“They didn’t come to you.”
She shakes her head. “Not even one. I should rather say they were avoiding me. It seems it really is only you that they will come to. A pity. It limits us.”
“Yes. We need to find out a lot more about all of this. About how we can use it. What we can do.”
“Mmm.” Zivan looks around her. “Give me a few more minutes, will you? I have never experienced anything like it. I want to be able to remember the feeling. It is the closest I have ever been to true freedom.”
We bathe inside the whirlpool for some minutes. Finally she stretches like a cat. “Wonderful. You can take me back now. I wish Torch could see this.”
Yes. I will have to bring him. I wonder what he will make of it all.
I concentrate hard on the tree bridge. Within seconds, we are back on its surface. This time I manage not to fall.
Vannis is standing behind the others, head down. I try to think of the right thing to say, but no words come to the surface. I give up. It is his problem, not mine. Like the rest of the group, he watches as the firehorns gently detach from our bodies and disappear into thin air.
“Well?” Ammeline has her hands on her hips.
“Nothing.” Zivan gently brushes at her tunic, making sure none of the small creatures are left. “I would have fallen to my death if it hadn’t been for Remeny.”
“That, then, is the function of the orthomancer. At least that much is clear now. So, what do we do next?”
The question of the century.
Furian steps forward. “The first thing Remeny needs to do is learn exactly how to use this power. She needs to practice how to get where she wants to go, and we need to determine the limitations of the orthomancer. How many people can be taken with her? How long will the firehorns stay adhered to her? Can she make several jumps from one place to another? How can she make sure not to get stuck in a distant place? How can she jump to somewhere she has never been?” He looks around at all of us. “There is no point planning anything much until we can answer those questions.”
There are nods from the others. All except Ammeline, who is staring at me with something approaching distaste.
“What about food? There is hardly any water left, and we finished the roots, remember?”
Furian purses his lips. “That is a good point.”
“I will go to Torch and Jethran.” I have already anticipated this. “They will have enough food for all of us, and will be glad to hear from me.”
“If you do that, I demand to go with you,” Ammeline says immediately, her chin up. She stares around, daring anybody to deny her.
I am too tired to care. I incline my head, which the others take as agreement. Then I point back to the cave. “I need to rest.”
They are round me in seconds, helping me across the bridge, fussing over me. Doven pats me on the back. “Good work! I knew you would do it!”
Only Vannis is silent. He remains apart from the rest of us, his eyes unable to meet mine. I sigh.
“It doesn’t matter, Vannis.”
He shakes his head. It does matter. The vain, spoilt boy is broken. His shoulders are bent, his face unhappy. He doesn’t like himself at the moment, and he definitely doesn’t like us.
I put one hand on his arm. “You fought for us all in the tunnels. You are no coward.”
At the use of the word he flinches. “Of course I am not!”
“Well, then. Forget about it.”
He can’t. “I should have jumped.”
I shrug. “Nobody is perfect. Particularly not you.”
This slight sarcasm goes unnoticed by him. He has never doubted his superiority until today. Perhaps the shock has been too great for him to deal with.
He manages a sneer. “I suppose you think you are, now that you are the orthomancer. Now that you are the most important member of the group? Hah! You are just a girl!”
Normally I would have bristled at that, but I can see he needs to insult me. “You can come with me and Ammeline, if you want.”
He stills. Considers. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
I nod. “Fine.”
And suddenly, just like that, his crisis is over. He stands straighter. “I may stay up there. We are going to have to do something about the Scoriats. We can’t let them find Kelfor. This site has to be protected.”
Furian raises one eyebrow. It is the first time Vannis has sounded proactive about this journey. “Good idea. You are right; our priority has to be to keep this a secret. At least until we make up our minds what we are going to do about the Raths.”
I try to listen to the rest of the conversation, but my eyes are closing. I am totally drained. I need to sleep for a couple of hours.
I feel much better when I wake up. Kalyka is next to me and she hands me a small piece of root and some water. It must be the last we have. I hesitate. She thrusts it forward.
“Furian says you are to eat a little and drink all of this. You are the one person who needs to be kept fit and well. We are all dependent on you now.”
The root sticks in my throat. I almost choke. “You must eat too, Kally.”
“I ate. You have been asleep for five hours.”
Five hours! It feels as though I just closed my eyes. I sip at the water. It makes me realize how thirsty and hungry I am. I finish what Kalyka has brought me.
“Ammeline and Vannis are waiting for you.”
“OK. Give me ten minutes.”
She scrambles to her feet and runs off, no doubt to tell them that I am awake. I stretch, rather gingerly, wishing, not for the first time, that we had been able to bring the carricks. Not that they are exactly feather beds, but they would be an improvement over bare rock. Most of me seems to ache.
I push myself to my feet. That is better.
This morning I had no idea who I would be this afternoon. Now I know. I am an orthomancer. I feel very different. I feel complete. I feel happy. Now I have seen what the firehorns can do, I know that my people can find a way to escape from the Raths.
Linnith ambushes me as I make my way out. “I want to show you something,” she whispers. “Come with me.”
