Llandry

by Charlotte E. English

  I felt paralysed. I wanted to reject him altogether, irrespective of the use I could make of him. But I realised, dimly, that too many of those feelings were based on the fact that he was a particularly unsettling stranger. I needed to be cool and objective about it, but I couldn’t be.

  To his credit, Gio did not try to push me. He merely stood, looking nonchalantly around at the trees while I deliberated. I don’t know if he avoided watching me because it made him uncomfortable or because he realised it made me so, but I was glad of it.

  In the end, though, I did not have to make a decision.

  I sensed Pense first, though he must have been a mile or two away. He was coming in fast, a distant warmth growing brighter in my mind by the second.

  I forgot about Gio on the spot. My knees were so weak with relief I almost fell over, and I realised I was shaking with it. I didn’t know how frightened I had been over Pense’s absence until I knew that he was okay.

  I Changed and flew. When he appeared on the horizon, I wanted to see him. I wanted to make certain, with my own eyes, that he was hale and whole, and without an instant’s delay.

  There. A deep blue speck in the distance, gaining in size as his wings ate up the space between us. Other shapes around him, naught but dark flecks against the bright sky: Meriall and Nyden.

  He blazed back into life in my heart, and I waited, basking in the glow of it until he was close enough.

  Then I hurled myself at him.

  I didn’t quite knock him out of the sky, though not for lack of trying. We made it safely to the ground somehow, and I gave him to understand how happy I was that he was still breathing.

  You must understand, I am not normally so jumpy when Pense is away. But with dead ancients showing up in both the Off-Worlds and, as yet, no explanation for it, I was unusually petrified this time.

  Pense took it well. He gave me a few minutes to recover my composure, during which he devoted himself to smothering me with affection. That done, I was able to pay attention to his explanation.

  I’m sorry, Minchu, he said silently. We travelled west, and the farther we flew, the more disordered everything was.

  Everything?

  Instead of answering that in words, Pense sent me a mental image. By disordered he meant the amasku, and the vision I received was of a world in convulsions. It was as Avane had described: the landscapes of Iskyr flashing through Changes at frightening speed, and a sense of roiling confusion which brought with it an unsettling wave of nausea.

  Pense had been flying through it. I received a clear impression of what it had cost him to do so: the confusion seeping into his own mind, sending him reeling, blurring his senses…

  Something else Avane had said came back into my mind. Whatever occurred disrupted our sense of space so badly, we couldn’t even tell which way was up anymore.

  And I remembered, at last, what her words had reminded me of. There was one time in my past where I have felt something similar, about three moons ago… and Pense had been heading west.

  Orlind? I asked, trying not to feel sick.

  It is worse.

  Orlind is the once-mythical Seventh Realm. I call it that because it was thought to be lost, and long left behind by time. It was us who ventured that way, after the fighting stopped over Waeverleyne. We found that it is not lost at all, not quite. Most of it is gone, but a tiny island remains. It used to be the site of the greatest Lokant Library of all, a place of such power that various Lokant groups fought over it until they destroyed it. Indeed, some of them are still fighting over it. I know that more than one has had dreams of somehow resurrecting the place.

  The conflict that destroyed the Library also destroyed the land. Most of it sank into the sea, and the little bit that’s left is a mass of pure chaos. The Library was so remarkable because it was bound up with the amasku in some fundamental way, which boosted its capabilities beyond all reason. I don’t entirely understand it, I have to tell you, but Lokants get very worked up about it. And those energies have been corrupted to the point that they are wrecking what is left of Orlind.

  We said, Pense and I, that we would try to heal them. We envisioned this as a project for the far future, after there had been time to do other things first. Rest and heal ourselves, after the war. Grow accustomed to our new lives, and in my case, to my new powers. Find out what place the draykoni would take in the modern world. Take time for our relationship, even, once we had decided we were having one.

  I began to see that this had been absurdly optimistic.

  It is leaking, said Pense.

  Leaking.

