“Oh, of course. I am sorry, Aren.” He called out to the darkness and more lights sprang to life around her and grew brighter. Large lanterns burst to life along the walls and many smaller ones began to burn in the hands of the Dwaros. The room swam out of shadow.
The walls glowed a warm orange, reflecting the lamplight back into the great room like they were covered in beaten gold. The ceiling was at least a hundred feet up and glittered with inlayed jewels and metals, bright sparks in the dark. A thousand rubies ran through the center of the roof. Aren realized it was a depiction of the night sky, the red nebula twinkling in the lamplight.
The two moons sat low on the curved stone walls, twinkling with smoky gray diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires. The swirls looked somewhat familiar to her, but she couldn’t place from where.
She tore her eyes away from the wealth around her and turned toward the far end of the cavern. Where the floor met the curved walls of the cavern sat a double terrace of ornately carved stone. On the top ledge stood a throne of solid blue crystal. The throne shimmered in the wavering light from the lamps.
The Dwaro who sat on the throne sparkled in silver armor, his graying beard flowing from the helmet past his waist. He appeared calm at their approach, but Aren knew this was far from the truth. Hatred seethed and raced behind the serene mask, Aren’s gift invading the Keeper’s mind and memories, even from a distance.
Aren looked into the eyes of a human child who’d been dragged before the Keeper, found trespassing in one of the farthest tunnels. A Dwaro stepped forward, Inasi Dho Suani Darsh, who’d discovered the human. He dumped jewels and broken bits of stone to the floor. He spoke in the sing song language of the Dwaros, but now Aren understood it because she was hearing it as Sethkar.
“This human was caught trespassing on our lands and stealing our heritage. He chipped out bits of our history that may never be rewritten, so old that no one remembers the proper placement.” Inasi spit in the dirt next to the boy.
“Please. I didn’t mean any harm. My family is so hungry. We farm, but my father died of illness. Please. I only wanted to feed my younger sis—” A spear slammed into the boy’s neck. Aren could feel the satisfaction roll through the Keeper at the death of the human. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t.
A dozen similar memories flowed through Aren in a fraction of a second. She blinked up at Sethkar, Keeper of the Gates, and struggled to take another step. Okay. What’ve I got to work with? He hates humans. He’ll kill me if I do anything that displeases him. He’ll also look for reasons to be displeased. I’m in real trouble here.
She whispered to the Dwaro at her side. “Dveldor. This is a bad idea. It isn’t safe. I just want to go back.”
He looked at her in confusion. “Keeper Sethkar is very kind and noble. You will be safe here. I will explain and translate for you. Good?”
Sethkar stood as they approached, disapproval written all over his face, but even clearer on his soul that had opened to Aren’s gift.
Aren’s legs shook even more and she might have fallen if Dveldor hadn’t taken her hand. She could feel his confidence flow into her. It was just enough to keep her standing and move her forward a few more steps.
The Keeper raised a hand to halt their progress and spoke, his tone displaying his anger even as the Dwaro language filled Aren with flashes of red, blood, a young Dwaro girl’s face.
Dveldor had bowed his head as they approached, but it snapped up suddenly. “Nim, shea fallim hes! No, the girl is with me!”
Guards rushed in from all sides, small spears tipped with sharp purple stone jabbed at Aren, one pricked her arm and a line of blood trailed down and dripped from her finger. Commands were shouted. No one needed to translate. She put her arms up to show they were empty and allowed the small men to lead her away.
Aren couldn’t stand in the cramped prison cell, made for the shorter frames of the Dwaros. The pitch black of the room suffocated her, making the room feel even smaller than it was. Don’t they believe in any light? She knew they did though. She’d seen the memories of Sethkar in dazzling illumination. Their eyes are very different from mine.
Her eyes failed to adjust to the complete absence of visible light, making shapes appear and shift in front of her where she knew only air existed. The effect made her dizzy and tired. It didn’t help that her jailers had only given her a small meal of root vegetables and a cup of water after her long trek into the heart of the world. At least I hope those were root vegetables. They could’ve been grubs for all I could tell. The water at least had been crisp and clean with a pleasant mineral tang.
