Encouraged by their Mentors, Lille and her fellow candidates leaned over the rail and waved at every Hemi they passed. Few waved back, but their apathy did not dampen the spirits of the candidates in the least. They acted like a gang of rowdy high school seniors out for a joy ride before graduation day. They could almost pass for high schoolers after having their bodies re-engineered in the clinics of master Weavers.
Clusters of shanties periodically gave way to areas kept open, apparently by decree. At one such lot, they passed an enormous assembly of soldiers standing in formation. Their numbers startled Karla. This was not some mere mustering of security guards, this was an army, all clad in heavy armor and maintaining tight discipline in their ranks as they passed.
Bern stepped back from the rail and took a seat on a bench. He was looking a bit forlorn and wistful, so Karla joined him, leaving Lille to frolic with her clique of would-be murder victims.
“So when are you up for this, Bern? Have they made any arrangements?”
“Nah. And it’s not going to happen,” said Bern, his voice low so Lille wouldn’t overhear. He stared straight ahead, a faint smile implanted on his lips.
“What do you mean? Lille is expecting you … isn’t she?”
“I don’t know what she’s expecting, anymore,” said Bern. “I suspect she tolerates my presence, keeps me around out of habit, but once the change occurs, all bets are off.”
“Nonsense. She loves you. I know she does. She wants you to have the best as well.”
“Best. Well, I’m not so sure getting knocked off in the back passages of a maximum security prison is necessarily the ‘best’ option. I’ve kind of grown accustomed to my catatonia. The guards leave me alone in my little cell. It’s a nice, little routine. I maintain my vital functions in the occasional brief visit back and spend most of my time here in the Liminality.”
“But you can’t do that forever,” said Karla. “It’s unsustainable. Everyone has to die.”
“Yes, well. Maybe I’m not ready for that yet.”
“So you’re going to let her go on without you? Does Lille know about this?”
Bern’s smile flattened into a grimace. “She’ll be fine. I mean look at her. She has no problem making friends … in any existence. I suspect she’d be on good terms with the devil if he was lucky enough to make her acquaintance. And who knows what wonders await her in the Sanctuary. Yes, she’ll be fine. With any luck, she’ll forget all about me. Maybe I’ll go on a walkabout like James, return to my little cabin in the sinkhole. Apart from wondering what had happened to Lille, I was quite comfortable there. It was quite cozy and secure.”
“My God, Bern. I can’t imagine the two of you apart. And I can’t imagine you being happy on your own.”
“Happy? What does happy have to do with it? Happiness is such a temporary condition, anyhow. It strikes like a virus, but then the fever breaks and it’s gone. I’m sure I’ll be happy again … someday … for a while. It’s inevitable, just like the flu.”
“You need to talk to Lille, before she goes through with this. She needs to know how you feel.”
“Yes, well. This isn’t the time or place, on this party boat of a Reaper, for God Sakes. But let’s not talk anymore about me. It will only spoil the festivities. What about you? How are things on your end? Any word from James? I would guess not … considering here you are … back with us again so soon.”
Karla slumped and sighed. “My father … his people now have Isobel. They took her.”
“What? How did that happen?”
“It was all my fault. I was careless. I should have never left her side. I’m in Inverness now. I brought my friends to the old house. Seems that Papa is in the process of moving out. I’m in the storeroom where he used to punish me. The Liminality comes to me easily there.”
“But dear, your sister needs you. This is not the time to despair.”
“I’m not despairing. I’m just … surfing. I wanted to see you guys. I have a knack for summoning the roots, whether I am despondent or not. I feel no despair, just … frustration.”
“I wish I could help you, dear. Wish I knew someone I could call. But I never did get along well with folks in the general population. Don’t ask me why not. I’m not the most unpleasant fellow you’ve ever met, am I?”
“You’re lovely, Bern. You’ve always been good to me and Lille. But I do have friends to help me on the other side. The problem is, they don’t understand the mania of Papa’s congregation, the level of fanaticism. These people will do anything to get their way. They can justify any crime as the will of the Lord.”