  Last time I was in Orlind, it was under the custodianship of Galywis, who is an unimaginably ancient and utterly mad Lokant. Famous, too, as I have lately learned. Through his efforts, the corruption there was confined to the island and was not, at that time, spreading.

  Apparently that has changed.

  What’s become of Galywis? I asked Pense.

  I do not know.

  This is the worst news. If the corrupted amasku of Orlind is spreading, that’s more than reason enough for the mess we’ve been seeing across the Uppers and Lowers — the mad, constant Changes and the portals opening up everywhere. And it is only the beginning.

  I remembered Avane’s words once again. We couldn’t even tell which way was up anymore. That’s Orlind. That’s what the corrupted energy does. How can it have spread into the Lowers and Uppers already? I felt a thrill of fear, almost paralysing.

  What can we possibly do about this?

  There was no time to discuss it further, because something had followed Pense and the others back from Orlind. I became aware of a presence, distant and unrecognisable. It came upon us fast — too fast. I had no time to react before…

  … well, I hardly know how to describe it. It was like being swallowed. I was engulfed by something as irresistible as the tide, all light was abruptly extinguished around me, and I felt as though I fell a long, long way.

  There was no landing. I merely realised, slowly but inexorably, that I was both stationary and alert. I lay prone on a floor that felt constructed, for all of the grass and other plants that had surrounded me moments before were gone. It was wood, or something similar, stripped bare and polished. It was warm against my cheek as I lay there.

  I sat up. Too quickly, for my head spun, blood roared in my ears and my vision blacked out. When it cleared, I received my first glimpse of a new environment.

  The wooden floor belonged to a kind of parlour, a medium-sized room with a large, fluffy green rug in the centre and drapes to match. There was a velvet sofa, sized to seat three, and two arm-chairs. A fire roared in the hearth, kicking out a fierce heat into the room.

  Something was odd about the light. I discovered why when I went to the curtains and found no windows behind them.

  I was a bit more disconcerted when I realised there was no door either.

  No matter. This kind of thing has happened before. When the environment changes around me like this, it is always amasku, and it requires little effort to manipulate. I concentrated on the bare wall where a door ought to be, and carelessly made one.

  It did not appear.

  I stared in disbelief at the wall, all prettily papered in florals and… still just a wall. Shall you blame me if I confess that I felt a surge of panic? For once, I feel it was justified! Transported by means unknown, to who-knows-where, and with no apparent means of escape! I defy anybody not to panic!

  Before I had time to work myself into a mess, though, I heard a creak behind me and Meriall’s voice said, ‘Llandry! Thank goodness! I thought I was lost forever.’

  I turned in time to see her emerge from some kind of panel in the fireplace. It was not a door, just a long slab of stone which had helpfully swung outwards. Behind it I could see another room.

  Under these strangest of conditions, Meriall appeared in the light of a saviour and I practically clung to her. She clutched me too, and we hung onto each other for comfort
for a little while.

  ‘How did you do that?’ I asked her. My first question, naturally, was going to be, ‘Where are we?’, but it was patently obvious that Meriall had no more idea than I did.

  ‘I think I didn’t,’ she said, eyeing the panel distrustfully. ‘It just opened.’

  I peered into the room beyond and found it shockingly different from mine. The walls were sheer glass from top to bottom, though nothing could be seen through them. Even the floor was glass, and the ceiling. As I watched, a dizzying wave of colour rippled through the room, but it was no pleasing array. The hues were nauseating and somehow… putrid.

  I shuddered, and turned my back on it.

  ‘If you are here and so am I,’ I said to Meriall, ‘Perhaps the others are here, too. Have you seen anything of them?’ I was thinking of Pense and Nyden, both of whom had been with us in Iskyr when the transportation had happened. I felt torn between hoping they were here, for together we might better expect to find a way out, and hoping they were not, for perhaps they could find a way to help us.

  ‘I’ve not seen them,’ said Meriall. She was prowling around the room, touching and examining everything. ‘I can’t alter anything,’ she added.

