Ocean of Dust

by Graeme Ing

  "What exactly does he do?" she asked, fixated on the bubbling blue veins snaking across the navigator's hands and arms.

  "It's a mystery to me," Sam whispered. "He can sense how flux moves and changes, then he tells us how to winch the flux vanes for the best speed. I dunno, maybe it's something to do with them Klynaks. They're weird an' all."

  Her neck hairs prickled and her heart skipped.

  "What are Klynaks?" she asked, sure that she knew the answer.

  The giant Sam glanced at the navigator and picked at his forked beard. "You ain't seen 'em swim about the ship? Bright red eyes, they got."

  A dozen questions popped into her mind, but before she could speak, the ground shook. The wooden planks underfoot groaned and rattled. Globelights smashed to the floor. Sounds of breaking glass came from a nearby building. Everyone, locals and visitors, grabbed hold of something or each other. Cries rang out throughout the town.

  The mountain emitted a thunderous rumble, and the ground lurched once more.

  She squinted up at the dozens of farm workers on the slopes high above, watching them fall or throw themselves into their crops. They scurried like crawly-bugs, dodging house-sized boulders that tumbled and bounced down the slopes, thankfully coming to rest short of the town.

  The rumble decayed, the ground stopped shaking, and the entire town became silent.

  "That's the strongest shake this Sunturn," one man said to his neighbor. "It's going to erupt this moon-cycle, I tell you."

  "Sooner than later is my guess," the other replied, and they sauntered off as if nothing had happened. The town resumed its bustle of shoppers and squawking traders.

  "What do they mean about an eruption?" Lissa said.

  "Dunno," Sam replied and stood, head grazing the sheets overhead. "But me stomach says it's time for lunch."

  "Coming?" Pete called, scurrying after the giant crew chief and Nax.

  She waved goodbye, glanced up at the mountain, and then at the robed navigator.

  "May I ask a question please, sir?"

  His head jerked up and his gaze settled on her. He drew back his hood, revealing a withered face mottled with blue veins. They pulsed grossly, and she imagined a hideous substance flowing through them instead of blood. His eyes were pinpricks of black set in dirty purple. She fought the urge to cringe.

  "If you must," he croaked.

  She crossed to his bench but kept her distance. A pocket-sized, hidebound book sat on the bench between them.

  "I'm Lissa. I-"

  "What do you want, little girl called Lissa?" he growled, his black eyes boring into her.

  "Um, Sam... that is, the crew chief, said you know about the Klynaks?"

  His eyes narrowed, but she couldn't avoid staring at a muscle twitching on his forehead. Each twitch pinched his brow, swelling a bulbous vein. It looked about to burst at any moment.

  "How do you know about them?" he said.

  "I've seen them. What are they? Why do they swim-?"

  "Seen them, have you? Aren't you smart? I don't answer nosey little girls. Such things are beyond your comprehension. Stick to your loaves and oodspal." He turned away.

  "I think they’re whispering to me."

  His head snapped back around.

  "What nonsense are you talking?" He coughed violently and stood.

  "Whatever you think you know, you're wrong." He swirled his heavy robe around him.

  "Ignorant girl."

  Her mouth fell open and she watched him vanish into the crowd. His book lay on the bench. She picked it up and flicked through it. Her parents had taught her to read, but this book made no sense, just page after page of numbers in a tiny script. She closed it, and then gasped and almost dropped it.

  The cover bore an engraving of the symbol she had seen in the manger. Despite the midday heat, she shivered. What did it mean?

  If she returned his book, would he be grateful enough to explain? He'd overreacted to her simple question and she had to know why. Slipping the book into her skirt pocket, she set off to find him, but had only reached the next intersection when she spotted Lyndon loitering at the corner. She melted back into the crowd, just as Nab and Bardas emerged from a store and strode up to him. Bardas hoisted a sack over his shoulder. He muttered a few words to Lyndon and then the three of them walked off.

  She stared after them, chewing her lip. How had Lyndon gone from captured slave to conspirator? What was he up to? Forgetting the navigator, she trailed them from a distance as they headed toward the far end of the town.

