“Your aid.”
Karsen laughed curtly. “Good luck with that.”
“I’m serious.”
“As am I.”
“It is said that Laocoon have…” He coughed violently for a few moments. It didn’t sound good. Karsen suspected that there might be some fluid in the Trull’s lungs. When he recovered himself enough to speak, Eutok said, “…have a certain talent for the healing arts. Is it true?”
“It can be,” Karsen said judiciously. Unconsciously his hand strayed to the sack he had slung over his shoulder.
“Do you possess this knowledge?”
“What if I do?”
“Thunderation!” bellowed Eutok and then he started coughing again, this time even more violently than before. Karsen felt as if there was no reason for him to be standing around watching Eutok suffer, as enjoyable as the experience might have been. Ultimately he decided there was no reason not to stand around watching Eutok suffer. “Stop giving me vague questions in response to my questions! Can you—?”
“I have some knowledge of it, yes,” said Karsen. It was true; he had some. As was usually the case, he was not quite as proficient in such things as his mother. But he had basic healing knowledge, and an assortment of medicines and powders derived from certain plants were in his bag. However, he had brought them along to tend to whatever wounds he might sustain during travel and, if necessary, in combat. He had no reason or desire to waste his supplies on a Trull. “What of it?”
“You can help me.”
“I can minister to your wounds. Facilitate and expedite the healing process. But why would I want to do that?”
“Because I can help you.”
“Oh really.” Karsen made no effort to hide his skepticism. “First, I assume that you are lying. And second, I don’t need your help.” This time he turned away, determined to waste no more time on an encounter that was accomplishing nothing.
He froze, though, when Eutok said, “You seek the girl, do you not?”
Very slowly, deliberately, he turned back and stared at Eutok with open suspicion. “What do you know of these matters?”
A smile spread across Eutok’s face slowly. It was the single most unpleasant smile Karsen had ever seen on any being, ever. “I have your interest now, do I?”
“I said—”
“I heard you.” He took a deep breath and let it out to steady himself. “I have been here for quite some time. I saw a pack of Travelers go past. The girl was with them. The one that fought like no human I’ve ever seen. Like no person I’ve ever seen. They had her. They went past here. I saw which direction.”
“I lost their scent,” Karsen said. “I thought perhaps a Zeffer had…”
Eutok waved off the notion dismissively. “There was no Zeffer, you idiot. They flew.”
“Flew? Who flew? What are you talking about?”
“The Travelers on their draquons. Draquons can fly.”
“What? Since when?”
“Since always, I would surmise.”
“Then why don’t they fly all the time?”
Eutok shrugged. “I imagine conditions aren’t always optimal.”
“I don’t understand—”
Grunting, Eutok said, “Actually I suppose that ‘glide’ is the more accurate term. They have great flaps of skin between their arms and legs. If a sufficient wind arises, they are able to take to the air and glide distances. How far I could not say. I saw them take off and they were still airborne when they went beyond my sight line.”
Karsen sank into a crouch, amazement on his face. However much he thought he understood the rules and parameters of the world in which he lived, there always seemed to be something new thrown at him. Draquons could fly? Who knew?
And more importantly: Now what?
He looked toward Eutok, sudden hope on his face. “You saw which way they went?”
“I told you, they went beyond my sight line.”
“Yes, but you know what direction that was.”
Eutok managed a nod, even though he grimaced as he did so.
“Which way did they go?”
“And what possible…?” He stopped, braced himself, and then continued, “…what possible reason is there for me to share that information?”
“All right, fine!” said Karsen in exasperation. He hopped off the rocks and landed next to Eutok. Yanking his bag off his shoulder, he began rummaging through the contents. “Just lie still.”
“Ah. And here I thought you were going to require that I get to my feet and dance for your entertainment.”
Karsen didn’t even glance at him. “You are aiding no one, least of all yourself, wasting breath talking to me. If you have something of use to say, by all means, speak out. But if all you desire to do is enjoy the sound of your own voice, then indulge yourself at the risk of your own health. Or, more accurately, what little of your health remains.”
Eutok’s mouth opened but then snapped shut. He glowered at Karsen, who neither noticed nor cared.
Karsen set about pulling out what he hoped was the right combination of leaves and berries to attend to Eutok’s wounds. He pounded the selected leaves into a paste and the berries into a juice. As Eutok lay there, regarding him with hate-filled suspicion and obvious frustration over his helplessness, Karsen spread the paste on Eutok’s more prominent wounds. Air hissed between the Trull’s teeth. “You bastard…”
“The burning sensation is how you know it is working.”
“Then it must be working beyond your wildest dreams. Gods damn it!”
“It will only last for a few minutes.”
“You had best hope so, or—”
“Or what? You’ll breathe heavily on me and fling drops of sweat at me?”
Eutok didn’t respond save to glower once more. As the minutes passed, though, his breathing regularized as the healing properties of Karsen’s ointments began to take their affect.
