Facets of the Nether

by William C. Tracy

  Sam barely restrained his surprise. Another revelation, though it makes sense the Nether can move its facets. I know so little about this place.

  They exited the House of Time and traipsed through the verdant growth in the little pocket inside the wall. Sam followed Wor Wobniar’s musical dance through the notes of the wall, and the ring of Nether crystal smoothed his work, blending the composition more evenly with the natural passages of the Symphony.

  They exited at the rear of the Effature’s palace, the passage through the wall less disconcerting this time. Sam’s mind whirled through the implications of the Vloeinkaal. What had happened, and on which homeworld? Was it the Life Coalition?

  Crominu Vaevicta, in her Aridori form, was having breakfast with Inas at a little table, basking in the morning glow from the wall. Sam’s stomach growled in protest. When was the last time he’d eaten?

  “There you are,” Vaevicta said. “What have you learned, Wor Wobniar?”

  “The Dissolution closes in,” the Nostelrahn said, xyr jaws grinding together.

  “You have said this for many days,” the Effature said. She seemed unconcerned.

  “Something big happened on our side,” Sam told Inas. He was up in an instant, coming to take Sam’s hands. “It’s on one of the homeworlds, but I think Majus Ayama and Majus Cyrysi might have found Enos.”

  “That’s excellent!” Inas’ eyes widened as he pressed a pastry on Sam. “These are tasty. You have to try one. The Effature has been showing me ways to control the emotion from changing. She knows so much. She was about to take me to meet the other Aridori.”

  Sam took a good look at his friend. No, his boyfriend. Inas looked…happier. The cloud hanging over him since Enos rescued him was not gone, but was reduced. Talking with another of his species—one that wasn’t a prisoner of the Sathssn—had obviously helped him.

  Inas’ eyebrows drew down. “Controlling things requires concentration. It will take a long time to master.” But then his face cleared, and he looked up at Sam, his face unfolding in a lopsided smile, like the ones when they’d first met. Sam felt a weight he didn’t know he’d held melt away. The doom he’d felt from the Vloeinkaal was less, now he was with Inas.

  “That’s wonderful, Inas,” he said, squeezing his hands. “How do you feel?”

  “Much better.” Inas leaned in and Sam accepted the kiss. It was warm and firm, tasting of the jelly on the pastry, completely unlike when Inas backed him against a column in the palace. “She told me what was wrong with my hand, too.” He let go to roll his wrist in the air, and Sam saw the way his lithe fingers opened and closed, no longer jumping in length and width.

  Sam darted a look to Vaevicta, who was watching with what he thought was a proud smile. His eyes drifted to the diadem sitting atop her head. Just like Palmoran’s. Were they a sign of the Effature, or of the Aridori? “What was wrong?” he asked.

  “The Aridori from Gloomlight left a piece of themself with me,” Inas said. Sam tried not to pull back, but Inas must have felt him tense. “It is safe. Well, better. I know it’s there.”

  “It’s still there?” Sam tried to keep the agitation out of his voice. There wasn’t time to discuss. They could talk when they found Enos. “Never mind. We have to return to our facet. We can—or I can—bring others here to meet with the species in this facet. But for now…”

  “What is it?” Inas’ eyes roved over his face. “What happened?”

  Sam just shook his head, and took his hands back. “It’s big. We have to go.”

  “Give my regards to Palmoran,” Vaevicta said, and now her face was dark. “I feel a change deep within, as though what you speak has affected him. It is faint, as our connection barely exists any longer. Our instances are too separate.” She stood, opening her scaled hands. Sam’s eyes found the green and purple scales of her front. So like Effature Palmoran’s robes. How had he been so stupid? “Please, if you get the chance, bring him through the wall. It has been many centuries since I have seen my other instance.”

  Sam looked to Inas, whose face was tight with concern. He couldn’t imagine separating from Inas and Enos for that long. “I will, ma’am,” he said.

  The trip back to the bridge was uneventful, but Sam fidgeted at the time it took. He fixed landmarks in his memory, but only by habit. Inas’ warm hand was on his shoulder, and Sam’s anxiety was chased away by the scale of what he’d heard in the Symphony and seen in the Vloeinkaal.

