Louise Cooper - Indigo 06 - Avatar

by Louise Cooper - Indigo 06

  She said softly, and the words were caught up and echoed a thousand times within the crushing dark: “Oh, yes, Indigo. They fear me; and their terror keeps my name alive in their hearts and my will paramount in their minds. Even now my servant Uluye is preparing the ceremonies that will send her child to me for judgment, and I shall judge her hushu.”

  Indigo was stunned. Sweet Mother, they have Yima!

  The Ancestral Lady saw her consternation and smiled a grim smile. “Yes, they have Yima; and Uluye’s hand will wield the knife that ends her time in the mortal world, for Uluye is my faithful servant and her love for me is even greater than her love for her own child.” She took another step toward Indigo. “I do not need to teach Uluye the meaning of fear. But you have not yet learned the lesson she knows so well. I shall teach you now, Indigo. I shall teach you the meaning of fear, and I shall show you what true terror is and what it can do to the human soul!”

  The white hand was coming closer as the Mistress of the Dead advanced up the slope. Deep within herself, Indigo felt her most primal instincts responding: the pounding of the heart, the roiling of the stomach, the sweating, suffocating surge of panic; fear of entrapment, fear of defeat, fear of demons and deities and powers; above all, the unimaginably ancient human dread of death and of what lay beyond—

  No, not that! That was her one great weapon; the knife that ripped the demon open, the crossbow that shot a bolt to its heart! She drew breath, and suddenly the words came.

  “I don’t fear you, Lady, for I know now that I have nothing to fear from you. You see, you have made one great mistake in the means you used to try to cow me. You showed me the dead; people from my own past, my own life, who now serve you in your realm. But among all their number, one was missing. One who, alone, might have provided you with a weapon against which I would have been defenseless. But he did not come, did he? You couldn’t use him against me, because he doesn’t dwell among your legions. That was my one terror, madam; terror that I would find my Fenran here. But he isn’t here. He isn’t dead. You have no power over him, and therefore you have no power over me. So do whatever you will—I defy you!”

  The Ancestral Lady froze. And suddenly from the walls all about them came a rustling and a clicking and a glimmering of bone, and a cry, a whisper, a plethora qf tiny voices.

  “us, Indigo. us, Indigo. afraid. afraid. death. home. afraid. help us. help us. help ME….”

  The Ancestral Lady flung her head back and shrieked like a banshee. The next instant, the world erupted. The river rose, a turbulent tide of foul black water; the tunnel walls groaned and caved in and down, shattering with a roar like an avalanche as they crashed toward Indigo. Howling lights flashed past her eyes as she fell back, and monstrous shapes tumbled through the air at her: bone and flesh and hair and fur and—

  A final, massive implosion flung her into a dimension that seemed to crush her and tear her apart at the same moment. She fell from nowhere into nothing, twisting over and over, screaming without sound, aware only of blackness and blindness and a blaze of pain, a dinning in her ears. There was a wall rushing toward her; she felt it coming, though her senses were battered out of existence; closer, closer. “help us, help ME.” Then the wall slammed into her from all directions at once, and she was back in a physical body that flailed and thrashed, and something was streaming past her eyes in huge, dark rushes, and her nose and her throat and her lungs were burning, and she opened her mouth and air surged out in a bubbling stream around her head—

  Water! She was underwater, breathing it in, swallowing it, losing the last dregs of her precious air! In an instant, Indigo knew what the Ancestral Lady had done, and panic gripped her. The lake! She’d drown; she’d never reach the surface in time—

  No! She shut her mouth against the water’s onslaught as the panic gave way to reason. Her own last words to the Lady—she couldn’t die! There was a way up, back to the light, back to sanity, back to where they were waiting for her, waiting for her! She must reach them. She must!

  Indigo clamped her arms tightly to her sides and kicked out. She felt the sudden buoyancy, the instinct of the swimmer drawing her toward light and air, and she streaked upward from the lake’s depths, cleaving through the black water like a fish outrunning a deadly pursuer.

