“Are you crazy?” Quincy yelled over the rush of the air. “You're gonna kill us!”
“Trust me; I've done this before, kid!” Quinn yelled back, “Just keep your head down!” Quinn took out his pistol and fired a full-power pulse-blast at the crane's safety-latch before they rounded the corner of the structure, seeing it release to begin a slow swing down on the opposite side of the building. He nodded to himself, and then flew directly into the open building, keeping inside the space between the unfinished floors. The sedan followed them through, swiftly dodging the support pylons and debris in the narrow aperture. It was going to be close, and he had to time it perfectly. Quinn gunned it and flew out of the building just in time to miss the swinging crane.
The sedan wasn't so lucky, and caught the full force of the wrecking ball's destruction, crushed and tossed aside like a bug on a view-glass. Quinn slowed down and brought the airbike to a stationary hover, breathing heavy, and looked down at the wrecked windryder. There wasn't much chance that whoever had been following them survived that impact and subsequent fall, but he'd kept his son alive, and that was what mattered.
“You all right, Quincy?” he asked, able to speak normally in the still air.
“Yeah,” the boy replied. Then he added, “What the kark just happened?”
Quinn frowned. “I guess I owe you an explanation about how I got here.”
“You better save it til we get home,” Quincy said. “Mom'll want to hear it too.”
With a grunt, Quinn gunned it back to the dealership, landing in front of the salesman as he was telling the teenagers to come back when they had more money. Jimmy smiled and walked over when he saw them.
“So? What do we think? How'd she handle?” he asked knowingly.
“How much you asking?” Quinn prompted.
“Well, normally I'd have to say at least...” he looked at Quinn out of the corner of his eye, “let's say ten thousand.” He held his breath, waiting for Quinn to respond. When Quinn just sat there looking at him, he continued nervously. “Of course, if that's too much right now, we've got payment plans available...”
Quinn looked back at Quincy, who seemed torn. Clearly, his son wanted the airbike, but ten thousand seemed far too high an asking price. Quincy saw his father looking at him, and shrugged.
“Okay,” said Quinn, “thanks for your time.” He and Quincy got off the bike and turned to leave, but Jimmy ran around them to block their exit, a desperate look on his face.
“I can go as low as seven thousand,” he offered.
“Quinn stopped and cocked his head to the side, then shook it. “I'll pay five. In hard credit.”
Jimmy ran his hands through his hair, and laughed, but when Quinn started to leave, put his hand up and said, “How...how about six? That's the best I can do,” he said wincing, hands spread wide in supplication.
Quinn sighed, but nodded. That was a fair price. “Okay, go ahead and write up the title transfer. You just got yourself a sale.”
“Yes!” Jimmy said, and then ran inside. He came back out with a title transfer code, and after Quinn paid for the vehicle, he downloaded the title code and registered the airbike in Quincy's name. Once Jimmy was gone, Quinn turned to his son.
“Happy birthday,” he smiled.
Quincy rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Thanks.” Then he added, “Dad.”
“Now, I assume you've flown one of these before?”
Quincy shook his head, and Quinn laughed.
The ride back to the Wasted Wagoneer went smoothly, for the most part, as Quinn taught his son the basics of flying an airbike. Small adjustments. Once they arrived, Kai came out and looked at them, Quincy beaming with pride. She was shaking her head, but smiling. “An airbike, huh?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms. “I hope you kept it under the speed limit.”
Quinn looked at her and winced. “Kai, we need to talk.”
14
Spirit Reading
Mtumba's family was wonderful, but was a painful reminder that Stella's own father wasn't waiting for her when she arrived. Where was he? Stella saw Mtumba smile at her between hugs and warm greetings from his family members. He introduced everyone, and they welcomed her warmly, but Stella still felt the deep pangs of jealousy. She hid her feelings behind a bright smile, and prevented herself from snapping at Mtumba a few times when he would smile and ask, “Isn't this wonderful?”
