The shadows of dust, p.1
The Shadows of Dust, page 1
The Shadows of Dust
Alec Hutson
The Shadows of Dust © 2021 by Alec Hutson
Published by Alec Hutson
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Cover art by Felix Ortiz
Cover design by Shawn King
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Edited by Sarah Chorn
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All rights reserved
First Edition
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ISBN: 978-1-734257427 (print)
978-1-734257441 (ebook)
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Please visit Alec’s website at
www.authoralechutson.com
In memory of Gerald Warfield
a wonderful mentor and friend
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
In Memoriam
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Alec Hutson
1
Kerin set his elbows on the worn wood of the ancient balustrade and leaned out over the emptiness. Below him, Drifter’s massive flipper churned the rippling dark, etched starkly against the Stream through which they were surging. Silver motes sparked into existence and then vanished with each great stroke, evidence of the tremendous energy the starbeast was expending as he strained against the Stream’s contrary flow.
Everything all right? Kerin thought.
Of course.
Through the link they shared he could sense the starbeast’s annoyance. Drifter never liked being doubted.
It just seems like you’re laboring a bit more than usual.
Something like a snort reverberated in Kerin’s mind. Laboring? The thought that a hatchling of the Great Turtle would ever struggle in the Streams is so ridiculous I want to shake with laughter. But I won’t, considering where you’ve so foolishly and precariously perched yourself. Your grandfather’s heart would have burst if he had seen you dangling out over such a turbulent Stream.
So you admit the Stream is a bit choppy?
Quiet, manling.
Kerin tried his best to hide his amusement. He didn’t want to upset Drifter further, as the starbeast was already brooding because they’d left Jegriddsl before the turtle could bathe in the planet’s famed sulfite sea. Sharing a psychic bond made that hard, though, so instead Kerin tried his best to empty his mind as he stared out into the Stream. Gradually, Drifter’s grumbling receded as Kerin lost himself to the beauty of the abyss. At first the Stream was a blackness deeper than the void between the systems, but then slowly vague shapes began to emerge, organic undulations that reminded him of eels slipping through lightless depths. Overlaying this was a sense of something bulging outward against a glistening black membrane, straining to be born . . .
“Kerin!”
He turned from the seething dark just as Nala came into view clambering across one of the wooden walkways bolted onto the side of Drifter’s mottled shell. The planks swayed beneath her, but she moved with her usual confident grace, not even bothering to hold onto the guide ropes. Just like the starbeast, she appeared agitated: her ears were erect, and her tail lashed the air behind her.
“Ho, Nala,” he called out, pushing himself away from the edge as she padded up to him. “Come to enjoy the view?”
The kyrathi mage spared a disinterested glance at the rushing Stream. “You know I don’t see the same things you do.”
That was true. It was only through the bond he shared with Drifter that he could experience the terrible beauty of the Streams. Even the feline eyes of the kyrathi couldn’t pierce the black through which they were moving.
“Then why leave the Nest? It’ll be a fair while before we surface.”
Nala gestured at the ramshackle structure clinging to the front section of Drifter’s shell.
“I wanted to talk to you about our two passengers.”
Ah. He’d been expecting this conversation. Kerin felt Drifter’s attention, which had been lurking at the edge of his mind, suddenly sharpen.
“What about them?”
Nala licked her paw and smoothed down her whiskers, something she did unconsciously when she was troubled. “I don’t trust them.”
“Even the girl?”
“Especially the girl.”
“Come now, she’s a child.”
“Exactly. What child would agree to join us out here? You, me, a gobber, and this broken-down starbeast”—Kerin felt a surge of indignation from where Drifter’s consciousness touched his own—“chasing fairy tales into the dusty corners of the universe.”
“You said yourself that the gobber’s chart looks real.”
Nala growled in exasperation. “And it does! But what are the chances that an unplundered treehold is floating around out here? We’ll almost certainly get to the end of this Stream and find the hold cracked open with all the treasure scooped out.”
Kerin shrugged. “Then that will be that. The gobber is still paying passage for himself and the girl, no matter what we find.”
“But why is she with him?” the kyrathi persisted, laying her paw upon his arm. He winced as her claws pricked his skin through the weave of his steelsilk shirt, but she didn’t seem to notice his discomfort. “You saw the robes she’s wearing. The girl is one of those fanatics who worships the Searing Light, and we’re far off the trodden paths out here. If things go sour – which they very well might, you know that – she won’t last an eyeblink.”
Kerin scowled and pulled his arm away, inspecting his shirt for any tears. This was one of his last few decent outfits. “Not our business.”
The golden irises of Nala’s amber eyes flared wider. Kerin was sure she was going to offer up some harsh rejoinder, but instead she leaned in closer to him, her voice carefully level. “I know your grandfather’s code is very important to you and Drifter,” she said, “but you have to face the reality that we’re not in the guild anymore. We’re not bound by their rules.” She flicked her ears in the direction of the Nest. “And that also means no one is watching our backs. If the gobber double-crosses us, there won’t be a guild response, and if he realizes that then he just might try something. You know how gobbers are.”
