The Seeds of Dissolution

by William C. Tracy

  “I am supposing you have a better idea?”

  “Yes,” his apprentice said, surprising him. “Though I can’t quite remember. I think it’s about openings.” What was he talking about? He must have seen Origon’s scowl.

  “We need a door. Or not exactly a door, but something between that and a portal.” Sam’s voice was getting more confident. “You saw the sliver the Life Coalition shot into the air?” Origon nodded, starting to see what Sam meant. “The Drains don’t follow regular rules of the universe, but if we cut off Communication between what’s on the inside of the Drain,” he put a hand out to one side, “and on the outside—” He put out his other hand. It held the watch the Methiemum used to focus.

  Origon drew his brows down as far as he could. “You are not understanding what the House of Communication is about,” he said. “This is not something it can do.”

  “I’ve done things like it before,” Sam said. His voice was shaky, but confident. “See if you can hear what I do. I’ll need all the help I can get. Majus Caroom, can you try as well? I don’t know how to explain it any better.” He swallowed, his eyes flicking down, then back up.

  Sam’s face contorted, and Origon, despite the young man’s impertinence, dove back into the Symphony to follow him. This was not the time to be a stickler. He waded through music. Communication wasn’t about doors. It was the medium of transference.

  A note sounded, close to him, and he followed the Symphony through fractally separating strands, deeper than he usually went. The rhythms here were simpler, but more powerful, harder to change. They reflected parts of the universe more fundamental, containing rhythms other music was built on.

  “Slow down,” he panted, marveling at how strong Sam was. He could hardly keep up as the young man’s song nudged notes aside. If he had been at his full potential, maybe he could have followed. Suddenly the Symphony wavered, and Sam’s touch disappeared. “Where—”

  “Right there, can you hear that?” Sam said, his face alight. He straightened, coming off the wall. “That’s the place where the Drain joins the Grand Symphony.” His smile turned down in what the Nether informed Origon was distaste. “It’s eating the music, taking it somewhere I can’t hear.”

  “I cannot—” Origon trailed off, and looked at Caroom, who shook their head.

  “This one was, hmmm, able to hear an occasional note, but all is opaque now.”

  “It’s right there,” Sam insisted. “I’ve almost got it.” He gritted his teeth and screwed up his face, and just for a moment, Origon thought the Drain paused and shrank, but then it resumed its growth.

  Sam gasped, and bent forward, hands to his knees. Origon backed up, in case he might vomit. “I lost it, and my notes.”

  “Sam, I am not knowing what you do.” Origon paused, loathe to speak the next words. “This is past my ability. You must do this yourself.”

  “It’s okay.” Sam raised his watch and closed his eyes. His shoulders relaxed, just a little. “I think I can try again, in a minute.”

  Origon glanced across the circle of black cloaks. No bolt had impacted his shield recently. The guards, backed by the maji, were pushing the Life Coalition inward. His ears twitched as the guards’ guns sounded. Dark cloaks littered the floor, and the six Life Coalition maji were pressed together, still guarded by several ranks of their army. The stink of gunpowder was in his nostrils, and he swiped at his nose with one hand. The Life Coalition weren’t trying to win. They had already done that, unless Sam could do something. The army had been only to give them time.

  He looked back, saw Sam watching him. “I’ll be alright, now the fighting is dying down,” the young man said. “I think I can do it. Go get Maji Ayama and Hand Dancer, and Enos. See how they’re doing.”

  Origon turned without question, then realized he was taking an order from his apprentice. He turned back, oddly confused. “You stay safe as well. I am wanting to have a long talk with you, on the other side of this.”

  “If you have to leave me here to rescue Inas, do so,” his apprentice said, almost offhand. “Tell Enos that.”

  Origon let his confusion show in his crest and his face. “Why would I do such a thing?”

  “Just a hunch. He’s in more danger than me. I’ll be fine. I’ve survived one Drain, you know.” Origon checked over Sam, to make sure he was not delirious in his panic. He seemed serious.

