I am surprised to be having this conversation with such a young girl. She makes me feel rather stupid. I have underestimated her. Then, too, Doven was right. A week can be a very, very long time.
Zivan has been standing quietly to one side. I look over at her. “Did you realize how important this journey might be?”
She shakes her head. “Not at first. It was important for me because it represented a chance for Torch. It was the only sign that he might have a future. But then, as the journey progressed, I saw that the whole fabric of the Inmuri society could be about to disintegrate. I hope it does.”
“So do I.”
We break our fast there, sitting beside the spheres that represent the worlds we have never seen. We are all anxious, all eager yet also wary. The roots we are eating are now past their best; they are difficult to chew, hard to swallow. And there is only a little water left. We do not have very much time.
When we have all finished, we pack our supplies up again. Nobody knows if we will be here later or not. It seems prudent to keep everything as ready to go as we can.
We leave the provisions and walk back along the tree bridge toward the vortex of the small invertebrates – the ones the ancients named firehorns. The buzz, as yesterday, gets louder and louder as we approach. We shuffle as close as we can, standing almost in line facing millions and millions of them as they swirl in front of us in the whirlpool.
It is time for me to act, but even though I step forward, I still have no idea what I should do.
Perhaps something will become clear if I stand here for a few minutes?
Nothing does.
The long minutes pass. I begin to feel silly. Surely I wouldn’t have been brought here if nothing was meant to happen?
I can hear a few muttered comments from Vannis. It would be him, of course. He almost convinces me that I will fail.
I am not going to listen. I try to block him out by picturing all of the carvings in the small cave. That makes me realize something. I am not holding the same stance as the orthomancer in the sculpture. Perhaps I have to do that.
I sidle as close as I dare to the edge of the vortex. Then I bring my arms up until they are stretching straight out from my sides and raise myself on tiptoes.
Still nothing happens. Except that, after a couple of minutes, my arms begin to hurt and I find myself teetering on my toes. Behind me, Vannis hasn’t stopped his muttering. I have a sudden urge to push him off the tree trunk and over into the abyss.
And thinking of what I would like to do to him gives me the answer I am searching for. Just like that, it is clear in my mind. I blink. I know what the orthomancer in the carving was doing. Of course! How very remarkable that it should be Vannis who gives me the answer. If it is the answer.
It doesn’t matter. It has to be the solution. If it isn’t, I shall be dead. If it is, I shall live.
All of our journey has been coming to this point. To this moment in time.
I cannot let them suspect what I am planning. And I cannot wait much longer. My arms are aching.
It has to be now.
Before I lose my will.
I bend my knees, push down and jump, my arms straight out in front of me. I launch myself off the tree bridge directly down into the abyss.
Vaguely, I still hear gasps and cries from behind me. They are cut off as I enter the vortex.
The orthomancer in the carving was in the position of a dive. Just as if he were diving into water.
But I am not diving into water. I am diving into billions of tiny invertebrates. Falling through a chasm which may even be bottomless.
I close my eyes. The adrenaline that surges around my bloodstream is affecting me as if I had been struck by lightning. I am in a state of grace. I am flying. I am absolved of all doubt. I am free.
And I am definitely still falling.
Down.
Down.
Further and further down in a spiral of acceleration.
I am aware of my body forcing the firehorns aside, crashing into them, tearing through them. I wonder if I am killing them with my passage, or whether they are able to get away. Certainly I am picking up speed quite considerably. Panic floods my whole system. I shake with absolute terror. Gravity is pulling me inexorably down.
Until it isn’t.
I can’t say when I become aware of a change. It is gradual, at first imperceptible. First, I notice a slowing in the acceleration, then a slowing in my speed. Then I am hanging in the rift. My fall has been broken. Small prickles are spreading along my arms.
