He bowed as an equal to an equal. “Lady Lothia. I apologize. I have been consumed with my duties.”
“I’m sure the administration of your new province and the casualty losses in the north are keeping you very busy.”
He stopped the adrenaline surge and forced his heart rate to remain steady.
How can she know of these things? His thoughts spun rapidly as he tried to figure out how, in this total isolation, she could know what was going on. Then he realized the door had a slot for letting food and drink in, as well as to remove waste. The guards must be talking. I need to order this to be a silent guard station.
“Yes, the Alliance believes it’s winning.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And Duke, has he recovered yet?”
“Your pet is eating far more bacon than the locals can provide. I’m afraid it’s having a detrimental effect on morale. You should teach him to share.”
Lothia laughed. “He was never my pet or anyone else’s. I’m pleased and sorry. Sorry for what will happen when he gets here.” She shrugged. “Even my husband couldn’t control him as a child.”
“That is our concern, Lady.”
She stepped closer to him. She was only five feet tall, and he was forced to look down to watch her moves. She motioned to the only chair. “Please, First Warlord, do sit. May I offer you some of Lord Shar-Lumen’s most excellent sharre?”
He watched her in his peripheral vision. He noted her right hand momentarily vibrated. Her pupils contracted, and she spread her fingers of her right hand.
She tried something, and the collar stopped her.
He stepped at an angle around her, closer to the desk, to see the papers. They were beautifully drawn in a series of pictographs. He recognized the language of the immortals; there were samples of it in the library. Only a few of the more basic symbols had been translated. None of those were symbols he knew. The stack of papers was at least 400 pages tall.
“I’m not here for a social visit. What are you working on?”
She sat down on her bed, her legs neatly pulled to the edge. Her body was straight as a board, and her hands were folded in her lap. She could have been posing for a picture, demonstrating the demure noble woman’s posture. He was sure she was doing it on purpose. She was trying to get him to relax his guard.
She tilted her head down to look up at him, which widened her eyes, giving her a submissive and attractive appearance.
“It’s a list of things to do when I get out.”
He couldn’t help it. He snorted. “That’s a rather extensive list.”
She smiled, still peering up at him. “I’ll have time to do it. If not, I need to be able to pass it to someone else. Tell me, why are you here?”
Maru-Ashua pulled one of the silver boxes from his pocket. Keeping his hand closed over it, he held it out to her.
“I’ve been told to bring this to you.”
Since he did not move to her, she was forced to stand and step closer. He placed the silver box in her hand.
Her eyebrows went up a notch at seeing the device.
“I’m told you know what it is and how to use it.”
She didn’t answer him. She’d already opened a small panel and was manipulating the controls. A flat, glowing square with lines of text that flowed across it like a scroll rolling had come to life on the device. She pushed the buttons even quicker, and the words scrolled too fast for him to follow. He pulled more power from the odassi and managed to read some of it. The letters were a long series of names and dates, with some kind of glyph code.
The more she saw, the more her eyes narrowed. She was completely absorbed and sat down, her back not quite as straight as before. Still, her posture was enviable. She did something, and the lines stopped scrolling.
“Where did you get this?”
“Grand Warlord Shar-Lumen gave it to me.”
“Where did he get it?”
“That I do not know, Lady.”
She pouted. Her pupils contracted further.
She’s really upset by this. Perhaps....
“Lady, I do not know this device.”
Her pupils dilated back to normal. “You don’t know what this means?”
He put his hands behind his back and raised an eyebrow. “I have been good to you. As I already know enough about Elraci to be killed by the Gods, there should be no harm in further sharing with me.”
She pressed her lips together, turning away from him.
He waited, keeping his affect perfectly neutral and his heart rate even.
Pushing her shoulders back, she looked around and said, “This is a recorder. It’s not Elracian. It’s ancient Imperial technology. This one is unique. I believe you need only to see some of what it contains to understand.”
She lifted the device, manipulating the controls. The lines of text scrolled, and she stopped it and then pointed the device at the table and pushed a button.
A miniature person appeared, facing Maru-Ashua, holding a device.
He drew and sliced through the figure before Lothia could blink, meeting no resistance.
I cannot let her escape!
Fearing what would come, he went for Lothia. She dropped the box and rolled backwards, off the bed, dodging his thrust.
“Stop! It isn’t real!” she cried out, fear filling her voice, making it quiver. She whimpered in pain, her body wracked with tremors.
He held his position, one sword defending against Lothia, and the other pointing to the figure on the table that had not moved.
Lothia recovered and pushed herself up from the floor. Her arms vibrated under the strain.
She tried to use a significant amount of magic. Was it instinctive, to shield herself, or was she trying to attack me again?
She whispered something he couldn’t make out. She slowly stood, using the bed post for support. He stepped into a position where he could watch her and the person on the table.
After a moment, Lothia straightened and held her hands down and out. Her shoulders slumped, and she was doing everything she could to appear docile and submissive.
“It’s an image, a memory, nothing more. It cannot harm you or do anything other than exist.”
Her tone had been calm, but with a hint of fear.