  “As you wish.” With everything he had seen in the last few days, Origon had no idea whether Sam would be safer with him or on his own. The young man could always leave the Dome, after all.

  He gestured for Caroom to follow, and reabsorbed the notes in his shield with a sigh of relief. They crept around the side of the Assembly to Rilan. Whatever Sam was attempting, there was a good chance it wouldn’t work. Best to also attempt his containment plan, just in case. Tendrils of frost were creeping down the walls. The dome, high above, glittered with ice.

  * * *

  Rilan looked over the guard commander’s strategy with Hand Dancer, though by this point it was academic. Most of the delegates and speakers were gone, herded out in a more or less orderly fashion. The bulk of the maji were left.

  She shivered, and her breath fogged. The void was big enough now to feel it draining her energy. The maji on the top tier of seats were crowding down, near the railing.

  She had assumed control, in Vethis’ absence, of the segment of maji from the House of Healing. Jhina led the House of Grace, and Strength and Communication were largely self-sufficient, or at least Scintien and Freshta weren’t screwing things up. Rilan was strangely happy to see Hathssas’ black cloak leading the House of Power. Hathssas had the darker green scales of one born in the equatorial regions, near the more liberal Southern Coalition of states. It was a stereotypical assumption, but Rilan hoped it was accurate. The only other councilor missing was Feldo, though Rilan thought he’d be the first one to lead the advance. Where could the old man possibly—

  “A full containment.”

  Ori’s voice startled her and she whipped around. He’d come halfway around the rotunda without her seeing. She’d been caught up in leading the fight.

  “What about it?”

  “It is what I am wanting to try against the Drain. Did you see what the Life Coalition maji did?”

  “The cannon? Yes.” Rilan stared at Ori. His liver-spotted skin was not just pale, but gray, his crest drooping. Caroom looked little better, like a piece of ambulatory driftwood. She studied the Symphony around them for a moment, adding a few notes to smooth transitions from key to key. It would help their mental state, though she could do little for their bodies. She could spare a few notes in the permanent investment. The Effature’s strange crystal still buoyed her. Both maji breathed deep and stood straighter.

  “This one gives thanks, Majus,” Caroom said.

  Rilan nodded back, accepting the thanks. They had little time here before they would need to evacuate. “The Life Coalition didn’t use a containment. It was something else.”

  Ori brushed this away. “It required all six of them. Reversing it will also require all six houses.”

  Rilan eyed the void. She was actively shivering, though Ori looked too tired to even notice the cold, and Caroom wasn’t as affected.

  Hand Dancer blew on his hands, flexing his long fingers.

  “The Grand Symphony would resist another full-scale change, in any case,” Rilan added. She glanced around at the masses of maji in the Assembly. “Shall we rouse the maji?”

  Hand Dancer looked upwards. Some maji were discreetly leaving.

  Rilan saw other sparks of color, followed by the respective majus looking gut-punched. They were going through the same experiments Ori and she had already tried.

  “We will be needing to add notes simultaneously to lessen resistance to the change,” Ori
said. He had his hands on hips, breath frosting. His crest ruffled.

  “Fine.” Rilan looked back and forth between the other maji. “Any other arguments before we get eaten by the void? Good. Go to your respective councilmember. I’ll take the house of Healing. Those who finish first can talk to Jhina, for Grace, and whoever’s leading Potential. They’ll likely have caught on by—”

  “Majus Ayama.” Enos had been watching the fight.

  “What? We’re a little busy here.”

  “The Life Coalition maji are departing.”

  Rilan swung around as the others moved to their sections. It was true. The Life Coalition majus from the House of Strength had another portal open, ringed in green and burgundy. The remaining troops were filing through, pressed from the rear by the guards. The majus holding the portal open would have to be last.

  She looked down at Enos. I can’t believe I’m trusting an Aridori with this. No, that wasn’t correct. She was trusting Enos. Rilan could see this young woman one day taking a place on the Council.

