The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) (158 page)

“The Keltar control the platforms,” Grackas said. “How do you propose to reach the flying keep?”

Keris’s eyes flashed. “I think I know a way.”

~

The ethereal song of the Chandara suffused the air once more, enveloping the forest like a diaphanous blanket. At length, the larval Chandara emerged from the undergrowth and surrounded Keris and Boxx, crawling over one another or standing on hind limbs for a better view.

Keris took a deep breath. “Boxx and I have returned, just as we promised. We are here to lead you out of your forest.”

The creatures parted and before them stood the wizened Chandara, supported on its crooked staff. “Chandara Will Not Leave The Forest. The Chandara And The Forest Are One.”

You could order them to leave.
She had made the suggestion during their journey to Illaryon, but Boxx was resolute.
I Will Not.

You overruled the chief the last time.

The creature replied as if reasoning with a child.
Young Chandara Do Not Instruct Adults. My Future Is Of Me. Their Future Is Of Them. They Must Decide.

For once, Keris understood the Chandara’s reasoning. However, it made her job that much harder.

“I mean no disrespect,” she began. “But if we Kelanni are to help you, then it will be necessary for you to leave your forest for a short while.”

“Where?”

“At the edge of the forest, groups of Kelanni are waiting for you. They will conduct you to their towns and villages. There is where you will be transformed.”

“Kelanni Despise Chandara.”

“Those who are with us are called ‘The Fourth Circle’. They have pledged to assist the Chandara in their transformation.” In truth, she had told Miron that if any of his people objected to helping the Chandara, then the Heroine of Gort would be happy to ‘explain’ matters to them personally. No one had taken her up on her offer.

“There is something else.” Keris tried to wring the desperation from her voice. “Those who enslaved us—those who burned your Great Tree—have now taken refuge in... in a high place, a place we cannot reach. When you have been transformed, we need you to fly us there, so that we may remove the threat to both our peoples.” Orange, yellow, and purple leaves rustled in the silence. “Will you help us?”

The larval Chandara stirred like leaves in a breeze. Finally, the chief spoke. “A Destroyer Walks Among You.”

A Destroyer Walks Among You.
The chief had said the same thing during their last meeting, but she had assumed that it was talking about her, as a former Keltar. It must have meant someone else—those who had set fire to the Great Tree, perhaps.

“You are mistaken,” she said, raising her voice so that the mass of Chandara could hear. “The destruction here in Illaryon took place when my companions and I were far away from here. I can vouch for each of them.”

It was Boxx who replied. “The Children Speak Not Of Here, But Of The Forest And The Chandara Beyond The Great Barrier.”

The Forest of Atarah.
But... according to the old-timer she spoke to in Kieroth, that forest, along with its Great Tree, had been destroyed decades before. With the exception of Patris, they would all have been children at the time. Shann and Rael would not even have been born.

“I’m sorry, but what you are saying is not possible.”

Boxx gazed at her with an expression that might have been sympathy. “I Can Show You The Truth.”

“You can show me? How?”

“I Can Give You The Memory.”

The aged Chandara shuffled forward and raised its head. The effort seemed to sap every ounce of its energy. “Chandara Memories Are For Chandara Alone.”

Boxx gazed down at the wizened creature, her bejewelled eyes scattering the forest’s gentle fire. “Remember... Once, Long Ago, There Was A Sharing Between Chandara And Kelanni. Keris Must Know The Truth.” Boxx addressed her. “Allosteric Activation Induces Synaptic Plasticity.”

“Pardon me?”

“You Will Eat. You Will Remember. However, The Kelanni Brain Is Different. There Is Risk Of Damage.”

She had no choice. If they were going to reach the keep, then they needed the Chandara’s help, and that meant winning their trust. Whatever or whoever this ‘Destroyer’ was, she had to know.

She dismissed the knot forming in the pit of her stomach. “Let’s get on with it.”

~

After a short walk, they arrived at a shady bower. Orange and honey-coloured leaves intertwined overhead. The air was cool and the ground was carpeted with soft purple grass interspersed with white flowers. It was a place of serenity. A place to forget all of your troubles. Keris would have liked nothing better than to curl up right now and go to sleep.

The larval Chandara had melted away; whatever was due to take place, it was apparently something very private. Boxx stood before her, white wings folded.

“Prepare Yourself.”

Keris had no idea what to expect or how to prepare for it, so she settled for the obvious, slipping off her pack and laying her staff carefully on the ground beside her. She waited for Boxx to instruct her to remove her flying cloak, but the creature simply regarded her with its golden eyes.

She sat on the grass and crossed her legs. “So, what’s so special about this place?”

“The White Flowers,” Boxx replied. “They Contain The Allosteric Effector.” She reached down with her beak and plucked something from a small pouch in her breast. It was a transparent leathery vial similar to the one Boxx had given her at the Dais, except that it contained a clear fluid. She dropped it at Keris’s feet. “Eat.”

Keris picked it up, turning it over in her fingers. “What is it?”

“It Is Memory Of The Destroyer.”

Without thinking, she broke off the tip and swallowed the contents. Bitterness invaded her tongue and she grimaced.

“Now You Must Eat The Flowers.”

