Where The Ni-Lach

by Marcia J. Bennell

  “Why not? Anything is possible. Of course it may be that the Sarissa only use the legends to make themselves feel more important, but I think not. The legends are too many.”

  Dhal shook his head. “But if man had wisdom enough to travel the stars, why did he forsake it all to come and live here? What about his own world? Why did they leave it? What happened to the vessels that brought them here?”

  “Ships.”

  “What?”

  “They were called starships. Our ancestors—I mean man’s ancestors—were said to have come in great metal ships that could carry as many as a thousand men. One of those ships is said to be half buried in a place called Barl-gan.”

  “Where is that?”

  “No one seems to know.”

  Dhal looked long at Poco, wondering if she was teasing him, “Poco, is it true about the starships?”

  “Trass said it was true. He was another old friend, a sailor. When I was much younger he used to tell me about the first men, about their strange tools and weapons. He once told me about a sword of light that could cut through solid rock.”

  “I’ve heard of such a weapon.” Dhal said. “Gi told me about it.”

  “The olvaar? Where did he hear about it?”

  “From a story one of the older olvaar was telling.”

  “Stories. It seems that is all we have left, stories about the People, stories about man… and where I wonder is the truth?”

  For long moments Poco sat quietly. Dhal was about to ask her about her life in Port Bhalvar and her plans for the future when suddenly she spoke. “It is the only way to go,” she said softly.

  “What?”

  “North to the mountains. It’s the only way left open to you now,” she explained. Darkness had closed around them. Far to the north he could just make out the line of the mountains. “With Annaroth to the south, and the Port Guard watching the docks and the western flatlands where you would be easily seen and captured, you are left with no choice but to go north into the mountains.”

  Reaching out, he took Poco’s hand once more. “We were talking about the Ni,” he reminded her.

  “We have talked about the dead long enough,” she said flatly. “It’s time we started thinking about the living and how best to keep you out of the hands of the Port Guard.”

  Chapter 16

  AND SO I STILL THINK IT WORTH A TRY,” HARADAN ARGUED. “If we can’t get to our boat then we go overland.”

  “And if we try for the docks and are picked up?” Efan came back quickly. “What then? With you and I in the hands of the Guard, how long do you think it would be before they would force us to tell them where Dhalvad is hiding?”

  “He has a point,” Pocalina said. “Perhaps it would be better if we returned to our first plan and you all go together. I think…”

  Dhal’s mind wandered from the argument. He had heard it all five or six times already. Haradan was for trying to reach Port Sulta by boat, Efan for going overland. Poco simply counseled caution, and Ssaal-lr and Gi remained silent.

  Dhal looked down at his ring, which he had taken to wearing again. It seemed to wink at him, catching the firelight and reflecting it back into his eyes.

  Unconsciously, he brought it up toward his chest, gazing down into the green stone. He thought of the world Poco had tried to capture with song. Were they both only dreaming or were their worlds real? And did their dreaming have something to do with their being children of the Ni?

  Looking deep into the invisible crack of gold that lay at the heart of the green stone, Dhal felt himself withdrawing. Gradually the voices of his friends dimmed. Gold gave way to blue then green and he felt a sense of excitement sweep over him.

  One moment all was blue shadows, the next moment he was sitting in a green light. Looking up, he saw high overhead what appeared to be a piece of windowlike glass tinted a delicate jade green. Though he strained his eyes he could not see beyond the glass.

  Then he heard the pad of naked feet on stone, approaching from his right. They seemed to come closer, then they were moving away. When all was silent again, he looked around him. In the shadowed darkness beyond the green light, Dhal could discern several large columns and two or three darker spaces that looked like portals.

  Beneath him, the stone floor was cool. He looked down and saw a portion of a circle carved in the stone. There were intricate patterns all along its outside edge. Reaching out, he traced several lines from the outside of the circle toward the center.

