The Lodestone Trilogy (Limited Edition) (The Lodestone Series) (99 page)

Keris winced, then extended her upper lodestone layer and leapt into the air on her good leg. Almost immediately, the upward pressure faded and she fell to the ground once more, stumbling forward.
My flying cloak–it must have been damaged.

Mordal had not moved from his position. He simply stood with his staff held in one hand, pointed toward her. He appeared to be concentrating.
Why is he not adopting a defensive posture?
All of a sudden, he seemed to notice her. “Is there something wrong? Lodestone not working? Oh, that’s right, I forgot to tell you. I nullified it.”

Keris screwed her eyes up against the pain. Her mouth felt dry.
“You did what?”

“I nullified it. This is my world, Keris. Haven’t you realised that yet? My world. My rules. You gained the advantage; I took it away. I told you–you cannot win. I can take anything in this world and bend it to my will. I will wear you down, sap your energy, rob you of your strength bit by bit until you have nothing left. And in the end will go down whimpering. You will beg for the chance to be reconciled to the Prophet, to submit to his will once more.”

“Wh…what are you?” she croaked.

“What I am is of no importance,” Mordal replied. “The real question is, what are you?” He ambled toward her. “I have no desire to prolong your suffering. Shall we make a quick end of it?”

Keris stood her ground. “I will never submit to the Prophet. I would sooner die first.”

Mordal came to a halt a few feet from her. “But you are Keris–The Heroine of Gort. Would you die here? Unmourned? Forgotten? No-one to tell stories of your fame or sing songs of your great deeds?”

Keris’ head began to swim. She was getting tired of the sound of his voice. “Whatever you are going to do, just get it over with.”

A smile played over his lips. “Very well.” The elderly Keltar stood unmoving for a moment, then his outline began to change–become something less than Kelanni. Fingers lengthened into claws. Teeth spilled out into fangs. Arms thickened. Torso bulged and sprouted pitch-black scales. The creature that had been Mordal filled out, expanded, rose high above the uneven corrie floor. Dwarfing her. It raised a massive foot and brought it down against the stone, making the entire floor of the corrie quake. Keris staggered backwards.
What are you?

Vinaceous eyes stared down at her from beneath heavy-set brows. Keris recovered her wits and held out her staff in front of her with both hands.
What do you expect to do against that?
She chided herself. The monster sounded forth a bass growl. “Last chance, Keris. Capitulate now. Swear allegiance to the Prophet and save yourself.”

Trapped.
The high walls of the corrie blocked her retreat, and with the lodestone deposits mysteriously vanished, her cloak was useless. Keris raised her grimy, bloodstained face to the monstrosity. In shassatan, when you no longer have enough pieces to form a strategy, then it is Kadda-Lorran–victory and defeat.
To the depths of Kharthrun with that.
“No. I will never go back to the person I was. And I will never yield.”

She let forth a guttural cry and charged the giant, stabbing and slashing at the thick hide and unyielding scales covering its lower limbs. The corner of her eye caught a huge shape swinging toward her; the back of an immense clawed hand. She felt the crushing impact momentarily–then it was all gone. The gigantic beast that had been Mordal, the high walls of the corrie, the dark crimson sky. She was standing once more in a field of unending grey. The Chandara stood erect on its hind limbs as if it had been waiting expectantly for her return.

“Follow,” it said, turning away.

Keris swallowed and finally found her voice. “Wait.” The small creature turned back obediently and faced her, eyes like black flames. “Why? Why did you put me through all of that?”

Boxx’s round face was wide with innocence. “I Did Not. I Gave You My Essence. The Thing That You Showed Me–That Was Your Essence.”

Keris had no more fight and no more words left in her. She made a futile attempt to wipe away the mixture of dirt, blood and dried tears that stained her cheeks and trailed after the Chandara.

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Chapter 36

“In the name of the Three, what happened to you?”

Keris leaned on her staff and glared at Alondo as if daring him to restate his question. Lyall stepped in front of his friend, appraising her state. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” she rasped.

“Nonsense,” Lyall said. “Boxx, can you take a break from the trials so as to tend to Keris’ injuries?”

“That is not necessary,” Keris maintained.

Lyall stepped up to her, emphasising his superior height. “You are bleeding from various wounds. Without early treatment, there is the chance of infection. What was it you told me? We cannot combat the Prophet’s forces if we end up as invalids.” Keris bowed her head and bit her lip. Lyall felt a wave of sympathy.
The woman looks near to breaking point.

“Boxx, can you take the time to treat Keris?” he repeated.

“I Can Treat Keris, But…”

“But what?” he pressed.

“It Will Take Time. There Will Be Delay. Trials Will Not Be Completed Before Night Falls.”

Lyall glanced upward. The clouds had all but blown away, revealing twin suns lying low in a sky that was fading to purple. The suns would be setting soon. “I understand. Boxx, please take the time to heal Keris. Let us know when you are finished.”

“Yes, Lyall.” The little creature beckoned to Keris and led her in the direction of their smattering of tents. It turned back long enough to announce, “Keris Has Passed The Trial.” The woman did not stop or turn around. She was limping painfully.

Shann watched Keris go, making sure she was out of earshot. “I never thought I would see the ‘Iron Woman’ crumble like that.”

“That’s not funny, Shann,” Lyall rebuked her.

