Darkstone

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  Inanna broke away first, a gentle smile belying her wet cheeks. “Remember, you head north until you reach the saddle between two peaks. There will be a stone building there, not much more than a hovel. You can rest there for a short while but you must push on. I fear the weather won’t be kind if you’re out all night.”

  Naomi nodded, wiping her tears away and focusing on the practical aspects of her journey. “From there I turn to the eastern peak, I remember. After an hour or so, I should be able to see the monastery.”

  “Yes.” Inanna smiled with fondness, cupping Naomi’s face with bared hands that seemed strangely warm regardless of the temperature. “Be careful and learn well. When you return, you’ll be a young woman with a purpose in life.”

  Naomi grinned, leaning forward to kiss her mother’s lips. “I love you, Mama.”

  “I love you too, my sweet child.” Inanna released her, stepping back and away.

  Nothing more needed to be said. Naomi drew in a deep breath, scanning the courtyard, seeing the people decorating the common room with festive paper decorations. This would be the first Yule she’d ever been absent and, despite the filling breakfast she’d just eaten, her stomach grumbled at the delicacies she’d be missing at the afternoon feast. She forced her appetite away from what couldn’t be and turned toward the open gates.

  Each step she took became easier, at least until she’d left the complex itself. She knew the road outside split. One branch led south, down into the valley and the villages that helped support Inanna’s complex. People there delivered food and goods to the complex. In return they received holistic medical treatment or decent educations for their children. Many of Inanna’s graduates went on to win scholarships from prestigious universities throughout the world.

  The other branch turned north and it was this one that Naomi followed. This was a path she knew well and she wouldn’t be on it for long. She walked through the playground where she’d spent so many hours of her childhood, moving on to the clearing that had been converted into a football field. A bittersweet smile caressed her face as she touched the makeshift net, fuzzy with frost, where she’d blocked and won the final game of the season last year. She wondered at the coincidence of this trek through her puerility as she left it behind for adulthood. It seemed so symbolic.

  She reached the end of the field and paused at the tree line. Playing in the forest was a pastime that was frowned upon. Eurasian wolves still randomly traversed these woods, and she’d grown up with a healthy respect for the deep darkness ahead. Nervous, she glanced over her shoulder, seeing the complex beyond a whirl of falling snow. She girded her mental loins and turned back, taking a decisive step into the future.

  * * *

  Exhausted, Naomi breeched the forest, clambering on all fours as she negotiated the steep grade. Her toes were numb, and her mittens soaked through, icing the tips of her fingers. Though the snow had stopped, the sky remained overcast. Thick cloud cover had made it difficult for her to pinpoint direction as she tramped through the wild. It seemed she’d wandered the forest forever, going around in circles before finally finding an upward slope to follow. Shivering, she continued her stumbling climb as a strong wind plucked at her cloak. The brisk breeze picked up grains of fallen snow and ice, driving them about her. They stung her bare face, and she paused long enough to pull her hood closer. Even in her cold-weakened state, she felt thankful to Inanna for insisting on the cloak rather than a parka. The parka wouldn’t have been nearly as warm. The last thing she wanted to do was retreat back to the complex a shameful failure before she’d even begun.

  Shuddering at that sluggish thought, she pushed onward and upward. The crest was visible only a few feet away. From there she’d locate the little stone hovel and rest in relative safety until she caught her breath. The already bracing wind picked up as she reached the apex of the hill. She had to squint to see through the driving whiteness. The hilltop was wind-scoured and barren, not a stick or stone anywhere to be seen. Her visibility hampered, she scanned her immediate surroundings for the hovel.

  There was nothing there.

