Lodestone Book Two: The World of Ice and Stars

Chapter 1

"‘Beyond this world,’ sayeth the sage, ‘lay both wonders to delight the heart and terrors to freeze the soul’."

The Wisdom of Kal, First Stanza, First Line

What is this place? Shann’s heart beat like that of a tiny bird caught in a snare. The star-filled sky wheeled overhead. Her first instinct was to crouch down and cover her head with her arms to shut out the dizzying spectacle. A distant part of her recalled that according to Alondo’s tale, a number of Arval’s crew had lost their sanity after witnessing this very sight. Come on, Shann, get a grip on yourself. She recalled that fateful night in Corte when she had plucked a staff from the rain-soaked ground and handed it to a man with fair hair and piercing blue eyes. Since then she had escaped from a prison, battled the fearsome Keltar, braved the Fire Pits of Kharthrun, and survived the Great Barrier of Storms. She had seen and endured more than anyone from her hometown of Corte, or indeed the entire district of Chalimar; more perhaps than any other Kelanni alive. She was no longer a weak little girl.

Boxx sat still, perched on its rock, staring up at the myriad of tiny frigid lights, its face serene. She forced herself to follow its gaze. The stars were both terrifying and beautiful. Gradually her fear began to ebb, replaced by fertile shoots of curiosity from which questions began to bloom.

What are they–these ‘stars’? she asked.

I Do Not Know, Shann. Worlds Like Ours, Perhaps. Or Unlike Ours.

That explanation didn’t seem very likely to Shann. How did you know about them?

I Remembered, the Chandara said in its sing-song voice.

You mean you have been here before?

No.

Then how–?

I Remembered. From Before. Chandara Remember.

Shann was beginning to feel her headache returning. One thing was certain; they could not stay here. She could feel the cold penetrating her bones. Her breath condensed in front of her face in clouds of vapour. She had to find Lyall and the others.

Come on, let’s go, she called.

The creature hopped down from the rock obediently and fell into step. Shann began to head away from the beach. She was still wearing her jet-black tunic and trousers, her flying cloak flapped in the breeze, and Saccath’s staff was slung behind her–the trappings of a Keltar. Still, what was it Lyall had said back at the farmhouse? If you understand the power of a tyrant, you can use it against him.

She walked uphill, making for the highest point she could see. If her companions from the Reach had made it safely to shore, and had witnessed the fall of darkness and the appearance of the stars, then the first thing they would likely do would be to build a fire. She would stand the best chance of spotting it from higher ground; indeed, she would be better able to see any signs of life–assuming there was anyone at all alive in this benighted world.

At first, Shann found progress difficult in the unaccustomed gloom. She stumbled more than once over rocks or uneven surfaces. If she had been on her own, she would naturally have thought of using her flying cloak to make faster progress, but she was not sure whether Boxx would be able to keep up. She was afraid they might lose each other in the dark. Better that she should endure the arduousness of the climb and stub her toe occasionally than risk losing the only friend she had left in the world. Alondo, you had better have a nice fire going by the time I get there.

After a while, her Kelanni eyes became more accustomed to the lower light levels and her progress became a little easier. Boxx trotted along contentedly next to her, as if they were merely out for a midnight stroll. Where Are We Going? it asked, conversationally.

Up there. She pointed to the escarpment that rose above them, a dark outline against the star-filled sky.

Why Up There?

Because I need to look around. Find out what’s in this place.

There Are Chandara Here, it declared.

How could you know that?

Chandara Remember, it said. Memories Are Passed On. We Grow. We Change. We Eat. We Remember.

Shann’s brow knotted. It felt just as when they had first met up with Keris and Boxx on the road from Gort. The creature had explained to them about the key. It had offered to speak the key to Keris, but when invited to do so, what it came out with amounted to gibberish. It had continued to mention the key at odd intervals, usually when it became agitated about something; but other than Annata’s statement that Boxx was the key and Lyall’s revelation that the name Boxx meant key in the ancient tongue, none of them had been able to discover what that meant. Once again, Shann was forced to admit defeat. I’m sorry, I don’t understand you.

You Will Understand, it said, When My Time Comes–As It Must For All Chandara.

Your time for what?

We Change. We Eat. We Remember, it repeated.

Shann laughed inwardly. At least Boxx’s company was lightening her mood, even if she was no wiser at the end of their discussion than she had been at the beginning.