  Lyndon glanced back. She froze. He scanned the crowd, and just as his gaze was about to settle on her, one of the locals barged into him. She ducked.

  "What're you doing?" Bardas asked Lyndon.

  "I thought I saw-"

  "Come on. Don't keep Farq waiting."

  Now she had to know what was going on, but was careful to follow at a greater distance. Both suns climbed overhead and no breeze penetrated the narrow walkways. The locals seemed oblivious to the heat, but sweat poured off her. She considered giving up following them, but then they met up with Farq at the edge of town. She darted behind a row of barrels, seizing the opportunity to stretch her aching legs and take deep breaths.

  When she dared to peep, the four of them were on the rough slopes of the mountain, walking a dusty trail around its right side. There was little cover to hide her, so she let them get a good head start. A short, dark-skinned woman emerged from a house and offered her a perspiring mug, touching it to her forehead first. Lissa accepted it, touched it to her own sweaty brow, and drank the cold juice greedily. The woman smiled and went back inside. If only Lissa could stay here on the island.

  When Farq and the others disappeared from sight, she returned the mug and followed them. The trail was steep and dry, winding its way between jagged crevasses into which stones clattered as she passed. Her boots kicked up red dust that made her cough. She paused, hands on hips and sucking in the hot air. The town looked a long way below. To her left, boulder-strewn slopes ran down to a forest of jumbled stick trees, beyond which flat dust stretched to the horizon. The red rocks contrasted with the grey ocean.

  A short while later she scrambled around an immense boulder and spotted the others. They huddled beside a handmade contraption consisting of a disc-shaped base, two planks and a length of water piping sandwiched between. The pipe angled into the sky. Next to it stood one of the ceramic urns from the ship's hold, and the sack that Bardas had carried.

  Sneaking from one rock to another, she crept forward, wincing every time she dislodged a rock or crunched a pebble underfoot. She slid into a dry creek bed, covering herself in red dirt. There, she watched Bardas tip purple powder from the urn into the upturned end of the pipe. The lower end had been sealed.

  "That's enough," Lyndon told him. "You don't need a lot."

  Farq snorted. "It looks like ground brick dust. You'd better not waste my time, boy."

  "You'll be impressed, I promise," Lyndon replied. His wide eyes flicked from the device to Farq and back.

  He took a handful of yellow sweet-crystals from the sack and poured them into the pipe.

  So that's why they were negotiating with the merchant the night before.

  "This is dangerous," he said. "Stand back."

  The men shuffled away. Farq stood his ground for a moment, and then headed directly toward where she lay. She slid further into the creek bed. His boots crunched rocks right above her.

  Heart pounding, she searched her surroundings, but there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to crawl to. All she could do was bury her face in the stones, hoping her dirty clothes and hair would blend in with the red soil. He stopped above her but she didn't dare look.

  "Well?" he snapped. "I'm not impressed yet. Shouldn't something happen?"

  A piercing, whooshing noise made her jump, and it was followed by startled cries from the men. Farq hurried back toward Lyndon. She poked her head up to witness a blue and yellow flame blast from the mouth of
the pipe. A fiery, sparkling projectile erupted after it, throwing the device on to its side. Her jaw dropped. The projectile soared into the sky, dribbling gobbets of fire that splattered among the men. Blue fire arced across the sky, spluttering and crackling until it impacted a gigantic boulder half a league away.

  "Watch this," Lyndon said, giggling like a girl.

  The rock became engulfed in an unnatural blue flame that flowed like a liquid across its top, and oozed down the sides, running into every crack, until the entire rock seemed to be on fire. She pushed herself up on her hands for a better look, and shook her head. How could a rock catch fire? Loud cracks echoed across the mountain and the immense boulder exploded into hundreds of fragments, making the ground shudder. No one spoke and no one moved, until the fragments finally burned out. An ugly black mark scarred the mountain.

  "Totalamon's titties!" Nab said.

  Farq marched across to Lyndon who had righted the contraption.

  "What is this weapon? How do you possess this, boy?" He shook him by the shoulders.

