Freewalker (11 page)

T
HE MEMORY OF HIS PEOPLE'S HELPLESSNESS IN THE FACE OF THAT RUTHLESS VIOLENCE IS A BRAND SEARED ON HIS HEART
. H
E HEARS HIS MOTHER'S SOPRANO LIFTING ABOVE THE OTHERS.
“M
OTHER,” HE WHISPERS.
“F
ATHER.
” B
UT AS HE DROPS, THEIR VOICES GROW FAINTER, AND EVERY CELL IN HIS BODY GRIEVES FOR THE LOSS.

R
OCKED BY WAVE AFTER WAVE OF ANGUISH,
R
OAN IS SUDDENLY CONFRONTED BY THE REEK OF BURNT FLESH
. H
E FIRST ENCOUNTERED THIS STENCH THE MORNING HE RETURNED TO
L
ONGLIGHT, AFTER THE BUTCHERY
. B
ONES FLOATING ON THE SURFACE OF THE
F
IRE
H
OLE, HIS FATHER'S SHOE CLUTCHED IN HIS HAND, THE AIR TAINTED WITH DEATH, INFINITE DEATH
. I
T GAGS HIM AND HE CHOKES ON IT.

R
EACHING OUT, HE CLAWS AT A WARM, SOFT WALL, HIS FINGERS DIGGING IN
. T
HOUSANDS OF WAILING SCREAMS ASSAIL HIM AND IN THE RISING LIGHT HE SEES THE WALL IS MADE OF RAW BLEEDING MEAT
. S
TRANDS OF FLESH HANG FROM HIS FINGERNAILS, HIS HANDS SWIM IN BLOOD.

H
ORRIFIED, HE JERKS AWAY, AND TUMBLES THROUGH A THICK GRAY MIST
. B
ELOW, HE SCANS AN ENDLESS FLATLAND
. T
HE SUN, HALVED BY THE HORIZON, CASTS A DIM AMBER GLOW ACROSS A LANDSCAPE THAT SEEMS TO SHIFT AND WRITHE
. R
OAN TOPPLES INTO THAT LIVING SURFACE
. A
NKLE-DEEP IN UNDULATING SLIME, HE'S DEAFENED BY A SYMPHONY OF SUCKING
. L
EECHES!
E
NDLESSLY SUCKING AT WHATEVER IS IN THEIR REACH, A WHATEVER
R
OAN HAS NO DESIRE TO INVESTIGATE
. H
E FRANTICALLY SCRAPES THE BLOODSUCKERS OFF AS THEY BEGIN TO INCH UP HIS LEGS.

W
ITH ONE WILD SWIPE, HE BRUSHES AGAINST SOMETHING SOLID IN THE QUIVERING MASS, AND EXPOSES THE SHAPE OF AN EAR
. S
TARTLED, HE CAREFULLY PULLS THE LEECHES OFF, EXPOSING A NOSE, A MOUTH, AN EYE
. U
NTIL HE FINDS HIMSELF STARING INTO THE FACE OF
S
AINT.

H
IS DEAD MENTOR'S EYES OPEN SLOWLY AND LOOK UPWARDS
. T
HEY WIDEN IN SATISFACTION WHEN THEY SEE
R
OAN
. T
HE MOUTH OPENS, BUT BEFORE IT CAN UTTER A SOUND, LEECHES TOPPLE INTO IT BY THE HUNDREDS, STIFLING IT
. S
AINT'S EYES SCREAM OUT THEIR DESPERATION
. H
IS HAND SHOOTS OUT AND GRIPS
R
OAN'S ARM, DRAWING HIM DOWN
. L
EECHES SLIDE UP
R
OAN'S HANDS, HIS ARMS, COVERING HIS BODY, THEN HIS FACE.

R
OAN CONVULSES WITH A PURE PRIMAL FEAR THAT INSTANTLY TRANSFORMS HIM INTO FLAME
. H
E BURNS INSIDE AND OUT, THE WHITE FIRE THREATENING TO CONSUME ITSELF AND EXTINGUISH HIM AS SURELY AS THE ARM THAT SOUGHT TO HOLD HIM CLOSE.
T
OO CLOSE.