The door clanged, announcing another meal. Aren crawled forward, carefully feeling for the cup, so as not to spill any of the precious liquid this time. I hope Dveldor’s better off.
As she thought of Dveldor, his now familiar face swam out of the darkness, haloed in dim purple light. Aren jumped when she realized it was no illusion. “Dveldor?”
The light grew and Dveldor stood before her, his small lantern held up for her benefit, the purple metal door standing open. “Hi, Aren.”
Aren embraced her friend. “Thank you.”
Dveldor shrugged in her embrace. “Should not be thanking me I think. We go to the Keeper of the Gates for our trial now. Sethkar is very angry with me for bringing you here and showing you too many Dwaro secrets.”
Aren looked Dveldor in the eyes from her kneeling position. “I know. I still wanted to thank you in case I don’t get another chance. You’ve been very kind.”
“You will get another chance I think.”
Aren smiled at him, knowing that he was as unsure as she was of her fate. “I hope so too.”
The guards led them to Keeper Sethkar’s throne room, but this time they entered through a side tunnel and not by the great Petro Gates.
Aren gasped as she ducked through the entry and took in the crowd. Dwaros must have traveled for miles to attend her trial. The cavern held thousands of the tiny people, children raised on shoulders to get a glimpse of the human, all buzzing with life and energy that made Aren’s head burn as her gift absorbed too much information. Gotta tune them out.
Aren closed her eyes and let Dveldor’s grasp guide her as she fought back the onslaught of emotions, memories, and thoughts, focusing on the actual sounds of their songlike murmurs and the scent of clean fur that reminded her of when she’d held her pet hamster close to her face. “You have an amazing people, Dveldor. Many hate me, but there’s also so much kindness and ingenuity here.”
Dveldor said nothing, just squeezed her hand, until they reached the steps before the sapphire throne. “I will translate. I am so sorry, Aren.”
She opened her eyes as Keeper Sethkar spoke, Dveldor translating quickly at her side.
“Dveldor, what is the meaning of this. You dare bring a human into our caverns and past the Gates of Anysh?”
“I do. The Children of the Stone told me to tunnel to the surface and I found her alone and in danger. I also found this.” He lifted up the piece of plastic from the desk. As he did so he broke into song.
The song filled Aren with strange images. Life, death, the passage of time, slow changes that come from heat and pressure, pulled from the earth, combined with other materials, heated, and pumped out as a liquid.
“Plastic. This human girl brought it to us from across the stars.” He pointed up at the ceiling. “Just like the Prophets foretold. She is the Kal’asee. She is the messenger.”
Aren shook her head at Dveldor. “What?”
Sethkar sprayed spittle as he responded. “She is nothing! She is human. The Kal’asee would be Dwaro! The Spirit of Ealdar would have told us of her arrival. Do you presume to know the will of the Prophets? You…”
A Dwaro in a red robe approached the king and whispered to him. Aren caught nothing of what they discussed in their songlike language, but something told her that the priest believed the Kal’asee could be human. I hope the Keeper is religious. But she already knew that he
was.
Sethkar’s eyes narrowed and turned on Aren. “Speak human! Deliver your message and we shall see if you are the Kal’asee.”
Aren could feel the contempt roll off the man, the burning hatred. She leaned on her gift hard. There must be some way out of this. She dug deeper into the king’s soul past hate, anger, and sorrow to his almost human center where sparks of life danced around his fiery lifeforce, but she found nothing that might save her. She glanced at the priest and was flooded with insights into the religion of the Dwaros. She saw one tiny kernel of hope and pounced upon it.
Aren took two steps forward and then kneeled before the terraces. She put her head to the ground. Must show him respect. Hope Dveldor can keep up.
“Oh great Sethkar, Keeper of the Gates, King of the Dwaros. I am not this Kal’asee. I am dust beneath the stones. I am nothing. I am from another world, but I have no message for you or your people. I’m sorry. I’m simply lost and alone. I seek only your aid and your protection. By Eshe and her love of the traveler, I ask your help. I am entirely in your mercy.”
