Last of the Treasure Hunters

by Warren Dean

  "For a while yet," said Christina. "There's still time for you to make your decision."

  "What decision?"

  "The one you must have known you would have to make."

  Connor was having trouble thinking clearly and he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to tell me what you mean."

  Christina led him to the side of what Connor saw was a small, circular chamber, dimly lit now that the portal in its centre had faded to black. There, they sat together in seats extruding from the wall. Without being asked – audibly that is – Xzaroth left them alone, floating silently out of the chamber on his vibrant neon wings.

  "Do you remember what I told you when we were alone on your father's boat, about what happened to me when I first came here?"

  "Yes, I do, you had trouble breathing too. You had to have an infusion."

  "That's right, of the alloy that adapts our physiology to make it compatible with conditions on most of the worlds of the Thousand Systems."

  "Giving you the ability to live forever."

  She shook her head. "Not forever, but for such a long time that it seems that way."

  "And the decision I have to make?"

  "If you wish to stay here, you must become as I am."

  "Or go back to Earth?"

  "Either that, or we must go to the Repository immediately. That's where the Journeyman has taken the Nerds. There, he controls atmospheric conditions so that anyone who does not wish to have an infusion need not do so."

  Connor was silent for a time. Although his breathing was still laboured, his head was clearing, and he was content to sit quietly as he recovered.

  "Your friend, er, Gareth," he said eventually. "What, or who, is he?"

  "Xzaroth," she corrected him gently, "although that's not his full name. It's just the best approximation of it that I can manage. He's a flyer. There are four types of beings on Aquasolis; flyers, swimmers, tunnellers, and ambulators.

  "Xzaroth and his life-mate, Elexzath, are the ones who found me in the cave I entered when I first arrived. I was lucky; the portal I came through was one that was long disused. But flyers are uniquely sensitive to opening portals, and they were nearby. They found me and carried me to the City of the Bay before I expired. After that, Xzaroth took me under his wing, and taught me what I needed to know about life on Aquasolis."

  "Talking about expiring," rasped Connor, "I think you'd better take me for one of those infusions soon."

  "You've made your decision?"

  He shrugged. "My decision was made when I stepped through the portal with you. I'm here to stay, and if that means dipping me in your version of the Styx, then let's do it."

  Christina called out telepathically, and Xzaroth glided back into the chamber. He stooped and lifted the ailing Connor in his gossamer-thin arms.

  "--We can take him to Elexzath. She has everything ready.--"

  Christina concurred, and the three of them left the portal chamber. Once out in the open, the flyer launched himself into the air, bearing Connor effortlessly along with him. Connor looked down, expecting to see Christina being left behind on the ground, but she was following, flying unsupported through the air.

  By then, his heartbeat had begun to slow and his eyesight to fail, and he couldn't tell whether he was seeing things. Perhaps Christina was tethered to Xzaroth in some way that he hadn't noticed, although he vaguely remembered her once saying something about levitation that he hadn't believed at the time.

  Perhaps he was imagining the dusty yellow sky arching overhead, and the gigantic spires which lanced upwards from the ground far below. Not to mention the psychedelic neon butterflies flitting about all over the place. Some of them called telepathic greetings to Xzaroth and Christina as they flew by.

  After what seemed like a lifetime, but was probably not more than a few minutes, Xzaroth arrowed towards one of the spires before landing on a platform near its zenith. Another multi-coloured flyer emerged from within the structure and took Connor in its arms, carrying him gently inside. There, he dimly perceived that he was in a small circular room furnished like an old-fashioned bathhouse. In the centre, sunk into the floor, was a pool of what looked like liquid mustard.

  The flyer laid him down on a soft mat alongside the pool, and quickly removed his clothing. He was too drowsy to protest, and when the creature lifted him again and immersed him in the pool, he did not resist. The liquid was soothing and warm and he could almost feel it seeping into his pores. The experience was so relaxing that he felt himself dropping off to sleep, and he was not even aware of it when the flyer gently pushed his head under.