Still, if it were somehow right–if there were Chandara here–then that would change everything. From the moment she had awoken in this hostile world, she had been dogged by the nagging fear that it was devoid of all life. If that were true, then their chances of survival were poor indeed. Right now, she would gladly settle for the sight of a group of Chandara, even if it meant that she would never enjoy a sensible conversation again.

They were approaching the crest of the ridge. Shann’s muscles ached from the exertion of the climb, but the heat she radiated was helping to stave off the unaccustomed cold of this place. She turned to look back. The sound of the breakers on the shore had faded to a faint soughing. The sea was an inky black, yet the crests of the waves twinkled, picked out by starlight in a way that struck her as quite beautiful. She raised her head and gazed upward at the burnished sky. Some of the stars were hard points, staring down at her from far above like accusing eyes. Brilliant. Indomitable. Others, though, were fuzzy patches of light, shining with a softer glow. As she watched, she noticed something else–there were faint impressions of colour. Pink and yellow and orange…

She tore her gaze away and scaled the last section to crest the top of the ridge. Her breath congealed in the cold night air as she surveyed this world beyond the Barrier. The landscape was dark, populated with indistinct shapes and anonymous shadows. Then she saw it off to the south. Not a campfire–something far larger. It could only be the lights of a village or a town. So there are people here. What manner of people, she could only guess. But she and Boxx were going to need food and shelter, and the only source of either was there.

A low snarling sound. A pair of yellow eyes appeared in front of her; then another, and a third. Shapes moved in the darkness, jostling each other impatiently, regarding her with a malevolence colder even than the bitter air. The snarl grew into a chorus of deep-throated growls from every side. The staff she had inherited from Saccath was already in her hands, her tendons stretched white against the darkwood. Boxx, stay close, she commanded. Glancing beside her, she saw that the Chandara had transformed itself into a ball of chitin. You’ll have to teach me that trick.

Shann whirled around. The creatures were circling her, probing her defences, testing her resolve. She strained her eyes, but their forms were elusive, melting into the anonymity of the starlit night. If she were on her own, she would have flared her cloak and scanned for lodestone so as to effect her escape, but there was no way she was going to leave Boxx at the mercy of these…things. She keened her Kelanni senses, bracing herself.

The attack erupted in a flurry of fur and fang–of horn and claw. Shann sliced, slashed and stabbed at anything that moved; her diamond blade flashing in the starlight as if the heavens were lending her their power. She brought her staff down on the head of one of the beasts and heard the crunch of bone; then pirouetted, cleaving phantoms and sundering shadows. Bass growling became interspersed with higher pitched yelping. The creatures backed off. Regrouping. Thinking.

As she stood, breathing hard, braced for the next onslaught, Shann’s mind went back to the battle with the sand scarags of the Great Southern Desert. The sand scarags were like automata. They had one tactic–swarm and overwhelm–which they pursued with a mindless compulsion. These creatures were different. There was a collective intelligence here, the cold unyielding logic of the implacable hunter.

Shann felt a sudden sharp pressure in the small of her back. Before she could react, she was propelled forward and sent sprawling face first to the ground. She twisted onto her back. A huge shape loomed over her, blotting out the stars. Xanthic eyes bore into her and hot, fetid breath washed over her face.

Shann’s heart froze. Without thinking, she tightened her grip on her staff weapon and thrust upward with every ounce of her strength. The silhouette above her stiffened. Gradually, the amber lights faded and went out, and a great weight pinned her to the ground.

Bestial sounds converged and deliquesced into the night. Shann felt too spent to move. At length, she gathered the last few crumbs of her strength and pulled herself out from under the mass of tangled fur. Her hand and forearm were covered in white blood, and blood stained the front of her tunic. She found a patch of the white powder and cleaned her exposed skin as best she could, enduring the numbing effects of the cold. Her clothes, she could do nothing about, for now. Boxx had unfurled itself and was regarding her with an expression of mild curiosity.

I’m fine, thank you, she said, answering its unspoken question. I don’t need your help this time. The Chandara settled back down with its head resting on the ground, waiting patiently for her to finish.

Shann went to the felled beast and knelt beside it. It was a four-legged animal, as long as she was tall, with a matted grey coat and a head that seemed too large for its body. The crown of its skull was bare, topped off by three wicked-looking horns. Its wide, slightly parted mouth was filled with rows of sharp teeth. She had never seen anything like it before.

