Louise Cooper - Indigo 06 - Avatar

by Louise Cooper - Indigo 06

  She is ready to kill her own daughter, the wolf said miserably. I don’t understand that, Indigo—I don’t understand how she can do such a dreadful thing!

  “Oh, but I do,” Indigo replied grimly. “And that’s a part of my story. You see, I’ve learned the nature of the demon we’re seeking, and it’s not the creature who calls herself the Ancestral Lady.”

  It is not?

  “No. In fact, the Ancestral Lady is in thrall to this demon, Grimya; and so are Uluye and all of her women, and the Dark Islers who owe them fealty.‘’

  And she told the wolf of her experiences in the Ancestral Lady’s realm. Grimya listened wide-eyed, not interrupting, and when finally Indigo finished, the wolf whined softly.

  “The d-demon is fear?” This time she spoke aloud, and there was grave concern in her voice. “But how can we fight that, Indigo? Fear has no body; it isn’t a thing that can be c … aptured and killed. All the others—the Charchad and the s-serpent-eater, even the demon of Bruhome—they were things, and we could s-see them and face them.”

  “I know. But I think it can be defeated, Grimya, although I realize now that we’ll have to use very different weapons from any we’ve used before.” Indigo looked into the she-wolf’s worried eyes. “Do you remember what you said to me some while ago, about the ways in which I’ve changed since we began journeying together?”

  “I th…ink so.”

  “You asked me that day if I believed I still had my shape-changing powers. Well, I know the answer now. I discovered it by chance when the Ancestral Lady tried to use those three images against me: Nemesis, the Emissary and my own wolf self. When I banished the wolf image, when I took it from her grasp, I knew then that although it was part of me and always will be, I could no longer use it.” She smiled sadly. “It was as you said: the cub outgrows its games when it no longer needs them for learning. I don’t need to become the wolf to overcome this demon. I believe I’ve learned how to call on other powers now.”

  Grimya looked uncertain. “Other p-powers?”

  Indigo nodded. “I’m not sure that I can explain to you; I’m not even sure that I can explain to myself. I just … feel it, Grimya. Something has changed; something very fundamental.” She glanced up at the sky, then suppressed a shiver that coursed through her despite the suffocating heat. “That day, you also said you felt that Nemesis might be afraid of me now. That isn’t true; at least not in the way I think you meant it then; but I believe, Grimya, I believe, that I no longer have any reason to fear Nemesis. It has no real power over me; only the power that I’ve been foolish enough to let it usurp.”

  Grimya shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “No.” Indigo saw the futility of trying to express what she felt in words that would make any sense. Words couldn’t communicate it; the feeling—the conviction—was too formless. Yet it was a conviction, and in attempting to challenge and overcome her, the Ancestral Lady had, however unwittingly, done her a great service. If she could only hold on to what she had learned, hold on to it and use it, then this demon might be defeated and Yima and Tiam’s lives saved.

  If, she thought. That was the imponderable. She had yet to put her own power to the test, and there was so little time. But the skeleton of a strategy was already taking form in her mind, and with Grimya’s help, she believed that she could prepare quickly enough for what she must do. Poor Grimya; the wolf blamed herself entirely for Yima’s predicament, and felt her guilt and shame so deeply. She’d move mountains and forests, if she could, to put right what she thought was a betrayal.

  Indigo turned to the wolf again. “Grimya—do you know how many of the priestesses are still in the citadel?”

  “I don’t kn…know. Very few, I think. Most are with Uluye on the sh-shore.”

  “Would it be possible for us to reach the caves without being seen? Could you find a route?”

  Grimya considered for a few moments before replying, “Yess, I can do it. And the storm will make it easier.” She blinked. “Wh-what are you planning, Indigo? Will it help Yima?”

  Indigo hesitated. Then: “I can’t be sure, Grimya. It’s a gamble. But, yes … if it works, I hope that Yima and Tiam will be free by morning.”