I follow. She leads me right under the smaller roots of the tree, into the back of the cave. Here, there are several thin plaques which have been affixed to the wall. They are engraved with words. She points to the first. “I think you should see these.”
It is all in Latin. She has to translate. “There are ten of them. Look, this first one says that that the firehorns need to find something the ancients call ortholiquid, to regenerate. The second says that this is why they can travel like they do; they take this special liquid inside their bodies, and because of that can travel by something the ancients called ‘decoherence’. It is not the firehorns that can travel like that, it is the special liquid. They are in some kind of symbiosis with it.”
She takes a deep breath before tugging me over to the next plaque. “Here, it says that there used to be this special liquid in Kelfor, but that it evaporated and seeped away over the aeons. The firehorns need to travel to find it now, but they come back here because it is their home, because Kelfor allows them the space and safety to join the underground whirlpool they so like to form.”
I stare, trying to make out what the stones say. “What does that mean? That there is some sort of liquid out there which can travel instantly through space, and that the firehorns make use of it?”
“I think so. They have to because they are in symbiosis with it. They need the liquid; the liquid needs them ... I suppose.”
“Is there any more?”
Linnith nods. “This one. It says that the ortholiquid is very unusual; it is formed of atoms which can be everywhere at once, but which can condense down into one place if necessary.”
I trace the words with one finger. Perhaps my ancestors could understand all this. I can’t. The Inmuri lost the wisdom of knowledge when they were turned into slaves by the Raths.
“So you’re saying I h
ave to let the firehorns find this special liquid. That they need it to ... travel like they do?”
“Yes. I suspect that if you don’t, they won’t be able to carry you. Like you need food and water, they need this ‘ortholiquid’. They must retain it in those strangely shaped little bodies of theirs.”
“I see. That would suggest that they normally travel to other worlds to ‘eat’, right? On their own?”
“I guess so.”
“And I act as a magnet to them. They congregate all around me, and can somehow sense where I want to go?”
She nods again. “You are like a lightning conductor to them. You attract them and become a channel for them. It doesn’t say why. I don’t think our ancestors ever found out why.”
“Are there any more plaques?”
“Only one. It says: ‘Semper retro via per amoletum’. ‘The way back is always through the amulet.’”
“So I must always wear the amulet. I’m glad you told me. Does it say how?”
“Sort of. It says: ‘Aperta reditus’. ‘Open to return.”
“Open it? Are you sure?”
“Quite. ‘Aperta’. It can’t mean anything else.”
I pull the amulet out from under my tunic. “Then there is some way to open this. I can’t see how.”
“Let me try.”
I hand it over to Linnith, but she can’t see an opening either. Finally, she gives it back. “There must be a way.”
I signal to Zivan, who comes over. When I explain what I want, she takes the amulet carefully and carries it over to a peculiar yellow streak in the rock that gives out a brighter light.
It takes her a few moments, then her face lightens. “Here!” She points with the tip of her knife to a tiny indentation, one I have never even noticed. “Shall I open it?”
Linnith and I check with each other. Then nod. “Yes.”
Zivan presses her knife, only slightly. There is a click and the whole of the front part of the amulet, where the stone is, opens. It is hinged on one side.
Zivan opens the locket. Inside there is a firehorn. Dead. Very dead. It is completely dried up. We stare at it, and then at each other.
Linnith calls the others, to show them what we have found.
Doven, who used to work in the mines, examines the small firehorn very closely. He narrows his eyes. “Wait a minute. I think I ... here, Ammeline, bring me a little water, will you?”
“I am not your slave. Go get it yourself!”
“Snap at it girl! This is important!”
She glares, but surprisingly obeys. Doven grabs at the container she brings and places the tiny dead creature onto his palm. Then he adds a couple of drops of water on top of it.
Nothing happens. I am not surprised. Dead is dead. If things could come back from the dead, it would make my life a lot easier.
He puts the tiny animal carefully back into the amulet, closing the stone down onto it again. There is a hard click as the latch engages. “Leave it for a while,” he tells us. “I may be wrong, but I think ... I once saw something down in the mines. It is worth a try, anyway.”
Furian turns to Ammeline, Vannis and I. “How are you feeling, Remeny? Do you think you can go through the whole process again? Are you strong enough?”
“I think so. What do you need?”
He smiles. “Food and water are the two essentials. Then – anything would be helpful. Do your best, but remember that this is your first day. You don’t want to overdo it.”
“I should go with them.” Zivan steps forward.
It seems to me that Furian hesitates, his glance going to Vannis. “We know that Remeny can take two people with her. I don’t think we should make her take more. Not yet. We don’t want to complicate the operation any more than it already is. I think they will be fine. Vannis is armed. He will be able to take care of the girls.”
Vannis puffs out his chest. “If I go, Zivan is unnecessary.”
We studiously look in another direction. No-one wants to contradict him. He glares at the silence. “What? She is!”
Kalyka is frowning. “Yes, but how can Remeny find them? I mean, she has no idea where they are!”
“I think the firehorns work by somehow seeing where I am imagining and then going there. I will start by imagining the last place I saw Torch. I don’t think they will be far away. Karith won’t have been in a fit state to travel.”