They glided up a gentle incline, the deck heaving and swaying as if it were a skiff bobbing in some restless harbor. The shanties were less densely packed here on the backside of the city, but it was quite apparent from their unfinished state that an expansion was underway, as the population of Frelsi incremented with each band of Hemisouls that the recruiters and night patrols retrieved from the tunnels.
They swung close to the outer wall, which was swarming with Hemis up on scaffolds, straining to raise boulders with a block and tackle in order to repair a very large breach. Karla spotted a familiar face, a young man in a group lined up and heaving on a hawser.
“Hey, that’s Jeffrey! The boy we rescued from that pod.” She surged over to the rail.
“Ah, so it is!” said Bern, joining her.
Jeffrey was filthy and drenched in sweat. A nasty abrasion angled across one shoulder where the friction of the heavy rope had burned him. Together they waved and called to him, but Jeffrey gave no indication that he had heard them, his gaze rigid and focused on the task at hand.
The Reaper maneuvered through a wide-open space beyond the uppermost reaches of the Sanctuary, whose towers and platforms seemed somehow more slender and elegant than the blocky green cylinders that dominated the lower parts of the city.
They headed for a part in the outer wall, flanked by a pair of gates made of planking clad with metal that were still under construction. The Hemis installing them scattered out of the way of the approaching Reaper.
A grassy glade, thick with chartreuse seed heads swirling in the wind, greeted them on the other side. They started up a steep lane, cobbled meticulously with pale brick, its surface scads smoother than the crude tracks the Reapers plied between Frelsi and the lowlands. Seeing it, made Karla think of the Yellow Brick Road.
Their destination was visible farther up the slopes—broad ribbon of dirty white snaking between a pair of purplish-brown moraines and the sheer and silvery facets of the peaks that had spawned it.
Lille broke away from the other candidates and came over to give Bern a peck on the forehead, her eyes wild with excitement.
“Will you look at that, guys? Grand, isn’t it? Isn’t it grand?”
“Yes,” said Karla. “It is grand.”
Chapter 35: The Tarn
A many-throated wind scoured the landscape. Howls and moans near and far congealed into a dissonant chorus, like a network of grieving wolves. The gale tousled my hair and flapped my clothes as I stood atop a boulder, watching Urszula depart on her dragonfly.
They shuttled off down the slope, their heading at angles to their actual line of flight. Lalibela descended in a series of swooping stalls, her wing beats sluggish and intermittent. I worried that she ventured too close to the treetops, her course too straight and predictable. I girded myself against the sight of a tethered harpoon ripping them out of the sky.
When they dipped into the vale and out of sight, I kept staring at the point where they had vanished. I counted off the seconds, and two minutes later they reappeared against the opposite slope. Lalibela, warmed, was back to her herky-jerky, evasive self. I sagged in relief as they popped over the ridge to safety, dwindling to a tiny speck high over the plains.
A chill began to penetrate my bones. I had to get moving to stay warm, so I started up the mountain. I had no specific destination. I just needed to get high enough above the
Core.
I had only gone a few paces when I heard a rustling below the tree line. I dove into a patch of knee-high firs flattened by wind and frost, burrowing under the topmost layer of branches.
Through a thin screen of short-needled boughs, I watched four Frelsian soldiers emerge from the last stretch of hip-high trees, all out of breath and disheveled from their bushwhacking. They paused to rest, scanning the bare slopes I had been intending to climb.
They carried the oddest array of weapons: a crossbow with four short arms, a blunderbuss-like wide-bored, short barreled gun, a spear thrower, and a sling mounted on a short stick with a release trigger. Apparently, their military had no standard issue apart from armor and helmets. Just like my sword, weapons were tailored to suit their wielders.
They seemed to be deliberating about something, but the wind carried their voices from me, and I could only make out a murmur. One man went to the spot where Lalibela had touched down and crouched to examine the scraped and crumbled lichens.