Shann let out a long breath and hunched her shoulders. She had been in this strange world for less than a day, and she had already spilled blood. It was not a good beginning. Something cold caressed her cheek. She looked up, startled. White flakes drifted lazily down from the sky. They settled on her shoulders, in her hair and eyelashes, and on the fur of the lifeless beast. She held out her hand tentatively. The flakes landed on her palm and melted into beads of water, just like the powder which lay on the ground. Like a fine crystalline rain. She shivered involuntarily. It was getting colder. They had to get moving.

Without further thought, Shann rose, wrapped her flying cloak tightly about her small frame and began heading along the line of low hills as it snaked south, toward the lights and whatever welcome or warding awaited her there.

~

As she descended the rough escarpment, the white flakes grew thicker and more numerous. They surrounded her in a slow motion aerial ballet, obscuring her vision. Even when she closed her eyes, she could still see them in her mind’s eye and feel them on her face.

As the ground levelled out, she could make out what looked as if they might be cultivated areas to her left and right. Between the gloom and the growing white precipitation, it was difficult to be certain. She could have been walking through fields of kalash or moba root, or of some unknown crop, and not realised it.

Ahead of her, the lights of the town burned steadily. Shann was struck by the fact that they seemed preternaturally bright–brighter than the lights of any town ought to appear at night time. At first, it seemed to her that it might be nothing more than an impression, due to the fact that the night was much darker here, devoid as this world was of Ail-Mazzoth’s comforting dull red glow. As she drew near the outskirts, however, the real reason became apparent. There was a roadway that led into the town, and on either side, set on poles several times her height, were yellow globes like strange oil lamps, bathing the road with a soft effulgence.

Shann found herself drawn to the globes. They were placed at regular intervals and were completely enclosed, so Shann could not see where the oil would go. Besides, it would take huge amounts of oil to keep all of them burning–and with the streets empty, she could not see the point of all that waste. She put the enigma of the globes aside for a moment and turned her attention to the dwellings.

Their angled roofs were covered with an unbroken layer of the white powder. The stones from which they were constructed were…odd. They were all uniform, with rigid, precise angles. Perhaps the inhabitants were a strict, military people? Wasteful military. Somehow, that didn’t seem right.

The dream-like precipitation had eased. Occasional flakes fluttered down from the sky like stragglers at the end of a procession, hastening to catch up to the main performance. The thick white powder gathered in clumps and collected in drifts. It seemed to deaden sound. There was no wind. Shann suddenly realised how tired and hungry she was. Boxx had not complained, but she knew that acts of healing tired the Chandara. She was sure that it, too, was in a weakened state.

Somewhere far off, a bell chimed. Shann looked up and down the deserted street. The road surface was cobbled, like the streets of her home, except that the stones were smoother and more even than the streets of the Great City of Chalimar itself. The surface was dappled with patches of the cold white powder. The yellow globes created intersecting pools of light.

In one of the pools, by the side of the street, sat a large box-shaped object. Shann approached and saw that it was some sort of compartment with windows made of pure glass. She reached out her hand. The surface was metal–cold and smooth to the touch. What could be its purpose? And equally, why would someone leave such a thing by the side of the roadway? Shann walked around it and saw that it had what looked like a door with a handle. She tested it. The mechanism clunked and a door opened outward. Inside, she saw two sets of comfortable seats facing each other. She glanced around. Nothing stirred in the cold, empty street.

Boxx. She waved the creature over, and it hopped inside. She climbed in after it and closed the door behind her. It felt as if the cold had been banished to the outside. The folk of this peculiar world, whoever they were, would no doubt soon be up and about their daily business. The windows of the compartment would provide the perfect vantage point for her to observe them before deciding whether she should make contact.

Boxx lay curled up on the seat opposite. As the cold and numbness faded, warmth and sensation returned to her hands and feet. And with the warmth, there came an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. The seat seemed to mould itself to fit her back, soothing her tired bones and aching muscles. Shann closed her eyes, and in moments was fast asleep.

Chapter 2

Shann was awoken by an ear-splitting scream. The combination of the sound and the frigid air flooding into the compartment conspired to shock her into full alertness. In the open doorway stood a figure about half her size–a girl. She was Kelanni, with long fair hair, dressed in a thick brown fur garment that reached below her knees and a matching fur hat. Before Shann could react, the little girl opened her mouth and screamed again.

Shouts from outside–the sound of running feet. She was trapped; the girl blocking the only exit. Shann sprang forward like a scalded dagan, shoving the girl aside more roughly than she’d intended, and stumbled out onto the street. Boxx appeared beside her, twitching its head from side to side. Bright sunlight reflected from the pure white roofs and window ledges. Shann was dazzled and disoriented for a moment. Through her squinting eyes she began to discern a thoroughfare busy with people. All Kelanni. All clad in variations of the little girl’s fur attire. All staring at her.

