Shadow Singer

by Marcia J. Bennett

  There followed two more songs; one called “Bran’s Lament,” a sad love song with a tragic ending; the other, a song Poco particularly liked called “Green Draak Dreaming.”

  “The Green Draak is dreaming;

  he wakes to find the day.

  He cries for the singer

  who walks the patterned way.

  Singer, singer, set the pattern.

  Those who follow will be friend.

  Shadows lengthen, turn, and spin.

  Worlds are born when dreams begin.”

  Taav clapped his hands when Poco finished singing, but Dhal sat quietly lost in his own thoughts.

  “You didn’t like the song, Dhal?” Poco asked.

  His crystal eyes focused on her and for a moment or two he was silent; then he spoke. “Yes, I liked it—very much. There was something about it that made me feel as if I should—understand something, something important.”

  “About green draaks?” She laughed.

  “No,” he responded, his expression serious. “Something about singers and patterns. Poco, would you do me a favor?”

  The tone of Dhal’s voice wiped away her smile. “What?” she asked.

  “Sing me another song, a very special song.”

  “What song?”

  “The song about the white temple,” he answered.

  Poco frowned as she searched her memory. “I’m sorry, Dhal, I don’t think I know that one.”

  Dhal looked at her, his crystal eyes intent. “You know it, Poco.”

  She shook her head, not understanding.

  “Ever since we left Port Sulta I have been haunted by a song,” Dhal said. “The one you sang that night in our camp; the one that let us see the white temple in that other place.”

  Unconsciously Poco’s fingers brushed the Ni pendant hidden inside her tunic. A tingle of fear skittered down her back and came to rest in the pit of her stomach.

  “I know how much that song bothered you,” he said. “That is why I have kept my peace this long. But I have been thinking about that place we saw and I need to see it again!”

  Poco shook her head. “I cannot sing that song, Dhal. I know the one you mean, but—”

  “We will never know more about that place unless you sing it up again, Poco.” He took her hand. “If I could see it clearly just one more time, I might be able to focus my Seeker energy on it and go there.”

  “I cannot sing it! I don’t know the words or the song!” she snapped. “I told you before, it was not me singing!”

  “Perhaps not,” he conceded calmly. “But what you did once, perhaps you can do again, if you do exactly as you did before.”

  “To what purpose, Dhal?”

  “Poco, suppose that other place was not in our world! Remember the sky and the trees? What if, by chance, you have located a world gate? I know that all of this frightens you, but I think we have to find out one way or another. If what we saw is real, then there must be a way to get there—and just maybe there is where the Ni-lach have gone. It is a possibility, one I have to check out.”

  Poco’s mind whirled with arguments against further probes into the unknown, but deep in her heart she knew that those arguments would have little effect upon Dhal. She could, of course, simply refuse to sing the song; but if she did refuse, he would only grow more sure of his need to see the place again and eventually she would cede to his wishes if only to please him.

  “What about Taav?” she asked.

  “He will be all right,” Dhal assured her. “I will keep my eye on him.”

  Dhal took Taav’s hand. “If he gets restless,” he said, lifting their linked hands, “I will know.”

  Poco still hesitated.

  “Please, Poco,” Dhal pressed. “Please just try.”

  She drew a deep breath, trying to calm the flutter in her stomach as she reached into the neckline of her tunic.

  She looked at Dhal, wishing she could say something that would make him change his mind.

  “Ready?” he asked her.

  “Yes, I guess so,” she responded unhappily.

  “Do you remember what you were singing that day, before the other song came to you?” he asked.

  “Yes, it is called the ‘Penthor Draak Watch’.”

  Poco lifted the pendant and began to sing. With her eyes she traced the curving lines on the back of the pendant, following the pattern over and over.

  She was aware of Dhal sitting close beside her. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. His silent encouragement was all she needed to continue.

  Her thoughts centered on the song she was singing. As she sang, she felt a deep sadness, for the Draak Watch was gone now, lost to mankind by its own greed.