  Panic gripped her heart, its adrenalized rippling doing much to dispel the perception of exhaustion and cold. She rubbed snow from her eyes and turned in a circle, trying to figure out where she was in this vast mountainous wilderness. She located one peak rising away from her to her left. Presumably, that was west. Turning the other direction, she peered into the worst of the wind, unable to see anything.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” she muttered, relocating the peak to her left. Before the fear welled up to fully overtake her common sense she stood still, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Trembling, the animal part of her brain wanted to turn tail and run, anywhere would do but preferably back home. Even becoming lost in the forest was better than being exposed up here on the mountain. She’d have a better chance of survival at any rate. Pushing the anxiety away, she sank into herself as Inanna had taught her. As her inner consciousness slowed, so did the terror. Inanna had tutored her in meditation as a child, and Naomi had learned to trust her inner awareness when no other actions or advice seemed acceptable. She remained like this for precious minutes, searching for answers as the frost-bound atmosphere leeched away her body heat.

  “It’s this way, silly.”

  Naomi’s eyes popped open, and she looked to her right. No one was there though she’d distinctly heard someone speak. The voice had seemed almost familiar, but not quite. A girl’s voice, a little low with an edge of gravel to it that tonally portrayed long-term companionship. “Who’s there?”

  No one answered.

  She shivered, knowing she needed to get out of the wind and regain her dwindling strength. Inanna had said the stone hovel was between the two peaks. Here was one, the other peak had to be in the direction of the voice Naomi had heard. I must have come out of the forest too far west, that’s all. The monastery is on the eastern peak. That’s the way I need to go. Despite the common sense thought, she wondered if she’d gotten turned around. Perhaps this wasn’t the saddle Inanna had mentioned at all. Maybe Naomi had traveled for hours in the wrong direction and was lost.

  Walking along the ridge, she forged through the prevailing wind, puzzling over the voice to distract her from bone-deep fear. She was certain it was someone she knew well; she just couldn’t place to whom it belonged. As she trudged along, she mentally ran through each person she knew at the complex in an effort to match the sound to the person with little success. She was so engrossed in her rumination that she almost missed the hovel, belatedly noting the obstacle in her path as she veered aside to walk past. The relief at finding shelter made her shiver uncontrollably as she circled the building. Locating the entrance, her numb fingers fumbled with the latch.

  Naomi stumbled inside, closing the thick wooden door against the cold. The cessation of wind made her dark surroundings feel almost balmy. With a groan, she sank to the frozen ground, leaning back against the door. She had no way to make a fire and shouldn’t anyway. A brief glimpse of the interior when she’d opened the door had shown there was no obvious fire pit or stove available. Without some sort of chimney, the smoke from a fire would kill her long before she became warm. No, she’d use this time to gather her strength for the next leg. At least now she knew she was in the correct place. That particular terror could be retired. Another hour’s hike eastward would put her within sight of the monastery. Her journey was nearly completed.

  Utterly spent, her eyes drifted closed. In a few moments she was asleep.

  Chapter Six

  Blinking, Naomi jerked upright with a frown. The wind howled just outside the door but the sound of it was drowned out by the merry crackle of the fire. Confused, she shifted and stretched, grunting at the muscles that had stiffened in slumber. She distinctly recalled there being nothing but bare floor when she’d entered the hovel. The door was a solid block of ice at her back. With a frown, she scanned the tiny room. If she hadn’t built the fire, then who had? N
o one could have entered without shoving her out of the way. Even as exhausted as she felt, there was no way she could have slept through that.

  The campfire cheerily drove back the darkness though its light didn’t reach the darkest corners. The smoke rose up to the ceiling, escaping through a hole in the roof that hadn’t been there before. Through it she saw the brightest of stars in a tapestry of black, as if full dark had fallen while she slept. Apprehension swept through her. Inanna had said she couldn’t survive out on the mountain at night. “I have to get to the monastery.”

  “You’ll get there.”

  It was the same voice that she’d heard on the saddle earlier and it came from one of the dark corners. Naomi still couldn’t pinpoint to whom it belonged. Avid curiosity drove away her trepidation as she leaned forward, trying to peer through the murkiness. “Who are you?”

  “A friend.”

  The answer was less than forthcoming. Naomi frowned as she pushed her hood back. “You’re no help.”