I open my eyes. My whole torso is being covered by firehorns. They seem to be adhering to every part of me. As I watch, more and more are masking my body. They slip effortlessly into place, each covering a tiny area of skin. There is no sense of movement; they don’t have legs. They simply appear and fit together, like mobile pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle. They form a film, a honeycomb crust around my person. They become my armor.
When they try to cover my face, I am tempted to cry out. I am more scared than I ever have been. My heart pounds irregularly. I dare not even breathe. I am dizzy. I think I am going to be sick. I am relieved to find I can still see and breathe. Even so, the sheath of tiny animals is very claustrophobic. I have to struggle not to panic.
When all the parts of my body are covered, I hover in the middle of the vortex. The rest of the firehorns seem aware of my presence; the whirlpool has adapted to the obstacle in its midst. It wheels around me, but I myself am stationary.
For a long time, nothing further happens. I am in a small universe of my own, I am alive, but coated with squirming invertebrates. They have covered every inch of me, except for my nostrils, eyes, mouth and ears. I am very grateful for even those few free areas. I can see, breathe and hear. If there were anyone there to talk to, I could speak.
I try to keep my heart inside my body. It is not easy; it is threatening to leap out from under my rib cage. Mentally I try to push it back. This is not the time for cardiac arrest. I am too young to die like that. I hope. The risk is there. The thing is thudding against my chest in a way it definitely wasn’t meant to. There is a heaviness in my throat that is warning me of darkness.
I have to stop this. I breathe carefully, not too deeply, aiming to settle such body responses as much as possible.
It works. After a long struggle with myself I am able to calm down.
I take stock.
I am floating. In the middle of the vortex. In the chasm.
I can still hear cries from above, so I can’t have travelled very far. Perhaps thirty or forty lengths. It felt a lot longer than it really was, then.
Nothing is happening. This strange firehorn armor is maintaining me in place, stopping me from falling, but I am going nowhere. I wonder what I must do next.
This time the answer is quick to come. It is obvious, really; I must concentrate on something.
I don’t want to do this on my own. So I have to go back. I concentrate hard on the tree bridge where I left the others. Where they will still be standing, unsure whether I am alive or dead. I close my eyes tight shut. I want to go here, I tell the firehorns. If you really do possess the ability I believe you must have, then take me here. I visualize the ledge. Then I think please. It can’t do any harm.
There is a sort of faint resistance. A very strange initial reluctance. It is almost as though my armor is grudgingly waking up. It tightens its hold, squeezing my body a little more firmly. Shortly after this, I find my feet are touching ground. Since I am not expecting it, I instantly fall over.
There are squeals now from close by. A hand reaches out and hoicks me up. Furian’s face peers worriedly into mine. He gives me a frantic shake. “Is that you? Are you all right? Remeny? REMENY? Answer me!”
I look around. I am back on the tree bridge. The firehorns have brought me where I wanted to go.
I grab Furian’s wrist, clutching deliberately. He tilts his head, wondering what I am doing, but makes no move to pull aw
ay.
Where our arms touch, a myriad of firehorns appear, slowly flowing up his arm and along his neck. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t show fear. I think he has already realized how this works.
Ammeline hasn’t. I can hear her quietly having hysterics somewhere behind us. Linnith is making soothing noises. Linnith is too nice a person, sometimes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure step toward us. It is Zivan. She has drawn a dagger and raises one eyebrow in my direction, asking permission. I nod. She is a welcome addition for this first trial. She pauses for just a few seconds, and then lowers her hand deliberately to Furian’s arm, on the other side of him to me.
The firehorns reaching that part of Furian’s arm flow seamlessly over onto Zivan. Her eyes open very wide as she watches the living shell slowly slide over her. But there is still no fear in those dark eyes of hers. She actually seems to be enjoying it.
I wait. I want them to be fully covered. I don’t want to risk any part of their bodies being left behind. Then I concentrate fiercely. I know where we should go. Where I need to go. I need to go to Maraz. I want to see the homeworld of the Rath people.