  •CHAPTER•XX•

  There was a storm coming. Grimya had sensed it in the air long before the first haze began to taint the sky, and now the sun, which had passed the meridian and begun to decline, hung like a dim, beaten-copper disk in a dense and colorless sky that was rapidly darkening in the west.

  At the lakeside, the grim ceremonies had begun, preparations for the uglier rites that would take place at sunset. More and more people continued to arrive from the outlying villages and were gathering around the arena and at the forest’s edge. They would have no part to play in what was to happen; their role was simply to witness the events and to take warning from them. The crowd was silent, and even from where she lay by the stairs, Grimya could smell their fear.

  Earlier, the wolf had managed to writhe to a position from where she could see a section of the gathering, and she had shuddered inwardly at sight of the ranks of stony faces, their expressions ranging from morbid curiosity to outright dread. Many had brought offerings, though whether they were intended to placate the spirits and demons, or Uluye and her women, Grimya couldn’t tell. In these people’s minds, there seemed to be little difference.

  On the shore, the priestesses were constructing the wooden frames on which Yima and Tiam were to die. Remembering the horrors of Ancestors Night and the fate of the woman who had murdered her children, Grimya hadn’t wanted to watch the frames’ familiar shape taking form, and so she had wriggled painfully back into the shelter of the stairwell, hidden from the view of everyone, and now she lay staring miserably at the ziggurat wall.

  She wondered how Yima and her lover were faring. They were still inside the citadel, and Grimya dreaded the moment when they must be brought down and would pass only a few paces from her on their way to execution. The guilt that racked the wolf was second only to her fear for Indigo’s safety, and though she knew it was futile, she wished again and again that she could find a way, even at this eleventh hour, to right the wrong she had done the young couple.

  The sky grew darker and more oppressive. From the shore came intermittent sounds of chanting, the rattle of sistrums and the sharp thwack of small hand drums. The heat and humidity were worse than ever, and Grimya felt giddy and ill. With her muzzle bound, she was unable to pant in an effort to cool herself, and no one had thought—or troubled—to bring her water.

  In a feverish state halfway between waking and dreaming, she was beginning to wonder if Uluye’s intention was to let her die through neglect, when she sensed a presence close by. With an effort, she opened her eyes and saw that one of the priestesses had approached the stairwell and was bending over her.

  “There, now.” The girl was very young; younger, Grimya surmised, even than Yima. Her face looked tired and strained, and sweat beaded her brow, nose and jaw. “There. I’m to give you some water, look.” She brandished a dish and a small amphora. “Look, here it is.”

  So Uluye wasn’t trying to kill her this way after all. Grimya tried to struggle into a more upright position, but the bonds on her legs made it impossible. The girl frowned at the ropes, and for a moment the wolf wondered if she might untie them; but then she clearly thought better of the idea, for she turned her attention instead to the knot at Grimya’s muzzle. As the rope came free, Grimya whimpered with gratitude and her tongue lapped and lapped at the sizzling air in desperate relief.

  “Here.” The girl had filled the water dish and pushed it under her nose. As she did so, a huge, silent flash split the sky in two and lit the entire ziggurat as though it had caught fire from within. The girl jumped and cried out, almost upsetting the bowl. For a few seconds, she stayed still, listening tensely, but there was no answering roar of thunder, and at last she forced her
muscles to relax and returned her attention to the water. Her movements, Grimya saw, were nervous and darting. The onset of the storm had clearly unsettled her … but there was more to her fright than that, and the wolf thought in surprise: she is afraid of me….

  For a minute, as she drank the first bowlful of water and whined hopefully for another, Grimya was too preoccupied to consider the implications, but then, as the girl refilled the bowl and cautiously pushed it toward her a second time, an idea came to her. There was a slender chance that it would work, but if it did, if she succeeded, it might be her one chance to get free.

  The water was reviving her; she drank a third bowl and then licked her muzzle and turned her head away to show that she had had enough. The girl picked up the rope and held it uncertainly.