  They passed Nostelrahns, tripod-like Praveadi, Caraakn lumbering past, and Lufvurn floating overhead. He even glimpsed a pair of Aridori turn from a side street with a careful glance both directions. Inas stared after them, greedily taking in their movements and interactions.

  Four more species the Assembly had never met, and one thought extinct. They’d need an ambassador, after Sam learned what the Vloeinkaal was trying to tell him.

  “Will you come with us?” he asked Wor Wobniar at the wall, but xy flapped xyr head flaps in a way the Nether translated as negative.

  “You’ve passed through the wall twice on your own. You know how, and the ring of crystal will help you. I must stay here and research. Too many portents and signs are coming to pass. I will read the scrolls, and share what I find. Come back as soon as you discover what happened, and we may continue training.”

  “I’ll do that,” Sam said. He pulled Inas closer. “Come on. I can take you through this time.”

  “I trust you,” Inas said, and leaned up for another kiss. His lips were soft, and Sam closed his eyes and relaxed into the feeling. His Inas was, if not whole, then at least better than when they entered this facet. He needed to come back with Enos so they could meet others of their species—ones who weren’t captured and tortured by the Sathssn.

  Sam waved to Wor Wobniar, whose lights flashed in acknowledgment. He felt for the Symphony, weaving his notes so they danced through the rhythm of the wall. He found Inas’ rhythm in the Symphony and made a bridge between their songs, mirroring the way their fingers twined together. The crystal slid around them with all the colors of the Symphony as they entered the wall.

  * * *

  Enos blinked as the world boomed around her. She groaned and pressed a hand to her belly. It came away red, and the pain intensified.

  What is happening? Nakan had slashed at her. That was where the pain originated. Then why is everyone running around?

  Shapes flitted past. Nakan was gone. Had he meant to finish her off and been stopped by the strange rumbling, or had he meant to leave her there, bleeding? How long had she been unconscious?

  Bleeding? Do Aridori bleed?

  Another voice addressed her. We only bleed if there is a need. Close your wounds. Use the excess you have inherited to rebind the flesh.

  She concentrated on her middle, but the wound resisted. The Symphony was wrong. There was a ragged triplet of notes, then the music stopped, left hanging where the skin and muscle on her belly gaped open. Two clean cuts, through skin and into muscle. The music continued on the other side of the wound.

  How do I fix this? She’d never been attacked like this before.

  Putra’s head appeared in her view, their large Kirian eyes narrowed. “Very bad. This knife is cruel for us. Nakan has threatened before, but never used it. We were too precious. But now, maybe not? Use the substance you took from the big one, child. You still have some left.” They took a quick step to one side as the cavern rocked.

  What is going on?

  Enos tried to slow her breathing. There was pain from the belly wounds, though not as much as she expected. Then the Symphony struck a wrong note, and she winced. The knife couldn’t have done that much damage.

  Forms in dark cloaks ran by as the cavern shook. Enos tried to lift her head, but grunted at the pain. Flakes of rock drifted from the ceiling, oddly slow in the lessened pull of this place. The chairs in a line in the middle of the room were empty, most of the Coalitioners gone. Whatever the leaders had been trying to communicate was forgotten.r />
  Another person ran past, calling back over their shoulder. “—room with the void seeds. Something’s gone wron—” They disappeared through another doorway.

  “Focus.” Putra’s hand slapped her cheek and Enos started. Yes. The pain. The wound. Fix that first.

  Enos closed her eyes, groping inward, listening to the ragged Symphony as she took count of her body. Her front was damaged, but could she move that mass elsewhere? Somewhere less dangerous to her health?

  She experimented, pulling notes from her core and bridging them between the different melodies. Then she changed form, to migrate the slashes from her belly to…where? She needed her legs, her head, her chest. Down one arm? It would be uncomfortable, but easier to work one-handed if she had to. Maybe she could grow another arm. She giggled.

  There was a tsking sound and Enos opened her eyes. Putra was still standing over her.