I remember the message on the Maraz plinth. ‘Gravibus mundi’: ‘The heavy world’. I bring the image above the inscription into my mind, picturing the Raths themselves. It is not difficult. They have long been the hated enemy of my people. I can visualize every detail of their thick bodies.
Again, I begin to notice the tightening of the live coat which envelops me. There is the same resistance to change. I sense that the firehorns would prefer to stay here in their home, flitting comfortably around and around this chasm in the Rift of the Timeworn. They have scant desire to take me to Maraz. Yet I can feel that they will. They don’t want to, but they are acknowledging my wish. They will take me.
The light changes. There is no gentle warning. It is immediate. One moment we are standing on the tree bridge in Kelfor, the next we are standing on a hillside overlooking a huge spaceport, and our bodies drag us down. We are tugged toward the ground far more strongly than we would be on Hethor. It is quite uncomfortable.
Zivan lets go of Furian’s arm, but he instantly grabs at her and makes her put her hand back. He is right, I realize. I still haven’t learned how to call the firehorns to me. There is no tree bridge to jump off here. We could easily become stranded.
Comprehension rushes into Zivan’s eyes. She gives a nod. We limit ourselves to staring around us at our surroundings. Not one Inmuri has ever come here. Despite being colonized by the Raths for the last thousand years, not one of us made it back to their land. We were only taken as slaves. They saw no further use for us. I burn at the injustice of that, at the wasted lives of those of my race who served in the mines or the domes before me. At last Fimbrian’s anger at the timeworn has percolated down to me. I shake at the thought of their wanton inaction over the centuries. Why did they do so little to change things? It must have been obvious after the first two or three generations that the other part of our tribe would not – or could not – come back.
It is night and the surrounding area is dark, including where we are standing. The spaceport in front of us is floodlit. It is the source of the light. We can see a lot of movement. There are hundreds of Raths here. And literally thousands of another species. One which is larger, stronger, taller and much, much faster than the Raths themselves. I must be looking at the legendary Vessans.
Furian has spotted them too. He has stiffened, rather like a dog scenting a bitter opponent. He wants to run at them, through them, into them. I can feel the heat of his desire to attack.
Zivan reaches past her own body to clamp her spare hand onto his. Her message is clear. There is nothing we can do now. If ever. These terrible beings are truly frightening. I can see why our ancestors capitulated so easily. They are huge ... at least twice my height. And they move quickly. If they saw us, they could be on us within seconds. They are not quite as terrifying as the Thrall, but nearly.
Fear stains my brain, exploding outward. I can’t help it. These Vessans in front of us are scary, but worse is the memory of Graven. That is still petrifying. My agitation is transmitting to the mesh of firehorns covering me. My unusual armor begins to press against me, to hum in an almost inaudible way. I agree. It is time to leave this place. I concentrate on the vortex, on the tree bridge, on wanting to return.
Almost instantly, I can feel the reddish tinge of Kelfor bathing my tight-shut eyes. When I open them, I see that we are indeed once again in the chasm.
I sort of wish the firehorns back into the vortex and they blink out of the armor enveloping me. Within five seconds I am standing on my own, still touching Furian’s arm. Zivan is just removing her hand from his other arm.
There is a moment of confusion before the others surge up to us, questions tripping off their tongues.
“Where did you go?”
“What happened to you?”
“By the rift, it WORKED!”
“You weren’t gone very long.”
The three of us who have recently stood staring at the Vessans are still speechless. We can’t answer them yet. What has just happened, what we have just seen is far too momentous for our brains to take in. I feel as though I have been hit with a plank across the back of the head. From their eyes, Furian and Zivan are in pretty much the same state. We lead the way back to the cave, where we sink down onto the hard floor.
Furian signals to what is left of the water. “We can drink what we want. I don’t think getting supplies is going to be a problem from now on.”
Ammeline stamps her foot. “Tell us! Tell us what happened!”
