before destruction. So why had Utar helped them?
In the dreams and fugue-visions where Utar had first appeared to Karic, back on b
oard the crippled Starburst, the Deepwatch had seemed a demon. On Cru he had been their tormentor. Yet now Utar seemed like the closest friend the humans had on this planet. The Fountain had pledged to help them and had already saved them from death, and worked miracles in their favor; yet even so, Karic did not trust him.
Karic turned from the bier and inspected the perimeter of the defensive shield carefully in the rising light. With the Awakener still at large, Karic would not relax until the Starburst was heading back to Earth. With the Fountain on their side, they had a chance; yet, both they and their Fintil guardian were still vulnerable.
Karic scanned the ridges above the valley. His eyes struggled to adjust to the half-light. The Imbirri people had long since ceased to be primitive in Karic’s estimation and he was alert to the slightest hint of danger. The Awakener had ambushed them both times they tried to return to the lander, he had intercepted the pod as it first travelled to the darkened valley, and found their hiding place on the peak. The Awakener would be carefully planning his next move against them, and he would have no hesitation in destroying them if he could.
Karic walked back to the campfire they had lit outside the barrier shield and rejoined Andrai and Mara. They had discovered that fallen stands of the giant fungi dried up on the ground over time and could be gathered to make a good fuel. If anything, it burned a little too fast in the enriched atmosphere.
“No change yet?” asked Mara.
Andrai looked up from the fire where he was stirring a basic stew with a tiny spoon from one of the ration kits.
Karic shook his head, sitting by the fire.
The valley was quiet. The shriveled growths of fungi were deathly still, as though poised. Waiting. Karic shivered.
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