The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) (54 page)

Without further thought, Shann rose, wrapped her flying cloak tightly about her small frame and began heading along the line of low hills as it snaked south, toward the lights and whatever welcome or warding awaited her there.

~

As she descended the rough escarpment, the white flakes grew thicker and more numerous. They surrounded her in a slow motion aerial ballet, obscuring her vision. Even when she closed her eyes, she could still see them in her mind’s eye and feel them on her face.

As the ground levelled out, she could make out what looked as if they might be cultivated areas to her left and right. Between the gloom and the growing white precipitation, it was difficult to be certain. She could have been walking through fields of kalash or moba root, or of some unknown crop, and not realised it.

Ahead of her, the lights of the town burned steadily. Shann was struck by the fact that they seemed preternaturally bright–brighter than the lights of any town ought to appear at night time. At first, it seemed to her that it might be nothing more than an impression, due to the fact that the night was much darker here, devoid as this world was of Ail-Mazzoth’s comforting dull red glow. As she drew near the outskirts, however, the real reason became apparent. There was a roadway that led into the town, and on either side, set on poles several times her height, were yellow globes like strange oil lamps, bathing the road with a soft effulgence.

Shann found herself drawn to the globes. They were placed at regular intervals and were completely enclosed, so Shann could not see where the oil would go. Besides, it would take huge amounts of oil to keep all of them burning–and with the streets empty, she could not see the point of all that waste. She put the enigma of the globes aside for a moment and turned her attention to the dwellings.

Their angled roofs were covered with an unbroken layer of the white powder. The stones from which they were constructed were…odd. They were all uniform, with rigid, precise angles. Perhaps the inhabitants were a strict, military people?
Wasteful military
. Somehow, that didn’t seem right.

The dream-like precipitation had eased. Occasional flakes fluttered down from the sky like stragglers at the end of a procession, hastening to catch up to the main performance. The thick white powder gathered in clumps and collected in drifts. It seemed to deaden sound. There was no wind. Shann suddenly realised how tired and hungry she was. Boxx had not complained, but she knew that acts of healing tired the Chandara. She was sure that it, too, was in a weakened state.

Somewhere far off, a bell chimed. Shann looked up and down the deserted street. The road surface was cobbled, like the streets of her home, except that the stones were smoother and more even than the streets of the Great City of Chalimar itself. The surface was dappled with patches of the cold white powder. The yellow globes created intersecting pools of light.

In one of the pools, by the side of the street, sat a large box-shaped object. Shann approached and saw that it was some sort of compartment with windows made of pure glass. She reached out her hand. The surface was metal–cold and smooth to the touch. What could be its purpose? And equally, why would someone leave such a thing by the side of the roadway? Shann walked around it and saw that it had what looked like a door with a handle. She tested it. The mechanism clunked and a door opened outward. Inside, she saw two sets of comfortable seats facing each other. She glanced around. Nothing stirred in the cold, empty street.

“Boxx.”
She waved the creature over, and it hopped inside. She climbed in after it and closed the door behind her. It felt as if the cold had been banished to the outside. The folk of this peculiar world, whoever they were, would no doubt soon be up and about their daily business. The windows of the compartment would provide the perfect vantage point for her to observe them before deciding whether she should make contact.

Boxx lay curled up on the seat opposite. As the cold and numbness faded, warmth and sensation returned to her hands and feet. And with the warmth, there came an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. The seat seemed to mould itself to fit her back, soothing her tired bones and aching muscles. Shann closed her eyes, and in moments was fast asleep.

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Chapter 2

Shann was awoken by an ear-splitting scream. The combination of the sound and the frigid air flooding into the compartment conspired to shock her into full alertness. In the open doorway stood a figure about half her size–a girl. She was Kelanni, with long fair hair, dressed in a thick brown fur garment that reached below her knees and a matching fur hat. Before Shann could react, the little girl opened her mouth and screamed again.

Shouts from outside–the sound of running feet
. She was trapped; the girl blocking the only exit. Shann sprang forward like a scalded dagan, shoving the girl aside more roughly than she’d intended, and stumbled out onto the street. Boxx appeared beside her, twitching its head from side to side. Bright sunlight reflected from the pure white roofs and window ledges. Shann was dazzled and disoriented for a moment. Through her squinting eyes she began to discern a thoroughfare busy with people. All Kelanni. All clad in variations of the little girl’s fur attire. All staring at her.

Two burly individuals, dressed in thick blue surcoats, were bearing down on them. One of them shouted to the other, but it was a word Shann could not recognise. She turned to Boxx.
“Run.”

The Chandara obeyed, scuttling off down the street at speed, dodging around the feet of startled passersby.
I’ll keep them occupied.
Shann drew her staff and planted her feet.
Come and get me.

It dawned on her that from the moment she had found herself washed up on the beach until now, she had not scanned for lodestone in this world. Everything was so different here–maybe lodestone didn’t exist? Her hand moved to her neck control and she flexed it experimentally. She was shocked to detect a strong deposit right here under the street–so strong, in fact, that it could hardly be natural. Refined lodestone, then. But there was something else. A
regularity
, as if …as if it had been laid here deliberately. But for what purpose?

There was no time to speculate. Shann flared her cloak and launched herself skyward, to the gasps of onlookers. Looking down, she noted with grim satisfaction that the blue-coated figures had slowed to a halt and were gazing up at her, perplexed. Shann landed on the roof of the compartment, then pushed off again immediately, following the line that Boxx had taken.