THE GOD OF THE CITY

ELDEST WHO KNOWS ALL MY NEEDS
THE SECRETS OF MY HEART
GUIDE ME INTO PARADISE
YOUR WISDOM TO IMPART
THAT I MIGHT JOIN WITH THE WONDERS
YOU HAVE CREATED THERE
ELDEST WHO KNOWS ALL MY NEEDS
ACCEPT MY HUMBLE PRAYER

—LITURGY OF THE CONURBATION

“F
INGERTIPS
, fingertips!”

Not fingertips again. “Where's Willum?”

“This level of training comes under my tutelage.” Kordan claps his hands in annoyance. “Now. Make your energy push through each tip.”

Stowe hates the whine in Kordan's voice, his acrid smell, his constant demands. But most of all, she hates Kordan's finger exercises.

Imagining her fingertips puncturing his eyes does the trick. Heat begins surging through her hands.

Kordan nods with approval. “That's the kind of focus you require.”

Stowe can barely stifle her laugh. So imagining his dismemberment will get her through his relentless training sessions!

“Now, heels!”

Stowe sighs. “Where are we going to fly, Master Kordan?”

“Heels!”

She gathers the energy around her and, channeling it in through her head, pushes it down into her body. Then she directs it out toward Kordan, just to see if she can make blood come out of his thin nose.

“Focus! Your heels!”

Did he feel her attack at all? True, it was just the tiniest burst, but she'd hoped it might have at least brushed the punctilious fool.

“Are you awake?” Kordan snaps.

Stowe immediately pushes the energy into her feet.

“You were letting your mind drift!”

“Apologies, Master Kordan, it's just... we've been practicing all morning and...”

Kordan frowns. “You will continue.”

“Yes, Master Kordan.” Worm that he is, he's right. Why does she feel so listless when what she needs is to focus, to become stronger?

“Abdomen!”

Stowe, biting her tongue until blood trickles in her mouth, gathers in her frustration, and funnels it into her abdominal muscles.

“Lungs!”

Off come his arms.

“Navel!”

Off come his legs.

“Eyes!”

Off comes his head.

And thus Stowe survives the drills that continue into the early afternoon.

Finally satisfied, Kordan rewards her with a smug little smile. “
Now
we are ready to fly.”

But Stowe doesn't care. For as Kordan's hands press on the wall, a drawer emerges. Her heart bangs against her chest, her body courses with adrenaline, her fingers tremble.

He lifts the silver vessel. She resists the urge to rush over, grab the bowl, and swallow it all. Dirt is power, Dirt is strength. Dirt will take her away from here, where she is barely more than a child and a slave to the whims of the Masters.

She bows her head. She must not appear too eager. She opens her mouth and Kordan spills in the contents of the spoon. As she gulps the Dirt down, there is a faint glimmering at the edges of her consciousness, but she knows she cannot reach it, she need not even make the effort. “More, please.”

“As you wish,” says Kordan, with an ingratiating smirk. Taking his time, he leisurely dips the spoon into the bowl and raises a heaping spoonful. And with excruciating slowness, he brings it to her mouth. He so enjoys making her squirm. After she swallows, he takes a pinch for himself. The drawer slides shut, the wall closes, and they settle into their chairs.

Stowe shudders as Dirt sizzles through her veins and surges under her skin. She shimmers, then bursts into the Dreamfield like an exploding star.

S
TOWE, HER SKIN TERRA-COTTA, STANDS UPON A MOUNTAIN RIDGE UNDER THE PULSATING GREEN SKY.
T
HE VULTURE, SALLOW FEATHERS AND BULBOUS RED FACE, HOVERS BESIDE HER.

“B
EGIN THE TRANSFORMATION.
”

S
TOWE FOLDS ENERGY INTO HER FEET, BUT CRIES OUT IN PAIN AS THE CLAY FLESH CRYSTALLIZES, TURNING TO BRILLIANT DIAMOND.

“T
OO FAST
!”

R
ECALLING
W
ILLUM'S INSTRUCTION, SHE SLOWS THE FLOW, PERMITTING THE CRYSTAL TO ONLY GRADUALLY INCH UP HER LEGS, OVER HER PELVIS, AROUND HER TORSO.
T
HE METAMORPHOSIS FIRES A MILLION TINY KNIVES INTO HER NERVE ENDINGS.
T
HE CRYSTALLIZATION OF HER FACE IS AGONY.
A
S HER EYES TURN TO DIAMONDS, HER VISION KALEIDOSCOPES.
S
HE REFOCUSES, INTEGRATING THE INFORMATION FROM ALL THE FACETS TO FORM ONE COHERENT IMAGE.
S
HE HAS BECOME ENTIRELY DIAMOND NOW EXCEPT FOR HER RIGHT HAND, AND THOUGH SHE WILLS IT WITH ALL HER MIGHT, THE CRYSTAL WON'T MOVE DOWN HER WRIST.

