Thread Skein (Golden Threads Trilogy Book 3)

by Leeland Artra

  Then her survival training kicked in. She started to worry about whether or not she was drinking poisoned or dangerous water. She rechecked the pool with a critical eye for any signs of being tainted. She saw no signs of danger, and there was even a small bucket left in a niche for the camp. It was as clean as she could hope for. She knew it wasn’t safe to drink a lot, even if it was clean. After going for almost two days without any water at all, it was better to hydrate slowly and deal with any other issues later.

  She took the container back through the fissure to her waiting horse. He nuzzled her, licking the moisture from her hair as she emerged. She poured some water into her palm for him to first sniff and then drink. Just as it was all gone, Ditani came walking up the path, leading his horse. Of all of them, he was faring the best for the lack of hydration. She waved at him. He saw her excitement and rushed down the steep embankment to her.

  “Water. All we can use, through there,” she said, pointing.

  Ditani grabbed his own canteen and tried to find a way through. “It’s too narrow for me.”

  Ticca took some rope off her saddle. “Give it to me. We’ll have to relay all of them. Not sure what else we can do. But we first need to camp here long enough to get ourselves rested. We’re almost at the desert. From the looks of it, it’s only going to get worse.”

  Looking out into the desert, Ditani nodded. “Yes. Are you sure this is the path we should take?”

  The rolling sand was shaped into frozen waves by the wind. Heat rolled off, pushing them back towards the mountains, seeming as if it wished to be left alone. Deep inside, she could feel the pull of something out there that held a promise of being a key. The problem was that she wasn’t certain what that key was for.

  The pull and promise Ticca felt were even stronger than when she’d decided on that course, just after they’d pulled Lebuin out of the burnt crater. She’d said their destination was Imridu-Nam. And there she was, on the edge of the very place that would kill most people in less than a day, and still her instincts said it was right.

  “Yes, Ditani. The key we seek is there.”

  Her voice sounded distant and echoed back with a resonance that made her shiver at its power. Everything around her came into sharp focus. She stood on a wide balcony atop a palace made of blue marble, surrounded by a shimmering city with red-tiled roofs and granite-walled buildings. Her balcony overlooked the green valley which encompassed the city, with its deep blue lake. The wind caused the tall cattails to wave gently as flocks of birds flew around the tree line.

  She wore a crimson silk gown embroidered with silver. Its high standing collar bent back like a fountain for her hair, which cascaded down to her waist in a series of braids held with diamond bands. She lifted her hands to look at them and saw golden filigree bracelets on each arm. Her hands were soft, with only a hint of weapon calluses.

  “Ticca?”

  Ditani’s voice came from far off to the northeast, over the rolling hills, carried to her by the wind. It startled her, and she stared in the direction it came from, chills running down her spine. “Ditani, where am I?”

  She blinked and was back to reality, standing in the mountain’s shadow, looking out on the hot cream-colored sands. Her hands, held before her, were harder, with a few scars and calluses. The strong hands of a warrior.

  She looked at Ditani. He was stepping towards her with a look of concern in his eyes under his tightened brows.

  “Ditani, where am I?” came her scared voice, rolling in from the southwest. They both stopped and stared off into the desert.

  They waited for something more. When nothing came, she asked, “I was in a blue stone palace, and you called to me. What just happened?”

  “The Gods have forbidden people from coming here, because they say it’s unstable. Maybe Lebuin can answer your question.” Ditani’s eyes shifted from her, and he looked hard at the ground. “If he wakes.”

  Ticca pointed in the direction she was sure the palace was located. A small stone outcropping broke through the sands. “Mark that stone rise there. That’s the direction we need to go.”

  After another moment, she grunted, grabbed Ditani’s canteen and the end of the rope, and lay down to snake back in to the water.

  It took time, but the entire team, all that remained of it, arrived. Another campsite with a large open cave was found not far off, and they set up camp while Ticca and Persa, the only ones small enough to squeeze through, started water-fetching duties. Using ropes, they set up a way to drag canteens back and forth, letting them deliver enough water for the team and horses. Lebuin and Illa were laid out in the back of the cave by the time all the water bladders had been refilled.

  As she walked into the camp, she felt her heart tugging at her to go and check on Lebuin, but she forced the feeling down, barring it from overwhelming her. The last week had given her a lot of practice at controlling the emotions Lebuin evoked.

  Nigan stood and handed her a skewer with some roasted meat on it. She sniffed at it, and although she had to resist tearing into the meat, she scowled at Nigan. “Snake again?”

  “Snake is better than no meat. Eat.”

  Ticca was too hungry to argue about it. The only non-reptilian meat available was from the odd little native rodents, a type of mouse with skin flaps that allowed them to perform gliding jumps around the rocky terrain. Unfortunately, those animals had so little meat on them they weren’t worth the effort to catch them.

  Scratching his beard, Nigan looked around. “You know, this is a strange campsite.”

  Ticca followed his gaze. The cave was a nice hollow with a perfect entryway overhang that deflected the desert’s hot breezes. The fire was set into a small depression that had a rock formation, making a reasonable chimney to vent off the smoke.