Two burly individuals, dressed in thick blue surcoats, were bearing down on them. One of them shouted to the other, but it was a word Shann could not recognise. She turned to Boxx. Run.

The Chandara obeyed, scuttling off down the street at speed, dodging around the feet of startled passersby. I’ll keep them occupied. Shann drew her staff and planted her feet. Come and get me.

It dawned on her that from the moment she had found herself washed up on the beach until now, she had not scanned for lodestone in this world. Everything was so different here–maybe lodestone didn’t exist? Her hand moved to her neck control and she flexed it experimentally. She was shocked to detect a strong deposit right here under the street–so strong, in fact, that it could hardly be natural. Refined lodestone, then. But there was something else. A regularity, as if …as if it had been laid here deliberately. But for what purpose?

There was no time to speculate. Shann flared her cloak and launched herself skyward, to the gasps of onlookers. Looking down, she noted with grim satisfaction that the blue-coated figures had slowed to a halt and were gazing up at her, perplexed. Shann landed on the roof of the compartment, then pushed off again immediately, following the line that Boxx had taken.

She could not help but be reminded of the tower on the Eastern Plains. The base of refined lodestone embedded in the roof there afforded a freedom of movement that was exhilarating–liberating. Then she had been locked in a life and death struggle with a young Keltar. Now there was no-one to challenge her mastery of the air.

Shann touched down a little farther up the street, sending a group of alarmed townspeople scattering in all directions; expressions of horror frozen on their faces. A tatterdemalion creature dragged from the depths of the sea and stained with blood. I must look a sight.

She glanced behind her. The two men in blue had shut their mouths and gathered their wits, and were headed in her direction once more. One of them yelled to her in a voice that sounded urgent. Again it was a word she could not make out, although she seemed to hear it distinctly.

A rushing sound. She turned around. Another of the compartments was bearing down on her, filling her vision. It seemed to be moving on its own, with no graylesh to pull it. Stranger still, it had no wheels or any other contact with the ground. Through the glass windows, Shann caught a glimpse of the occupants. The one nearest her was gesticulating wildly. She moved an instant too late. The flying compartment caught her with a glancing blow and sent her tumbling onto the freezing cobbles.

Pain lanced through her right shoulder. Shann gritted her teeth and got her feet under her. People were backing away and shouting at each other. Come–what–hurt–in the way. She shook her head. She seemed to be able to make out every second or third word, but even those were spoken in a thick dialect, so she had to strain her ears and her brain to discern them. Suddenly she remembered Boxx. She turned to look up the street in the direction it had gone. About two hundred yards ahead, a crowd of the fur-clad denizens were gathered in a large circle. They had it trapped.

With a stab of alarm, Shann recalled how the folk in the village of Pinnar in the Distrada had reacted to it with fear and distrust. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she extended the upper lodestone layer of her cloak and sprang upward once more, angling toward the mob. As she reached the zenith of her leap and began to descend, Shann flared a second time to stay aloft. She sailed gracefully over wide eyes and pointing fingers before landing in the midst of the assembled throng. Boxx was standing on its hind limbs, moving its head from side to side. It seemed agitated, but unhurt.

The crowd muttered, calling to one another in the same thick, indistinct accent. Some men at the front started to edge forward. She moved both hands to the end of Saccath’s staff and began swinging it violently to and fro in a wide arc. Stay…away. Keep…away. Her voice cracked, and the gathering shattered, backing rapidly out of the range of her wide sweeps. Her teeth were clenched and her eyes wild.

The two blue-coated figures burst through the retreating throng, then came to a halt, regarding her and then each other. Shann saw for the first time that they both carried staffs, but they were unlike any Keltar’s. There were no diamond blades in evidence, and in place of the darkwood there was a silver coloured metal. One end was more bulbous, with extensions and protuberances that reminded her strongly of Alondo’s vortex arm. The thinner end had a series of concentric rings running down its length.

One of the blue coats, a short, square jawed man with eyes half hidden by cheekbones, said something and raised the thin end so that it was levelled at Shann. The other, who was taller and leaner, with skin a darker shade of olive, put out his hand and forced the other’s staff downward, so that it pointed to the ground. The taller man issued what sounded like a sharp rebuke. Shann was able to make out just one word clearly. …kill…

She stiffened. Boxx had taken up a position behind her and was peeking out between her legs. Stay away –I’m warning you.