  “Heal quickly. Soldiers say something is happening in the caves above us. The ones they do not let us go in. Zhaddi wishes to explore. We have an advantage we have not had in centuries.”

  Enos concentrated. The discord in the Symphony was distant, back near their room. There was other strangeness in her wound. Why did the music fracture?

  She dragged her thoughts back to the slashes. Had Nakan poisoned the knife? No. Keep on track.

  She focused on the wounds, then looked at her finished work. There was a single ugly slash from her left bicep to her forearm. It stung, but the edges were closer together than on her belly. Enos dived into the Symphony of Healing, moving notes to connect two codas. The very ends of the cut drew together and became soft scar tissue, but the rest of the wound resisted, like fingers pulling the wound open from inside her body.

  Enos drew in a deep breath, suddenly exhausted. If she took any more notes from her core, she wouldn’t have energy left to move, and whatever was happening was big.

  A rock the size of her fist landed next to her head and Enos flinched. Her belly didn’t hurt, and her arm did, but she could move without crumpling into a ball.

  “I’m ready,” she told Putra, who nodded and gestured to Zhaddi and the others. As Enos pushed to her feet, she saw they were standing nearby in a clump. The rest of the room was deserted save for a few guards still at their post, halberds pointed in their direction. She could see the weapon staffs shaking. She sniffed, and found she could smell their fear. It was exhilarating.

  Putra leaned in toward her. “There will be a little blood,” they whispered. “This is always my favorite part.”

  Then they were gone in a whirl of claws and teeth. Zhaddi and the others changed, faster than either Enos or the poor guards could follow.

  One of the nameless ones took the top from a halberd with one swipe of a massive paw. The second strike took the head from the Lobath who held it. Then Putra and Zhaddi were in front, dismantling guards like sides of meat.

  Enos realized she was running forward, the drive to assist the pack rising in her. She skidded to a halt, bouncing across the hard floor.

  No!

  The voices inside her moaned in disappointment, and Enos looked away before she saw what caused the horrible squishing and crunching noises. There were barely any screams.

  I won’t be like them.

  A hand touched her shoulder and Enos jumped. Zhaddi was there, wiping away a smear of blueish blood from their mouth with one hand. Their long tongue came out and cleaned off the rest.

  “We are ready,” they said. “There is opportunity today. You can take us away with a portal, yes?”

  Enos thought furiously. These people should not be among others, not as they were. She’d been locked in the same room and they had taught her, but she fully believed they would tear her to shreds if given a chance.

  The little voices jabbering excitedly in her mind were temptation enough, and she hadn’t been abused by the Sathssn for a thousand cycles. Putra, Zhaddi, and the others of her people needed special care, not freedom. There was no way she was giving them the chance to ravage an unsuspecting Assembly, especially not with the Effature dead or dying. She must find a way to keep them here, but how, when they knew she could change the Symphony?

  “I have to learn of this disturbance first,” she said, then stepped sideways as the whole room rocked. The others watched her, prowling closer, flanking. It reminded her of when the big Aridori had come after her. She swallowed. “The Symphony is unstable from these tremors. I’m not even certain I can open a portal.” It was getting more and more discordant, in truth. Very much like when the Drain had appeared over Dalhni.

  Someone mentioned void seeds. Is there a Drain here? Will I be forced to take the Aridori away? Even if they should have been dead centuries ago, that doesn’t mean I should cause them to die now.

  Enos put on the face she’d used for cycles, dealing with customers of her family’s caravan. Let nothing show. Keep the family safe. Visions of Sam and Inas, Majus Ayama, and the others flashed through her mind—her new family.

  Putra and Zhaddi looked at each other for a long moment, and Enos wondered if they had a hidden means to communicate.

  “We will come with you,” Putra said. “We wish to see what is happening—” the cavern rocked again, violently this time, and they all fought to keep their balance. “—but then we want to leave. You are the key to our escape.” They said nothing more, but the promise of what would happen if she didn’t cooperate hung heavy.

  Enos only hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Come with me.” She’d figure out what to do with them later.