His eyes tracked back up the slope, staring directly at the patch of firs where I was hiding, the only real cover between the tree line and the top of the ridge.
I tried to squirm deeper into the branches without wiggling them too much. My sword clinked against the granite. At least one of the soldiers heard it, his voice ringing out in excitement. I whipped out the cloth that Urszula had given me and draped it over my head and face.
It felt ridiculous, putting that hanky on my head, but the edges expanded immediately and rapidly, creeping and flowing under the branches, around my torso and down my legs, covering me completely. It blocked all the light, rendering me blind.
I had my hand on the sword, as they crunched through the firs inches from my head. A heavy, booted foot pinned my wrist against a sharp stone. I gritted my teeth and held my breath.
“There’s no one here,” said a man. “You’re imagining things.”
“There were two on that saddle. Only one flew off.”
“Look at this! A snapped stalk. Someone’s gone this way.” They rushed off up the slope.
I didn’t budge or dare sneak a peek even after I could no longer hear the soldiers. Urszula’s blanket kept growing and thickening until I had enough to tuck under me and insulate me against the cold stone. It had become a tent and sleeping bag and mattress all in one. It got so toasty under there, I had no desire to move. I just closed my eyes.
***
I napped, as cozy as a squirrel in its nest. I had no intention or desire to fade, but it happened anyhow. I wouldn’t even have known I had switched worlds if it hadn’t been for the sudden surge of pain.
I could have had a vise clamped over my skull. The slightest movement tore at my insides. My belly felt about to split open and spill its contents on the floor.
The days-old remnants of food remained on the tray as they had been, the apple a little more shriveled, the hunk of bread, reduced and surrounded by crumbs and little brown spindles that must have been mouse droppings. No one had come to bring me water or food since my last return. It was pretty clear they had no intention of letting me go and were simply waiting for me to die.
My inside was my mouth was all cottony and hot. My stomach felt hard and tight, like I was pregnant with a small boulder. The pain was incredible. I wondered if there was some kind of infection going on. I didn’t seem to have a fever.
I badly needed a drink, and there was water in that mug. I slid my legs off the bed and rolled over, cantilevering my upper body into a seated position.
I sat there, trying to summon the will to go for that mug, when a little mouse popped out of a chink in the baseboard. It was a battered little creature with a torn ear and a truncated tail, signs of a challenging life.
I kept still, and watched the little creature preen itself. It went up on its hind legs, fully extended and started lapping water from the mug. I didn’t mind sharing. I even let it have a few nibbles at the bread crust before an involuntary twitch of my leg sent it scurrying back to its hole.
My turn. I rose slowly off the bed. It amazed me that I was even able to stand. But before I could even take a step, the world started to spin. I let my legs fold in a controlled collapse before I toppled over unconscious.
Somehow, I kept my wits and crawled over to the tray on my hands and knees. I drained half of that mug, mouse spittle be damned.
The floor boards creaked overhead. Footsteps. A door slammed.
I wondered if my captors could be shamed into bringing me more water if I made my presence known to them by banging on the door or yelling. Though, it could just as well attract another beating as much as another plate of food.
Voices emanated from the room above me, one of them young and female and shrill, in extreme distress, the other booming and righteous and indignant. I realized that was Edmund’s baritone I was hearing, and the girl sounded an awful lot like Izzie.
I hoped to hell that wasn’t Izzie up there. Not that I would wish any girl would ever have to deal face to face with Edmund Raeth, but if that was Izzie I was hearing, the implications were grim. He might have Karla as well, and both girls would be in for some nasty retribution.
That thought horrified me. Getting Edmund’s attention was my only chance at survival, and maybe it would distract him from whatever he was doing to poor Izzie. I reared back and tried to holler, but my throat seized up before I get out as much as a squawk and I doubled over in pain from the effort, disgusted with how feeble and useless I had become.