  When he awoke, he felt more alive than ever before. The tang to the air which had been making it difficult to breathe was gone, replaced by a sweetness he could almost taste. He opened his eyes and, resisting the urge to leap to his feet and shout with glee, looked around him in wonder. He was still in the little bath chamber, now reclining on the mat.

  There was no sign of the flyer, or of anyone else, and he wondered where Christina had gone. His clothes were missing too, he realised, and he tried not to think about who might have pulled him out of the pool and put him in the gauzy robe he now wore. Instead, he sprang up off the mat, revelling in the energy which coursed through his body, and ran across to one of the large windows of the chamber.

  Looking out over the City of the Bay for the first time was an experience he would never forget. For almost as far as he could see was a landscape of fantastic metal spires, some slender and sharply tipped, like the one he was in, others of more substance with large circular platforms positioned around their circumference at various levels, and still others more different to those, and to each other, than he would have believed possible. How such tall, seemingly fragile towers were able to defy gravity the way they did, he could not imagine.

  As he watched, his eyes adjusted themselves to the quality of the light, making it seem as if he had drawn closer to the city of spires. He began to see more details, such as the intricate clusters of what looked like diamonds which adorned many of the structures – whether as decorations or for another purpose, he couldn't tell – and the delicately thin bridges which joined many of them together in different places. Looking down, he was able to see the living-pods of some of the ground-bound citizens whose dealings with the flyers made it more convenient for them to live within that sector of the city, rather than with their fellows in the ambulatory quarter.

  As his focus grew sharper, the greenish glow in the distance resolved itself into the waters of the bay which gave the city its name. He remembered Christina telling him of how the city didn't end at the shoreline, but continued out into the placid waters of the clear emerald sea which covered more than half of the planet's surface. He couldn't see quite that far, but his imagination conjured a picture filled with what she had told him about the aquatic quarter; an underwater Atlantis where swimmers of innumerable variety made their homes within caves and submarine-pods of all shapes and sizes.

  No longer yellow, the sky overhead was now a deep indigo, so vivid it felt like he could open the window and touch it. He learned later that the Aquasolis sky changed colour constantly, depending upon the weather, the time of day, the season, and countless atmospheric variables.

  At night, the phenomenon was even more fantastic, as gigantic jets of luminous green, blue, red, and white light chased each other through the blackness, sometimes separately, and sometimes coalescing into outrageous kaleidoscopes of constantly shifting shapes and hues. He also discovered the true purpose of the diamond patterns he had noticed during the day; the light show in the sky lit them up like Christmas trees – if Christmas trees ever grew to the size of giant Redwoods.

  The splendour of the vista gave him some insight into why Christina had never looked back when she had been brought here.

  He wasn't sure how long he stood at the window. He tried looking at his watch but whatever forces drove the fold-space portal had stopped it.

  When Chris
tina came in eventually, he had to tear his eyes away from the view.

  "You're awake, at last." She came up to him and took his hands in hers, peering concernedly into his eyes. "Are you well?"

  ""I'm fine," he said. "No, not just fine, I feel fantastic!" he amended. "And this," he turned back to the window again, "is amazing… if it's real." He looked at her uncertainly. "It is real, isn't it?"

  Christina laughed. "As real as you and I," she replied.

  "I would love to see more of the city," he said. "Do you think there will be time?"

  She nodded. "The Journeyman is expecting us at the Repository, but he understands that a few more days of orientation are needed. I will ask Xzaroth to take us on a tour before we go."

  "A few more days?" he frowned. "How long have I been here already?"

  "It's been two days since you arrived."

  "Two days! But my parents… do they know I'm okay?"

  "I sent word that you had arrived safely."

  She led him through the doorway of the chamber, back out onto the circular platform Connor dimly remembered from the day he arrived. He hadn't realised then just how narrow it was and couldn't help shrinking back from the edge as vertigo clutched at him.

  Christina looked at him quizzically.

  "We're quite high off the ground," he said, defensively. "It's alright for you; you're used to it."