Mama Teke, Uncle Kel, and a small village of cousins, aunts and uncles had set up a tribal shanty by the edge of the forest in the Garden Citadel. Stella's small group gathered to sit around the fire under the light of the orange gas giant they orbited, wood crackling and popping. Other members of the tribe came and went, until everyone had come by to welcome them, especially Mtumba.
They'd been chatting and catching up for at least half an hour. Stella wasn't sure, though. Time seemed to stretch and bend here in this magical setting. Music was present in everything they did, and everyone was so welcoming.
Stella nodded thanks as one of the tribe girls handed her some gumali, a savory dish made from the enormous mushrooms they'd brought from Kaj. It made her mouth water, and the first bite was deliciously succulent. It upset her that it tasted so good. She shouldn't be enjoying this.
“This place is even huger than I thought,” Rok whispered, eyes filled with wonder. “How do they build something like this?” he asked, looking at Stella with burning curiosity.
She shrugged, her mouth too full to speak. “I'm sure it took a long time,” she said after quickly swallowing. Then, with a sudden trill of sound, big Mama Teke leaned back and spread her hands high.
“Time for the roho ya kusoma!” she announced. There were cheers, but Stella felt nervous.
Mtumba shot her a smile. “A spirit reading,” he whispered reverently, then looked back at his grandma with rapt anticipation.
Stella raised her hand, and Mama Teke laughed, but gestured and said, “You can speak, child. This ain't no school house.”
“What is a spirit reading, exactly?” Stella asked cautiously, unsure if she was ready for one. Then she added, “It won't hurt, will it?”
Mama Teke rolled back on her haunches, laughing. “No, child,” she said as she wiped a tear of mirth from her eye.
“Well, maybe your pride,” Kel supplied with a grin. “But only if you got too much.”
Stella shrugged, and he laughed, everyone turning back to look at Mama Teke.
“Kel, why don't you go make sure nobody bothers us for the next few minutes.” Mama Teke looked at him, and he nodded thoughtfully. “That includes you,” she said with a mock-scowl, and Kel got up grumbling as he shuffled off away from the fire, rounding up some of the younger children to get ready for bedtime.
“All right now,” Mama Teke began, “for this to work right, I'll need you to be completely present. Right here right now, okay?” When she saw they were focused, she nodded and continued. “This is an old tradition for our tribe, one we do after our people return from a long journey.” Rok raised his hand. “Yes?” she asked.
“What if we're not part of the tribe?” he asked, concern showing on his young face.
She smiled, leaning forward. “After this ceremony, you will be,” she assured him. That seemed to assuage his fears.
“Alright, then,” he smiled. “I'm ready.”
Mama Teke nodded and held up her hands. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let the song begin. It was in the old language, deep with history and bound in sacred tradition through the generations. As the ancient cadence took root within her soul, she felt herself opening like a young flower to the whispers of the ancestors. She tenderly lifted her wimbaji mawe from around her neck, cradling it in her lap with hands that had pushed a plow, delivered babies, held and guided those she loved. The sacred crystal disc pulsed a rich, light blue as she focused on it.
Once the spirit-songs of her ancestors flowed free through her heart and mind, she truly opened her eyes and looked
at the world around her. She saw things more clearly. The life singing within the people and wildlife around her. Even here, on the unnatural Citadel, life was present, pressing ever forward, burning with an inner fire.
It was all connected, and she let herself fly on the wings of possibility for a passing moment, before her vision came back to bear on the three youths around the fire. The people were part of it all, and each one mattered so much. She smiled, tears flowing from the beauty she saw, and let the voices flow through her, guiding her with their wisdom. She translated for them, speaking in the language dreamers would understand.
They directed her first to Mtumba, since he was of the tribe by blood. “Mtumba, son of the tribe, you begin to breathe your life song, and are on the long hard path to wisdom.” Her grandson smiled, and she continued. “You are passing through uncertain times, and have many trials ahead. Remember your heritage, your family, your friends, and you will grow. We will always be with you.”
