The ring of five dragons, p.31
The Ring of Five Dragons, page 31
part #1 of The Pearl Series
That revelation changed everything.
Thigpen
Rlane’s dilemma was this: having Thripped into Müna only knew where, she was ignorant of the principles of energy at work here. She could see the strands of energy pulsing like a web in every direction, but they did not lead anywhere. It wasn’t as if she could climb upon a strand and Thrip herself away from here. As far as she could tell there was no away from here.
She watched in terror as Pyphoros morphed from place to place, looking for her. She thought if she observed him long enough, she might be able to fathom his means of locomotion, but no matter how carefully she scrutinized him, she could not even imagine by what method he disappeared from one place, only to appear in another.
Though he had not yet seen her he was coming ever closer. It was just a matter of time—though Time as the V’ornn and Kundalan measured it did not seem to exist here—before he saw her. What was she to do?
A silvery flicker, like that of a reflection on a lake, caused her to turn her head. She saw to her astonishment the gyreagle that had circled over her head on her climb up to the Ice Caves. It winked in and out of existence, coming head-on, its wings spread wide, its talons raised, his beak open. It was not flying, not even moving. It was simply there, then gone. It reappeared and stayed, still as if it were a statue of carved tiger eye. And as Riane watched, stupefied, the gyreagle morphed into a magnificent green Dragon, its great sealed wings arched, its golden eyes holding her gaze.
“Seelin,” Riane breathed, though sound could not travel in this realm.
The Dragon was not moving, but either it was larger than the gyreagle or it was closer to Riane. It vanished, reappeared, vanished again. When it reappeared, it was so close to Riane she would have backed away if she had been able.
Come now, Seelin said in Riane’s mind. It is unsafe to remain here.
Was this an illusion? An hallucination? Was she dreaming?
Seelin’s image winked out. Riane continued to stare at the place where the Dragon had been.
In a moment, Seelin reappeared. Come now. Pyphoros has sensed me and is coming.
Tell me how.
How? The same way you came here.
But I do not know the laws here.
Use the energy webs you see all around you.
But how?
Like this. The Dragon dissolved herself into the web and immediately reappeared. She smiled. We travel by transforming from one energy state to another. Everything is transient here. Your thoughts are still static, moving within the artificial constraints of Time and Space. Banish your old way of thinking. Move Outside and you will see.
Riane reached out. Her fingers grsbbed at a strand of the web, passed right through it. She glanced over her shoulder. Pyphoros was almost upon her. Seelin had vanished. She grabbed again for the energy web, and it vanished.
She thought of what the Dragon had said. This time she kept her hand inside the strand. A sense of melting tugged at her. She began to resist, when she heard the singing of the power bourns. The melody coursed through her, and now she could hear all the nuances, harmonies, grace notes because she was entering the song itself. The energy web was composed of the power bourns she had felt at Bartta’s house and in the abbey.
Deliquescing, she slipped all the way into the bourn just as Pyphoros appeared in her quadrant. Inside the web, transforming from one energy state to another, she felt the presence of the Dragon. It was as if just ahead of her she could feel the personification of Change. Seelin tugged at her, drawing her on. One with the energy web, she saw constant movement all around her as ions, electrons, photons, and other subatomic particles she could not identify streamed around her, over her, under her, through her, changing from positive to negative and back again in the never-ending dance of life.
Thripping deliriously, she returned to her underground prison. Now she felt the constraints of Time and Space as others would feel an excess of gravity. Boundlessness gave way to the finite world into which she had been born. The color spectrum seemed painfully truncated without the infrared, ultraviolet, radiation bands spiraling outward to infinity.
Riane doubled over and began to retch. She dropped to her knees as waves of vertigo hit her. She grabbed for the wall; she felt as if she were falling down a well with no bottom.
She lay on the rubble-strewn floor of the circular cavern, panting, her eyes tearing up. Her breathing was labored, and she was covered in clammy sweat. She felt as if she had been poisoned. She closed her eyes, but that just made everything worse. Through the gathering gloom, she stared up at the hole through which she had fallen. She knew her makeshift torch was almost guttered, knew that she needed to find another piece of wood, but she felt death moving through her like a cork-worm.