Kerin did, of course. They were infamous throughout this branch of the stellar tributary as being one of the more cunning and greedy of the Younger Races.
He sighed. “All right. I’ll come up with you and together we’ll get some answers about what’s going on.”
He could feel Drifter’s disappointment as he said this, but he ignored the starbeast. Nala was right: his grandfather was dead, and the guild had cast them out. They weren’t beholden to the code anymore. They were alone and adrift in an uncaring universe, and he needed to make smart decisions.
Nala watched him for a moment longer, as if searching his face for something. “I know this isn’t how you thought things would play out,” she murmured, “but we’ll get through it.” Before he could push through his surprise at her words, she whirled away and began to scamper back along the walkway. He watched her go, his thoughts churning. Nala was his oldest friend, but she’d never spoken to him like that before. It almost sounded like she was trying to cheer him up.
Things must be much worse than he thought.
Protect your passengers, protect their privacy, and protect the integrity of the Starfarers Guild. Those were the three sacrosanct rules that had governed his grandfather’s life and the lives of all the eldest members of his family for nearly three centuries, ever since his ancestor had first bonded with a wandering starbeast fresh-hatched from one of the Great Turtle’s clutches.
His grandfather never would have considered interrogating paying passengers, unless they threatened the reputation of the guild in some way, and thus came into conflict with the third rule. Their business was their own. But he and Nala and Drifter were independent streamsurfers now. They couldn’t count on the guild’s protection anymore . . . so they needed to be very, very careful.
Kerin followed Nala into the Nest, the largest of the half-dozen structures attached to Drifter’s shell. The gobber and the girl were in the saloon sitting on opposite ends of a ratty velvet couch. The girl had her head down, her long pale hair obscuring her face, while the gobber was hunched over a table that was usually reserved for games of blood knuckles or t’skelcha, intent on a run of cards he had laid out. The girl glanced up as Nala and Kerin entered, then seemed to recede deeper into her dirty white robes. The gobber, on the other hand, paid them no mind, continuing to mutter to himself as he snapped more cards down onto the scarred table.
Kerin cleared his throat noisily, and with a frown the gobber paused in his game and sat back.
“Yes? The man wants what?”
The gobber’s Trade was so heavily accented as to be almost unintelligible. He sounded like a drunkard trying to speak a second language while gargling water.
Kerin folded his arms across his chest, forcing himself to meet the beady bl ack eyes of the gnarled creature. “We want to know a few things.”
The gobber picked at one of the many bright red lesions pockmarking his jowls. “Privacy protection, guild rule. Right of the passenger invoked.”
“I’m not a member of the guild anymore.”
If this surprised the gobber, his face didn’t show it. A tingling unease spread through Kerin. If the gobber knew he wasn’t with the guild, then he also knew there wouldn’t have been an expedition plan filed anywhere, and that no one would come looking for them if they disappeared . . .
“I heard, I heard,” said the gobber, waving his hand dismissively. “But sometimes old habits die hard. Thought you might still be clinging to the old ways.”
“We’re not,” Nala said, her tail dancing. “And we want to know what’s going to be waiting for us at the end of this Stream.”
The gobber smiled, showing rows of serrated teeth. “Told you the truth. An alvaren treehold.”
“But why bring her?” Nala continued, nodding toward the motionless girl.
The gobber was quiet for a moment, his misshapen head cocked to one side, as if considering how much he should reveal. Then he shrugged and leaned forward.
“She’s the key.”
Nala blinked in obvious confusion. “The key?”
“Aye, catter. The way to get inside where all the goodies are stashed.”
“How is that possible?” Kerin asked. “She looks like she’d have trouble figuring out a doorknob.”
The girl’s head jerked up slightly. Well, she isn’t simple, at least. Though, in truth, she didn’t look very complicated, either. Her unremarkable face was slack, her lips slightly parted. Gray eyes that seemed just a little too far apart watched him dully. He’d have put her age at fifteen or sixteen if pressed, though she could have been a few years younger or older.
The gobber chortled. “The man might be right. But the girl doesn’t have to turn the doorknob – she is the doorknob. The key and the doorknob!”
Kerin and Nala shared a glance. The gobber saw this and settled back on the couch, a sly grin creeping across his ugly little face.
“The treehold is bloodsealed for alvarens only.”
“But the girl’s clearly not one of them,” Kerin said slowly, as if speaking to an idiot. The excitement he’d felt about the ruins that the gobber claimed awaited them at the end of the Stream began to ebb. If the treehold were bloodsealed, then this expedition would be fruitless. Everyone knew there were no alvarens left in the universe.