So he does. At first, they find it hard to believe him.
“Vessans? What are you talking about?”
But they have to believe it. They know that we went somewhere else. The only thing they don’t know is where. They look at all the globes around us in the cave.
“Then we can ...”
“You mean that ...”
I nod. “I think we can go anywhere. Anywhere we can envisage.” Then I correct myself. “Anywhere I can envisage.”
Kalyka jumps up and down, clapping her hands. “We can find the rest of the Inmuri! We can travel to other planets!”
Vannis is looking doubtful. “Remeny seems extremely tired,” he points out, nodding in my direction. “She doesn’t look as if she can go anywhere much. She is absolutely exhausted.”
It is true that I am tired. I would like nothing more than to lie down again and go back to sleep. All that concentration takes it out of you.
Vannis isn’t finished. “How do we know we all can’t do that? All she did is throw herself into the vortex. You don’t have to be special to do that.”
Furian considers. “You could be right,” he tells Thurifer’s grandson. “It is something we will have to check. Are you offering?”
There is a long moment of silence before Vannis replies. “I might,” he says carefully. “If ... if it is judged to be necessary.”
Zivan looks at me. Her eyes are alight. She won’t miss an opportunity like this. She doesn’t. “I think that is a very good idea, Vannis.”
“Yes. Well, perhaps somebody a bit smaller than me should try it. Kalyka or Linnith?” He scans all of us, his hands spread out. “Ammeline, even. Whoever you decide, of course.”
He has dug himself a big, big hole. Ammeline, who blinked on hearing her name put forward so gratuitously, smiles widely at him, her eyes guileless. “Oh no, Vann! I am sure you would be the perfect person to take the risk. You are so brave!”
He flushes. He reminds me of a worm on a hook. But he won’t wriggle his way out of this one. I get up. “I will go first, so that I can save you if it doesn’t work.”
We all go back to the tree bridge, to the area right next to the vortex. I smile at Vannis, who is looking pale and green under the reddish light of Kelfor. “Just jump over after about a minute. I will have to let you drop quite a way of course. We need to
give you time to see if the firehorns will come to you.”
This second time of diving into the whirlpool is easier than the first, but not by much. I know what should happen now, but there is nothing to tell me for sure that it will. I still tremble.
Linnith is the one who guesses how dubious I am. “Stand back, everybody!” she shouts at the rest. “Give her some room, won’t you?”
I am grateful to her. She is trying to save me embarrassment.
The others shuffle backward, leaving me on my own at the very edge of the bridge.
I take a deep breath, put my arms out sideways and raise myself up onto my toes. Just as if I am diving into water, I bounce and hurl myself over, head first. Nothing in my life so far has prepared me for how this dive feels. My insides turn to liquid before I jump. Fear is a paralyzing ice, deep inside, depriving me of breath. As I drop, I can’t help being glad that Vannis is going to be the one to share the experience. It is fitting. It makes up for all the insults he has proffered. Almost.
The firehorns surround me quickly, and soon I am hovering inside the whirlpool.
This time I open my eyes. I have to. I need to spot Vannis.
Nothing happens for long moments. I begin to wonder if I should go back up. Then I see a flash as a figure hurtles past me.
It is not Vannis.
I am not sure, but I think it is Zivan.
I visualize her falling body and instantly I am beside her. I take her hand as we fall, letting the firehorns flow over to her.
The freefall as the animals cover her is quite frightening. We are travelling very fast, and the chasm is rushing past. The air resists our passage and rips at us. My eyes water as I watch the firehorns surge over Zivan.
As soon as they have, I visualize us floating.
The downward race slows, then stops totally. We hang there, gently being buffeted by the surrounding whirlpool. I grin at Zivan.
“Vannis not so keen?”
She laughs. “I have never heard so many excuses for one single act. I decided I had better do it myself.”
Kelfor- the Orthomancers Page 27