  “It does look well used.”

  “That isn’t what I mean,” Nigan said, shaking his head. “This isn’t natural. The rock has been formed intentionally. The fire even has a raised ring for holding skewers. And there’s something you should see.” Grabbing a torch and lighting it in the fire, he motioned for her to follow and walked back into the cave.

  They passed through a couple of chambers, each wide and comfortable. The first was perfect as a sleeping area, and the second had vents and seemed to be laid out as a wide stable for several horses. Beyond that, there was only one passage, which went through a series of right-angle turns, with large chambers at each corner.

  She could feel the weight of the mountain overhead. Ticca tried to compute how far they’d gone, and she felt sure they were heading for the center of the mountain. The passage ended in a chamber, which Nigan stepped into. Moving around an outcropping, she watched Nigan lift the torch up and place it in a crack in the wall. It looked like it had always been that way, but with the torch in, it was clearly a sconce.

  Nigan pointed to the wall next to the sconce. There was an archway of natural stone large enough for a rider on a horse to move through, except that it was completely filled in with a darker stone, or glass. The smooth surface reflected the light, but there was a shimmering depth to it. The archway was carved with a series of strange patterns that reminded her of the mystical writing in Lebuin’s magic tomes, but the ones in the cave were more straight lines and sharp right angles.

  She stepped up and examined the material that sealed the archway. It was definitely some kind of glass, perfectly smooth, and it looked like it was bound seamlessly to the stone archway. There wasn’t even a crack between the stone and glass.

  Nigan stood back while she examined it. “Someone didn’t want anyone else going in here.”

  “I wish Lebuin was awake,” Ticca said as she rested her hand on the cool surface.

  Runa-Illa

  Runa-Illa was scared and yet bored. She was lost, and not sure if she was anywhere at all. She recal
led the attack that had killed her in great detail. She was certain that it happened.

  A Nhia-Samri leapt off the horse with both odassi aimed at me. Like a pair of lightning bolts, the blades came. I had time to think, but not act. I knew they were going to kill me. I didn’t have time to dodge or parry.

  The pain was worse than anything I could imagine. Those blades went right through me. One in my kidney and the other, my heart. I could feel the blades sliding into me. I screamed...except...that scream carried on longer than it should have. And it reverberated.... I felt warmth spreading through me, and now, I’m dead...or maybe I’m just trapped in my mind. Maybe I’m still dying. This isn’t what I expected. I thought there would be something. But I’m totally alone here.

  Illa had managed to calm herself. That took a long time.

  Why am I alone?

  She started worrying that maybe she was alive and insane. Weeks or cycles had passed, yet nothing happened. Around her were a myriad of colors, but nothing particularly defined. There was no pain. In fact, she felt relaxed and comfortable.

  Her mood was shifting, fast or slow, she couldn’t tell. Her internal clock told her she’d been there for more than a cycle. From panic, she’d moved on to curiosity, then to anticipation, then concern she wasn’t doing something right, then panic again, then anger, which manifested in screaming at the colors, a lot. However, she wasn’t sure if that did any good. She had to admit she’d gotten a lot of rest, but there was only so much looking at swirling hues one could do. She was well and truly bored.

  Should I be bored? I mean, I’m dead. Yet I still feel like me. Or at least, I think I feel like me.

  For the hundred thousandth time, she tried to feel her body. Nothing happened. It was as if she didn’t have hands or arms. She tried to kick out. Still, no sensations at all.

  Staring intently at the colors never yielded anything. Although, there were some she was sure could not exist going by at times. No matter what she did, they flowed and changed at their own will. There were more than she remembered from life.

  Time passed, or maybe it didn’t. Illa couldn’t find anything else to do.

  I expected a little more. I’ve heard lots of ideas about death. They usually involve going someplace interesting, at least. Or nothing at all. But this isn’t nothing. This is something. There are things happening. I must be able to do something here.

  Once again, she concentrated hard, putting all her will behind pushing, pulling, running, swimming, and many other techniques to move herself. Nothing seemed to change the flow of the colors or anything else.

  I’m not dead. This is too annoying to be death! Illa tried to spin and scream into the hues.

  She was muttering to herself about the unfairness of the universe when she felt a presence approach her. The colors had shifted and flowed around a floating object with no distinct shape. Illa marveled that she could see all sides and the ghostly center of the thing that had come close.

  Not dead. That’s something.

  She thought she heard someone. She concentrated on the blob.

  ‘Did you say something?’

  ‘Yes. Focus on....’

  Illa couldn’t make out the rest. But encouraged by communications, she reached out for the object, and it moved closer!

  She panicked and started to flee. It sped away, seemingly decreasing in size. Realizing she would be alone, her feelings flipped, and a desire to be with the object or creature flooded her being. In the blink of an eye, it became so large that it filled her field of vision, as if she was directly on it.

  ‘Control your emotions. This is difficult. Do you desire help?’

  Elation sprang through Illa. The voice she heard was clear, steady, and female.

  ‘Oh, yes, please! Where am I? Am I dead?’