  The rain was slackening when they emerged from the trees, though it was still heavy. Lightning flashes were intermittent now, and the thunder less deafening; the storm was passing as quickly as it had come, and Grimya was anxious to make haste before they lost the advantage of its cover. With no route into the citadel other than the broad, open stairway, it took time and the greatest care to reach their goal, and Grimya sneaked to the ziggurat to reconnoiter, while Indigo waited at the forest’s edge for the signal to follow.

  Despite the storm, the ceremonies at the lakeside had continued unchecked, and the crowd of onlookers had swelled to what seemed a vast throng. People stood sodden and forlorn, rank upon rank, silent, frightened, their numbers stretching back into the forest as far as the wolf’s eyes could see. In the arena, a large coterie of priestesses formed a semicircle around Uluye, who presided over them like a grim statue on the oracle’s rock, ignoring the water beating down on her as she watched the progress of the rites. Still the grisly wooden frames were unoccupied, but the atmosphere had an ominous quality, which the storm had done nothing to lessen.

  Some of the women, Grimya saw, were about to begin a circuit of the lake. This ritual would be very different from their customary nightly procession, for they carried offerings of food, ornaments, clothing—offerings perhaps brought by the villagers—to cast into the water in an attempt to appease their angry goddess. A shrill, bloodcurdling song of praise was sung before the women set off, and while the crowd’s attention was focused on this, Grimya called out telepathically to Indigo.

  Come now, but quickly! The rain has almost stopped, and I can see the sky growing lighter. Run to the stairwell—I am waiting for you there.

  In her dark robe, Indigo was almost invisible as she came in a crouching run from the forest. She joined Grimya, and as she paused to get her breath, they both looked uneasily at the nightmarish scene on the shore.

  They haven’t brought Yima and her man down from the citadel yet, Grimya communicated. I don’t know where they are being kept, but they must be guarded. We shall have to take great care.

  All the same, I don’t think we dare wait, Indigo said. They may not be brought out until the last moment.

  Grimya peered up at the stairway rising above them. There is no sign of anyone up there at present. If we must go, I think we should go now. The first flights of steps will be the most dangerous. If we can reach the first cave level, it will be much easier to hide.

  Then let’s go now, while their attention’s diverted.

  They left their hiding place. Indigo allowed herself one quick glance back; then, as Grimya called that the way was clear, she turned to the staircase and started to climb, moving as quickly as she dared on the wet and slippery surface. The rain had almost ceased now, and as Grimya had warned, the sky was lightening in the west as the stormclouds began to clear. Aware that within a matter of minutes, they would be all too clearly visible from below, they gained the first ledge and climbed the second and then the third flights. As she set foot on the fourth staircase, Indigo was beginning to think that they might, after all, reach the upper levels without encountering anyone, when Grimya suddenly communicated a frantic warning.

  Indigo! Lie down, quickly!

  Instinct propelled Indigo before her conscious mind could react, and she threw herself flat on the stairs, where the parapet was high enough to shield her from view. Grimya, belly to the stone, crawled back and peered cautiously out from the parapet’s end—then uttered a tiny, involuntary whimper.

  Moments later, the small procession came into view, and Indigo drew in a sharp breath. Four priestesses with spears in their hands, and faces as hard as the rock of the ziggurat, strode along the ledge below them and turned onto the staircase they had just climbed. In their
midst, two figures dressed only in short, sacklike garments and hung about with fetishes, shuffled with an air of hopeless defeat, their heads bowed and their feet dragging. Though she had never seen him before, Indigo knew that the young man must be Tiam. His left cheek sported an ugly, spreading bruise, and the eye above it was so swollen that it was closed to a slit. Yima’s face was hidden behind the curtain of her unbound hair, but Indigo could hear her rapid, shallow breathing as the two captives, clutching each other’s hands, passed by with their escort.

  The party descended the stairs; the last Indigo saw of them was the priestesses’ spear tips glinting in the gloomy, reflected light from the sky. As they dropped out of sight, Grimya communicated urgently, This means we have very tittle time left. Whatever we mean to do, we must do it quickly!