  "That's true," she said. "I've been here for so long I've all but forgotten what it was like when Xzaroth first brought me up amongst the spires."

  "Are there stairs in these things, by any chance?" he asked, hopefully.

  "No," she replied, "but you needn't worry. Soon you will no longer be concerned about such things." She called out telepathically, and within a few minutes, Xzaroth arrived, emerging from another chamber lower down the spire and flitting up to the platform where Connor and Christina were standing. He appraised Connor briefly before looking at Christina.

  "--How is the nak'an?--"

  "--As well as can be expected.--"

  "--Are you sure? He looks like he cannot even hold himself upright. Why does he cower away like that?--"

  "--He's unfamiliar with the altitude; that's all.--"

  Connor cleared his throat. "I can hear you, you know."

  Xzaroth fixed Connor with his ice-blue gaze. "--What did he say?--"

  "--He says he hears our mind-speech.--"

  "--Indeed?--" He turned back to Christina. "--As did you, Cxza'xza, when Elexzath and I first found you. That is a promising sign, at least.--"

  "--He needs to learn how to travel as we do, Xzaroth. Will you show him?--"

  "--I am not best suited for such instruction. Perhaps the educators of Arxz'ana…--"

  "--There isn't enough time for that. The Journeyman is expecting us.--"

  "--Well, in that case, the nak'an will have to learn quickly.--"

  "Why does he call me 'nak'an'?" asked Connor. "What does it mean?"

  Christina considered. "There is no word in Spanish or English which matches it exactly," she said. "The closest is perhaps 'baby', although it means a great deal more than that."

  "Baby? That's not very polite. I may be young, but I'm not a baby!"

  She smiled, and touched his arm to signify that she meant no offence. "It depends on whose perspective you see it from. On Earth, it's true; you are not a baby, but here…" She pursed her lips pensively. "I once asked Xzaroth how old he is. He didn't understand the question until I rephrased it to ask how long he had been alive. On Aquasolis, like most other places in the Thousand Systems, a lifespan is not considered to be finite. Beings don't define themselves by how far they are from the beginning of their lives. They measure their time by relating to experiences they've had, rather than the passage of cycles. They don't even keep a formal calendar of days, weeks, months, and years, as we do."

  "So, do you know how old… or rather, how long he's been alive?" asked Connor, curiosity getting the better of him.

  "I can't be sure. The length of this planet's days and years are different to those of Earth. To get some idea of his age, I had to estimate how many of Aquasolis' cycles had passed between each of the significant events he can remember. The best guess I could come up with is that he's about thirty-two thousand cycles old."

  Connor's eyebrows shot up. "Janey Mac! So that's why he thinks of me as a baby."

  "Yes, to him you're an infant, and I'm a toddler who has just learned to walk."

  "Speaking of walking, how am I going to get down from here?"

  "That's what Xzaroth is about to teach you."

  "--On most planets of the Thousand Systems,--" the flyer began without preamble, "--there are magnetic forces which permeate the atmosphere. On some worlds it occurs naturally; emanating from subterranean metals embedded within the cores of those planets. Other planets have been artificially seeded with these metals in order to replicate the effect. Those who do not have the gift of flight,--" he puffed out his chest and his wings vibrated momentarily, "--have learned how to harness this force.--"

  "How long does it take to learn?" asked Connor, a little sceptically.

  Xzaroth stared blankly at him, and did not reply.

  "He doesn't understand your spoken words," said Christina. "You have to communicate with your mind." She closed her mouth and said, "--like this.--"

  "I don't know how…" Connor began, but Christina put a finger to his lips.

  "--Say it in your mind,--" she said.

  Connor rolled his eyes. "--That's easy for you to say, but I don't know how,--" he sub-vocalised.

  "--What makes you think so?--"

  "--Well, obviously I've never…--"

  "--Never what?--" she asked, and then laughed as realisation dawned on his face.