She could not help but be reminded of the tower on the Eastern Plains. The base of refined lodestone embedded in the roof there afforded a freedom of movement that was exhilarating–liberating. Then she had been locked in a life and death struggle with a young Keltar. Now there was no-one to challenge her mastery of the air.

Shann touched down a little farther up the street, sending a group of alarmed townspeople scattering in all directions; expressions of horror frozen on their faces. A tatterdemalion creature dragged from the depths of the sea and stained with blood.
I must look a sight
.

She glanced behind her. The two men in blue had shut their mouths and gathered their wits, and were headed in her direction once more. One of them yelled to her in a voice that sounded urgent. Again it was a word she could not make out, although she seemed to hear it distinctly.

A rushing sound
. She turned around. Another of the compartments was bearing down on her, filling her vision. It seemed to be moving on its own, with no graylesh to pull it. Stranger still, it had no wheels or any other contact with the ground. Through the glass windows, Shann caught a glimpse of the occupants. The one nearest her was gesticulating wildly. She moved an instant too late. The flying compartment caught her with a glancing blow and sent her tumbling onto the freezing cobbles.

Pain lanced through her right shoulder. Shann gritted her teeth and got her feet under her. People were backing away and shouting at each other. “Come–what–hurt–in the way.” She shook her head. She seemed to be able to make out every second or third word, but even those were spoken in a thick dialect, so she had to strain her ears and her brain to discern them. Suddenly she remembered Boxx. She turned to look up the street in the direction it had gone. About two hundred yards ahead, a crowd of the fur-clad denizens were gathered in a large circle.
They had it trapped
.

With a stab of alarm, Shann recalled how the folk in the village of Pinnar in the Distrada had reacted to it with fear and distrust. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she extended the upper lodestone layer of her cloak and sprang upward once more, angling toward the mob. As she reached the zenith of her leap and began to descend, Shann flared a second time to stay aloft. She sailed gracefully over wide eyes and pointing fingers before landing in the midst of the assembled throng. Boxx was standing on its hind limbs, moving its head from side to side. It seemed agitated, but unhurt.

The crowd muttered, calling to one another in the same thick, indistinct accent. Some men at the front started to edge forward. She moved both hands to the end of Saccath’s staff and began swinging it violently to and fro in a wide arc. “Stay…away. Keep…away.” Her voice cracked, and the gathering shattered, backing rapidly out of the range of her wide sweeps. Her teeth were clenched and her eyes wild.

The two blue-coated figures burst through the retreating throng, then came to a halt, regarding her and then each other. Shann saw for the first time that they both carried staffs, but they were unlike any Keltar’s. There were no diamond blades in evidence, and in place of the darkwood there was a silver coloured metal. One end was more bulbous, with extensions and protuberances that reminded her strongly of Alondo’s vortex arm. The thinner end had a series of concentric rings running down its length.

One of the blue coats, a short, square jawed man with eyes half hidden by cheekbones, said something and raised the thin end so that it was levelled at Shann. The other, who was taller and leaner, with skin a darker shade of olive, put out his hand and forced the other’s staff downward, so that it pointed to the ground. The taller man issued what sounded like a sharp rebuke. Shann was able to make out just one word clearly. “…kill…”

She stiffened. Boxx had taken up a position behind her and was peeking out between her legs.
“Stay away –I’m warning you.”

Before the blue coats could react, a commotion arose behind them. They parted to allow a third man through, dressed in a full length sable coat. His face was etched in worry lines and framed by shoulder length fair hair. He spread his arms wide and spoke in a halting voice, tinged with the same odd accent. “None…no-one here will…hurt you. What is…your name?”

“Shann,” she replied tersely, her staff still held at the ready.

“Shann,” he repeated. “My name is Byrdach.”

“Berdak,” she said, her tongue chasing the unfamiliar sound around her mouth.

“Where do you…come from, Shann?” Byrdach asked.

“From across the Great Barrier.”

Byrdach frowned. “Where?”

“The Great Barrier,” she repeated. She looked out on the yawning gulf of incomprehension surrounding her. “Across the Aronak Sea–the Sea of Storms.”

A woman in the crowd piped up. “Ayronath.” There followed a chorus of agreement, interspersed with howls of dissention.

Byrdach barked at the blue coated figures to either side of him. “…people…safe…eating.” At least, that was what it sounded like. Again, Shann had to strain her ears to make out the words. It was an odd experience–like trying to recall the cadence of a long-forgotten melody. She felt like asking him to speak slower.

The blue coats snapped out of their trance and set about shooing people away. Slowly, grudgingly, the gathering began to disperse. Children, dragged away by their parents, glanced over their shoulders at Shann and Boxx with unsated curiosity.

The watchmen stood flanking Byrdach once more, eyes locked on Shann, fingers twitching near their odd silver staffs. Ail-Gan and Ail-Kar were dazzling orbs amid a sky of washed-out blue and worn, ragged clouds. Beads of sweat started to form on Shann’s forehead.

“Will you put away your…?” Byrdach stretched out a weathered palm, indicating her staff. “…Please.” Shann looked down. Her hands were clenched around the haft as if they were an outgrowth of the darkwood itself. With an effort, she relaxed her grip and sheathed her weapon in the scabbard at her back. There was a palpable release of tension in the air.