  “Uluye says I must tie you again.” Her dark eyes were wary and she spoke in an artificially soothing tone, clearly unaware that Grimya could understand her, but simply talking to boost her own confidence. Suddenly another lightning flash turned the sky momentarily to a livid blue-white. This time it was followed by a distant roll of thunder, and briefly a capricious breeze sprang up, bringing the scent of rain. The girl shut her eyes momentarily and muttered a protective charm under her breath; then, with an effort, she collected herself and gingerly approached the wolf again, the rope held out. “Come on, now. Come on. I won’t hurt you.”

  Grimya showed her teeth, and a warning growl rumbled in her throat. The girl jerked back with a sharp intake of breath, then licked her lips nervously and tried once more, though moving very slowly now.

  “Come … please. Be good. I promise I won’t—”

  Grimya snarled. At the same instant, lightning flashed again, and as it lit the sky, her amber eyes seemed to catch fire. The girl screamed, scrambling to her feet and stumbling backward; echoing her cry came a huge bellow of thunder, and then the distant but fast-increasing hiss of the rain sweeping in. As the first drops hit the ground like tiny arrows, Grimya snarled again with renewed savagery and, straining at her bonds, lunged in the girl’s direction, her teeth snapping.

  It was enough. Her seniors’ instructions forgotten, the girl fled from the twin terrors of the storm and the furious wolf. In another lightning flash, Grimya saw her scrambling up the stairs into the citadel, and heard her sobbing in the instant before thunder drowned all other sound. Under other circumstances, the wolf would have pitied her, but there was no time for such indulgences now. In a matter of seconds, the rain had become a downpour, soaking her fur and already forming puddles and rivulets on the sand, and Grimya set to gnawing the rope that bound her forelegs. Her pulse raced and she knew that she must work quickly. The chances were that the young priestess might be too ashamed of her fear to confess her dereliction to any of her peers; but on the other hand, she might run straight to someone more courageous, who would come to see what was to do.

  The rope was quite heavy, but it was also old, and nothing made from vegetable matter lasted long in this foul climate. The rain saturating the fibers made the work easier, and in less than a minute, Grimya’s teeth had bitten through enough strands and the rope fell apart. She paused for breath and to lap gratefully at the downpour, then twisted her head around and set to work on her hind legs. She nipped herself twice in her haste, but at last the second rope also came free.

  Elated, Grimya sprang to her feet—then staggered and fell over as her numbed limbs refused to support her. For another minute she lay panting and helpless, dreading that at any moment someone would discover her. But the priestesses had other preoccupations; no one came, and at last she felt she could trust her legs.

  She scrambled to her feet. The sky overhead was now so black that it had blotted out all light; the downpour had extinguished the torches by the lake, and only the frequent but short-lived flashes of lightning illuminated the scene. Grimya gave silent thanks for the storm, for the darkness and rain would hide her from view as she ran for the safety of the forest. Soaked through now, her fur plastered to her body, she stared through the veils of falling water until a triple fork of lightning overhead showed her that the way was clear; then she dashed toward the trees. As the newest roar of thunder faded, a wailing cry went up from the priestesses by the lakeside, and for an instant Grimya thought she had been discovered; but the cries were answered only by the renewed rattling of the sistrums, and she realized that this was simply a part of the ceremonies, made more frenetic by the storm. She raced on, and moments later, involuntarily uttering a bark of sheer relief, she plunged into the wet blackness of the forest undergrowth.

  The sounds of the drums and sistrums were still fitfully audible between thunderclaps as Grimya pushed through the dense vegetation. She was making for the far side of the lake; though there wasrno logical reason for it, instinct seemed to be pulling her in that direction, and besides, it would take her as far as possible from Uluye and her women, while still enabling her to keep the citadel in view. The downpour was lessened by the dense foliage overhead, and the lightning, now almost continuous, showed her the easiest path. She had almost reached the lake’s farthest edge when something new shimmered in the periphery of her senses. She slowed and hesitated, unsure of what it was that her consciousness had picked up.

  And then, in her mind, she felt the soft, tentative telepathic call.

  Grimya … ? Grimya, where are you? Can you hear me?