Mtumba nodded with solemn respect, closing his eyes briefly and touching his finger to his head, heart and lips. Mama Teke felt herself pulled next to Stella.
“Stella child, we know you are in pain, but your song is shared with the tribe now. We will help guide you, even though you do not always hear us. Trust your dreams your heart, for that is how we will speak to you. We are with you.”
Stella looked at her, fascinated but unsure what to believe. She nodded anyway, and remembering what Mtumba had done, followed his example with the strange genuflection.
Then Mama Teke's eyes fell on Rok. Or rather, they would have, but the light inside him burned so brightly that his face was made unclear to her, and she felt the voices pause, as if conferring. That had never happened before, and it caught her off-guard. They seemed to be communing with something she could not recognize, and when they spoke again, it was with a clarity she had not felt before. It was like there was an ancient spirit present, lending them all strength.
“Rok,” she began, her voice resonating more than she'd ever felt, “You are known to us. We must warn you, last son of the crystal, act with care. You have far more power than you yet realize, and must bear it with wisdom.” The wind rustled the trees, sending a shiver down Mama Teke's spine.
The ancestors spoke through her to all three children. “Your three songs are tied. You must walk your waters together, though they are fraught with danger. Seek out the merkabic guardian of Altonas, for she can help guide you. But beware, for those that dwell beneath will devour you if they can. Keep to the light, and you may prevail. And remember, your spirits are deeply connected. Only together can you hope to survive what is coming.”
The wimbaji mawe released a clear ringing sound and burst of light, disrupting the campfire for an instant. Mtumba and Stella closed their eyes to meditate on what had been said. The voices receded, giving way to the woodland sounds of evening.
Mama Teke saw Rok look up at the stars and planet above them. She could see his tears as they reflected the light, and felt her heart go out to him. As much of a refugee as any of them here. In some ways, perhaps even more.
The old priestess felt winded, and shook her head. What was that other energy? That had never happened before, and she wondered what it could possibly mean. It had something to do with Mtumba's friend, but beyond that, she couldn't say. She looked at him, curious. Who was this boy, what did the ancestors mean by last son of the crystal, and what was coming that had them so concerned? So many questions.
“Interesting,” she whispered.
15
Old Friends
Alex Fox snapped out of warp just above Altonas, not sure what to expect. Raya Silverbane had been described as a dangerous woman in the file her employer had provided. She'd led some antiestablishment demonstrations, but that had been years ago. There wasn't much current information on her. Irritating...but there was something on a man named Rama Gaddion. He could be her backdoor...
She hummed absently as she flipped through her dossier of DNA for the mission. “So...who are we today?” she muttered, and then settled on a familiar-looking sample. “Huh. This should be fun,” she grinned mischievously, and injected the serum with a grimace.
Less than an hour later, she was off her ship and checking in at the customs gate. It had been a short line, and the female officer had seemed more than happy to help her. Well, to help Captain Eli Hawk, anyway.
“Welcome to Altonas, Captain Hawk,” the female customs officer said cheerfully, marking her fabricated identification code with a temporary travel permit. Alex Fox smiled at her, and she gave Fox a wink back. Okay, Fox laughed to herself as she walked through the small port toward the taxis outside.
She stepped up and got into the first empty cab she saw. The driver looked over his shoulder, his eyes tired from what must have been a long night. “Where to?” he asked as he flipped on the meter console.
“I'm looking for an old friend of mine. Rama Gaddion,” Fox said casually. “You know how I might find him?”
The driver sighed and shook his head. “Hold on, lemme see if I can pull him up.” He scrolled through his console, and came up with a match. “Rama H. Gaddion?” he asked over his shoulder, pulling on his thick brown beard. Fox grunted yes. “Yeah, okay, looks like he's...” he laughed. “That's pretty far.” He checked the clock, and turned to look at her. “It won't be cheap. You still sure you want me to take you? I had some kids try to run on a fare last week, and...You sure you want me to take you all the way out there?”
