Eye of the Comet (13 page)

“I understand now,” Anra whispered. “You are our daughter, too.”

Lydee did not reply.

“Don’t waste your strength in talk,” Brun muttered.

They were closer to the village. Cerwen and Harel were waiting just inside the force field, with other villagers gathered behind them along the path. Leito and Morgen rushed to Cerwen’s side.

Daiya’s mind suddenly dropped out of their web; she had fainted. Lydee drew on more energy, strengthening their wall.

Cerwen signaled, pointing at the force field, then at them. Brun motioned to his father, and Lydee understood what the signals meant. They would have to direct their thoughts at the wall at the same time the villagers were boring from within, and that meant they would have to drop their mental shield. They would be open to attack, uncamouflaged. If the field did not fall, they would die. She hoped that they had the strength to break through.

“Don’t think of that, child,” Brun said. “We’ll need all of your power. We broke through before and can do so again.”

Lydee nodded, wanting to believe him. They stumbled up to the wall and lowered Daiya’s legs to the ground, still holding her by the waist. A wind was rising on the meadow; the grass rippled.

Cerwen raised his arms; Brun pointed at the invisible barrier. — Now — he thought.

Their mental shields dropped as they aimed their thoughts. Lydee pushed at the wall. The wind screamed around her as claws tore at her mind. She drew more strength; the wind howled a protest. Marellon fell to the ground, writhing; the barrier began to glow. Pain shot through her as the wall was torn; the sound of the ripping nearly deafened her.

Cerwen’s arms reached out to Marellon. Anra pulled the boy up and thrust him at the old man, then pushed Reiho toward Harel. Lydee screamed, dropping Daiya as she doubled over in pain, pressing her hands against her head, afraid that her skull would explode. Brun picked up his unconscious daughter and handed her to the villagers.

Lydee was failing. Her strength was gone. The hole began to close, the fire at its edges burning more fiercely.

Anra yanked her arm; Brun grabbed her shoulders and aimed her at the flames. She cried out as the fire seared her; hands slapped at her burning hair as minds quenched the fire. Someone pulled her up; she gazed into Nenla’s face. She was inside the shield.

She sat up. The force field had closed. Anra and Brun were still outside, eyes pleading as their fists struck the wall.

“We have to open it again,” Lydee said desperately. Several people had already collapsed from the effort; Leito was kneeling beside Morgen, weeping as she rubbed his chubby wrists. Lydee could sense the weakness in the Net. She forced her thoughts at the wall, knowing she had hardly any strength left.

Anra turned to Brun. He lifted her hands to his face, then drew her to him. Their lips moved; they were smiling.

“No,” Lydee wailed, realizing that the two were preparing for death.

The wind outside gusted soundlessly. A funnel of dark clouds danced across the meadow toward the couple. Lydee’s muscles locked; her mind shattered. A piece of her, its strength gone, watched as the whirlwind swept up Anra and Brun and then fled, becoming a stream of gray mist mottled with the redness of blood.

11

Lydee sat outside Nenla and Kal’s hut, gazing at the field outside the invisible wall. Stalks of corn had begun to ripen; a few stray cattle and sheep were already grazing near the crops. Feebly, she probed the force field with her mind before withdrawing behind her mental shield.

Reiho emerged from the hut. She had not sensed his movements; she kept her shield up constantly, unable to bear the pain that throbbed in the minds around her. Kal’s father Vasen, brother to Anra, had come to the hut that morning to see Daiya; he had left quickly when he had seen Lydee and Reiho there, and she wondered if he was blaming them for Anra’s death. Daiya had muttered all night in her dreams as Nenla and Kal tried to help her heal.

Reiho sat down next to her, hugging his legs. “Daiya still won’t speak to me,” he said in their own language. Daiya had been sitting in one corner, refusing to speak, shaking her head as if communing with someone no one else could see. Lydee had been unable to break through her sister’s wall. Even Nenla and Kal had finally retreated for the day, taking Marellon and Luret with them to the public space.

“We should have brought the food we left in Daiya’s hut,” Lydee said. “I should have gone down to the shuttle and taken out more supplies. We might have tried to get it here somehow.”

“We wouldn’t have made it.”

They were cut off from the shuttle, their lifeline; she wondered if the Earthfolk outside had already torn it apart with their minds. The rest of Earth might be showing them mercy by allowing them the chance to take their own lives, or they might simply be gathering their resources for a final assault. Maybe they had weakened themselves in moving their wall closer to the village and were now waiting to grow strong again.

“We may die,” Reiho went on. “Just like those others.” She bowed her head. A few of the villagers were dead along with Anra and Brun, and some of the gardens bordering the public space were now graves for the five Merging Selves and the two younger people whose efforts to tear at the force field had robbed them of their lives. Morgen BianZeki had been among the victims. Lydee had watched as the village had gathered to mourn. Leito and Cerwen had wept together for him and for their children Anra and Brun.

“The people here think that they will join their God and live on in another life,” Reiho murmured, “but we know that isn’t true. All that awaits us is nothingness.” He glanced at her. “It may be easier for Earthfolk to be brave. They have more to look forward to and less to give up.”