  Surprisingly, laughter emitted from the darkness. “No, I’m not. That’s not my function in your life.”

  Naomi tilted her head. “So you have one? Other than being a tease?”

  The voice was sly. “I think you’ll like the way I tease you.”

  A rush of pleasurable tingles coursed through her abdomen at the alluring sound. She’d kissed both boys and girls through the years. If the words had been meant to scare her off, the girl in the darkness would be surprised. Naomi smiled, responding in like manner, “You might change your mind.” There was no answer, but she didn’t think the presence had dissipated. Setting aside their amateur flirtation, she decided to try another angle. “Do I know you? You sound so familiar.”

  A long pause stretched between them. “Not yet. But you will.”

  Naomi wrinkled her nose at the perplexing answer. “If I haven’t met you, why do I know your voice?”

  “Because we’re meant for each other.”

  Now Naomi noticed a light accent, not certain why she hadn’t recognized it immediately. Australian? No…Caribbean. “Meant for each other?” She puzzled over the comment, not comprehending. The room had begun to darken. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you have to wake up now.”

  “What? I’m not asleep.” The fire burned as high as it had upon her waking but seemed to dim as the shadows grew longer.

  “Wake up, Naomi.”

  “But—”

  “WAKE UP!”

  Naomi jerked awake in icy darkness. No fire warmed her toes, no stars looked down through a smoke hole in the ceiling, and she had an overwhelming sense of being unaccompanied. The only constants between her dream and this reality were the whistle of the wind as it continued to blow past her haven and the ice running along her spine where it rested against the door.

  Again panic assailed her as she struggled to her feet, memories of Inanna’s warnings in her ears. “How long have I been in here?” No one answered. She felt a moment of loss as she realized her Caribbean friend didn’t exist. You’re tired and cold, that’s all. She cracked the door and peeked outside. Snowy daylight made her blink and squint until her eyes adjusted to the brightness. Not much time had passed at all. She pulled the door open, pausing to look back into the hovel.

  No fire pit, no smoke hole and no girl in the now illuminated corner.

  Shaking her head at the strange dream, unwilling to focus too much on the sense of loss in her heart, she left the hovel.

  * * *

  As Inanna had promised, the monastery loomed ever closer as Naomi climbed. Glaciated exhaustion seeped into her bones, her cloak no longer the boon it had been when this hike had begun. The ice in her fingers and toes had spread up her extremities, freezing her very blood. When Naomi could spare a thought for her physical well-being, concerns about frostbite were becoming an all too real fear. Such worries required resources she didn’t possess at the moment. Rather than waste energy dwelling upon them, she stumbled forward. Such was the way she arrived at the rough steps of the monastery, half asleep from the effects of hypothermia, walking with mechanical steps as her mind played games with her. The girl’s voice urged her onward, her tones promising hot sandy beaches and warm ocean water, her words gentle reminders that they would meet soon. Naomi had stopped looking for her, somehow realizing that the voice was in her head, in her heart, not out among these frigid mountains.

  Naomi tripped on the icy steps, falling. The pain of impact from her knees meeting paving stones woke her from her trance. A pair of doors rose before her, intricately carved with various images. A large eight-pointed star took up their center. Beside it hung a thick rope, rimy with frost. She floundered to her feet, too tired to feel relief at reaching her destination. With staggering steps she neared the rope and pulled. It hardly budged. Using the last of her strength, she grasped the rope with both hands and transferred all of her slight weight to it. A gong sounded somewhere inside. Naomi released the rope, fumbling with her cloak as her hands sought the meager warmth under her arms.

  Nothing happened for long moments. She stamped snow from her boots, feeling the jarring impact up her legs more than in her numb feet. Dread simmered under the surface of her mind. What if no one’s here? She glanced over her shoulder at the darkening day. Though there’d been no hard snowfall, the wind still gusted and swirled about her, leaching the warmth her body fought to provide. Turning back to her destination, she studied the great doors. No knobs, no handles. Would she even be able to get it open? Her gaze drifted to her right, following the rough-hewn stone as she debated circling the structure. There has to be another door somewhere. A deep grinding noise scared her, and she whipped her attention back to the door.