She tried to vomit, but nothing would come up. Groaning, she turned on her side, curling her legs up, and came face-to-face with something staring at her.
She went into an offensive crouch, her hands balled into fists. “Stay back!” she warned. Her hand scrabbled for the fallen torch, picked it up, and waved it in front of her. The creature sat still, waiting, unperturbed.
It was about twice as large as an ice-hare, with six legs, a long, expressive tail, and a thick coat of striped fur. It had a tapering black muzzle, green eyes, and flat, triangular ears.
“What the N’Luuura are you?” Riane said.
“I am Thigpen,” the creature said, cocking its head. “What is a N’Luuura?”
The wind howled through the streets of Axis Tyr. Here, in the northern part of the city, the spacious Kundalan boulevards were in short supply. When the Mesagggun had been assigned to this quadrant, they had found the housing inadequate to their number. As a consequence, they had halved the width of the streets in order to make room for more residences, which now tumbled upon one another like a Utter of unruly kittens at their mother’s teats.
It depressed Giyan to be here, to see how nonchalantly these aliens could transform beauty into ugliness. It was one thing having one’s cities occupied, quite another to have them turned into squalid garbage heaps.
“Giyan, I know—“
“When it comes to me, you know nothing,” she snapped.
Confounded once again by this infuriating, inflaming female Kundalan, Rekkk kept his own counsel as they made their way toward his residence in the heart of the city. Mesagggun hurried past them without giving them a second glance. Rekkk was not wearing his Khagggun uniform, would never again put it on. As he had told Giyan, he was Nith Sahor’s disciple now, a warrior who had turned his back on his command. Ironic. He had become his father.
In truth, he had only a vague idea what it meant to be Rhynnnon. For better or for worse, this was what he was now, and, as he was about to discover, he would have to bear the consequences his changed status had not only on himself but on those in his company.
From somewhere up ahead he heard shouting and the unmistakable sizzle of ion weapons’ fire. They turned a corner, saw that the southernmost edge of the Mesagggun section of the city was awash in flames. The fires were so hot that the rain and howling wind did little to gutter them.
“What is going on?” Giyan asked.
Rekkk took in the well-disciplined pack of Khagggun methodically gutting residence blocks. “It loolk like a raid of some sort.”
“But why?”
Abruptly tense, he ignored her question. He took her arm, and they began to back away. “I think we’d better find another way—“
But it was already too late. A heavily armored Khagggun stepped out of the shadows.
“Halt and state your business,” he said in clipped tones. “As of midnight this has been designated a restricted area.”
“Do you not recognize me?” Rekkk said. “Pack-Commander Rekkk Hacilar.”
“Yes? You are not in uniform. This is strange.”
“I am off duty, escorting this female—“
“A KundalanV the Khagggun spat. “And now that I see her more closely, the former regent’s Looorm. What are you doing with this skcettta?”
“What I am doing here, who I am with, are none of your business, First-Major.” He took Giyan firmly by her elbow, began to walk past the Khagggun.
“Just a moment, Pack-Commander.” The First-Major leveled a short-barreled ion cannon at him. “I have standing orders to bring all non-authorized personnel to my commander for questioning.”
Rekkk felt anger rising in him. “This is ridiculous. As soon as your commander sees who it is you’ve detained, it will go hard with you.”
“Believe me, I will suffer far more if I disobey him. I have personally seen the unpleasant fruits of his discipline. I have no desire to have my tender parts tested that way.”
Using the ion cannon, the Khagggun began to herd them toward the periphery of the firefight. Changing tactics, Rekkk decided to ask him about the raid.
“Oh, that,” the First-Major said, laughing. “Well, our new regent has gotten it into his head that the last traces of religion need to be eradicated from the Mesagggun. He says worship of the war god, Enlil—the worship of any deity, for that matter—runs counter to Gyrgon edicts, so we are rooting out all the temples and their priests, shabby though these remnants are.”
“You mean the Gyrgon have given the new regent this mandate?”