T
HIS HAND HOLDS THE MEMORY OF HER BROTHER'S TOUCH—HOW HIS GRIP TIGHTENED AROUND HERS BEFORE SHE WAS TORN AWAY THAT TERRIBLE NIGHT.
W
HEN SHE CLOSES HER EYES, SHE CAN STILL FEEL THE WARMTH OF
R
OAN'S FINGERS.

“F
INISH IT,
”
SAYS THE VULTURE.
“E
VERY PART OF YOU MUST UNDERGO THE CHANGE.
”

S
HE PUSHES WITH HER MIND, BUT SHE CANNOT MAKE THE CRYSTAL MOVE INTO HER HAND.

“I
SEE.
Y
OU STILL NURSE THIS WEAKNESS.
S
ENTIMENT IS DANGEROUS.
”

S
TOWE BRISTLES.
S
HE'D LASH OUT AT HER TEACHER, BUT THAT IS WHAT HE WANTS.
I
NSTEAD SHE ERADICATES THE LAST SEMBLANCE OF HER VULNERABILITY.
E
RASING THE SENSATION OF HER BROTHER'S TOUCH FROM HER MIND, SHE SPREADS THE DIAMOND RAPIDLY OVER HER HAND, AND INSTEAD OF PRIDE AT HER SUCCESSFUL TRANSFORMATION, SHE IS LEFT WITH A PLAINTIVE, SEARING ACHE.

“G
OOD.
M
AINTAIN THAT DENSITY AS YOU RISE.
”

B
UT SHE CANNOT MOVE.

“R
AISE YOURSELF
!”
DEMANDS
K
ORDAN.

T
HE WEIGHT OF
S
TOWE'S LIMBS IS TOO GREAT.
K
ORDAN'S CONTEMPT DISTRACTS HER AND SIPHONS OFF HER ENERGY.
H
ER EFFORTS BECOME BRITTLE AND EVERY TIME SHE TRIES TO LIFT OFF, THE CHALLENGE INCREASES.
T
HEN
W
ILLUM'S INSTRUCTIONS DRIFT INTO HER CRYSTALLINE CONSCIOUSNESS: PAIN IS A FUEL, SWALLOW IT, MAKE IT SERVE YOU.

F
OLLOWING HIS TEACHING, SHE EATS HER PAIN, AND AS SHE ROLLS IT BACK INTO HER CONTROL SHE SLOWLY LEVITATES, RISING TO THE SAME HEIGHT AS THE VULTURE.

“N
OW LET'S SEE IF YOU CAN SOAR.
”

T
HE LAST VISIT, SHE'D TRANSFORMED ONLY HALF HER BODY.
N
OW, CARRYING THIS GREATER DENSITY, IT'S DIFFICULT TO PICK UP SPEED.

“W
HY SO CAUTIOUS,
O
UR
S
TOWE
?”

I
F PAIN IS FUEL, THEN HATRED IS ITS IGNITER, THINKS
S
TOWE AS SHE BLASTS INTO THE MIST.
S
OARING HIGH ABOVE
K
ORDAN, SHE CAN ALMOST IMAGINE BEING FREE OF HIM, OF ANY RESPONSIBILITY TO THE
M
ASTERS OR THE
C
ITY.
B
UT NOT TODAY.
T
ODAY SHE WILL SUFFER HIS TAUNTS AND OBEY HIS EVERY COMMAND.
W
ITH ANOTHER THOUGHT, SHE PLUMMETS, THEN COMES TO A DEAD STOP INCHES FROM THE VULTURE, HER CRYSTAL FINGERS CURVED INTO A SHARP POINT AT HIS BREAST.

“Y
OU WASTE YOUR EFFORTS,
”
SAYS
K
ORDAN.
“D
O NOT MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE WHEN YOU PASS THROUGH THE
W
HORL.
”

“W
HAT IF
I
BECOME TRAPPED IN IT
?”