I don’t tell them what I really suspect. I think that if I picture Torch in my mind, they will find him for me. But that sounds silly. It sounds in the realm of the magical. I know I will try it. But I will keep it to myself.
I stand for the third time at the edge of the tree bridge. I have the same panic, but this time, as I dive over into the abyss, I feel I am coming home. The sudden falling is welcoming; the sensation of the firehorns finding me is familiar. I wonder how I have lived for so long without this part of my life existing. It makes me whole.
17.
I fix a picture of Torch in my mind. The wonderful pattern of flames across his skin, the strange distance in his eyes when he looks at you. I’m looking forward to seeing him again. I have missed him.
Nothing happens. This isn’t working. A flare of worry spreads through me. I redouble my efforts, making myself concentrate on his slim figure.
There is no reaction. Perhaps the firehorns press more closely to me, but they are not picking up what I want. It is time to try something different. I change tactics, concentrating on the pillars around the area where we found the entrance to the Rift of the Timeworn. Their thin shafts, capped with wider stones, most of them flat. I have it filed in my mind, fixed like a photograph. It is easy to recall.
Straight away I sense the firehorns stretching to take me there. They know this landscape.
We blink out of the chasm and into full sunshine, which makes all of us cry out at the difference in the light. My eyes are slow to react to the change. I have to shade them with my hands.
As soon as I drop out of the link, the firehorns covering the other two vanish. This gives them a denuded look, a bit like newborn calves. I begin to giggle.
Vannis has already dropped to his knees and is scouting around carefully. “Be quiet, Remeny! You will bring any Scoriats in the area straight down on us!”
“So what?” Ammeline is turning her face up to the suns, clearly enjoying their rays. “I want to find the Scoriats ... at least, I want to find my Scoriat.”
“Get down, both of you!”
I do as he suggests. He has gone into protector mode, which is probably something he needs to do after his failure to jump. If it makes him feel better ...
Ammeline is thinking the same. She meets my glance and then looks up to the sky. “Whatever!”
It doesn’t take long to find traces of the rest of the team. Vannis is soon beckoning us forward. “Come on! This way!”
We scuttle after him, careful to keep our heads down below the level of the rocks.
Vannis is full of confidence again. He is keen to prove that he is still a man. He wants us to forget what happened, and he is actually working to be part of the group. That is something new. Something good, I think. Perhaps he needed to fail to realize that his hero ... himself ... might have feet of clay. He thought he was perfect. Now he knows he isn’t.
“Don’t dawdle, Remeny. These tracks are stale. They are a long way ahead of us.”
Easy for him. I am still walking with a mantle of firehorns covering me. Furian worked out earlier that there must be around forty thousand of the small animals attached to each person. They are nearly weightless. I’m not any heavier, but they do impede my progress. I feel clumsy and more liable to stumble. Bending down is tiring; it pulls at my back and stomach muscles.
If I could send them away knowing they would come back, I would. But this is my first day as an orthomancer. I daren’t risk it. So I mind my steps and follow silently. I just hope that Torch and Jethran haven’t moved too far from the entrance to the Rift of the Timeworn.
The idea of traveling miles like this doesn’t appeal. A small sigh escapes me.
Ammeline raises one questioning eyebrow. I shake my head. Nothing I say is going to make any difference.
We travel on like this for perhaps ten minutes before Vannis signals. He has found them.
We creep up alongside him.
Everything looks perfectly fine. Jethran and Torch are resting some distance away from Rannyl. Rannyl is staring in our direction. He is the first to have heard us.
He gives a warning shout, and Jethran jerks the blaster he is holding, trying to identify the threat. Torch is doing the same, but stops as he sees me. His eyes widen. I suppose, covered in my coat of firehorns, I must seem very strange to him. His mouth slackens.
Then there is a cry and a tall, dark figure strides up to us. I am about to shout to Torch to shoot him when I realize it is Koban. He has seen Ammeline. He seems pretty pleased.
They clutch at one other, hugging tightly and spinning around.
Jethran lowers the blaster.
I run toward Torch. I want to hug him, except I know he hates that, and also, I am not sure if a hug would crush any of the firehorns. We shuffle our feet and just smile stupidly. He is examining the firehorn mantle. He points to it and makes a high-pitched questioning sound.
I offer him my hand. After only a moment’s hesitation, he takes it.
I know exactly where to take him. To the vortex.
He floats with me within its embrace, his eyes taking in the surrounding walls of the chasm, even the tree bridge and the people still standing on it. He sees his mother. Though he makes no move toward her, I think his expression softens.
Zivan was right. Torch could be a part of this. He fits in perfectly. He shows no fright, no discomfort. He leans back into the whirlpool all around him and sinks into its bizarre embrace. He loves it. His face shines with excitement.
When I take him back and drop his hand, so that the firehorns vanish, I notice that they take longer to leave him. One or two remain on his skin. They, too, seem comfortable with him.
Torch looks down at the small animals and raises one up to examine it more closely. He breaks into a huge smile as he sees the minute head and the swirl of gold which tops it.
Kelfor- the Orthomancers Page 28