  “Convince the maji of the House of Healing, Enos,” she said. “Make them work with the others to create a full containment, like we—like we used against you. You have it?” She waited for a hesitant nod. “Good. Don’t let them argue with you. They will. Make them wait until everyone else starts. The more chuckleheaded buffoons who think they can take this by themselves, the harder it gets. Be firm.” She made eye contact, let the young woman—oh Brahm, the Aridori—know she trusted her to do this task. Then she ran for the center of the rotunda.

  While running, Rilan worked through the Symphony, picking out the phrases, chords, and strains of melody she would string together.

  Then she was pushing, shoving, elbowing—everything she could do to get through the mass of armored guards.

  “Move!” she shouted. “Majus coming through. Get out of the way!” Some moved aside. Some didn’t move fast enough. She tried to throw apologies over her shoulders to the ones she had knocked out of the way. She had to get to the center before the majus went through her own portal.

  Rilan forced her notes into the music she held in her mind, and then she was hitting black cloaks mixed in with the guards. These she didn’t apologize to. Her bones were dense now, their baseline augmented by her song. Each punch was along lines of force of the Methiemum body, hitting with the impact of a hammer. Soldiers flew out of her way. She must be glowing like a full moon to other maji.

  As she passed, she counted. Not even half the Life Coalition were Sathssn. Many were Methiemum. There were also Lobath and Kirians, but there were representatives from nearly every species. How long had this faction been operating without the Council or Assembly’s knowledge? There were only a couple rows of Life Coalition left, and she knocked down a particularly robust Lobath, sending hir to the ground tumbling over hir head-tentacles.

  Rilan pulled up, face to face with the Life Coalition majus. There was a glint of eyes widening under the black cowl, and Rilan threw out a fist. A gloved hand, shining with emerald and burgundy, stopped it cold. Rilan gritted her teeth and shook her hand. Hope I didn’t break any knuckles. Never fight the House of Strength straight on—wasn’t that the rule she learned long ago? No house had more sheer defensive might.

  Something whirred behind her and she threw notes into the melody of her skin, turning quarter notes to sixteenths, hardening it. She felt the impact, before whatever it was bounced off her back. There would be a bruise later. A soldier rushed past her through the portal, and another behind him, each taking potshots as they went through. Rilan swung around and the majus’ cowl swiveled, trying to follow. Rilan came up on the other side, forcing the majus to turn away from her troops. “How long can you hold this portal open, after you’re unconscious?” she whispered.

  “This, it does not matter,” the majus answered, the voice feminine. She was between Rilan and the mass of troops now, and they were too busy fleeing to attack. “The great seed is growing. Our task, it is done.”

  “Seed?” Rilan glanced up, wary of tricks, but the majus seemed content only to defend. “The void? Why? Is this just for some insane plot of secession? You could have left the Assembly in peace. Why do this?”

  The Sathssn chuckled, a dry hissing sound. “The secession, it was merely a stepping stone. The seeds will usher in the Dissolution, clear our species’ name, and heal our wounds. It will make our forms perfect for the Holy one who brings the change.”

  “You’re crazy,” Rilan said, and leapt forward, but the shorter majus was ready, and ducked back, a green aura lending her strength.

  “You will not stop us—not now. These changes, they are necessary. You will see, like us, the change will be for the better. We lead the ten species into a golden age.”

  She ducked back again, passing into the portal, and Rilan threw out a hand, clutching the tip of her cloak as it flared out. Her other hand slipped her belt knife free, and she sliced a section of fabric away. The portal dissolved as a cry went up from the remaining Life Coalition forces.

  Rilan swiveled a full circle. I’m in the middle of a hundred angry and lost soldiers. “Guards—defend me!” she called, then blocked a scimitar with her knife, twisted it away, and thrust. There was a grunt of pain from her opponent. These troops were woefully untrained, as if the Life Coalition had hired them on, but didn’t tell them they would have to fight.