  The eight-pointed star in the center split vertically in half, the bright golden light shimmering beyond almost blinding in its intensity. Naomi squinted, turning her head away for a brief moment. Heat seemed to rush from inside as the doors opened wider, the sensation palpable against her frozen cheeks. She bumbled forward toward it, her body intent on survival even if her benumbed mind hadn’t yet caught up to her circumstances.

  She stepped into a large antechamber, snow spilling over the threshold behind her. Torches flickered at regular intervals along the walls, the blackened stone behind and above thick with years of sooty deposit. The walls were made of the same rough-hewn stone as the exterior. A vast fireplace of smooth river rock stood stalwart on the opposing wall, the flames there as tall as her and licking logs twice the circumference of her torso. The air smelled of heat—if heat had an odor—and sandalwood and cherry tobacco and…turkey sandwiches? Stupefied, she stared at the oddest scene. Two modern leather recliners sat before the hearth on a simple but large braided rag rug. Between them sat a low incidental table currently carrying a plate of sandwiches, a glass of milk, a bottle of American whiskey and a full shot glass.

  A hand reached out from the recumbent recliner on the left, long and thin, the skin as pale as the snow melting at Naomi’s feet, revealing a knotted silver ring that flashed in the torchlight. The hand snagged the shot glass and disappeared back from whence it came. A generous puff of smoke drifted above the recliner, adding to the rich scent of the air. “What? Were you born in a barn? Shut the damned door! You’re letting all my heat out.”

  Naomi’s mouth snapped shut, her first indication that it had been hanging open. Turning around, she saw snow drifting in behind her. The doors hadn’t fully opened, only allowing enough room for her passage. She marveled at the thickness of the wood, wondering if each door was made of one piece. Despite their massive size, she had no difficulty. They moved with balanced efficiency as she shoved them closed, quickly sealing her away from the elements. The abrupt lack of icy wind caused her to shiver violently, and warmth caressed her cheeks. Her shakes made it difficult to walk. She shuffled forward, instinctively straining toward the welcome blast of fire from the fireplace.

  Another cloud of smoke emitted from the left chair, reminding her she was
n’t alone. She recognized the pungent smell of a cigar. When did monks smoke cigars? Her eyes fell on the bottle of whiskey, noting it was half empty. Or drink alcohol? The idea of a smoking, drunken monk was both stereotypical and offensive. The absurdity of the situation gave her pause. She might still be outside, curled up to sleep in a snowdrift, and this another dream. Her heart beat harder as she glanced around her surroundings. It seemed real but so had the dream she’d had in the stone hovel.

  “You’re awake, darlin’, don’t worry your pretty little head.”

  Naomi chewed her lower lip. She couldn’t yet see the man in the chair, but she saw his lower legs and feet where they extended out before him. He wore jeans and black square-toed boots. His accent reflected the harsh tones of American English. She recognized it from the occasional movies she’d watched at home. Carefully skirting the braided rug, she circled to the right, her attention caught between wary curiosity toward her host and welcome relief for the warmth from the flames.

  He set the glass down, revealing the cuff of a royal blue shirt as he reached down to the lever on the side of the chair. With a tug, the recliner folded in on itself. Just as Naomi reached the back of the second chair, he rose to his feet and turned toward her. She stared, not sure what she was looking at, hypothermia forgotten.

  The man was tall and emaciated, far taller than anyone she’d ever met. The planes of his long face indicated severe gauntness, dangerously sharp with edges that could cut mortal flesh. The tops of his ears curved delicately upward, ending in obvious points. His skin was snowy white, as colorless as his long silver hair, giving him a translucence that compounded his alien appearance. Naomi’s mind latched onto that word, “alien.” Whatever this person was, he wasn’t human. Her mind, already sluggish from the day’s adventures, stuttered with the thought.