Karsen, in the meantime, finished preparing the juice, adding a few more ingredients. He wasn’t thrilled about being in such proximity to the Trull. He’d applied the paste with a brush so as to keep some distance, but Eutok was still too weak to lift his hands. Karsen crouched next to him, his nose wrinkling from the Trull’s pronounced body odor, and brought the juice to Eutok’s lips. “You aren’t going to be happy with the taste, I’m warning you right now.”
“I am a Trull. As a rule, we don’t do particularly well with the concept of ‘happiness’ even on our best days, which are never much in abundance.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“How do I know you’re not trying to poison me?”
“You don’t. Now shut up and drink.” Before Eutok could say anything else, Karsen shoved the juice, which was in a small wooden cup, between Eutok’s thick lips. He poured it down Eutok’s throat, and the Trull coughed violently several times but still managed to keep it all down.
“You were not understating it, Laocoon, I’ll give you that much.” He gasped a few times and then said, “Water.”
Karsen stared at him and then said drily, “You could at least make the most minimal effort to be courteous.”
For a moment Eutok looked as if he hadn’t the slightest idea what Karsen was talking about, and then it dawned on him. With a look of derision, he grudgingly said, “May I please have some water? I have a water skin on my belt; I simply haven’t the strength to reach it.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Idiot!” he said with a snarl. “When I say I have not the strength to—”
Even as he spoke, his arm moved as if on its own and brushed against the brown water skin that hung from his waist. He looked down in surprise as if the arm wasn’t his but rather someone else’s. “I’ll be damned.”
“One can only hope,” said Karsen.
Eutok ignored the comment, pulled free the water skin and was about to drink from it when Karsen said, “Take only as much as you need to minimally slake your thirst. If you drink too much, you’
ll dilute the juice’s healing properties and make the process take longer.”
He expected Eutok to respond with some dismissive or irritated comment, but instead Eutok simply nodded. In fact, he went him one better. He took a small swig, rolled it around in his mouth, and then spat it out. Karsen hated to see water wasted on principle, but had to admit that Eutok’s way was the most sensible.
“How long before I can move as of old?” said Eutok.
“A day. Two. Your body needs time to fully recover.”
“I’m not going to keep lying here, exposed to the elements or potential enemies,” he said.
To Karsen’s surprise, Eutok forced himself to a sitting position. Karsen was about to caution him to take it easy. Then he decided that it really wasn’t his place to worry or his problem to worry about. He had other, far greater, concerns. “All right, then. I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain. Tell me which way the draquons went.”
“How would I be doing you any favors?” said Eutok. “She is a human. You’re a Laocoon. Consorting with her will bring you to no good end.”
“Your opinion would mean a great deal to me had I asked after it. Again: which way—”
“I heard you the first time. Again, how do I know you did not poison me?”
Karsen’s eyes widened with incredulity. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”
“For now, yes. But Laocoon are crafty, and Bottom Feeders have no scruples. You are both and thus doubly a threat. You could have given me something slow acting that temporarily energizes me but, after a time, kills me.”
“I have no knowledge of a drug that would accomplish such a thing, much less how to prepare it.”
“So you say.” Slowly he hauled himself to his feet. He swayed as he did so, gasping for air at the exertion.
“We had a bargain, Trull!”
“Yes, we did, and I intend to stand by it. I will take you in the direction I saw them go.”
“You cannot be serious! You can barely move!”
“I become stronger with each passing moment.”
“I am hemorrhaging time, Eutok! I keep falling further and further behind!”
“You are on hoof while the Travelers are astride flying draquons. If you seriously thought you ever had any chance of overtaking them, then you are completely delusional. And what did you think would have happened even if you had managed to sprout wings and catch up with them? Eh?”
“I would have found a way,” he said, but he sounded less than convincing, even to his own ears.
“You would have found a way to oblivion, is what you would have found,” said Eutok with a sneer. “You must know that your only chance was to pursue them to their destination, wherever that may be, and then try to rescue the girl from them at that point.”
Karsen hated to admit that what Eutok was saying made sense. Unfortunately, it did. “All right,” he said reluctantly. “Let’s admit that is the case.”
“Then time is not of the essence.”
“They could be bringing her to some place for the purpose of killing her!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. If that was their intent, they would have already disposed of her. She’s a Mort. A human. Why ride away with her if they didn’t have some use for her?”
“I don’t want to give them time to put her to that use, whatever it might be.”
“Well, you’re not really going to have a choice about it. The only choice you’re going to have is whether you are going to have the chance to catch up with her, and that opportunity in turn is going to rest on me. I will bring you to her. In return, if my health lapses, you will be able to attend to it. I want to remain in a position where you need me alive and well.”
“That is unacceptable to me.”
“And undesirable to me. Yet here we both are. What do you intend, then, to do about it?”
“I—”
His voice trailed off as he realized he really didn’t have any choice.