  She only had to bring down two more before a wall of guards in the Effature’s green and purple pushed them aside, surrounding her. Rilan glanced between their helmets. The sections of seated maji were each glowing with their own color.

  The void above her was close—too close, and it was hard to move or even to breathe. As in Dalhni, she had no idea how close the void had to get to be fatal.

  She stretched the section of dark cloth. The House of Healing had some tracking ability. It would have been best if they had someone from the House of Potential down here as well; Feldo if she had her choice. She closed her eyes and dove into the Symphony, safe in the ring of guards.

  The organic traces were complex strains of music, twisting around each other. Those of the cloth were organic, but simpler, as the death of the original plant removed chords. She used the fabric as a compass, training her mind to find those same complex rhythms, wherever they were. For a few moments after it closed, the connection the majus used to create a portal would linger. Where the majus stepped through, the Symphony was slightly different, sharing another location, on the edge of her hearing. These complex organic strains now existed there, if she could only make the connection.

  The two places were more similar than she thought. The Life Coalition maji had not departed to another homeworld. They were still here in the Nether! She had been there before. It wasn’t Gloomlight. Some other city, farther away. Aha. Poler. She had only been to the city a handful of times. It was on the opposite corner of the Nether from the Imperium, set up as a mirror of the capital city, though it had never achieved quite the same greatness. For the first time, they knew where the Life Coalition was.

  Her eyes popped open and flicked up. A great ring of all six colors rotated and mixed above her head, one sixth of it weaving through music she could hear. It was surrounding the void, compressing. Is the void slowing? Rilan held her breath. If this worked, they could go after the Life Coalition. If not, they’d have to leave in a hurry.

  One side of the containment wavered, then the other. She crushed the fabric between her hands, her nails digging through it into skin.

  The circle held, and she forced breath back out. The ward slowly drew closer to the pus-like surface of the void.

  Then a tendril swirled too close, and touched the surface of the void. The color bleached and disappeared, the change moving up the section, unraveling the music. Rilan heard shouts and a group of maji from the House of Potential went to their knees as one.

  No. Keep it steady. They only had one chance.

  The containment stabili
zed, but another tendril touched, and another section unraveled, like knitting pulled apart. Rilan caught snatches of the melody, discord weaving through it like one out-of-tune instrument in an orchestra of thousands. Other instruments around it faltered.

  Hold it together. She was gritting her teeth.

  As it compressed, the containment faltered, and places touched the void. In all those places, the void won, tearing through the Grand Symphony like a harpoon though a piece of paper. A great groan arose from the ranks of the maji as their construct began to fail. It wobbled, colors dropping in and out of existence.

  Then some part must have become overbalanced, and the whole containment skewed wildly, impacting the surface of the void and dissipating in a puff of sparks, some even visible to non-maji. Cries of pain echoed around the rotunda, and several maji collapsed.

  Rilan shook with cold and with rage, staring up into the bulk of the malevolent thing, untouched by the combined might of the maji of all ten species. The Life Coalition will pay.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Restitution

  -The House of Power brings to mind the majus of stories, setting his enemies alight with well-placed fireballs. In reality it would be far too much trouble to create anything greater than a spark of light. The notes used could never be reclaimed, except maybe in fading body heat from one’s fallen opponent.

  Part of a lecture on the use of the aspect of Power, by Bofan A’Tof

  Sam shuddered as the great circle of color collapsed. So many notes. He pulled most of his back from the collapse in time. It almost worked when he acted in conjunction with the rest of the maji. He had tried again to separate the deep rhythm Majus Cyrysi couldn’t follow, to cut the Drain off from what it touched, but he wasn’t strong enough by himself.

  His heart hammered, and the watch nearly slipped from his sweaty grasp. The Drain was increasing again. The cold air rasped at his lungs as he drew in a long breath. He could not hyperventilate and pass out. The presence in his head had stripped away most of the progress he had made with his anxiety while living in the Nether. Too many new things. He held on to his vision of cause and effect. There was a way to stop the Drain for certain, if he could remember exactly how.