The First-Major shrugged. “That would be my guess. As far as I know, the order originated with regent Wennn Stogggul and was relayed to Star-Admiral Kinnnus Morcha. Frankly, that suits me. Lately, I haven’t seen nearly enough action. I’ve grown restless and lazy. Nothing better to cure that malaise than spilling the enemies’ blood, eh, Pack-Commander?”
Rekkk shot Giyan a glance, but she was staring straight ahead, acting as if neither of them existed. The First-Major led them past a block of smoking, half-razed Mesagggun buildings. An image of Enlil lay broken in the gutter running with the turquoise blood of fallen priests and their Traditionalist followers.
Taking in the carnage, Rekkk was reminded of something Nith Sahor had said to him at their first meeting: The Balance is subtly changing. It is an evil, dangerous change—but one that, regrettably, is necessary.
As they entered the periphery of the fighting, he could see the commander, whose back was turned to them. He was dressed in an officer’s full battle armor—articulated plates of chronosteel brazed dark by the intense heat of their manufacture. His helm was pushed back as he barked orders. Various members of his pack ran off to carry out his wishes.
“Sir! First-Major Tud Jusssar reporting from north perimeter with two nonauthorized persons,” their escort shouted. “One of them is Pack-Commander Rekkk Hacilar.”
“Is that so?” The commander issued a final order to bring out alive the last of Enlil’s priests, and turned to face them. Rekkk tensed as he recognized Olnnn Rydddlin. Sensing his alarm, Giyan pulled her sifeyn partially over her face.
Olnnn Rydddlin grinned. “Well, well, Rekkk Hacilar, the hero of a thousand wars. I haven’t seen you since… well, since I’ve been made Pack-Commander. We have been looking for you.”
Rekkk could not believe that he was staring at his former second-in-command.
“Let me see.” Rydddlin tapped a forefinger against his lips. “You entered your first off-world campaign when you were fifteen—lied about your age, didn’t you? Yes, and by the time that campaign had ended, you had killed half a dozen—let me see, it was so long ago I had yet to come of age.” He snapped his fingers several times. “Who was the enemy then?”
“The Krael,” Rekkk said. He did not like where this conversation was headed.
“Ah, yes. Mysterious creatures the Krael, but dull, weren’t they? We slaughtered them like cor. Thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions, all the same to us. We laid waste to their world, but not before we plundered it of everything of value.”
Rydddlin, in his darkly gleamingfarmOT, took a step toward them and plucked the sifeyn off Giyan’s face.
“Ah, the dead regent’s mistress, I thought I recognized you. Can’t keep away from V’ornn males, can you, skcettta?” He clucked his tongue. “Too bad for you you don’t pick the right ones.” He turned to Rekkk. “Stand away from her. She aided the escape of Annon Ashera and is an enemy of the V’ornn Modality. She will be detained to await public execution.”
“We are of equal rank. You cannot order me,” Rekkk protested. “She is under my—“
“Oh dear, it seems that you are woefully out of touch. By the order of Kinnnus Morcha, you have been relieved of your command.”
“What? Impossible!”
“And yet, it is reality. As of seven this evening.” Rydddlin thrust a data-decagon into the port on his portable holoscreen, held it out for Rekkk to view. “Here it is. It bears the Star-Admiral’s signature and seal.”
As Rekkk read the order in disbelief, two Khagggun dragged a priest of Enlil down the flaming street, dropping him at Rydddlin’s feet. The priest was quivering and moaning, clasping his hands in front of him. His robes smelled of burnt fabric and flesh.
“Pray all you want,” Rydddlin said, “for all the good it will do you.” He unsnapped the armor plate from his left forearm, revealing an odd-looking okummmon. His dark eyes sparkled as he observed the look on his former commanding officer’s face. “I am among the very first Khagggun to be implanted. This is one of the more tangible benefits of the alliance forged between Star-Admiral Kinnnus Morcha and the regent
Stogggul. The Gyrgon specially designed these okummmon. We cannot be Summoned, but we can do other things more pertinent to our interests.”
He drew out a small, odd-looking item no longer than a Kundalan stylus and fitted it into his okummmon. Six tiny spiderlike legs clicked open and arched up. “Why don’t we see how well your god, Enlil, will protect you from this.” He put his hand on the crown of the priest’s head. Thin tongues of cold blue flame spurted from the ends of each of the legs. When they met at a nexus point, the fire flashed through the priest’s body. He jerked and spasmed and fell over before he could utter a sound.