  Then he stood up to get a better look at the pattern. Bathed in green light, the carved circle took on a luminous quality, the twin sun shapes at its center seeming to absorb the light. A large, seven-pointed star surrounded the suns. Irresistibly drawn, he crouched at one side of the carved circle and tried to make sense out of the shapes and lines that were positioned about the two inner circles. Several of the symbols were easily read—water, sword, flame—but in the center of the innermost sun there was a replica of a hand, palm up. Peace? Friendship? A request for aid or worship? It could have meant any of them.

  Dhal placed his right hand down flat on the stone floor, matching his fingers against those carved in stone. The fit was almost perfect. Filled with surprise, he smiled, pleased by this strange find yet not sure why.

  But when he tried to draw his hand away, he could not. It was as if his hand was stuck to the stone. A flutter of panic spread outward as he tried again and again to free his hand. Nothing happened.

  Dhal stopped struggling and frantically searched the shadows, looking for help. It came to him then that this passage into the ring world was different somehow. Again he tried to free his hand. Nothing happened.

  “Damn!” As that word reverberated through the chamber, a coldness settled over him. He had spoken aloud! At last his voice was audible in the ring world! Why? Had he done something different this passage?

  Fearing that he might just have trapped himself in a strange world with no way home, he leaned down to gaze into his ring stone, willing himself back to Poco’s cellar. Long minutes passed and nothing happened.

  “Please,” he called, lifting his voice. “Someone—anyone, help me!”

  As his cry echoed around the stone walls, he felt a sudden warmth steal into the palm of his captured hand, a glow of heat that tingled into each finger and up through his hand to his arm. Afraid, he threw himself to the left, hoping to break the seal that had melded flesh to stone. It was no good—all he managed to do was wrench his shoulder with the force of his fall. The seal remained unbroken.

  The warmth that had invaded his hand now flowed freely into his arm and upper body. Sprawled flat on his stomach, he pleaded with the empty room, praying that someone somewhere would hear him. “Please, let me go! I didn’t mean to touch the stone! Please, help me!”

  The warmth touched his spine like a flash of lighting, then instantly leaped to his brain. There was a moment of pain followed by a feeling of heaviness over his eyes, as if something was pushing at his mind from inside.

  Dhal shook his head, trying to rid himself of the pressure. It would not go away. Somehow he managed to push himself to a sitting position, his right hand still caught on the stone. As he lifted his head, he caught a flicker of movement off to his right. He turned to find four naked men standing just within the outer edge of the circle of green light. Two were young, only boys, the other two were older, their muscles accented by the unusual light. Formidable-looking yet wary, they stood watching him.

  Their green hair caught and reflected the green light from above, and he saw that they were Ni. “Please,” he begged of them, “help me.”

  He watched as the two Ni approached and looked down at him. Their faces were unreadable. One of them turned and spoke to the boys. Dhal did not understand the language he used, but assumed it to be the language of the People.

  As the two boys ran away, Dhal saw the movement of other bodies in the shadows beyond the pillars. The pressure over his eyes was growing stronger. He close
d them, trying to will the pain away. A moment later it ceased.

  When Dhal looked up again, the two Ni were kneeling just outside the stone carving. “Please, help me. I didn’t mean to do wrong. I didn’t know what would happen. I’m a stranger to your world. The ring brought me.”

  The two Ni looked down at his hand. It was obvious that they understood what he was saying. One started to reach out, but before he could touch Dhal, the other snatched his arm back. “No, Avak! You would do more harm than good. Wait for Danner.”

  The Ni named Avak turned crystal-gray eyes to Dhal. “E-ev is right. We can’t help you without ourselves becoming caught. Danner will be here soon. He’ll release you from the Tamorlee.”

  “Tamorlee?” Dhal echoed.

  Avak gestured toward the green light overhead. “It is above you. Your ring wakened it.”

  Dhal looked up at the green glass, then back down at his hand. He noticed then that the green stone in his ring was actually glowing with the same colored light as above. “What is the Tamorlee?” he asked Avak.

  The Ni looked surprised. “You do not know the Tamorlee?”

  Dhal shook his head.