  She could feel mirth from the presence. ‘No, child. You are not dead. You are between.’

  That registered. Lebuin had taken her between before, but that was the place between life and some other place souls went after death. When she’d been there before, it looked like a library. In fact, it was the Mage’s Guild library in Llino, where Lebuin felt the safest.

  ‘I’m between on my own? Can I do anything about this?’

  ‘With concentration, you may form your experience however you choose. If you allow it, you can share your reality with others that are close to your essence here. When you do this, they will appear within your world, but their appearance is theirs to control.’

  With the words came knowledge that merged into her being, giving her understanding of what needed to be done.

  I’m not dead. I’m between! Okay, like a mage, I can form my own existence.

  Unable to think of anything appropriate, she imagined the grass plains where she grew up. Holding the image, like she’d been taught the mages did, and as the shared knowledge indicated, she tried to create her own reality.

  Illa stood on the top of a knoll. Before her were rolling hills of grass, dotted with trees, and some mountains off in the distance. She saw a tall black woman with bright white eyes, who was dressed in a northern, flowing fur dress with a red shawl that glistened in the sunlight.

  The sun was warm on Illa’s skin. Looking down, she blushed as she realized she was completely naked.

  Why didn’t I imagine clothes for me?

  The woman smiled and said, “Good. These are the plains of southern Laeusia. I recognize them.”

  Trying to cover herself up, she realized it was her own thoughts that controlled the image, so she added her favorite hunting outfit to the pictures she held in her head.

  Illa was dressed in hunting leathers with her knives on her belt. However, a golden thread connected to her torso floated in the air before her. She tried to grab it, but her hands passed through it.

  “What is this?” She pointed to the thread.

  “That is the way to your God.”

  “To Lebuin?”

  The lady nodded.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am not known to you. My name is Lolenda. I am the Goddess of the Rhonian Empire.”

  “Why are you helping me?”

  “We’re all watching. I happened on your presence first.”

  The ambiguity of the answer irked Illa. She snapped, without thinking that she was talking to a God. “Why not help directly?”

  “In time. Failing is not an end, unless you let it consume you. You are centered. Return to your realm by the silver thread, or find your God by the golden thread. It’s your choice.”

  “Wait! I didn’t mean to snap.” But the Goddess had faded.

  Illa stamped her foot, enjoying the feeling of having a foot to stamp again.

  These Gods could help more if they wanted to.

  She turned around and saw the silver thread Lolenda spoke of. It stretched out into a small grove of trees. She was surprised she could see where each thread went, no matter how far it had to travel. The golden thread was connected to a small building with a single door.

  I need to help Lebuin. I suppose I should take advantage of this and see if he has any instructions.

  It took some time, or perhaps little time, to trek to where the gold thread led her. It was a humble shack, with a thatched roof and rough wood door. There was no lock, just the latch. She lifted her hand to knock, but instead, she lifted the latch and entered.

  Inside, it was a completely different building. She was awestruck by the palatial library, with marble floors and many soft, comfortable chairs. Three levels were interconnected by spiraling, filigreed wrought iron staircases with gold rails. From the entry, she could see more than one cavernous room of bookshelves. There were three wide halls with actual suits of armor, enormous tapestries, and gold-framed paintings covering the walls.

  Shaking h
er head at the size of the place, Illa wondered if that was Lebuin’s brain, or his version of it. The golden thread led into the depths of the library. She roamed the halls, following the thread from one room to another. In each area, books were stacked up on the tables, as if someone had been reading them, but not putting them back.

  She stopped to examine a few. The first were history books and almanacs from places she’d never heard of. But in the second room, they were what she assumed to be fictional works. They were stacked high, with publications marked as different kinds of novels. She paused to read the first few pages, and found that they were almost all adventure books.

  A frown began to appear, and it got deeper as she followed the golden thread into the library, past multiple heaps of adventure novels.

  Has he been here this whole time, reading useless stories from other nations? We have been fighting our way to Elraci to stop the coming catastrophe, and he’s sitting in here with his nose in this junk?

  She started picking books off the pile, reading the titles aloud. With each one, she got louder.

  “In Honor’s Name! The Wizard of Rhine! The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn! UNDER THE VOLCANO! THE ILIAD!”

  Her heart was pounding so hard, she could feel little else. Her vision sharpened, and as she looked around at the vast room filled with books, she couldn’t believe they were all fiction. Moving over to the nearest shelf, she scanned the titles. The throbbing in her head continued to get stronger, as she saw they were all on some kind of energy engineering.

  Her blood started to boil as she remembered the days of riding, watching over Lebuin’s body, worried about why he hadn’t awoken or even moved. She stomped so loudly that her footfalls reverberated around the chamber. Looking at them again, she hoped at least one would not be a fantasy.

  By the time she got to the end of the stacks, her hands were clenched so tightly, she could feel her nails digging into her skin. She stomped her foot one last time and swung her arm at the offensive heaps of wasted time. Instead of landing in a satisfying mess on the floor, the books all flew off to the shelves, putting themselves away.