“I needn’t have killed him right away,” Rydddlin said in a conversational tone of voice. He whirled and placed his hand on Giyan’s shoulder. Once again, the blue fire spurted, and Giyan cried out in agony.
Rekkk lunged toward him, but the two armored Khagggun intercepted him, pinning his arms to his side.
Ignoring Rekkk for the moment, Rydddlin whispered to her, “I have a message for you from Kurgan Stogggul. He hasn’t forgotten how you humiliated him with your accursed sorcery.” He watched with avid eyes as her shoulders slumped and tears came to her eyes. Addressing Rekkk, he said with the brisk voice of a commander outlining a campaign, “As you see, I can turn up the volume to a roar or turn it down to a whimper. Quite a formidable weapon, this spider-mite, is it not? And I have hardly begun to explore its uses.” He grinned. “You see? You are nothing now, hero of a thousand wars.” He kicked the corpse at his feet. “Nothing more, at any rate, than this insignificant priest.”
Rekkk dropped the holoscreen and with the heel of his boot ground it into the bloody street. “Magic tricks are for children,” he said. “Real warriors do not wear the okummmon.”
“That’s right. We are soto, those who cannot be Summoned. But you, you are to be pitied because now you are not even that.” Rydddlin removed the implement from his okummmon, replaced it with a wicked-looking bolt. “But as for who is the real warrior and who is not…”
His hand was a blur as he aimed and loosed the bolt in virtually the same instant. Rekkk grunted as the bolt embedded itself in the flesh of his left thigh.
“. . . well, we will just have to see about that.”
Rekkk’s legs began to buckle, and, at Rydddlin’s silent command, his guards let go his arms so he knelt on the ground between them.
“I don’t know about you, Giyan,” Rydddlin said, laughing, “but I rather like our former Pack-Commander on his knees.”
Closing his mind against the pain, Rekkk pulled the bolt free of his flesh and jammed it into the interstice between two panels of armor worn by the guard on his left. As the Khagggun howled in pain, he took a jagged shard of the broken holoscreen and, rising to his feet, neatly slit the cables at the rear of the helm worn by the guard on his right. When the Khagggun put his hands up to try to wrench off his helm, Rekkk snatched his ion cannon. As the wounded guard turned, leveling his own weapon, Rekkk discharged his. The Khagggun was thrown three meters back, into the flaming wall of a building. First-Major Jusssar, engaging his ion cannon, was sent flying by Rekkk’s next discharge.
Rekkk turned, searching for Olnnn Rydddlin, but the coward had vanished into the gutted interior of a nearby building. Rekkk was about to go after him, when Giyan’s ciy brought him up short. He whirled, heard what she had heard: the tramp of booted feet. More Khagggun, reinforcements contacted, no doubt, by Olnnn Rydddlin.
He nodded at Giyan, and they melted into the shadows, hurrying south, away from the conflagration.
The first thing you’ll be wanting is some more light.” Riane watched Thigpen as she—it was quite clear that the creature was female—scurried around the chamber gathering small chips of black, triable rock.
“Just what kind of creature are you?” she asked.
“Hurry hurry hurry,” Thigpen said, taking a quick glance at the guttering torch. When she had enough rock chips she began to crush them in her paws. Riane could see that these paws were more like fingers. And they had opposable thumbs. “I could have asked you the same thing, couldn’t I? But I haven’t, have I? Do you know why, little dumpling? Because, unlike you, I was brought up to have proper manners.”
“I… I’m sorry,” Riane stammered. “I didn’t mean—Hey, wait a moment, you’re a Rappa, aren’t you?” Riane cocked her head. “I thought the Rappa had been wiped out after you killed Mother.”
“Heard that in the abbey, didn’t you?” Thigpen did not look up from her work. Crush, crush, crush, like a furry ion-charged machine. “As you can plainly see, the reports of our demise are highly exaggerated. And, for your information, we didn’t kill Mother. Didn’t harm a hair on her head. Know who did, though, yes indeed.”