Sethkar froze. His face shifted, moving through anger, pain, sorrow, surprise. “How do you know of Eshe the Prophetess?”
“The same way I know of Cael the Prophet, of Panish the Spirit of Ealdar, and also the same way I know you lost your daughter, Lael.” The audience of Dwaros gasped when Dveldor translated. Even he looked upon her with astonishment. Aren could only see them through her peripheral. She dared not raise her head, which limited her gift, but she didn’t want to show disrespect.
“I am sorry for your loss, my Keeper. I promise you that I had nothing to do with that tragedy.” She could feel the barriers breaking down. Could still easily backfire on me. “I share in your sorrow. My father died when I was young. I’ve now lost everything. My only link to my world has abandoned me. Please help me find my way home.”
Silence filled the air. Aren could taste the dust from the floor. Her breathing sent it spiraling away as she rested her head on the cold stone in supplication.
“How do you know these things? What are you?”
Aren kept her face to the ground. “I am your servant.”
Aren listened to the slick sound of metal being drawn from a sheath. She’d never heard it before, but recognized it immediately. I thought this was working.
Dveldor hissed and argued in his tongue. Sethkar yelled back and the sword cut through the air. Aren heard it whistle and though it didn’t connect with anything, Dveldor fell silent.
Fear gripped Aren. She tried to control her trembling body, but her limbs refused to listen. A Dwaro in the crowd cried out in dismay and someone quickly hushed her. I’m dead. I’m so dead. She wanted to run, but couldn’t move. I’m surrounded by rock and Dwaros. I have nowhere to run.
Aren closed her eyes and pushed the tears away. Sorry Dveldor. Sorry Kaden. Sorry Mom. In the stark silence of the cavern she could hear each beat of her heart and the soft footsteps of the Keeper. She lost all control of her shaking, vibrating with profound fear as Sethkar’s footfalls stopped next to her. She could imagine him with the sword held high. She waited.
The sword sank into the ground inches from her face and she couldn’t help the squeal that escaped her mouth. Aren glanced up and saw the Keeper standing over her, his eyes filled with tears. Dveldor stood beside him and continued his translation.
“You are not human. No human has shown me such respect or compassion.” He blinked away the tears as he knelt down next to her and took her chin in his hand. “Let me see your eyes, young one.”
Aren lifted her face at his soft tingling touch and met his eyes and felt the hatred Sethkar had carried for so many years bleed away, a touch of recognition passing over his fur covered face.
“You are a Stone Seer, a disciple of Eshe” He motioned toward the bejeweled depiction of the sky where the twin moons hung. “We have not seen one in over a hundred of years. Kal’asee or not, you will be safe here.” He reached out a hand and lifted Aren to her feet. “Welcome to Dunfaa, home of the Dwaros.”
The gathered Dwaros cheered and sang, but their songs failed to melt away all the fears in Aren’s heart. I’ve been so worried about making it home, I haven’t thought about how dangerous this world is. I may die here. Kaden may die here…could be dead already with that green haired man still out there.
Chapter 23: Cookies with the Boss
Rough hands shoved James into a chair, his face still covered in a black canvas bag. James felt certain torture would soon begin, but the chair felt softer than he expected and what he could smell of the room through the sweat-soaked bag smelled like lemon and vanilla. He held his breath, listening through the thick fabric.
“Easy there, Captain. While I appreciate your enthusiasm most of the time, was the bag entirely necessary?”
James recognized that voice. He remembered his first interview with the strange man. Vander Carlson’s voice had chilled him even then, when he wasn’t being kidnapped and threatened.
The guard answered back with the snap of a military man. “Sir, yes, sir. He put up a struggle and we were forced to restrain him.”
“Did you encourage the struggle?”
“I may have, sir.”
“Oh, just as well. You and your team are dismissed.”
“Thank you, sir.” Heavy boots shuffled out and a solid door closed behind them.