She blinked, half-expecting Alondo to burst out of the shrubbery and declare her to be the victim of an elaborate practical joke. Nothing happened. She sighed, plucked a white bloom, and began to chew the petals. They had a silky consistency, but the taste was bland.

“I don’t feel any different,” she announced after the fourth flower.

“Close Your Eyes.”

She obeyed, lying down on the grass. Her nostrils flared, welcoming the scent of growing things. A rhythmic cooing was answered by a more distant call. Her muscles relaxed, revelling in the release of tension. Then, without warning, it began.

At first, the images were blurry, as if she were viewing them through her own tears. Shapes came and went or merged with others, giving no clue as to their form. There was a voice in her head—no, not a voice. Thoughts. Thoughts so different from her own that she struggled to make sense of them.

Gradually, the images began to clear. She forced herself to concentrate on them, blotting out the thought-voice. It was another forest—far different from the one her body was lying in. Everything was shades of grey, enveloped in mist or light rain. Yet this was no ordinary rain. It clung to branches, dripped from leaves, percolated into soil, and invaded roots. And everything that the rain touched died.

Bare branches were framed against the sky—a tableau of the final moment of life. Leaves covered the ground like brittle paper, partially covering small mounds. Only they were not mounds. They were small, shelled bodies. The thought-voice carried a terrible sadness that lay heavy on her heart.

Bright silver birds descended, settling on the now-barren ground. As their roaring fell to silence, they disgorged creatures clad in shiny reflective clothing who looked over the scene or whispered or knelt to examine their handiwork. They were broad-shouldered and thick-limbed. And they had no tail. Unan-Chinneroth.
Hu-mans.

So hu-mans were responsible for the destruction of the Forest of Atarah and the Great Tree there. Her instinct had been correct. One more crime to lay at their door.
But why?
the investigator within her nagged.
Why would the hu-mans poison this forest and the Chandara within it? What would they have to gain?

The thought-voice sounded like a bell in her head.
It Is The Way Of The Destroyer.
Yet as much as she wanted to join in the condemnation, the explanation somehow seemed inadequate.

One of the suited figures walked towards her. It bent over so that the head and torso filled her inner vision. The eyes were slate, the face chiselled and framed by an untidy bush of hair. The creature was leaner, with less grey, but she recognised him immediately.
Alexander McCann.

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Chapter 45

The waking dream faded and Keris gradually came to. Her mouth was filled with a metallic taste. The colours of the forest were unnaturally bright, and every rustle or faint susurration grated in her ears like an iron rasp. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heels of her palms into her ears.

Boxx stood over her, like a protective mother. “Are You Well, Keris?”

There’s no need to yell.
“Yes... No... I’ll be fine.”

“You Saw The Destroyer?”

She forced her eyes open. The daylight had fewer sharp needles, but a dull ache was starting to gather at the back of her skull. “Yes... Yes, I suppose I did.”

The trees parted and dozens of larval Chandara scurried into the clearing. She hastily tried to marshal her thoughts. Involving McCann had been a mistake—that much was clear now. However, there was no time for regrets. Somehow, she had to win these creatures’ cooperation. The Chandara shared memories. That meant that all of them must have seen what she saw—felt what she felt.

The chief emerged from the melee and planted its staff in the rich loam.

She got to her feet unsteadily. “I’m sorry.” There was no reaction. “I am truly sorry for what happened to your kin beyond the Great Barrier. It was a terrible wrong. But Kelanni there are helping them to make the transformation. We will do the same for you—if you will let us.”

“The Forest Path Is Dark And Cramped.” The chief’s shrill voice faltered. “There Are No Turnings For Her Children.”

“And afterward. Will you help us?”

“Why Does The Destroyer Walk Among You?”

She glanced sideways at Boxx, but the adult Chandara remained silent. Keris swallowed. “We... did not know what he was—what he had done.” She had a sudden flash of inspiration. “Kelanni cannot share memories in the way that Chandara do. We rely on speech alone to convey thoughts. A person may be untruthful and there may be no way for us to know that they are lying.”

The chief’s mouth rippled. “What Is Lying?”

“Er... well, a lie is when you say something that is not correct. In order to make a false impression or... or to mislead someone... ” She saw the trap, but too late.

“If Keris Is Lying, How Can Chandara Know?”

Her head swam. “Trust,” she blurted out. “Kelanni and Chandara must learn to trust one another. The survival of both of our races depends on it. Will you help us? Please.”

The ancient chief’s voice was a parched desert. “For Chandara There Is No Trust. Only Truth.” It turned and disappeared into the milling mass.

She was bound by her oath to preserve these creatures—to help them to transform. But what then? Did they have the capacity to forgive the crimes that had been committed against them? Would they consent to help?

The path before her was dark and cramped. And there were no turnings.

~

On the flat rooftop where she had confronted Glaisne only a few days previously, Keris now stood with Boxx, Miron, Peira, and the three children, watching as clouds of charcoal and glowing embers drifted across the warm face of Ail-Mazzoth. The soldiers and Keltar who had ravaged the town of Lind in their search for her were long gone.

Somewhere in the vicinity of Persillan to the north, Shann was overseeing the gathering of slag and its transport to Chalimar on whatever carriages, carts, or wagons she was able to procure.