  ‘Nor I.’ I joined her in investigating, but to no avail. The place was as unremarkable, albeit sumptuous, as one of Eva’s parlours. In fact, it struck me as strikingly like.

  The sound of shattering glass distracted us from this endeavour and we turned, as one, to face the gaping panel in the hearth.

  An enormous black draykon filled the adjacent room to capacity, and then some. Finding himself ill-provided with doors, Nyden had apparently decided to bash his way through the walls instead. He crouched there, peeping through the panel at us with one huge emerald eye as splinters of glass slid slowly off his head and hit the floor with a clatter.

  Hi, he said.

  ‘Where is Pense?’ I asked him. If Meri and Ny were both here then surely, so must Pensould.

  I was answered by the sounds of more splintering glass, and then an equally devastating roar.

  Ah. Pense was looking for me, too.

  ‘Minchu!’ he bellowed. ‘How dare you be separated from me like this!’ I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him coming closer, and we could all hear the sounds of destruction which attended his approach.

  ‘It wasn’t my idea!’ I reminded him. Really, it was too unreasonable to blame me. ‘I am still breathing,’ I added.

  That soothed him, for the smashing noises lessened. A bit.

  Then, abruptly, they stopped.

  ‘Pense…?’ I called. The sudden silence was far more alarming than the smashing and splintering had been. I strained to reach him, to understand what had happened.

  The parlour walls shuddered, shimmered, and stretched. The ceiling soared upwards, up and up, and Nyden became suddenly visible in all his dark-scaled glory as the rooms we had been standing in became one, and expanded. The broken glass disappeared.

  When everything settled, our surroundings had transformed themselves into a large, echoing room with a high, domed ceiling, a polished floor that looked like crystal of some kind, and long drapes which probably weren’t hiding windows. A long buffet table stood to one side, with a punch bowl and everything, and there was a balcony for an orchestra. In short, it was a ballroom, and an unusually large one at that. The four of us were dwarfed in the middle of it, despite two of us being, at that time, draykoni.

  Nyden stretched out his wings with alacrity, and shuffled a step or two. Who wants to dance?

  I was unable to respond, for I was engulfed by Pense. He came at me at the gallop, and devoted himself to the pleasant task of ensuring that all of my parts were as they should be. Somewhere in the midst of this I thought I heard a distant, small voice say, distinctly but bafflingly, ‘Sorry.’ It did not sound like Pense, but it must have been.

  It took me a little longer to realise that we were not, in fact, four in this bizarre ballroom, but five. Concealed in a far corner, silent and watchful, was Gio. I thought he was looking far too calm, considering the mystery of our present predicament.

  I marched over to him, trailing Pense and Meri behind me. ‘Gio!’ I greeted him, without troubling to be friendly. ‘Is this something to do with you?’

  ‘By “this”, do you mean this?’ He gestured gracefully at the ballroom.

  ‘Actually, I do. Yes.’

  ‘Nothing whatsoever. I am as mystified as you.’ He smiled at me, as though such a response ought to be reassuring.

  ‘It is not draykon work,’ I informed him.

  He merely looked quizzical. ‘And therefore it must be my doing?’

  ‘You are the only anomaly here.’

  ‘Minchu, who is this?’ said Pense, with a note of anxiety.

  ‘I think I am not the only anomaly,’ said Gio. ‘There is me, and there is the structure we are in. The two are not necessarily related, just because we happen to have appeared at a similar time.’

  ‘I take it he’s a friend of yours, Llan,’ said Meriall. I felt Nyden prowl up behind me, his curious gaze settling upon Gio with palpable menace.

  Gio developed a hunted look, and I could well imagine his thoughts. If he spoke the truth, then he had not anticipated having to explain himself to so large and menacing a group of my friends — or to have to rely on my introduction. How would I describe his conduct?

  Indeed, what would I say? I distrusted him and I was displeased with his behaviour, but I could not help feeling a little pity for him, pinned into a corner as he was and with no less than four suspicious and unfriendly draykoni before him.

  ‘He is… a recent acquaintance,’ I finally said. ‘He has come to us seeking help with his… draykoni abilities.’