  “Indigo!” Grimya barked aloud in uncontrollable excitement. She broke into a run, wriggling through the crowding, sodden bushes toward the source of the call. Indigo was close; she was here, by the lakeside. Her instinct had been true—

  The wolf emerged from cover into a blinding wall of rain. For a moment she could see nothing at all, until lightning lit the surface of the lake, a churning silver glitter only yards away. Grimya blinked, trying to shake water from her eyes. Then there came another titanic flash, and she saw the soaked, dazed-looking figure that sprawled at the water’s edge.

  “Indigo!” Grimya’s cry was lost in the thunder as she ran to Indigo and, ignoring the last smears of the ash and charcoal mask that the lake and the rain hadn’t washed away, licked her face in joy and relief. Too excited to speak coherently, she lapsed into telepathic speech. Where have you been, where have you been? What’s happened to you?

  Indigo hugged her tightly. She was still too stunned to speak and could hardly believe that she was truly back in the mortal world. Fighting her way upward through the dark water, her skull pounding and lights flashing before her eyes, she’d known that she could hold out for only a few more seconds before she’d be forced to open her mouth and try to breathe. Then, just before the pressure grew too great to bear, her head had broken from swirling darkness into the mayhem of the storm; with a great, rasping inhalation, she’d swallowed air and felt rain beating down on her face, and as the pounding and the lights began to loose their hold on her, she’d somehow found the wit to flounder to the bank, and had dragged herself out of the lake to lie coughing and choking on the shore with the lightning flashing around her and thunder roaring in her ears.

  She was still giddy now, and her throat felt as though it had been rasped raw; but the relentless physical reality of the storm was driving out her disorientation, and she was grateful for it. Immortal or not, she didn’t care to speculate on what might have happened if she hadn’t reached the surface when she did. But she was back now. She was safe. And there was so much to be told.

  Grimya had calmed a little but was still brimming with questions. Where have you come from, Indigo? she asked. I have been trying to make contact, but I couldn’t find you, I couldn ‘t hear you!

  “Wait a few moments, dearest; let me get my breath.” Another bawl of thunder eclipsed Indigo’s words, and she rubbed the wolf’s fur. For another minute or more, they sat hunched together against the downpour. The lightning was a little less frequent now, though the rain fell as hard as ever, and as her reeling senses began to settle into more rational order, Indigo thought, Goddess, where to begin
? There was so much to say, so many confusing threads to unravel. But then she remembered the first thing, the starkest of all, and her fingers clenched in Grimya’s ruff.

  “Grimya, there’s something you must know. Shalune and Inuss—they ‘re dead.”

  Thunder grumbled again, and the wolf’s eyes grew troubled. I know.

  Indigo stared at her. “You know?”

  Yes. Grimya paused, then added unhappily, Their bodies were washed up on the shore during the night. The priestesses say they will become hushu. But Indigo, there’s more. Yima—

  “I know about Yima; I know what she tried to do. Shalune told me the whole story.”

  But she’s been captured! Indigo, they ‘re going to kill her, and it is my fault!

  “Your fault?” Then, as Grimya started to explain, Indigo held up both hands. “No, Grimya; wait, wait. We mustpiece this together from the beginning, or we’ll make the confusion even worse.”

  There may not be time. Yima and her man are to die at sunset, and the ceremonies have already begun!

  Indigo looked quickly across the lake, but the ziggurat on the far shore was invisible in the pouring gloom. In a brief lull, the sound of the women’s chanting drifted faintly over the water above the hiss of the rain, and for the first time, her mind registered its significance.

  “How long until twilight?” she asked tensely.

  I don’t know; the storm makes it impossible to tell. I think we must have two hours or more until dark comes. But if we’re to do anything—

  “No,” Indigo interrupted her again. “There is time. Let’s get into the forest, under cover, and then we must piece both of our stories together. It’s vital that we each have the whole picture.”

  They got to their feet and stumbled through the deluge to the trees. There, sheltered by a spreading, huge-leaved giant, they both recounted their stories, and the whole ugly tale emerged. Grimya told of her discovery that another candidate had been substituted for Yima, and of how, fearing for Indigo’s safety, she had in desperation gone to Uluye for help. She recounted the story of Yima and Tiam’s capture, and Uluye’s decree that they should be executed to appease the Ancestral Lady.