  Once out of the cavern, they ran into Coalitioners who hurried along, taking little notice of their group.

  “Why aren’t…oh.” Enos looked back to see a group of dark-cloaked figures followed her instead of a band of Aridori.

  They ran for minutes, sliding around other groups. Enos listened to the Symphony while she ran. It was fracturing and disintegrating like it had in Dalhni, except…not completely. Was this not a Drain? Did the Life Coalition have another weapon? It sounded like the Symphony was pushing back, keeping the Drain from growing. Had someone found a way to stop them? Who had set it off?

  They crossed the bridge over the gaping chasm at a run. Finished rooms were on this side, but the corridors were rough stone on the opposite. The dissonance was painful in Enos’ mind, but as she ran through stone tunnels, the discord ceased, though the walls still shook.

  Is that good, or bad?

  A turn left, another right, and they ran down a straight passageway. They had to be close.

  Then they ran into a tight-knit bunch of cloaked figures—soldiers—packing a passageway. There were at least twenty of them, and she guessed the source of the disruptions, Drain or not, was past them.

  The Aridori flowed forward as soon as she stopped, before she could say anything. Two of the guards disappeared in a flash of black cloth, their remains shoved behind the Aridori. More guards went down silently, and hands pulled Enos forward, stumbling across gaping wounds and loose entrails. She gritted her teeth, trying not to look at the slaughter.

  The rank of soldiers wavered and flowed. There were muffled grunts, but within seconds Enos was surrounded by black cloaks not made of cloth, but of Aridori flesh. The whole attack had taken almost no time. As she watched, one of the Aridori, and then another, grew an extra cloaked head from a shoulder, making their group look larger than it was.

  There were only six Coalitioners left—the leaders, and they hadn’t even noticed, too intent on the doorway opposite them. Any others who had stood here stared with sightless eyes and dripping wounds, hidden behind the Aridori. Enos grabbed at the nearest cloak.

  “Don’t hurt anyone else, or I won’t help you,” she hissed to Zhaddi, or possibly it was Putra. She saw a flash of purple eyes under a cowl. Putra, then. Their false second head stared forward resolutely.

  Enos looked to the Coalition leaders, staring at the entrance to a room from which a strange glow emanated. If this was a Drain, why wasn’t
it cold, and why was no one yelling or running away?

  Then Nakan—she could tell it was him just by how he walked—pushed forward.

  “You who call yourself leaders, you cannot decide who will speak, so I will.” He crossed the hall, and Enos almost shouted with joy as Majus Ayama emerged from the doorway of the room.

  * * *

  Rilan stood face to face—well, face to hood—with Nakan, daring him to act. The soldiers had backed away, letting the group that was obviously in charge through. Ori and the others had wasted too much time watching the void and now they were trapped, again. Opening a portal was impossible with the void’s interference and the Life Coalition blocked the passage.

  “As much as I’d like to rip your head off,” she began, “we have a bigger problem. You should be thankful I stabilized the Effature, or we wouldn’t be talking.” The bones of her knuckles creaked as she made a fist, watching the little Sathssn. “This void is acting strange. We think there’s something, or someone, trying to use it as a doorway.”

  She watched Nakan shift infinitesimally to his right, trying to get a better angle. She moved one foot out, countering him. They had both been trained by Zsaana—who she suspected was lurking with the other Coalition leaders—she in Fading Hands, and he in Dancing Step. There was no glow of blue around Nakan, and no aura of white around her. Neither changed the Symphony.

  “Your group, they come to our home and threaten us. Why should we not remove you from our way?” Nakan said. Over his shoulder, others came forward. Rilan guessed Nakan was not acting fully in accord with them. So had they called for the attack on the Effature or was it Nakan’s idea? The Sathssn shifted forward again.

  “A fair trade for your actions on the bridge, isn’t it?” Rilan bared her teeth. “But the time you take to fight us means whatever comes through will have the advantage on you. Better to fight those you know, or a complete unknown?” Rilan stabbed a thumb backward, taking the chance to move again, keeping her stance equal with Nakan’s.