Lydee took his hand. “You helped us save Daiya. She wouldn’t even be alive now without your help.”

“I wish I could have done more.” He sighed.

“The Mindcores will help us — They can’t leave us like this.” But even as she spoke, she was thinking of Anra and Brun. They had reached out to their daughter Daiya at last, only to be snatched away at the moment of reconciliation. Her throat tightened. Toward the end, Anra had even reached out to Lydee, attempting to make amends to the child she had once wished dead; the couple had saved her life by pushing her through the closing gap in the force field. She swallowed hard. The Mindcores had not even tried to save them. Morgen, her other grandfather, was dead, and she had not had a chance to know him.

She recalled the faces of the two who had been her parents. Even the cometdwellers might have found Anra’s fine features pleasing if they could have overlooked the signs of age, the tiny lines etched lightly around her eyes. Brun’s gentle, dark eyes had looked out of a bearded face seemingly struggling to be stern. They had smiled as the whirlwind swallowed them; they had shown no fear. Their minds, no doubt, had already been looking beyond this world, clinging to their superstitious beliefs. They had only deceived themselves. Had they known that this life was all they had, they might have made it through the wall. They might have fought harder to live.

“I know what we have to do,” she said wildly. “We must break through the wall again and go outside, then offer ourselves to this village’s enemies. We can ask them to spare the village in exchange for our lives and tell them that the people here will turn from their doubts.”

Reiho shook his head. “We can’t tear the wall open. The people here are too weak now, and cannot summon the strength. And do you think those outside would spare the village? They killed Anra and Brun, who clung to old ways as much as anyone here could from what Daiya has told me. And the village can’t just forget its questions. They can’t hide their doubts and still allow others to touch their minds.” He paused. “Do you really think you could go outside and meet death so willingly?”

“No.” Her impulse was fading. She did not want death, only an escape. Even now, she could not imagine herself swallowed by oblivion; perhaps no one could until the moment was upon her.

“We shall not die,” a voice said in the Earth tongue.

Lydee turned. Daiya was standing in the doorway, leaning on a long, wooden pole. Her face was drawn and sallow; her eyes stared past them at the field.

“We shall not die,” Daiya said again, sounding unlike herself; her voice was low, but strong. “I hear the dead, and know that they live. The Merged One will not abandon us, and the Minds under the mountains are still linked to us. I have seen Anra and Brun, and they have told me not to mourn.”

“They’re dead,” Lydee burst out. “You couldn’t have seen them.”

“Yes, I know. Nenla showed me how they died. I tried to push her mind from me, but she forced me to see. Now I know that they loved me after all. When death came for them, they were reconciled with me and yet had not lost their faith — they were as close to a holy state as one can be in this life. They died together, as they would have wished, and they are still together, two thoughts in the mind of God.”

“You say that,” Lydee responded. “You, who doubt.”

“Yes, I have doubts.” Daiya’s voice was softer now. “When I meet my death, maybe there won’t be another life for me, but those who are like my mother and father may live on. In this life, we create the fate of our souls — our minds shape it. I’m healing now. I won’t give in to despair again. It always passes, you see. We’ll live.”

Daiya had been driven mad. That was all Lydee could think as she looked at the woman’s face. Daiya seemed transfixed, her eyes gleaming with a barely restrained hysteria. Frightened, Lydee shrank against the hut; anything she would say might only provoke her sister.

“I must go to the Merging Selves,” Daiya continued in a toneless voice. “We must prepare ourselves and wait for a sign.” She limped toward the road, leaning on her stick.

“But you’re hurt,” Lydee protested. “You must —”

“Let her go.” Reiho’s hand came down on her arm. In their own language, he said, “Let her believe what she must. It doesn’t matter now. I only wish we could cling to such a delusion.”

* * *

Lydee stood on a line with Marellon and Luret, waiting as those in front of her inched forward. The villagers near them were sullen and passive. The young man called Wiland shot Lydee a harsh glance, then turned away, ignoring the hand Luret had raised in greeting.

Three days had passed, and the sign Daiya was expecting had not appeared. Lydee could scarcely bear to be near her sister now. Daiya continued to mutter to herself at intervals, and it was impossible to tell if she was praying or cursing. The villagers were still stunned by their predicament, passively obeying the Merging Selves; Lydee wondered how many others would soon go mad.

Cerwen and the other Merging Selves had assembled the village’s remaining provisions in the public space, pouring water into barrels and piling food onto tables. Cerwen had put aside his personal sorrow in order to reassure everyone, noting, as the lines were forming, that there was a large quantity of new wine, that several villagers had saved water from the storm, that wheat had recently been harvested, and that there were many chickens, ducks, and pigs inside the barrier. If they gathered what was in their gardens and rationed their supplies, they could survive for some time.

She tried not to think of what would happen when the day came, as it eventually would, when all the supplies were exhausted. The water might be the first thing to go; they were cut off from both the river and the field’s ditches. They would have to hope for more rain, even though the force field was likely to prevent much of it from reaching them.