  Indigo glanced speculatively at the staircase and the tiers of ledges above them. Now that the prisoners had been taken down to the arena, she thought it unlikely that anyone else would be left in the citadel; even those with no part to play in the ceremonies, the very elderly and the very young, would be among the watching crowd.

  They started up the stairs, more quickly now, but still with a cautious eye for any movement above them, and she said: Grimya, I need to go to our quarters to make ready, and then I want you to go to the temple on the summit.

  Me? To the temple? Grimya’s mental voice sounded puzzled.

  Yes. I think I know how we can best contrive what we need to do, and your help will be vital.

  And, quickly, she explained the plan that was taking form in her mind. Grimya wasn’t entirely happy with the thought that it meant her leaving Indigo’s side, even for a moment. If something should go wrong, she said, she wanted to be with her friend, to protect her. But she gave way, albeit reluctantly, and they hastened on until they reached the uppermost ledge. While the wolf waited outside to keep watch, Indigo ducked through the curtain that hung over the entrance to the oracle’s cave. No lamps were burning, but the light outside was growing stronger and she could see well enough to find what she needed. First, a rapid change of clothes, from the sodden black robe into the oracle’s ceremonial garments. Then the oracle’s crown, which to Indigo’s relief still stood in its niche at the back of the cave. She’d feared that Uluye might have removed it, but it seemed that the High Priestess still respected, the taboo against entering the cave when the oracle was not in residence.

  Then … Indigo paused, looking at her crossbow, which lay among the baggage she’d brought with her when she first arrived at the citadel, and which she hadn’t touched since. No; she wouldn’t take it. Although she would feel a great deal more secure with it in her hands, it was too worldly a thing, too mundane; it would detract from the image of unearthly power that she must rely on now. Her knife, though, was another matter, for it was small enough to be hidden. At least she’d have one physical weapon if things went wrong….

  She was tying the knife in its sheath firmly to her sash when she heard Grimya’s mental voice call to her from the ledge outside.

  Indigo, the sky is almost clear and I can see the sun. It will set very soon. We must hurry, or we’ll be too late!

  There was anguish in Grimya’s tone, and Indigo swore softly. She needed more time in which to gather her wits and prepare herself. The plan was so haphazard, her skills so untried … even another hour might have made all the difference. But there was nothing she could do about it. Prepared or not, she had to make the attempt, and she couldn’t afford to consider the possibility of failure.

  She tucked the oracle’s crown under one arm and left the cave. The light outside startled her; the great mass of stormclouds was rapidly receding into the east, and the orange-red globe of the sun hung low over the trees in a lurid sky. The ziggurat walls shone fierily, and light flooded the arena below. Looking no bigger than ants from this distance, the priestesses were moving on the sand, long shadows spearing out from their hurrying figures. They were relighting the torches—the fluttering flames seemed pale and insignificant under the brilliant sun—and a large group were gathered around the oracle’s rock, on which a single figure stood motionless, presiding over the scene with a brooding and watchful air. Faintly, the drone of the women’s chanting, emphasized by a muffled thud of drums, drifted up on the still air.

  Indigo felt her stomach contract in queasy trepidation, and she looked at Grimya. “I’m ready. Quickly—go on to the temple, and I’ll make my way back to the arena.”

  “Be c-careful,” Grimya urged her. “Now that the light is good again, if anyone sh … ould look up—”

  “I know, dear one, and I’ll take the greatest care. But I think they have other preoccupations. I’ll be safe enough.”

  She watched the wolf lope away along the ledge toward the last flight of stairs that led to the ziggurat’s summit, then turned and hastened in the other direction.

  The quiet after the racket of the storm was eerie; even the sounds of the rituals continuing far below seemed unable to impinge on the huge stillness that gripped the world. Yet, despite the clean-washed atmosphere, Indigo felt that there wasn’t enough air in the world to make breathing possible. She made her way down the first three flights of stairs without incident, then paused at the top of the fourth flight to send a quick message to Grimya on the summit. The wolf assured her that all was well; satisfied, Indigo started down the steps—

  And stopped halfway down, as from nowhere came an attack of near-panic. She couldn’t do this—it wouldn’t work. It was impossible, she hadn’t the power—

  Yes, you have! She forced the savage denial into her mind and snatched at the panic, grasped it, crushed it. The demon was trying to feed, on her weakness; she must not give way! She steadied herself, looked down at the crowds massed below her, and quickly hurried on.