  She became less and less aware of Dhal and her surroundings as the song took hold on her thoughts. In her mind she envisioned the Penthor Draak Watch circling a large, green land draak. The song that the Ni sang brought the huge reptile to a halt. The Ni signaled to each other and their song changed. The draak turned and followed the Ni, enticed by a sound it could not resist.

  Suddenly Poco became aware of another song entering her mind, and the scenes she had created began to melt away. Blue shadows danced to her voice as the mystery singer took over and slowly another scene began to emerge within her mind.

  She remembered Dhal and Taav, and she wondered if they were seeing what she was seeing. She shivered as the last few lines of song left her lips.

  “Light and dark, their minds repel.

  All friends be warned to guard the gate,

  For evil spawned seek entrance.”

  The song was finished, yet it held Poco with invisible bonds. She tried to break free but could not escape the command to carry the warning to— To who? she cried silently. Who am I to warn?

  “Poco! You did it!”

  Dhal’s excited cry tore at her mind, releasing her from the song. She opened her eyes and found Dhal standing beside her. A warm puff of air hit her face; it held the scent of grain.

  “Look, Poco! It’s there, just as before,” Dhal said, as he pointed to the valley below them.

  Poco recognized the scene. The cream-colored temple stood stately and serene beside the river; the seven towers cast long shadows across the valley as the sun slipped toward the horizon, shading the blue sky to the color of slate.

  “It seems so real,” she whispered softly, afraid to break the spell.

  “Because it is, Poco,” Dhal replied. “Look around you! We are not just seeing it this time, we are living it. Poco, do you realize what you have done?”

  “I am not sure I want to know.”

  “That song must have been some kind of a pattern to a world gate!”

  Poco moved a step closer to Dhal and took his arm, trying to calm the sudden flutter in her stomach. “Dhal, are you telling me that it is not just our minds that have gone traveling this time?”

  “Feel the air, Poco! Smell it! Believe it or not, you have projected us into one of your visionary worlds!”

  “But I am no Seeker, Dhal! I am not capable of anything like that!”

  “Perhaps not, but I am. The scene you created was so clear that my Seeker powers must have—” Dhal was turning as he spoke. Suddenly his hand tightened on her arm. “Poco, look! It’s Taav!”

  Poco turned and saw a green mist behind them. Through the mist she saw someone sitting cross-legged on the ground. As tendrils of fog shifted, Taav’s face became clear. Noting his trancelike state, Poco swore softly.

  “Dhal, I don’t like this.” Her voice was unsteady. “What has happened to us?”

  Dhal frowned. “I am not sure, but I think we have projected ourselves into another world and have left Taav behind.”

  “You mean he is back on the plains?”

  “Yes,” he answered. He looked at the haze of fog that separated them from Taav and shook his head in wonder. “Poco, look at the size of the doorway you have created. I think you could ride a bomal through it.”

  “Never
mind its size,” Poco snapped. “Let’s go back through before the damn opening closes!”

  “Wait!” he cried, grabbing her around the waist as she started forward.

  “For what?” she demanded, pushing away from him.

  “Whenever I used my Seeker power to travel, I always traveled alone. If that doorway has anything to do with my powers, I want to be sure I am able to take you back through with me.”

  Poco’s heart sank to her stomach. “You brought me here, didn’t you? I mean, we came together. Shouldn’t the same thing work going back?”

  “I don’t know what brought us here, Poco. My power? Your song? Maybe a combination.”

  “Damn!” Poco turned to look at the gate. I knew I should not have sung that song! Now we don’t know where we are, she thought, and there is a damn good chance that we—or I—might be stuck here. Damn! Damn! Damn!

  “Poco,” Dhal said softly.

  “What?” she snapped, without turning.

  “It is going to be all right. I just don’t want us to make any quick moves without thinking things out.”

  “I wish you had said that earlier!”