Lydee fidgeted, plucking at her hair; the singed ends were dry and brittle. She was enclosed in this village; the stink of the bodies around her was almost more than she could bear. She looked down at her dirt-stained tunic; she was as filthy as the rest.

What were the Earthpeople outside waiting for? If they had enough strength to enclose them inside the force field, they could, with only a little more exertion, crush them entirely. That thought made her shudder. Luret glanced at her, concern in her green eyes. The wall already seemed closer.

They moved forward and found themselves in front of Leito. Luret greeted her great-grandmother while Marellon handed the old woman their waterskins. Leito filled them, then took the skin they had given to Lydee.

“Now we give skydwellers our precious water,” Wiland said.

  — Silence yourself — Leito’s green eyes narrowed. — They are trapped here with us and will share what we have — Wiland scowled as he accepted provisions from another old woman, then hurried away.

  — Two days — Leito thought, handing Lydee her water and directing them to Cerwen, who was helping to hand out food. — Your water must last you that long — Lydee frowned, already feeling thirsty. She would not have much to drink; bathing would be impossible.

Luret and Marellon accepted a roasted chicken from Cerwen; Lydee averted her eyes from the dead, plucked fowl. The old man held out a small pouch of corn; she shook her head, refusing it.

  — It’s little enough for two days — Cerwen thought.

  — I can go without food for a while —

Cerwen did not insist, turning to the next villager as the three young people walked out of the public space. Reiho was saving one last small packet of food out of the two he had found in his pockets and had promised to share it with her later. After that, she would be forced to eat village food, and when the grain and fruit gave out, she might be reduced to eating meat. The thought nauseated her. She wondered exactly how long she could go without food before her body began to weaken; Homesmind could have told her.

  — The skydwellers have brought us death again — The thought was sharp. She looked back at the line of villagers, trying to see who had thought it. — When they came, we should have sent them away and punished Daiya for bringing them —

  — Don’t heed such notions — Marellon said to her.

  — They may be true —

  — Don’t think that —

She stopped near one garden and turned to him.

  — I’m helpless now. Without the shuttle, I’m more helpless than you —

  — I think — Luret replied, — that we are all equally helpless —

* * *

Lydee awoke, feeling uneasy. The air was still, as if a storm were about to break; her neck prickled. Reiho stirred next to her; Marellon and Luret were sitting up. Daiya still slept.

  — Do you sense it too? — Luret asked.

Lydee nodded. Someone was outside, waiting, but the thoughts of that person were shielded. She got up and went to the doorway, feeling as though she was being drawn there against her will.

A small crowd had gathered outside the hut, Silla at its head. Wiland was with her, along with a tall, pale woman from one of the neighboring huts, two older people, and several young men and women. Reiho moved closer to the doorway and peered out at the villagers.

“What do you want?” Lydee said aloud, trying to keep her voice calm.

“Come outside,” Silla replied.

Lydee walked toward the crowd, stopping a few paces away. Silla’s eyes narrowed. “What is it you want?” Reiho called out.

“We’ve come for you, skydwellers. It is time.”

Lydee threw up a wall around her mind. “Time for what?” she said faintly, though she already knew.

“Time for you to meet your deaths,” Silla said.

Reiho made a sound of protest. Lydee glanced back at him as he sagged against the doorway. Luret suddenly pushed past him, followed by Marellon. — Leave them alone — the girl thought.

“Do you want to fight us, too?” Silla asked. “It’s time to rid ourselves of this curse. If you fight us, we’ll take your lives as well.”

“You aren’t strong enough,” Marellon said.

“Stay out of this,” Wiland said, and then more softly, “I don’t want to hurt you.” He was looking at Luret, who gazed back with angry eyes.

“Do you think you can frighten us away?” Silla shouted. “We are already dying. Our food and water will run out, and then we’ll starve and spend our last days in a prolonged agony. If we die assaulting these skydwellers, we will either be reunited with God for having done the right thing or we’ll lift this curse.” She folded her arms. “For the first time in my life, I am glad I have no children to witness such evil days.”

“The evil is in you, sister.” Daiya was at the doorway, leaning on her stick. Lydee watched her, surprised; Daiya’s eyes were clear and her voice had its old resonance. “Go away, Silla. You don’t know what you’re doing. We mustn’t fight now, but should draw closer.”

“How can you say that? Have you forgotten Anra and Brun so quickly? They died because of that girl and that man.”

“I live because of that girl and that man. And Anra and Brun helped her willingly. The Minds under the mountains will not ignore our need — you must believe me.”

“I have touched your thoughts,” Silla replied. “You are mad, Daiya, and your mind creates false images and false hopes. I think you are hoping for my death so that you can go to Harel. I see that we must fight you, too.”

Reiho was pale. Lydee sensed his agitation; he was already seeing the death he had expected. Kal suddenly appeared behind him as Nenla came outside.

“Go, Silla,” the red-haired woman said firmly. “These skydwellers are guests in our home. I can’t let you harm them.”