  There followed a silence in which, I imagine, my three friends took note of Gio’s white hair and strong Lokant aura.

  ‘I know it seems far-fetched,’ said Gio quickly. ‘There is a blood link. My mother’s side.’

  He also claims to be Limbane’s grandson, I told Pense privately.

  Do you believe him?

  I hardly know.

  ‘Well, Gio,’ said a dark, whispery voice I’d never heard before. I realised, to my surprise, that it was Nyden, who had always spoken mind-to-mind before. He stalked up and put his muzzle close to Gio’s face. ‘If you prove to be traitorous, know that it will be both my job and my pleasure to digest you.’ He smiled horribly, all razor teeth, and added, ‘I am particularly partial to liver.’

  I waited for him to turn back into the Nyden I knew and laugh, but he did not.

  Gio looked impressed. ‘I am not here to hurt anybody, I swear.’

  ‘You had better stick with us,’ said Meriall.

  Gio smiled gratefully at her.

  ‘That way we can keep an eye on you.’

  The smile faded. Gio sighed and bowed his head. ‘I am yours to command, of course.’

  This declaration appealed to Meri, for her smile turned impish and she said, ‘Excellent,’ in a tone of voice that bordered upon sinister.

  I decided not to enquire as to the source of her satisfaction.

  I don’t know what Gio said next, if anything, for I was distracted by the sound of whispering. I thought that Ny and Pense must be holding some kind of private consultation, but it soon occurred to me that this made little sense. If they wished to speak privately, they would speak mind-to-mind and no one would know of it at all. Meri and Gio were not whispering, either. So who could it be?

  I looked around, but the room had not changed. There was no one else to be seen, and nowhere for anybody to hide. I concentrated, but I could discern only an unintelligible babble — no words.

  A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I turned, but I saw no discernible source. Nyden and Pense sat, wings comfortably tucked, in the centre of the ballroom. They probably were talking, for they were facing each other, and motionless. But they certainly were not the source of the movement I thought I had seen.

&n
bsp; Was I imagining things?

  Was I going mad in this bizarre place?

  ‘We need to find a way out,’ said Meriall decisively. She strode past me, her lack of an obvious destination no impediment to her sense of purpose, considering her no-nonsense expression. Gio trailed after her.

  ‘There is no exit,’ said Pensould.

  Meriall narrowed her eyes at him. ‘You seem remarkably calm about it.’

  Pense twitched his tail. ‘There is nothing menacing about this place.’

  ‘You mean aside from the fact that we can’t get out of it?’

  ‘Aside from that. Can’t you feel it?’

  I knew what Pense meant. Strange as this place was, as unaccountable as our presence there may be, it did not feel threatening. On the contrary, there was an air of friendliness about it, and a sense of calm.

  …except for those flickers of movement. Another caught my eye. Meri saw it, too, for we both turned. Nothing. We exchanged glances, her expression as puzzled as my own must have been.

  Then the first figure appeared.

  She was dressed for the ball, though I had never seen such a gown before. It was as white as her hair, and so light as to almost float as she twirled through the steps of a stately waltz. She did not appear to see Pense and Nyden, but nor did she collide with them.

  She danced alone for a minute or two, watched in stupefied awe by the five of us.

  And then, she was no longer alone. A partner materialised between one step and the next, a man with similarly snow-white hair and a suit as marvellous as his lady’s gown. They waltzed together in eerie silence.

  ‘What in the name of…’ said Meri faintly.

  I heard music, distant and mournful, and suddenly the ballroom was full of dancers. Every one of them was white-haired, and as oblivious to our presence as the first two. They waltzed and twirled to the faint strains of music for some minutes, and I could swear that some of them passed straight through me.

  There was also an odd, chilling moment where I thought one of them looked straight at me. He appeared to be about my father’s age, as far as I could judge from the brief glimpse that I caught, and he had a pleasant, friendly face. His eyes met mine for a single, startling instant, and then he was gone, borne away upon a wave of music.