“I can pay for it,” Fox smiled. “Extra if you pick me up in two days.”
“Alright, it's your credit,” the driver smiled, and zipped them up to altitude, merging into the long-range traffic tier.
Against his protestations, Fox persuaded the driver to leave her at the bridge to the monastery with her go-bag. Could have been a bad call...She rubbed her hands together as the chill quickly began to creep through her thinly layered clothing. She shivered in the icy wind at the head of a short bridge that spanned the deep chasm over to a massive, ancient-looking building.
The solid structure of the monastery was seamlessly constructed, possibly even carved, into the side of a tall gray mountain, austere and cold. Snow capped its soaring peak. Fox could see treetops over the top of the courtyard wall, and recalled that the monks here were known for their special brew of Steep Cider. With any luck, she could try some while she was here.
Wishing she'd brought something heavier than her flight jacket, Fox walked up to the gate and looked for a conference pad. There wasn't one. “Of course,” she cursed, and saw a thick iron ring set into the weathered wooden gate. Quickly going numb from the cold, she lifted the ring and knocked twice. “Next time it's Faya beach,” she chattered.
Fox shuffled to keep warm while she waited, and hoped someone heard her knock. She couldn't see into the courtyard from here. Just as she lifted her hand to try again, the gate creaked open and a rotund graying man with brown eyes peered out from inside a heavy parka, squinting. “What are you doing?” he asked, the movement of his mouth overlaid by a thin mustache as he quickly opened the gate further. “Come on inside! You're going to freeze to death out here! Your lips are already blue! How long have you been waiting?” He waved her in with his big mittens.
“Not long, and thank you,” Fox replied through chattering teeth. She hadn't been prepared for this level of cold. Knowing that you were headed into a winter climate and experiencing it firsthand were quite different.
“What's your name?” the man asked over his shoulder as he led her through the large courtyard to the main doors of the monastery. There were men and women in winter clothing who were tending to rows of trees in the expansive area. “The apples from those trees are used to make our cider,” he grinned by way of explanation as they passed. Apparently, they did much of their agricultural work by hand out here. She shook her head with distaste, but answered.
“Captain Hawk. Eli Hawk,” she introduced herself as she took in the surroun
dings for later reference. Not many windows, and the ones they did have were narrow and didn't open. She felt a surge of concern, but reminded herself that this had all been in the files. Her plan would work. She'd be fine. Her thoughts were interrupted by her guide when he spoke again.
“Well, I'm Wendell,” he said amicably, “and I hope you're here on purpose, because if not, you've got to be completely lost.”
“I am,” she said. “Here on purpose, that is. I'm looking for a friend of mine. Rama Gaddion.”
Wendell laughed, nodding. “Good. Then you came to the right place!” He brought her into a small room with a fire crackling in the hearth, and the heat radiating from it was amazingly welcome right now. Even though it was archaic, it beat freezing to death outside. Wendell brought her a thick wool blanket and smiled. “Here, get warm, and I'll let Rama know you're here.”
“Thanks again,” Fox smiled as the fire's warmth returned the feeling to her limbs, hands and feet. She watched Wendell go, pulling the blankets tight around her. Altonas was cold! Wow. As she waited, she looked around the room. She heard a child laughing somewhere off in the distance, and then a deep resonant baritone laughing from down the hall.
“Ah!” a serene man with dark skin said from the doorway. “Eli! What a surprise to see you here!” Rama came over, and Fox stood, still clutching the blanket to her chest. Rama wrapped Fox in a warm hug, laughing jovially, and clapped her on the shoulder. A little girl ran into the room, arms out as she made a flying motion. She bumped into Fox's leg, and looked up, surprised. She retreated slightly, and held tightly to her father's leg, looking up.
“Who's he?” she asked, and Rama laughed, picking her up in his arms.
Phoenix Rising (Dragon Legacy) Page 10