I can kill her, and she cannot stop me. She likely hasn’t been this afraid before, or at least, in a long time.
Knowing Shar-Lumen wouldn’t give her something dangerous, he decided to trust what she said. Sheathing his blades, he examined the small figure closely.
He looked like an elf, but not like any elf he’d ever seen. Instead of silver, his skin was darker, with a greenish tint. He was bent, as if very old, and he was dressed strangely. He was wearing a green shirt and pants. A string or rope ran through the waistline of the pants and was tied. The clothing was loose and stained. He also wore a long white coat, with large pockets, that hung open in the front. The shirt had breast pockets with something tucked into them. The coat pockets appeared to be stuffed with items, too.
He noted there were lesions on the back of the exposed hands. And the person had long matted and thick hair.
He slowly walked around the image, examining it. Lothia stood still, waiting.
The elf looked like he was in pain. A grimace twisted the face, and one eye was pure white with a cataract.
Maru-Ashua moved his hand through the image. There was no resistance. Only a tingle on his skin.
“How is this done?”
“It’s mundane technology from before this world.”
“Mundane. You mean this is human technology? My people could do this?”
Lothia licked her lips and blinked. “Yes, this is human technology. However, don’t assume mundane technology is humanit
y’s right. There are more mundane races than just humans. They were part of the Duianna Imperial Union.”
We have lost far more than I ever dreamed. I knew much knowledge had been lost, but this is incredible. If it truly works without magic, what more could we do without magic?
He ground his teeth, and he felt his pulse slip from his control as he contemplated how much the Gods had really taken from the world.
Pointing at it, he nodded. “Proceed.”
Lothia slowly stepped around the bed and picked up the device. She pressed a button with a small triangle, and the figure animated and spoke. He wriggled as if fighting severe internal pain while maintaining his posture as upright as possible.
“My Lady, I can’t last much longer. I don’t know how I got infected. But I am. Your collector has been recovered from the remains of Brinhi Nik. As I told you, it was not damaged. It didn’t get as much energy as we thought. I don’t know why, but it’s getting hard to think clearly.” The elf’s body moved of its own accord. “It will be in Gracia in a few days. On the new virus. We confirmed it’s a compound strain with magical properties we’ve never even dreamed of. It’s airborne, hardy and 100 percent infectious. The only lorcasians not infected are the ones not exposed. Every expedition into Elraci, no matter how well protected, has come back infected. Isolation is the only hope.”
The figure disappeared. Lothia pushed some more buttons, and the elf reappeared, except that he was more bent, and his skin was like thick, abused leather with many wart-like bumps. His hair had become thicker, tangled, and wiry. His hands were swollen, and his teeth and jaw had changed, too. He looked almost like a brutish monster.
“Lady.” His voice was deep and guttural. “Failed. Your fault! Your fault! We not forget!” Then he roared violently, throwing a small silver box, and the image vanished.
Maru-Ashua’s mind raced. Virus, a sickness, from Elraci. Something that infected everyone on contact. The pieces fell into place. “Lorcasians, orcs? The orcs were elves infected with a magical virus from Elraci?”
Lothia was staring at the ground, her shoulders slumped. She was crying. Her posture said it all.
“You knew.”
Her head snapped up as she stared him in the eyes. “Of course, I knew! We all knew!”
She turned away, wiping her eyes with her hands. Looking at the wall, she sighed. “All of the rulers of all the kingdoms were informed. We declared Niya-Yur quarantined and cut off access. The borders were closed, and we tried to save the lorcasians. But what we didn’t find out until too late was that humans could carry the disease. There was no hope for those already infected. That’s why we didn’t stop the slaughter when Shar-Lumen lost his mind and went after them. After four thousand years, so few were left, and we still couldn’t find a cure. But this.” Her voice faltered with anguish. “I knew him! We thought he died in Elraci. He was a great man. A devout follower of Lady Dalpha.”
“Dalpha! He said, ‘My Lady,’ and he said it was her fault! What was her fault?”
Lothia fell on the bed and cried hiding her face.
Maru-Ashua continued, “The temples, all the healers, all the training, thousands of years of healing people for free.... Lady Dalpha wasn’t being altruistic. She was trying to make up for something. Could she have been the cause?”
Lothia didn’t answer.
He thought through the whole of history he knew, trying to add the new knowledge into it. Orcs were an unknown, no, intentionally forgotten race of elves afflicted with a disease. A disease humans could carry. Every major city had temples to Dalpha, built with gifts from all the Gods. Temples of healing and...something more. Eradicating the disease. Cleansing the world. “Is this disease gone?”
Lothia raised her head enough to shake it. “Not entirely. We keep finding it. And sometimes....” She couldn’t continue.
He stepped over, grabbing her and pulling her up. Nose to nose with her, he asked, “Sometimes what?”
“Sometimes, it starts...affecting other races.”
He let go of her, letting her fall back into her pillows, sobbing.