  “But you are Ni. Surely you have only forgotten,” Avak offered.

  A sudden surge of pressure over Dhal’s eyes caused him to wince. Avak noticed and put out a hand, but a soft voice stopped him. “Ne, Avak, nev qual saba.”

  Avak jumped at the sound. Rising, he turned and gave a half bow to the old one who moved out of the shadows. Her hair was gray with age, her crystal eyes sunken yet alert. She was dressed in a shapeless, floor-length tunic and her feet were bare.

  Stopping before the carved circle, she looked at both males, who stood calmly before her. “He speaks the trade language, Malil Thura,” Avak said.

  The female nodded, then motioned the males back. “Clear the hall. I’ll see to our guest.”

  Thura looked down at Dhal. Though aware of the shuffle of feet and the whisper of voices beyond the circle of light, Dhal could not take his eyes from the old one. Something about her commanded his full attention: she radiated an inner power that even the most insensitive could not miss.

  Kneeling down outside the circle, she spoke. “I see questions in your eyes, child. I too have questions. But best they wait until we have you free.”

  Quickly she slipped a ring from the middle finger of her left hand. It looked to be a duplicate of the one Dhal wore. She held the ring between thumb and first finger, rose, and made a passage around the circle, touching the seven star points. It looked as if the stone of her ring fitted each small indentation in the design. When she came back around, she smiled. “Only a moment longer, child. Hold still.”

  With her ring she touched Dhal’s, and the pressure that had pushed into his mind began to flow away like a river in flood. He closed his eyes in relief, still confused but thankful that the pain was gone.

  “Lift your hand, child.”

  Opening his eyes, Dhal looked at the old one. She nodded. “It must be your own action, child. I have redirected the power source, so you are safe. Lift your hand and be free.”

  Dhal looked down at his hand and willed his numb fingers to move. Slowly he leaned back, pulling his hand free. The moment it came away from the stone floor, a strange weakness washed over him. He felt himself falling forward. Hands caught him, dragging him away from the stone carving.

  A few seconds later he lay propped against the old one, held upright by her thin arms, his head resting against the softness of a sagging breast. He tried to sit up but found he had no strength.

  “Rest child, the weakness will pass.” After a few moments of silence, the old one spoke again. “Only the very wise or the very foolish dare touch the Tamorlee, child.”

  When he failed to reply, she let his head slip down onto the crook of her arm, then she forcibly turned his head to look into his eyes. “Did you come then to give—or to take?”

  “Take what?” he asked.

  The old one frowned. “Something is wrong here. Your accent is so strange, even for an outlander. What is your name, child? How did you pass the watch without anyone stopping you? Where did you come by the ring you wear?”

  A male voice suddenly broke in. “I believe I can answer one of those questions, my dear Thura.”

  Startled, Dhal looked up to see the same Ni male he had seen before, outside the wooden building, the one who had named him Seeker. The old one acknowledged the male with a nod. “Danner.”

  Danner squatted down and placed his fingers at Dhal’s throat. “Was he hurt?” he asked, speaking trader.

  Thura answered. “He was weakened, but he seems alert.”

  Dhal lay quietly and listened.

  “You said you could answer one of my questions,” the female said.

  Danner nodded. “Yes. I don’t know his name or how he came by the ring, but I can guess how he got in here.”

  “How?” Thura asked impatiently.

  “Transfer, my dear. In your arms you hold a Seeker.”

  For a moment the old one looked incredulous. “This is the same outlander you saw earlier?”

  Danner smiled and nodded. “He is, and the same one who frightened the people at the lake. Each time he’s been seen the transfer was incomplete—all we received was an image without substance. It frightened everyone until we figured out what was happening. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a Seeker come to Val-hrodhur. Was it you who found him?”

  “No,” Thura answered. “Avak and E-ev were taking their class to the lake. Passing the hall, they heard someone cry for help and came to investigate. Avak sent one of the boys to find me.”

  “Shall I take him?” Danner offered.

  Thura shook her head. “No, he’s all right.”

