The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) (79 page)

“Wriggle,” he said.

“What?”

“Try wriggling back and forth.” Shann complied, twisting her body. As she did so, she felt her back renew its protest. “Grab the staff with both hands,” he instructed. Obediently, she reached up with her other hand and grasped the wooden haft. She could see the strain on Rael’s face. The determination. The desperation. Without warning, her body jerked free. Rael pulled the wooden staff up, hand over hand. Finally, their hands touched. Rael grabbed her palm and pulled her up over the rim of the crevasse.

Shann lay facedown in the snow, her heart pounding. She struggled to her knees. The murghal were milling around a short distance away, in apparent confusion. She got to her feet and winced at the pain in her ankle–the same one she had injured in her flight from the soldiers in Corte.

Rael took her by the arm and steadied her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine…” She waved him on. “Go. Go.”

They started down the mountain once again, this time with Rael in the lead. She was limping. An angry wind buffeted her and flakes of snow did their utmost to fill her mouth and eyes. Shann fixed her eyes on Rael’s back and poured every ounce of concentration into the effort of putting one foot in front of the other. She had no perception of how long they had been walking or how near they were to the avionic–or even if they were still travelling in the right direction. She had only one purpose, one imperative. Keep moving.

The howling wind gathered and deepened in pitch–only something at the back of her mind was nagging at her, insisting that it was not the wind. She hazarded a glance behind her. Nightmarish visions, covered in white and grey fur and encrusted with ice, were advancing down the mountain toward them. Two…four…seven…There was something she needed to remember. Something important. She shook her head angrily.
Grenade. Use a grenade.
“Rael,” she called.

“I see it,” he said. She caught up to him, but he was not looking back. He was looking forward. There, nestling in the snowfield where they had left it, was the flying machine. Snow had drifted and piled up on one side, but otherwise it seemed intact. She tugged at his shoulder and pointed behind them. Rael turned, and his eyes grew wide. The monstrous forms were bearing down on them. Rael snatched a grenade, activated the valve and tossed it toward the nearest group. The twin canisters began their familiar whine; then died almost immediately before being trampled underfoot. The murghal were almost on them.

“You and Boxx get to the avionic,” she yelled. “I’ll hold them off.” She stepped forward to face the creatures once more.

“I won’t leave you behind.” Rael’s voice behind her was resolute.

“Go and start it up. I’ll be right behind you.”

Gaping mouths filled with knife-like teeth. Gelid breath freezing the mountain air. Prehensile arms waving toward her, seeking out her body heat. Rime Slayers. That was what Rael had called them. Well, she was not dead yet. Shann gritted her teeth and whirled her staff in a defensive figure of eight–a move Lyall had taught her. Her options were limited. She couldn’t use the cloak to leap away; she had to keep between the creatures and the avionic. However, all that was necessary was slow them down, to buy Rael the time he needed to lift off. She would do her best to join him, but…

She opened up the lodestone layer of her cloak and leaped into the air, no more than three times her own height, then extended bronze and accelerated toward the ground, hacking and slashing at the ragged line of murghal. Her diamond blade made multiple contacts. The line swayed. Hesitated. Then began surging forward once again. Shann started to back off, cutting and slicing as she went. Her diamond blade sliced off small lumps of hair and ice, but there was no blood. She could not tell whether the creatures were being hurt or even affected.

There was a sudden roaring behind her. Rael had started up the engines. In a few moments he would have enough power to lift off–or so she hoped. There was a movement at the corner of her eye. She hazarded a glance to her right. Half a dozen more of the murghal were coming at her. She was about to be outflanked. More importantly, the avionic would be overrun before it became airborne. As she continued jabbing and thrusting with the staff, her mind was working furiously.
The fans.
It meant taking a real risk, but it just might work. Shann broke off her assault and ran the short distance to the avionic, heedless of the pain in her ankle. She flared the cloak and leaped once more, alighting near the rear of the cockpit. Rael grinned–obviously relieved to see her. She shouted into his ear above the roar of the engines. “The fans.”

“What?” he called back.

“Can you bring the fans to bear on the murghal?” Shann saw realisation dawn on the boy’s face. He made an adjustment. The starboard fan pivoted in its housing and began to fire a steady blast of air at the creatures. Their advance slowed in the artificial gale. Shann crawled forward and squeezed into the front seat next to Boxx. “How long?” she asked.

“No more than a couple of dahns. But I can’t lift off in this configuration,” he declared.

“Give me the last grenade.” He handed it to her. “Let me know when you’re ready.” The murghal battled against the windstorm. They were still moving forward–ice covered fur blown back, arms outstretched, tubule-like fingers questing for heat.
Come on, Rael. Get a move on.

“Ready,”
he hollered.

“All right–on three,” she called. “One…two…three.” Rael adjusted the control and the starboard fan began pivoting back toward the horizontal takeoff position. The howling gale died. The creatures surged forward once more. Shann flicked open the valve, allowing the lodestone gas in one canister to intermix with the air in the other. A familiar whine–low at first, then growing in pitch and intensity. The ravening horde swarmed against their aircraft, fingers scrabbling against the smooth metal, seeking purchase. She drew back her arm and tossed the last of the handmade grenades into their midst. The whine grew into a shriek, audible even over the whir of the engines. The cockpit cover descended over her. The avionic rose, hesitated as if shaking off a mantle of sleep–then lifted into the air.
Boom.
An incandescent flash.
The air detonated around their tiny craft. Shann was thrown this way and that, as Rael fought to bring their machine back onto an even keel. She looked down. The mountainside beneath them had turned dayglow beneath a pall of grey smoke. Of the murghal, there was no sign. Boxx had stood and was peering over the other side. “Pretty,” it said.