  When Dhal failed to reply to her rebuke, Poco turned and looked at him. “Sorry, I did not mean to snap.”

  Dhal reached for her and drew her close. “It is going to be all right, Poco. We got here. We will get back.”

  “What about Taav?” she asked. “Without us there he might wake up and wander off.”

  “Gi will come back soon. He will watch over him until we return.”

  “Gi is awfully small to do much looking after.”

  “Don’t judge him by his size, Poco. He has been watching over me for years now and I am still in one piece.”

  “What will he do when he finds us gone?”

  Dhal shook his head. “I never predict what Gi will do, but I do trust him. He won’t leave camp without having a good idea of where we have gone. Personally, I am more worried about Screech and what he will do if and when Gi confides in him.”

  “You don’t think they would try to come through there?” she asked, indicating the strange doorway between the two worlds.

  “They might not even be able to see it, Poco. If they can, there is no telling what they might do.”

  Chapter 11

  POCO LOOKED AT THE OPEN WOODLAND BEYOND THE GATE she had created. “I think it will be dark soon, Dhal,” she said.

  “I know, but I want to look around a little before we try going back.”

  If we can go back, Poco thought, as she followed Dhal to the crest of the hill overlooking the temple.

  “If we could talk to some of the people we saw down in the temple, we could find out where we are, and when,” Dhal said.

  “What do you mean by when? Do you think we have gone backward in time, as you did in Val-hrodhur?”

  “It is possible.” Dhal turned and looked at her, his crystal eyes intent. “Anything is possible when dealing with forces such as those used by the Ni-lach and the Tamorlee.”

  “I wish I knew more about this Tamorlee. The things you have told me seem hardly credible. How can a rock—”

  “A crystalline life form,” he corrected her.

  “All right, a crystalline life form, how can it control or direct anything when it cannot move or speak? I know you said it communicates mind to mind, but still, how does it work? Where does the energy it uses come from?”

  “From all around us, Poco,” Dhal answered. “Everything that is, is energy. As to how the Tamorlee absorbs and uses energy, how do we work? If I knew the answer to that question, I think I would be the god we were talking about once before.”

  Dhal looked at his ring. “I do not know how the Tamorlee works, but I have felt its presence, and I know it is an entity with an enormous appetite for knowledge, which it gathers through fire stones like the one I carry. Each of the stones is a shard of the Tamorlee, broken off during its growth periods. According to what the Ancients told me, these shards are somehow locked into the parent crystal; through these stones and the Ni who carry them, the Tamorlee learns. It is also believed that the fire stones enhance the Ni’s natural talents, whether that Ni be a Healer, a Seeker—or a Singer.”

  Poco continued to scan the woodland around them. “I do not see how the Tamorlee could have any effect on my talents as a singer. I do not wear one of the fire stones.”

  “No, but you do stand close to one who does.”

  “Could that alone cause…” Poco’s words trailed off as she saw movement down through the trees. “Something is moving over there, Dhal.”

  Dhal looked, then led out, cutting down behind the crest of the hill and working his way through a wooded area which stretched from the top of the hill down to the edge of an open field. Poco noticed the absence of veil vine and clingor grass, two types of foliage common to wooded areas. She started to point out her observation, but Dhal cautioned her to be silent. They stopped just within the shelter of the trees and looked out onto the open fields, where naked people were working. Most of the workers were male.

  Suddenly Dhal squeezed Poco’s arm. “Poco, look at their hair! It’s green! The Ni-lach—we have found them!”

  Poco’s heartbeat quickened as she stared at the Ni-lach workers strung across the field. After all the time they had spent searching for the Ni-lach, it seemed impossible to her that they could have stumbled across them by accident.

  Dhal watched the Ni who was working the edge of the field not more than two hundred paces away. “I knew our luck was going to change,” he whispered softly. “I just knew it! It was the temple, the first time I saw it I knew— I knew it was Ni!”