  "--There are different ways of teaching your kind to levitate,--" said Xzaroth, continuing as if there had been no interruption. "--The best are used by the teachers of Arxz'ana, but their methods take time. The method I will employ is faster.--"

  "--Are you sure?--" Christina asked the flyer. "--He isn't familiar with our ways.--"

  "--That is true, but his ready ability to mind-speak is encouraging. It shows that, although he is nak'an, he has good instincts. And you are the one who says that there is no time for another way.--"

  "--Look, it's okay,--" interjected Connor. "--I understand that time is short. I'm happy to give it a try.--"

  Xzaroth raised one of his razor-fingered hands and gestured towards Christina. "--First, a demonstration. Cxza'xza, if you would.--"

  She nodded, and walked towards the edge of the platform they were standing on. Facing outwards, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and, after a brief pause, confidently stepped out into space. She dropped downwards, and then caught herself and swooped effortlessly back up to Connor's level. She levitated backwards, forwards, and sideways a few times, and then landed lightly back on the platform.

  "--Observe the required preparation; calm your mind, concentrate on what you are about to do, and then, once you are airborne, you will feel the magnetic currents around you and it will be natural for you to harness those currents to stay aloft.--"

  "--You make it sound so easy,--" said Connor, unable to suppress his doubt.

  "--It is not a question of ease or difficulty,--" instructed Xzaroth, "--it is a matter of concentration. Let us begin. Stand over there, where Cxza'xza stood. Good. Now empty your mind of all distracting thoughts. Close your eyes and breathe deeply if you must. This seems to be of assistance to your kind. Focus on the air before and below you. No, not with your eyes, with your mind. Let your thoughts flow outwards, let them explore the space in front of you.--"

  "--The way we project our thoughts when mind-speaking?--"

  "--Be silent. You are not concentrating. Focus your mind's eye, let it flow outwards, and then clear away all sensation except for the feeling of the currents that are all around you. Once you have done that, repeat after me, 'focus, flow, feel'.--"

  Connor found it easi
er to follow the flyer's instructions if he kept his eyes closed. He did his best, concentrating until he was thinking of nothing but the air in front of him. Letting his thoughts flow outwards was more difficult. He wasn't sure what Xzaroth meant by that. Perhaps it would become clearer with practice. For now, he tried to imagine that his mind's eye was out in front of him, looking all around for the mysterious currents that the flyer seemed to think would magically appear out of thin air.

  He stood there on the edge of the platform, his eyes closed, for what seemed like hours. For all that time, Xzaroth spoke to him, calmly, continuously, and silently, exhorting him to repeat the words 'focus, flow, feel', over and over and over again in his mind. Christina did not interfere and, after a while, he wasn't sure if she was still there.

  Eventually, his legs began to tire, and he found himself concentrating more on keeping his balance than on anything else. Xzaroth gave no sign of letting up, so Connor decided he would have to end the lesson himself. He drew a deep, shuddering breath, and opened his mouth to say, "I think I've had enough for today…" which was when the flyer shoved him over the edge.

  Strangely, he did not immediately panic. Instead, he found himself continuing to repeat the mesmeric; 'focus, flow, feel' and, as he did so, his mind complied instinctively. Already focussed, it took no more than a fraction of a second to flow outwards, searching for something, anything, that would arrest his fall, and to begin sensing little pockets of air that seemed to be more substantial than the nothingness around them. He fell straight through the first few, not understanding what they were. Then he realised that he could feel them, not physically, but mentally.

  He opened his eyes, quickly decided that he didn't really need visual confirmation that he was dropping like a stone, and closed them again. He reached out with his hands and feet, trying to catch onto nearby pockets. That didn't work and, for the first time since he had been pushed, other sensations began to crowd in; the wind of his fall whistling in his ears, the dizziness of his unrestrained cartwheeling, and the scream welling up in his chest. In desperation, he reached out mentally to one of the bigger pockets, concentrating on it as hard as he had ever done on anything in his life, and felt himself swing sideways as it arrested his fall somewhat. He repeated the process, which slowed him further. Quickly, he reached out to every pocket he could sense, until he found himself standing motionless in the air.