Shann was too tired and relieved to argue. “Yes, it’s pretty.”

Behind her, Rael said something. “What?” she called.

“I said, I think that one worked.”

Shann laughed, feeling the tension flow from her body. “That was amazing.”

“Two failures out of four. I think Hannath would say it was only half amazing.”

Shann didn’t care. They were alive and right now, that was the only result that mattered. The warmth of the cockpit enveloped her. She had to fight the temptation to curl up and go to sleep. “When we set down, I think I’d like a warm bath and a hot meal.”

“I think that can be arranged,” he said.

The site of the conflagration grew smaller and disappeared behind them. The avionic gained height as it prepared to clear the peaks of the Cathgorns. The port engine sputtered. She leaned over Boxx and pointed toward it in an exaggerated gesture.

“I know,” Rael cried. “I’m getting some odd readings. I think it’ll hold out if I don’t push it too hard. It should get us off this mountain, at least–maybe even as far as the recharge station at Lechem.

“Will they be able to repair it?” She did not want him to think she was denigrating his efforts. “So that we can continue our journey,” she added.

“Not easily or quickly,” he responded. “Fortunately, though, I know where we can borrow another machine in Lechem. Although it will involve dealing with some folk that you may find more formidable than the murghal.

“Who are they?” she asked, filled with curiosity.

“My parents,” he replied.

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Chapter 21

Keris and Patris picked their way carefully up the broken steps of a once impressive building. The wide portico was supported by spiral columns, chipped and scored by the ravages of time, but still largely intact. Rough brambles had broken through the stone and wound their way protectively up the formerly white walls. At the entrance, immense double doors stood open, covered with what were either patterns or unknown glyphs. Keris led the way through the doors, into a massive atrium. Above them, a high domed ceiling was broken in places, admitting shafts of sunlight. Dominating the centre of the open space, a round column rose to five or six times head height before being topped off by a large white globe. Distributed in a circle about the central column were a series of partitioned areas, with a pedestal before each. Keris made her way cautiously to the column, with Patris following at a respectful distance. Their steps echoed on the grey stone floor. She put a hand to the column and felt its perfect smoothness, untouched by the passage of time.

She turned around slowly, allowing her eyes to take in the vast interior. “I thought you said this was a library. I don’t see any books.”

Patris gave a wry smile. “Patience, dear lady.” He angled his head slightly, indicating for her to follow, then led her across the wide floor, avoiding a few sections of fallen roof and broken masonry. They reached the far wall. There were further glyphs at regular intervals. Patris located one, then pressed against a spot on the wall to the left of the symbol. A panel slid outward, revealing a small box. Patris retrieved the box and handed it to her. “Books,” he declared.

Keris looked down at the box she was holding. Within it were perhaps two dozen translucent spheres. They reminded her of Vision Spheres, except that they were smaller and were suffused with subtle shades of green, yellow and blue. “These are books?”

“Of a sort,” Patris said. “They produce…images, when you place them in those pedestals over there.”

Keris pick up one of the spheres between her thumb and forefinger and stared into its depths as if challenging it to give up its secrets. “How did you find them?”

“Ah, well,” he began. “In the Thief Guild, we are skilled in acquiring a wide variety of rare and hard to obtain items…” Keris sighed and shook her head. “All right, I found them by accident. I just leaned on the wall there and that tray popped out.”

Keris raised her eyebrows. “And you didn’t steal them?”

Patris shrugged. “No point.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told you. They’re operated by the pedestals. Take them out of this building and they’d be little more than bits of coloured glass.”

Keris wasn’t so sure about that. The mention of images suggested that the resemblance to Vision Spheres might not be so superficial after all. As far as she was aware, Vision Spheres could only be used to relay images, not store them. Still, Annata’s people were undoubtedly advanced. If these devices were in fact lodestone, the same kind that was used to make the Vision Spheres, then it could be an extension of lodestone technology. Something for Alondo to ponder later, perhaps. She looked about her. “And these are the only ones you found?”

“I spent an afternoon going through them. After that, I didn’t bother to look.”

Keris looked at him strangely. “Why not?”

Patris pursed his lips. “Tell you what. Why don’t you run through them yourself and then see if that answers your question?” He led the way back toward the centre and went to one of the pedestals. Selecting a sphere at random, he placed it in a hemispherical recess. The sphere was a perfect fit.

For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then a low hum started up behind her. She turned and looked up to see that the great orb surmounting the central column had changed from dull white and was now exhibiting a roseate glow. The sphere set into the pedestal gave off a soft, lutescent radiance, as if in sympathy. All of a sudden, the area encompassed by the booth filled with light. She was looking at a scene suspended in midair. A large crowd of people dressed in robes of crimson, white and yellow were gathered in front of a platform where a man in black was speaking. Keris strained to listen, but she was not at all familiar with the ancient language. The only word she could make out was “Kelanni,” which he spoke several times.

The vision was unlike the one she had witnessed in the plaza the previous day. That had been flat, two-dimensional, like a floating picture. This was in three dimensions; ethereal, yet at the same time real in a way she could not explain. All of the people here were long dead. Yet they had lived, and their lives had had meaning. She could be looking at her own ancestors.