I crawled back onto the bed, sitting and rocking to cope with the waves of pain pulsing through my mid-section. My heart started doing that funny thing with the skips and lurches. I wondered how long it would take for me to die. Maybe I had only extended my suffering by drinking that water. If I could only find the strength to remain patient, nature would take its course, and I would be free.
***
Again, no transition. One minute I was sitting in a church basement, the next high on a mountainside snug in my cocoon. It felt so nice to have all that pain fall away like it was never even there, but my anguish over what had happened to Izzie and Karla remained a bitter ache in my heart.
It was completely dark now, even after I pulled down Urszula’s blanket to expose my face. Minutes on Earth translated to hours here. A biting chill seeped into my nest and assaulted me. It felt like I was high in the Cairn Gorms again, only this time my covered parts remained toasty and dry.
Something knobby dug into my left butt cheek so I shifted to a more comfortable position. I felt around under the blanket and found a thick root snaking across a shelf of stone.
I touched my fingertips to it, thinking of fireflies and glow sticks, assigning my will to the task of creating some light. In the tunnels, that little trick would have summoned a glow, but the root remained just an ordinary, drab root.
Did the lack of response mean I was now far enough away from the Core to go free? But even down below my skills had sometimes failed me, so maybe my inability to Weave was not much of an indicator. I had to get higher on the mountain, just to be sure. Better to be safe than sorry.
I stood up with the now voluminous and bulky blanket draped over my shoulders like an extra large poncho. I worried that it would catch and drag, but as soon as I started walking, it shrank up to knee level, swinging free of the ground. Color me impressed.
The stars shed enough just light to distinguish rock from shrub. I passed to the left of the little cliff, rising through a series of grassy swales that curved along the edge of a boulder field. It got a little swampy in some stretches, but it looked a lot easier than trying to hop boulder to boulder.
Lights flickered down the mountainside, probably from settlements that had spread outside the walls of Frelsi. The city itself was obscured by the shoulder of the mountain.
When the swales petered out, I had no choice but to pick my way through the boulders. I moved in time to the beat of my pulse, glorying in my body’s mobility, unlike the ruined shell I h
ad left behind in that basement.
As I approached the top of the ridge, the wind became a gale. My magic poncho instantly responded, closing its weave, clinging tight to my flesh to minimize drag. I had no doubt it would turn itself into a slicker if it had started to rain. Man, I sure could have used this on the Lairig Ghru.
Once on top, I found myself looking down on Frelsi proper. The place was lit up like a forest of Christmas trees, its towers and branches all flickering and glittering with a thousand points of light.
Smooth bedrock slanted down to a long, gravelly mound and a small tarn that gleamed like a black mirror. The glow from a bonfire splashed the valley walls with a diffuse and flickering light. There were people down there, huddled around a fire in an encampment of white tents.
This had to be the place where souls came to break free of the Core. I climbed down a little ways to get out of the wind. With the blanket draped around my shoulders, I settled in among the rocks to wait for the dawn.
***
When the light gave shape to the land I peeled back the corner of my shroud to watch the sun rise. It seemed even more bluish than usual from these heights, making me wonder if its odd hue came from the star or the atmosphere.
I now had a clear view now of the ghostly hulk of a shattered glacier lurking farther up the valley. A torrent poured from it, bypassing the tarn through a dark slash of a ravine, its water like skim milk, cloudy from the pulverized stone
Folks were up and about at the camp, so I shifted a little farther down the hill where I could do some people watching. It would sure beat staring at the clouds and boulders all day. There was a path around the tarn, and a few ambitious souls had headed out for a hike.
I pulled the cloth up over my head like a hood and made my way down slowly and deliberately. I might be perfectly camouflaged, but I didn’t want anyone to notice any funny business, like a boulder out for a stroll.
A freshet rushed down a wrinkle in the slope. I paused for a drink, lowering my lips directly to the dashing stream. It was so frigid and pure. Man, I wished I could have sent some of this water back to that mug in my cell.