  Poco looked at Dhal, caution fighting for control of her emotions. “Dhal, what are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, his glance sweeping across the field of workers. “Talk to them, I guess. Maybe we can find out where we are.”

  Poco watched one of the workers approach their position; the rhythmic swing of his sickle made a soft shushing sound as it cut the grass ahead of him.

  Dhal took Poco’s arm and pulled her back behind the trunk of a large tree.

  “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he answered softly. “But I think we should stay hidden until one of them gets closer. I want some answers, and I do not want to frighten them away.”

  Poco and Dhal stood quietly until the Ni worker was within twenty-five paces of them, then stepped out of hiding. They held their hands down at their sides, palms forward, showing that they were unarmed and approaching in peace.

  Poco made herself study the Ni worker closely, though she was embarrassed by his lack of clothing. He was older than she had first guessed; his legs, abdomen, upper arms, and neck all showed the loose flesh and wrinkles associated with old age; his light green hair also showed patches of white.

  The Ni laid his sickle down and bent to scoop up an armful of grass. When he straightened he saw Dhal and Poco. Startled, his crystal eyes opened wide and the grass fell from his arms.

  Dhal looked ready to lunge forward should the Ni decide to bolt. Poco hoped to forestall such action and quickly placed her hands together before her and bowed to the Ni.

  “Avto, friend,” she said in Ni. “Do not be afraid. We are strangers who are lost and in need of guidance.”

  The Ni’s eyes widened further. “You are Ni,” he said, looking at Dhal. He looked at Poco. “But you are not. Where do you come from?”

  “Do you speak trader?” Dhal asked.

  The Ni hesitated, then nodded.

  “Good,” Dhal said. “Though I am Ni, I am not very familiar with our language yet and it would be easier if—”

  Suddenly the old Ni caught at Dhal’s arms and pushed him back into the shelter of the trees. “Where do you come from?” he demanded. “Tell me quickly!”

  “I was raised near Annaroth,” Dhal answered in trader. “My friend comes from Port Bhalvar.”

  “May the twin suns never fall, it has
happened! You are from Lach!” he cried. The old one continued to speak in the Ni tongue. “After all these years, someone has finally gotten through!”

  “What do you mean, through?” Dhal asked.

  The old one, fairly dancing with excitement, ignored Dhal’s question. “Who sent you? How many hold the gate? Quickly, tell me! We have waited so long!”

  Dhal held the old Ni by the arms, steadying him. “Waited for what, Old One?” he asked, switching to the Ni tongue. “What are you talking about?”

  The old Ni glanced up through the trees that covered the hillside.

  “How many are with you? Are they on the other side of the gate? If they are, you had better have them move quickly, because soon it will be dark and the atich-ar will start clearing the fields!”

  “Old One, listen to me,” Dhal said firmly. “There are no more of us. We came alone and we are lost. We don’t know where we are.”

  The old Ni shook his head in confusion. “You say you are alone?”

  Dhal nodded. “I am sorry, but we do not know what you are talking about. Could you please tell us—”

  “But you are Ni-lach!” the old one cried. He reached out and lifted Dhal’s hand. “And you wear a Seeker ring!”

  “That is true,” Dhal admitted.

  “Then who sent you?”

  Dhal withdrew his hand gently. “No one sent me, Old One. I have only my own curiosity to blame for being here—wherever here is.”

  The old Ni shook his head, disbelief plain in his eyes. “You did not come looking for us?”

  “Who is us?” Poco asked.

  The Ni turned to her. “We are the Ni-lach of Val-hrodhur, those who went with the Tamorlee. Have you never even heard of us?”

  Poco shook her head. “We found Val-hrodhur, Old One, but it was empty. Dhal and I are—”

  Dhal interrupted. “The Tamorlee—is it here with you now?”

  “It is here,” the old Ni answered, “but it is no longer in our possession. Did you say that Val-hrodhur was abandoned?”