  "My father discovered it by accident."

  "Your father?"

  "Yes, sir. He's a chemist."

  "Show me again."

  Farq gestured to the scorched device. He crowded close and scrutinized every step that the men took to reload it with purple powder and sweet-crystals. He demanded that Lyndon tell him the quantities of each. Lissa listened carefully.

  Once again, a blue-yellow flame was expelled from the pipe, and a sparking bolt of blue fire soared high up the mountain. Flaming rocks slid and bounced downward, cracking and exploding, spreading blue fire everywhere.

  Farq stared at the destruction. "To whom is your father selling this?"

  "No one. He doesn't see its value."

  Farq's eyes narrowed, and his smirk chilled Lissa's insides. He patted Lyndon on the back. The boy grinned, but she saw no warmth or friendliness in Farq's gesture.

  "So you'll get me large quantities at a cheap price?" Farq asked, nodding slowly.

  Lyndon nodded back.

  "Good," Farq said. "One more demonstration, but I want twice the power."

  Lyndon's grin vanished and he swallowed hard. "I don't think that's-"

  "I don't want you to think," Farq roared. "Do it."

  Double measures were poured into the pipe. Lyndon inched backward and cowered behind a rock. Nib and Bardas glanced from Farq to the boy, and then hurried to join Lyndon. Farq scowled, and stood behind the device, hands on his hips.

  The whooshing noise was deafening. Farq ducked as the pipe fractured into two pieces, blasted in opposite directions. Lissa covered her head as one piece tumbled past her. She could feel its heat, hotter than both suns. Sparks showered the entire area, and then the large projectile was airborne, spitting liquid fire as it climbed higher than before. She cowered in anticipation as the fiery arc, which must have been visible from anywhere on the island, rushed toward the summit of the mountain.

  It hit.

  The whole peak erupted in blue and purple fire that burned her eyes. She threw her face into the dirt and rolled into a fetal position.

  The island shook.

  Gigantic boulders toppled from high above and they crashed and bounced down the slopes. The sides of her creek bed gave way, covering her with stones and dirt and sending her sliding into its bottom. The thunder of avalanches roared in her ears. She dug herself out, choking and coughing, scrambling toward more stable ground. The ground lurched violently, then vibrated side to side, throwing her back down.

  A furious hissing noise drowned the sound of the rocks that fell and smashed around her. Lying on her back, she saw a column of water, a hundred feet wide, rocket from the mountaintop into the sky.

  She screamed.

  Torrents of water gushed downward from the summit, pouring into every crevasse and creek, splashing over and around boulders, picking them up and sending them tumbling downward in a wall of water heading toward her. The whole island seemed to be coming apart. Rain from the mountaintop drenched her, turning the soil to paste. She clawed frantically at the creek walls. Clumps pulled away in her hands. She cried out and climbed on all fours. There was nothing to hold onto. The mud sucked her down.

  Then the waves hit.

  Screaming and spluttering, she forced her head above water as the churning, muddy river carried her away. She dragged her hands along the banks, not getting any purchase, but instead filling them with red muck. The river roared around a bend in the gully. She blinked the mud from her eyes and coughed up gritty water, flailing her limbs to stay afloat. In only a few precious heartbeats she had been swept to the foot of the mountain. The river thundered into the forest of stick-trees, surging around hundreds of twisted roots and branches. Rocks and detritus smashed against them, spinning and tumbling in all directions.

  Her vision faded. She sat with her mother beside the crackling hearth of the inn. Her mother laughed and whispered her favorite bedtime story. Then her mother reached out to stroke her hair... and turned into the gnarled branch of a tree clawing at her.

  Deafened by the crashing of rocks and the roaring of the river, she hurtled feet-first between the surface roots of the trees. The deluge barely flexed the stalwart, ancient roots. If she hit one, it would tear her limbs from her body, so she clamped her legs together and crossed her arms over her body. Her heart threatened to rip from her chest. She snapped her eyes shut and whimpered.