“Y
OU WILL ONLY FAIL IF YOU FALTER.
”

A
LL THAT HE SAYS IS AIMED AT THE CORE OF HER PRIDE.
H
E HAS ALWAYS TREATED HER LIKE THIS, FOREVER PREYING ON HER WEAKNESSES, SEEKING TO KEEP HER IN HIS THRALL, DARING HER TO CRAVE THE MYSTERY OF HIS POWER.
S
O OBVIOUS.
N
OT LIKE
W
ILLUM, WHOSE HOLD ON HER AND ON HIS POSITION IS A PUZZLE.
W
ILLUM APPEARS OPEN, VULNERABLE, BUT HE FEIGNS THIS TRANSPARENCY.
H
E KEEPS HIS SECRETS AND, IF THE EASE WITH WHICH HE REPELLED HER ATTACK ON THE CLERICS IS ANY INDICATION, THEY ARE SECRETS WORTHY OF HER ATTENTION.

S
TOWE CONTEMPLATES THE TOWERING WATERSPOUT THAT OBSTRUCTS THE HORIZON: THE
W
HORL.
S
ET IN THE MIDDLE OF WHAT THE
M
ASTERS CALL
B
LIND
M
AN'S
D
ESERT, IT DOMINATES A LANDSCAPE THAT IS SAID TO HAVE ONCE THROBBED WITH ACTIVITY, ACTIVITY THE
M
ASTERS HAD TROUBLE POLICING.
D
ARIUS'S CONSTRUCTION IS INSPIRED IN ITS SIMPLICITY.
T
HE
W
HORL'S WATERS WERE DRAWN FROM THE
W
ELL OF
O
BLIVION, AND ITS ENERGY FROM ANY ENTITY FOOLISH ENOUGH TO APPROACH IT.
S
OME CLAIM THAT AT THE VERY MOMENT IT WAS SET IN MOTION, ALL THE BIRDS IN THE CITY FELL FROM THE SKIES, THEIR SPIRITS FOREVER CAUGHT IN THE WHIRLING CASCADE.
C
HILDREN WOKE SCREAMING FROM NIGHTMARES THEY COULD NOT REMEMBER.

S
TOWE HAD ALWAYS BELIEVED IT WAS DRIVEL, A TALE TOLD TO TERRIFY THE UNINITIATED, KEEP THEM IN AWE OF THE
D
IRT AND ITS POWER.
B
UT FACE TO FACE WITH THE
W
HORL AND THE LIFELESS LANDSCAPE IN WHICH IT PULSES, SHE HAS NO DOUBT THAT THE STORIES OF ITS LETHALNESS ARE IN FACT UNDERSTATED.
A
GREATER CHALLENGE THEN, BUT SHE IS STRONG.
S
TRONG ENOUGH.

S
HE BULLETS STRAIGHT TOWARD THE
W
HORL.
C
LOSER AND CLOSER, UNTIL SHE CRASHES INTO IT.
T
HROUGH HER HEAD FLASHES THE FORCE OF AN INESTIMABLE NUMBER OF BEINGS, THEIR MEMORIES INTERTWINING.
T
HEY ENVELOP HER WITH THEIR PLEADING, URGING HER TO JOIN THEM.
S
HE COULD LEAVE ALL HER PAIN BEHIND WITH THEM, THEY COO, NO NEED TO LOOK BACK, OR TO CARRY SUCH DEVASTATING ANGUISH.
S
HE COULD GIVE IT ALL TO THEM.
T
HEY WOULD CARRY IT FOR HER.
T
HEIR CALL IS A DIVINE MUSIC THAT WINDS AND WRAPS LIKE VELVET OVER HER LIMBS, HER HEART, HER MIND.

Y
EARNING, SHE REACHES OUT, BUT HER MOMENTUM THRUSTS HER FORWARD AND THROUGH THE OTHER SIDE OF THE
W
HORL TO WHERE
K
ORDAN WAITS.
H
ER CRYSTALLINE SKIN IS SHREDDED, HER HEAD HALF-HANGING TO THE SIDE, BUT SHE IS STILL THERE, ALL THAT SHE IS AND THAT SHE KNOWS, ALL THAT SHE REMEMBERS INTACT.
L
OOKING INTO THE VULTURE'S EYES, IT SEEMS FORTUNATE THAT IN HER CRYSTALLINE FORM SHE CANNOT CRY.