“Sorry,” she said. Her repentance had a less than genuine ring to it.

Patris stood at the back of the group, observant as ever. Alondo grinned. “That makes three of us who have qualified. We only need one more to carry the fourth component, and you and Shann have yet to go.” His eyes widened. “Hey, if you both qualify, then one of you can take my place.”

Lyall’s voice was grave. “No. Considering what the others have gone through, I won’t make one person undergo trial who doesn’t have to. Once we have our four bearers, then we pack up and go.”

“That’s very generous of you.” They turned to see Patris walking away.

“What’s the matter with him?” Alondo asked.

Lyall shook his head. “Never mind. Don’t worry about it. I think we should all get some rest while Boxx treats Keris.” The others bowed their heads in acquiescence and began dispersing toward the tents.

Behind them, the flat grey miasma brooded while it waited for its next victim.

~

Shann turned slowly back and forth, trying to peer through the mist. There was something…unnatural about it. Even the thickest fog had patches, subtle variations in texture and density. This was uniform–homogenous. However far she walked within its bounds or reached out to touch it, it always seemed to be beyond her.

Shann set aside the strangeness of her environment and recalled the warmth of her recent parting. When Boxx had announced that she was to be next for the trial, she had felt a wave of trepidation. However, she had no thought of refusing.

Alondo hugged her until she was forced to fight for breath. Lyall offered a stream of advice and encouragement that she only half heard. Keris stood like a statue, trying to disguise the fact that she was leaning on her staff for support. Boxx had strongly urged the woman to lie down following her treatment, but she had ignored the creature. Patris was hanging around the periphery of the gathering as usual, watching the proceedings but offering no comment. But it was Rael’s absence that bothered her the most.

He had not emerged from his tent since she had conducted him there following his trial. Lyall had discerned her anxiety from the set of her face and the way she continually glanced in the direction of the place where he lay. “He’ll be fine. Give it time,” he reassured her repeatedly. She flashed him a smile in return, but her concern was undiminished. Now that she was preparing to enter the grey void herself, she felt sure that he would turn out to offer support, but the flap of his tent remained firmly closed.
What happened to you in here?

The dull mist enveloping her offered no answers.

Boxx stopped and faced her. “Are You Prepared, Shann?”

“Prepared for what?” she asked.

The Chandara paused, then its wide mouth formed a single word. “Begin.”

The mist was gone and she found herself standing in an alleyway. It was dark. Pools of rainwater reflected the sky like dull embers from long-forgotten fires. She glanced up at the smouldering face of Ail-Mazzoth, the red sun.
What the–

She spun around. “Boxx. Boxx, where are you?” There was no sign of the creature.
Shouts from behind her. A crash, followed by the sounds of cursing. This is…Corte. My home. This is the night I aided Lyall. The night the soldiers chased me. But how –?

The sounds of pursuit grew closer. Shann took to her heels. Her feet pounded on the rain-soaked ground as she rounded the crates and other obstacles littering the alley. She needed to try and figure out what was going on, but her first priority was to escape the soldiers. She recalled her escape route from last time–left at the next intersection.

Shann found the place and slipped into the narrow passageway that ran behind the houses facing Arian Street.
They’ll try and cut you off,
she reminded herself. The alley bore left. Shann skidded to a halt, paralysed by uncertainty.
That’s not right. I must’ve taken a wrong turn somehow.

She retraced her steps, trying to gain her bearings from the backs of the buildings, but the fence was too high for her to get a decent view. Suddenly, nothing looked familiar.

Shann felt a rising sense of panic. It seemed impossible, but somehow she had managed to get lost in the back alleys of her own hometown. She could no longer hear the soldiers chasing her, but that was no cause for complacency. She might round a bend and run smack into them at any moment. There was another intersection up ahead. She slowed, put her back to the fence and peeked around the corner. It appeared to be a dead end, but it was not empty. A figure was seated calmly on a stool, holding an odd-looking musical instrument in both hands and sporting an absurd red cap.
Alondo?

Shann felt as if she were losing her grip on reality. She turned the corner. “Alondo? What are you doing here?”

Alondo looked up and smiled warmly. “Hello, Shann. I’m glad you made it. We don’t have a lot of time, though.” He turned his attention to tuning his instrument, belying his previous statement.

“Look, I’m being chased. The Prophet’s soldiers are after me.”

He continued making adjustments. “I am aware.”

“Then why are you here? This night–the night I first met Lyall–happened before I even met you. How is it that you know me?”

He smiled to himself. “I am not really Alondo. Boxx created an interface in order to communicate with you. It encouraged your subconscious mind to interpret the interface in a form that it would readily trust.” He looked up and grinned. “That’s me, apparently.”

“An…interface? If Boxx wants to speak to me, why doesn’t it do so directly?”

“Boxx says that it’s not allowed to interfere,” Alondo said. “It cannot break the rules. It can, however…bend them, within certain limits.”

“Why would it want to bend the rules?” Shann asked.

“Boxx inquires whether you had wondered why it was that you and Lyall had been left till last to undergo the trials.”

“Not really,” she said. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Boxx says that the reason is that your inner pain is much deeper than any of the others. It hoped that the four carriers could be determined before you would have to be put through trial. It does not like the thought of causing hurt, if it can be avoided. So it is offering you a way out, if you cannot face the pain.”