He went to the doors and pounded on one. Without a word, he walked out, resealed the doors, and climbed the stairs back to the main floor. His mind worked around the knowledge. He tried to put it together with what he knew before. There had been wars, fires, and natural disasters that had wiped whole towns out of existence. There were even towns the Nhia-Samri had visited total destruction upon, supposedly for harboring the Traitor or some other slight. He concluded some of those might not have been as random as everyone thought.
At some point, Shar-Lumen had discovered the disease.
Was it before or after he started eradicating the orcs from the world?
Pausing in his path, he leaned on a wall for support. Lady Lothia’s words played in a loop in his mind. ‘Sometimes it starts affecting other races.’ It was an elven disease. The elves are the most likely to get it. Shar-Lumen has always said the mission of the Nhia-Samri was first and foremost to protect his own.
He stepped up to the prison suite that housed Magus Cune and Lady Sula. She’d recovered physically, but was still grieving. He didn’t want to add to that grief, but he didn’t see a way around it.
He knocked on the door and walked in without waiting for an answer. Lady Sula was sitting at a table, staring at an untouched, cold plate of food. The glass of sharre before her might have been tasted. Magus Cune sat across from her with an empty plate, reading a book.
Upon seeing him enter, Magus Cune stood. “First Warlord.” Cune must have seen something in Maru-Ashua’s stance. Cune’s lips tightened, and he glanced at Lady Sula. “Perhaps you would consider some other time?” His tone was pleading for his Lady.
He shook his head. “I do not desire to deliver more sorrow. However, it’s something Lady Sula should know, if she doesn’t already.”
Sula looked up. “What can be worse than losing my mother?”
He stepped over to her, taking out the recording device. “From Lothia’s reaction to this, I would say much.” He placed it on the table in front of her.
Sula stared at it, but did not reach for it.
Magus Cune raised an eyebrow. “What is that?”
He turned and walked to the door before he answered. “Truth. For the future.” With that, he left.
In the corridor, he set aside the past.
The future indeed. I should have gone to Building 9 first. I’ve always wanted to get in there. It might have been better to give myself that before.
Then he considered what he’d learned. Then again, it might even be worse than what I know.
With a sigh, he decided it was time. He moved through the complex, leaving the fort and walking out to see the bright blue skies and sunshine. By the time he got to Building 9, his heart rate was out of control. Everyone knew it was sealed, but no one knew exactly when, so for hundreds of years, it had been the subject of much speculation over campfires and barroom tables.
Standing before the building, he found his hands were quivering with excitement. Knowing it was over 100 meters tall was different from looking up at the roof high above. The structure dominated the area, but not just in height. It was twenty-one meters wide and 110 meters long. There was a four-meter door set into a pair of barn doors almost as tall as the building on the long side. It had hundreds of windows, all of them shuttered from the inside.
He stepped forward and could feel the buzz of the magic shield that sealed the building, which was a fraction of an inch off the surface, including the door.
A number of warriors went by, carrying supplies from one of the storage areas. They kept their eyes in front but he knew they were looking. How could they not? The structure was one of the most interesting mysteries of the place.
Shar-Lumen did not mention the shield,
so it must not be expected to be a hindrance.
He moved the key towards the lock, and it passed through the shield. The handle was long enough for the key to fit into the lock without his hand touching the shield, so he put it in and twisted it. The buzz vanished, and a series of bolts slid open. The door was unlocked, and the shield was down.
He put the key back in his pocket. Taking a breath, he went inside and started to close the door behind him. He froze at the thunderous percussion and the loud clanking of dozens of heavy chains under great strain. His stomach clenched, his heart skipping at least two full beats, and for the first time in ages, he felt unsteady.
The building was hollow. The sun streamed in through the cracks in the windows, glistening off the alabaster white, glossy hull of a ship. He recognized it instantly, as anyone would. It was the Emerald Heart. It was a sleek schooner-like vessel with a series of four masts above deck and three outrigger masts swept back and down, like the wings of a bird of prey, from just below the midpoint of the hull. On the bottom of the ship were more rigging masts that swept back and down.
The loud thunder had been caused by the lateen-like outrigger sails on the sides of the ship being deployed in the blink of an eye. The outrigger masts bent, and the roach edges of the sails moved in a ballet of rhythm. The outrigger sail boltropes visibly stretched under the strain. The ship had been sitting on a series of padded holders, but with the side outrigger sails deployed, it floated a full foot off those holders. Six massive chains, like those holding Lothia’s cell closed, were looped over the ship, directly over the railing, so tight to the hull that they rubbed the washboards and were set into anchoring hoops in the floor of the building. More chains looped over the bowsprit and quarterdeck, as well as another set of four running under it, connected high on the walls to solid stone pillars that also held the roof up. The ship was unable to move more than a foot in any direction.
A wondrous series of musical tones filled the air. They sounded like a perfect crystal set of wind chimes that played together in harmony. It was coming from the blue and green crystals that were part of the material that the sails were made of. He stood there and watched as the outrigger sails shifted. The craft tilted right, then left, and moved forward and backward, but was held in place by the chains.
Thread Skein (Golden Threads Trilogy Book 3) Page 42