  Luck—or perhaps something more than luck—was with her, for she reached the foot of the last staircase safely and ducked under the stairwell, thankful to be safe at last from the gaze of anyone who might glance toward the ziggurat. The panic was still there, still trying to snare her, but she willed her breathing to slow to a regular rhythm, and willed her hands to be steady as she raised the oracle’s crown and set it carefully on her head. Strangely, it seemed less heavy than it had on previous occasions. Then she sought Grimya’s presence in her mind.

  Are you ready?

  Yes, came the reply. I am ready. I wait only for you to give the word.

  Indigo looked up at the sky and thrust the last of her doubts away. Though she had no logic to support the conviction, she believed that she could achieve what she had set out to do. She had learned several valuable lessons in the Ancestral Lady’s realm, and one of them was the folly of underestimating her own power. She closed her eyes, focused her will. In her mind she visualized the Ancestral Lady’s bone-white face, within its shrouding frame of black hair, and her eyes, blacker than night, blacker than the deep of space, with their silver corona glimmering cold and ghostly. The image came to her with startling ease, almost as if her consciousness had been anticipating this moment, like a player waiting in the wings for a cue. Indigo smiled to herself, and in her mind, silently, she spoke.

  Well, Lady, this is the greatest test of all. Her words were not a direct address to the Mistress of the Dead, nor did she believe that the Lady was truly listening; at least, not yet. But the link forged in the dark underworld still remained—and now Indigo drew on the power latent in that world, calling it to herself, forming it, shaping it, focusing it. In her mind, shadows crowded and crawled, and against a background of soft, sibilant hissing, a choir of thin voices whispered, “we are her. she is us… we are her. she is us…” In her mind, she reached out toward them—and felt her fingers touch the glittering, electric force of raw power.

  Now, Grimya! she called silently. Now!

  On the ziggurat’s summit, at the edge of the towering cliff, Grimya felt the hackles rise from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine as excitement and anticipation and a sense of fur
ious determination rose within her. Silhouetted against the sky, she lifted her head, drew breath—

  And the challenging, ululating howl of a wolf rang out shatteringly across the arena far below.

  •CHAPTER•XXI•

  Five hundred faces turned upward in shock, and Uluye snapped out of her semitrance with a jolt that shook her from head to foot and almost pitched her off the rock where she stood. Her minions tried to help her restore her balance, but Uluye savagely shook them off. As the last echoes of the wolf’s howl died away, she turned, crouching like a cornered cat, and stared up at the ziggurat where Grimya stood poised, a silhouette against the bright sky.

  What was this? What did it mean? Uluye stared fixedly at the wolf’s distant shape, her mind racing as she struggled to understand and interpret what she saw. She was still dazed; the ritual had been close to its climax, and she had almost completed her achievement of the waking trance in which her love for and dedication to the Ancestral Lady eclipsed all else; then as the final, triumphant moment approached, her spell had been shattered. Why? Uluye screamed silently in her mind. Why, Lady? What are you telling me that I don’t understand?

  There was total silence in the arena now. The ceremony had collapsed into chaos; the drums and sistrums had stopped as the women wielding them stared open-mouthed and terrified at the vision on the ziggurat. Everyone, priestesses and onlookers alike, waited. Then suddenly, from the direction of the ziggurat, a new voice cried out.

  “Uluye! In the Ancestral Lady’s name, I command you to stop this murderous insanity!”

  Uluye hissed in shock and spun to face the stairs at the ziggurat’s foot. The stone knife dropped from her grasp as she suddenly lost all control of her fingers, and she stared in stunned disbelief at the figure that had emerged from the shadow of the staircase and was now walking slowly across the sand toward her.