  Danner looked down at Dhal. “A few moments ago I heard you speak. You seemed unable to do so the last time we met. Was it the weakness of the transfer that prevented you from speaking before?”

  “I don’t know,” Dhal answered truthfully. “What do you mean by transfer?”

  Danner frowned. “Before I answer that, would you tell us your name please?”

  “Dhalvad sar Haradan.”

  “Ni named linked with an outlander name,” Thura observed.

  “Half-blood perhaps,” Danner suggested.

  “No Seeker was ever half-blood!”

  Dhal did not care about his name or bloodline at that moment. All he wanted to know was what had happened to him. “Please, will you tell me where I am?”

  “You are in Val-hrodhur,” Danner replied. “The home of the Tamorlee. But as a Seeker you should know that.”

  Dhal hesitated. “What is a Seeker?”

  There was a hiss of an indrawn breath, and Thura’s eyes narrowed. “If you don’t know that, then you are not a Seeker!”

  “But if not,” Danner put in, “what is he?”

  “A stealer of rings, perhaps,” Thura responded distastefully.

  “No!” Dhal protested. From somewhere he found strength enough to roll out of the female’s arms. Pushing to a sitting position, he closed his hand into a fist, fearing they might try to take his ring, his only contact with his own world. “The ring is mine! I didn’t steal it!”

  As Danner made a move toward him, Dhal scuttled back a pace or two. “Be not afraid, Dhalvad,” Danner said calmly. “We do not accuse. We only wish to learn. Come, tell us how you came to be here and how we may help you.”

  “But if he isn’t a Seeker, Danner, it would be inappropriate to—”

  Danner held up a hand to stop the protest. “Thura, he is a Seeker, else he wouldn’t be here now. It’s obvious that he is untrained, yet he had the strength to activate the stone and each passage brought him closer and closer to the Tamorlee until at last he reached the source of the ring’s power. In innocence, he entered this chamber and charged the ring without taking it from his finger. That one act alone convinces me that he didn’t really know what he was doing.” Danner looked at Dhal. “Have
I guessed right, Dhalvad?”

  Dhal nodded. “The stone pattern was so unusual. I just wanted to touch it. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.” He shook his head. “I’m confused. I don’t know what is real or unreal at this moment. You—this place—am I just dreaming it all? Am I here or am I sitting with my friends back in Port Bhalvar?”

  “Port Bhalvar,” Danner repeated. “I’ve never heard of it. It must be far. Perhaps that is why it took you so long to complete a proper transfer.”

  “Are you saying that the world I see in the ring stone is real? That I am not dreaming it all?”

  ‘The frown on Thura’s face slowly faded as she explained. “The fire stones retain and reflect, they do not create, child. The Seekers use them to heighten their own powers so they can transfer to whatever destination they desire. That place which you visualize in the fire stone is open to you through the power of the Tamorlee. How you were able to use the stone without understanding it is something of a mystery to me.”

  Danner shook his head. “I don’t know, Thura, perhaps not so much a mystery. Though I haven’t the talent of a Seeker, I once knew one and he told me that if one activated the fire stone and failed to give it proper visualization, the stone would do either of two things: either it would reflect the thoughts and place of another Seeker who was at that precise moment using his own powers, or it would reflect its source, the Tamorlee. From what I’ve been able to piece together these past few weeks, for Dhalvad it has happened both ways. The first two times he activated the stone, it must have picked up on Fantar.”

  Suddenly Danner’s eyes went wide. “Damn! That would mean that Fantar has the talent to be a Seeker! I’ll have to get someone to reach him before he starts home. It’s been years since we’ve had a Seeker come from among us.” Eyes sparkling, Danner continued. “This might mean a resurgence of our gifted blood types, Thura! I wish that Ympath was here now. He should know what has happened. He could—”

  “There will be time enough to tell him later,” Thura interrupted. “We have our own work ahead of us now. If this youngling is what you think he is and is unknowing of his power, then best we find a way to help him before he makes another and more serious mistake.”