“Very well. But this business goes two ways, Trull. If I see any flagging in your cooperation…if I believe even for a minute that you are endeavoring to trick me or prolong our association beyond the point of necessity…then the last thing you see will be my back as I walk away from you while you’re in your death throes. Do we understand each other?”
“I believe we understand each other better than you think we do,” said Eutok.
Karsen considered that. “I have no idea what that means.”
“Worry not. You will.”
the spires
I.
Nicrominus had genuinely no idea what to expect from the Overseer when he had put forward his admittedly radical theories.
The aged and wise Firedraque—arguably the finest mind of his people—had been taken forcibly from Firedraque Hall in Perriz and relocated here to the towering city simply referred to as the Spires. A lesser Firedraque would have been overwhelmed by the scope, the architecture, the sheer magnificent achievement of the Mort population in constructing this admittedly awe-inspiring city. But Nicrominus was who he was, one of the greatest and most senior Firedraques in the history of his people. There was very little that he was unable to take in stride.
However, even for all his experience and wisdom, Nicrominus had found himself in a situation that went far beyond anything he had ever known.
The Travelers, the right arms of the Overseer himself—the ultimate power in the Damned World—had come to him and given him a mission. They had demanded that he come up with a theory to explain why the hotstars, the primary power source of the Banished—not to mention of the Elserealms from which they had been banished—appeared ,to be slowly diminishing in power. Eventually, after much research—not to mention some notions put forward by his gifted albeit fainthearted disciple, Xeri—Nicrominus had developed a working theory. At that point he had been whisked away via Zeffers to the Spires, and had found himself addressing none other than the Overseer himself.
Nicrominus had never before laid eyes upon he who had been placed in charge of the Damned World by their home dimension. He did not, in fact, know anyone who had. Certainly no one aside from the Travelers had done so, or at least lived to tell the story. Yet here had been Nicrominus, finding himself standing in what seemed to be a vast theater, with none other than the Overseer listening in silence. It had always been Nicrominus’s assumption that the Overseer was a member of one of the races who had dispatched the Banished to this enforced planetary prison. But the design and build of his armor was such that it was impossible for Nicrominus to determine which race he belonged to. For that matter, Nicrominus had no reason to conclude that he was in fact faced with a male of any kind. The creature in the encompassing armor could have been male, female, or anything in between.
The Overseer had been lowered from overhead in a massive throne, down to the proscenium at the front of the amphitheater. There he had remained in stony silence as Nicrominus had resolutely ignored his own uncertainties and laid out for him what he felt were the reasons for hotstars slowly losing their effectiveness and puissance.
The idea of responding to a physical problem with a metaphysical solution was preposterous on its face, and yet Nicrominus had put forward a reasoned argument for that very thing.
“To understand our present situation…one has to understand the previous occupants of what has been named the Damned World. I am speaking, of course, about the humans. It is undeniable that humans possessed a spectacular arrogance regarding their own status. According to our studies and their own histories, they took it upon themselves to befoul this world as they saw fit, with pollution and filth. They deforested entire sections, heedlessly slew other life forms into extinction, without caring how such actions would affect the cycle of life, and life interaction. That arrogance carried over into subspecies interaction, as different subspecies believed that they, and only they, were the right and true rulers of the Damned World. They would often endeavor to hunt one another into extinction as well.
&
nbsp; “Even more intriguingly,” Nicrominus continued, “the humans had a tendency to be…how best to put this? ‘Human-centric’ in many of their philosophies. At one time they believed that the sun moved around the Damned World, rather than the other way ‘round. Their answer for life on other worlds was to dismiss the notion out of hand since no planetary neighbors had made a point of coming by…as if the universe considered them anything other than one single mote of dirt in a vast universe of similar, undistinguished motes.
“In short, Overseer…humans foolishly believed themselves to be the center of everything in creation.
“The thing is, Overseer…what if the humans were right?”
He had waited for some sort of response and got none. Resolutely he had soldiered on.
“It’s…this way. This realm that we’re residing in right now…
it’s just one of many. Infinite realms there are, infinite dimensions. We know and understand that, even though most humans did not. And each dimension works in different ways, has rules that enable it to function. Rules that were put in place by the gods, blessed be they. Rules that are not handed to us, but instead we are expected to discern as we go.
“Different dimensions align more closely with some than others. As it happened, the Elserealms aligned closely with this one. ‘Neighbors’ is the way that the humans would have put it. When individuals are neighbors, that which happens in one realm can spill through to, or affect, what happens in the other.
“Part of the ‘spill through,’ in our case, are the hotstars. They were rare here, but commonplace in the Elserealms. What we did not realize, I believe, is that the source of their energy was here, in this plane of existence.
“I believe that the source of that energy…was the minds of humans. Which may on the surface of it, sound ludicrous. Then again, I should point out that it is documented fact that humans used, as their own source of energy, the fossilized remains of long-dead animals. So I don’t think that one is intrinsically more ridiculous than the other.