They had been the most recent of the Elder Races to transcend, merging their minds with whatever existed beyond the fringes of this reality. They had called it “going to the shoals beyond the stars.” A flowery term for what amounted to mass suicide. His grandfather had talked of how his own great-grandpa had met an alvaren once as a young man, in the years before their departure. He’d described the creature as tall and willowy, with huge golden eyes that never blinked, and a cascade of shimmering silver hair. Beautiful and melancholy, like a dying star.
He sighed. This mousy little girl did not resemble a member of that Elder Race in the slightest. Either the gobber was mistaken, or this was all a ruse to lead them into a trap. His trepidation about what awaited them at the end of the Stream strengthened slightly, but Kerin still wasn’t too worried: Drifter was a surprisingly ferocious fighter, and it was highly unlikely that any ambushers could contend with a kyrathi battlemage.
The gobber coughed wetly, then swallowed whatever he had dislodged from his throat. “Yes, yes. The girl’s not an alvaren. But she’s not not an alvaren also. A trace of their blood is in her veins from long ago. The faintest of echoes, but the strain is true. The treehold will open for her, I have been assured.”
“Assured by whom?”
The gobber clicked his mouth shut at Kerin’s question and shook his lumpy head.
Nala growled in frustration and turned her attention to the girl. “Why are you traveling with this creature?” Nala asked, but the girl did not raise her eyes to look at the kyrathi, instead continuing to stare at a spot on the floor.
“Don’t bother, doesn’t speak,” the gobber said. “The girl’s slave stock, from the catacombs of the Searing Light. She’s only been a pain conduit for rich folk.”
“A pain conduit?” Kerin didn’t like the sound of that.
“The man knows that faith, this one is certain. An infamous madness, as they believe in purity through pain. But the rich believers don’t want to suffer, so they make a big donation, and their punishment is inflicted upon one of the temple’s slaves. They get their souls cleansed without any of the trouble, the church gets richer, and only a worthless, nameless girl feels anything. Or maybe she doesn’t. Hard to read, this one. Incredible to think that all that blood she spilled in the catacombs could have been so valuable to them, if they had only known.” The gobber croaked another laugh. “But they didn’t! So this one bought the girl for a pittance, and she’s gonna bring me more wealth than the Searing Light’s ever seen.”
Kerin crouched beside the girl, peering into her blank eyes. What the gobber had just described was monstrous, but the universe was full of monstrous cruelties. Was there anything left inside the girl? Or had she been reduced to a hollow shell, her mind effaced by being filled and emptied countless times with purchased agony? There was a low rumble coming from beside him – Nala, demonstrating her disgust at what the gobber had just described. The kyrathi knew well what it was like to be a tool for the powerful and callous.
The gobber moved with surprising speed, reaching across the table to slap the girl’s cheek hard with his open palm. Kerin caught her before she went sprawling, steadying the former pain conduit with a hand on her bony shoulder. To his shock, she didn’t utter the slightest sound, nor even glance in the direction of the chuckling gobber. She only continued to stare placidly at the floor as a red smear bloomed on her cheek. Nala’s growl strengthened, and Kerin wondered if the gobber knew how close he was to being flensed open by kyrathi claws.
“See? As this one said, there is nothing left in the girl.”
Kerin felt his disgust rising. To the gobber, she was clearly little more than an object. Should he allow the gobber to use her when it was painfully obvious that she would be discarded once her purpose was fulfilled? Perhaps he should return to Jegriddsl and toss the gobber back into the hazy glimmer den where he’d first approached them. And then what? Adopt the girl? Add another mouth to feed when they were already skirting the edge of starvation? Kerin pushed away that foolishness.
And what if she truly was the key to an alvaren treehold, as impossible as that seemed? The Elder Races had crafted artifacts and sorcery that were far beyond the capabilities of any of the galaxy’s current denizens. Interstellar empires had gone to war over the right to plunder an unspoiled treehold, and the great guilds had beggared themselves to buy their mysterious devices at auction. Even the smallest of useless knick-knacks pulled from an alvaren ruin would go a long way towards clearing the debts his grandfather had left him with. Sharing the location of the treehold might even get him back in good standing with the Starfarers Guild.
“We still want to know–”
Kerin. Drifter’s deep voice interrupted him, rumbling like distant thunder in his mind.
Yes?
The Stream’s mouth is approaching. I hadn’t realized we’d gotten so close. We’ll be entering the system momentarily.
“What is it?” Nala asked when she saw his expression, concern twisting her features. “What is Drifter saying?”
“We’re almost there,” Kerin said, rising and turning away from the girl. As he moved towards the saloon’s door, he tried to extinguish the compassion that had been growing inside him for the child. What had happened to her was terrible, but he wasn’t responsible for saving her or making things right. Given the emptiness in her eyes, she probably wouldn’t even appreciate being saved. Nala might balk, but they needed money more than the kyrathi suspected. It wasn’t just their dwindling rations – he had it on good authority that the patience of his grandfather’s creditors was nearly exhausted. And when that finally happened, the hounds would be let off their leashes.