James sat stiff in the chair, still blind. He heard soft movement and then a click as the zip tie was cut from his wrists. The black bag slid off and Vander Carlson grinned at him.
“That was over the top, don’t you think?” Vander’s voice sounded older than he looked, full of wind and gravel. “Want a drink? I also have some freshly baked cookies.”
James didn’t know what to say. He’d expected torture, not refreshments. “What?”
Vander returned to his desk across from James and laid the black bag on the smooth surface as he sat.
“Here, try one. They’ve just a hint of lemon and really are quite good.” Vander slid a silver dish full of cookies over along with a bottle of water.
James eyed the cookies with suspicion. He took the water and opened it slowly, listening for the cracking noise that meant the water was safe, unopened. Though they could’ve injected it with something for all I know. He took a chance and sipped the water. Doesn’t taste weird.
“That’s better. I’m sure the bag was stuffy. Sorry about that. I asked them to bring you in and wasn’t as specific as I apparently needed to be about how.” Vander’s grin hadn’t disappeared. He’d also not taken his eyes off James since he’d sat down.
James felt uncomfortable under the gaze. He looked down. “Yeah. Not the usual way I get invited to have cookies with the boss.”
Vander laughed and it sounded genuine. “Yes, but you have been making a mess of things haven’t you? Holograms running up and down the halls. Screaming, breaking things. I have an estimate of damages here, over six hundred thousand dollars. Some very expensive vials were broken that have no set value, but are priceless. Years of research down the drain.” Vander laughed again.
James looked up. “You don’t sound too broken up about it.”
Vander met his eyes and they twinkled with mirth. “Ah, such is the way of progress. Sometimes you break a few eggs, or vials as it were.”
“So, are you going to bill me? Take it out of my salary? It’s your chip in my brain that’s malfunctioning. Maybe I should be billing you.”
“No, no. There’s nothing wrong with the chip. It’s doing its job perfectly. You, on the other hand, seem to be doing much, much more. You’re unusual, James.”
James nodded. “So I keep hearing. What happens now?”
“You go back to work, of course.”
James shook his head, stunned. “Really? Just like that? Not disappeared, sequestered, quarantined, fired, or snuffed out? I thought that’s what happened to people around here who don’t behave.”
Vander chuckled. “Scandalous and
grossly exaggerated rumors. I do encourage them though. Keeps the minions in line. Let’s keep that our little secret, shall we?”
“The kidnapping at gun point will probably keep those rumors up for a while.”
“Yes, yes it will. Thank you for your cooperation, James. I want you to continue doing whatever it is you’re doing. It really is quite exciting.”
“So you want me to keep breaking into the BOCS while I’m sleeping and setting dinosaurs loose throughout the complex?”
“And anything else your mind comes up with, yes.”
“You’re really not going to do anything about this chip doing strange things in my head?”
“No. Why would I want to do that?”
“It’s freaking me out a little.”
Vander tented his fingers as he thought. “Understandable, but there’s no need to worry. The chip isn’t doing much besides offering you the connection to the BOCS programming. Your exceptional brain is what’s acting strangely, taking advantage of the neural interface in new and interesting ways. No harm is being done to your mind, I assure you. We’ve already run several diagnostics to make sure. We’d remove the chips immediately if any type of damage was suspected.”
“Okay…I guess.”
“I can have you sit down with a physician and go over any symptoms that you might be uncomfortable with and we can work to alleviate them if you are still concerned.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good, it’s settled then. Thank you, Dr. Iverson. I’ll be checking in on you more often.”
James sat for a moment, waiting for more, but Vander turned away from him, shuffled a few visuals around his desk, and actually hummed to himself a little.
“Uh…so that’s it? I can go?” Part of James still expected men with guns to drag him away where he’d never be heard from again.
Vander pushed a holoscreen away. “Oh. You’re still here?” He smiled. “Yes. You’re free to go. Tell Dr. Reed that her work is impeccable and I am very happy with the team she’s built up for herself. Do apologize for me about the men and guns.”
The Crystal Bridge (The Lost Shards Book 1) Page 19