  Her stomach lurched and the ground fell away. She gulped a final breath before the red mud sucked her under. The light beyond her eyelids turned to black. She swirled round and round as the river burrowed, until she had no idea which way was up, but her pace had slowed. She probed outward with one arm, pushing hard against the thick, cold mud, hoping to touch a root, but there were none. Her chest ached. The urge to breathe gripped her.

  The wet slime against her skin changed to a dry sand. She had no sense of movement. She kicked and swung her arms, pawing the fine sand behind her. Gods, let this be upward. Doubt crept in. Her insides burned with the lack of air. She opened her eyes but they stung so badly that she scrunched them shut again.

  The urge to breathe was unbearable. I don't want to die like this. I'm not ready to die at all.

  With her limbs still thrashing, her lips parted and she sucked in a deep breath. She tasted the bitterness of grey dust, and then her consciousness was torn away from her.

  Chapter 15 - The Book

  Whispering voices surrounded Lissa.

  Their undulating sound soothed her, kept her company as she hung in a grey nothingness. A corner of her mind insisted the voices couldn't be trusted. She ignored its warning. Without them, she would be alone. She'd been in danger, but couldn't remember how or where. The whispers seized her attention, mesmerized her with their hissing and babbling.

  Then they stopped, plunging her into a deathly silence.

  Don't leave me. I don't want to be alone.

  Be strong, a single voice echoed in her mind. Trust in us, others murmured in the background.

  Who are you? She pictured winged servants of Anjan, ferrying her on beams of light to the second moon, to the Gardens of Eternity.

  No. We do not leave the substance of life.

  An image played in her mind as if she lay, bobbing on the surface of the dust ocean, looking up toward the moons and stars.

  Who are you?

  The image shimmered and reformed as a brown, domed head with burning red eyes – the Klynaks!

  Memories flooded into her head, like the deluge of water from the mountaintop. She was drowning, her throat full of dust. She must cough, must get the horrible stuff out of her body, but her throat was numb. She had to swim, but her limbs felt detached, dead. Her eyes were glued shut.

  Be still. We will help you.

  The whispering voices hummed, like her mother had often done to calm her during lightning storms. She relaxed and stopped struggling. There was a sensation of movement, but was it real or another image in
her mind.

  Where are we going?

  We take you to your nest that moves.

  Why are you helping me?

  Another image flickered before her. She was floating in the dust ocean. Wavelets washed up and down before her. Heavy snowflakes drifted from an overcast sky, settling in deep drifts on a nearby shoreline of cliffs. A town nestled at their base, dreamlike with carpets of white draped across the roofs and streets. Where was this? She had never seen so much snow. People hustled through the streets, darting between brightly colored tents and stalls in the marketplace.

  The view changed. Much as she longed to explore the strange town, it slid to her left, out of view, replaced by cliffs pierced with a huge-mouthed cave. A ship steered inside, plenty of room to spare above its tall mast. It did not pass into darkness but remained clearly visible inside.

  This is where your destiny lies, the whispers rasped.

  What is this place? Where is this place? The image popped, plunging her back into darkness. I want to see more. Can we go inside?

  Cough, Lissa, the voices said. Cough.

  The very suggestion started her retching and spluttering. Dust scratched in her throat, and she gagged, expelling it, tasting its bitterness. Dust continued to pour from her mouth, as if her entire body had been filled from head to toe.

  In her next breath, she drew in air. She hadn't realized that air had a subtle taste, a cool sensation in the lining of her throat. She greedily sucked in more, her chest heaving. The numbness faded from her body, leaving a tingling sensation. She was cold and wet, with water pouring over her. She rolled onto her belly, and flailed her arms.

  Instead of kicking and spluttering her way down the mud-filled creek, the ground was solid beneath her. She opened her grit-caked eyes and blinked furiously, rubbing their corners with her damp fingers. The wooden wharf lay beneath her. Torrential rain beat down, gushing through the gaps between the planks.

  She let the water wash the mud and sticky dust from her clothes and body. Her mouth was dry and parched, so she rolled back over and opened her mouth wide, sticking out her tongue to catch every last refreshing drop. She was drenched, her clothes and hair plastered to her body.