Before the blue coats could react, a commotion arose behind them. They parted to allow a third man through, dressed in a full length sable coat. His face was etched in worry lines and framed by shoulder length fair hair. He spread his arms wide and spoke in a halting voice, tinged with the same odd accent. None…no-one here will…hurt you. What is…your name?

Shann, she replied tersely, her staff still held at the ready.

Shann, he repeated. My name is Byrdach.

Berdak, she said, her tongue chasing the unfamiliar sound around her mouth.

Where do you…come from, Shann? Byrdach asked.

From across the Great Barrier.

Byrdach frowned. Where?

The Great Barrier, she repeated. She looked out on the yawning gulf of incomprehension surrounding her. Across the Aronak Sea–the Sea of Storms.

A woman in the crowd piped up. Ayronath. There followed a chorus of agreement, interspersed with howls of dissention.

Byrdach barked at the blue coated figures to either side of him. …people…safe…eating. At least, that was what it sounded like. Again, Shann had to strain her ears to make out the words. It was an odd experience–like trying to recall the cadence of a long-forgotten melody. She felt like asking him to speak slower.

The blue coats snapped out of their trance and set about shooing people away. Slowly, grudgingly, the gathering began to disperse. Children, dragged away by their parents, glanced over their shoulders at Shann and Boxx with unsated curiosity.

The watchmen stood flanking Byrdach once more, eyes locked on Shann, fingers twitching near their odd silver staffs. Ail-Gan and Ail-Kar were dazzling orbs amid a sky of washed-out blue and worn, ragged clouds. Beads of sweat started to form on Shann’s forehead.

Will you put away your…? Byrdach stretched out a weathered palm, indicating her staff. …Please. Shann looked down. Her hands were clenched around the haft as if they were an outgrowth of the darkwood itself. With an effort, she relaxed her grip and sheathed her weapon in the scabbard at her back. There was a palpable release of tension in the air.

Will you…come with me? Byrdach asked.

Shann’s eyes narrowed. Why do you want me to come with you?

I want to take you to a place of…safety. And there is another you should meet. Byrdach made the same placating gesture. …Please.

Shann felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach–apprehension locked in mortal combat with hunger. It was hunger that finally won out. Boxx, come on. She crossed the space to where Byrdach stood a head taller than she was. His eyes were dark–secretive, yet not unkindly. He smiled for the first time, and the cracks in his face grew more pronounced. She was far from convinced that she could trust this individual. Still, Saccath’s staff was a reassuring pressure against her back muscles, like the gnarled hand of an old friend. Just don’t try anything.

Byrdach led the way up the cobbled street, the people of the town giving them a wide berth. The blue coated figures followed at a discreet distance.

As the need for flight or fight receded, Shann’s inquisitive nature reasserted itself. How is it you can speak to me, when these others cannot?

Byrdach looked down at her. I recognised your speech. It is like…Old Kelanni.

Old Kelanni.

Yes, Byrdach said. It is what people spoke before the Goratha–the dark time.

The dark time?

Byrdach nodded. There was a…sickness. Many died.

A plague is sweeping through our race. That was what the woman from the past had told Keris. Were these also descendants of Annata’s people? But they were so…different. It didn’t seem possible. Shann looked from one side of the street to the other. Someone had gone along and extinguished all of the globes, but their glass was milky white, opaque, giving no clue as to their inner workings. The white powder was melting gradually to water, patches becoming puddles. Drifts that had taken refuge in corners and doorways were shrinking, congealing, turning grey at the edges–sacrificing their purity to the warmth of the suns. Along the side of the street there were walkways thronged with people, striding purposefully, dawdling or gazing into glass-covered bay windows displaying unknown merchandise. She caught the scent of fresh baked bread. Her stomach growled and her mouth salivated, forcing her to swallow. Somewhere nearby, a gundir barked.

Shann was struck by a peculiar paradox. The more she observed these people, the more different they were; yet in another sense, the more they were the same. They were Kelanni: one head, two arms, two legs, one tail. Just as she was. Strip away the strange globes and the glass-fronted windows, the heavy clothing and the floating carriages, and she could be in Corte or Lind or Kinnat or any of half a dozen towns of her home.

Thoughts of home brought a more pressing concern back to her mind. She forced herself to broach the question. Have you seen any others–any like me?

Byrdach paused and looked at her strangely. No, why do you ask?

There were others with me. We were…separated.

You said you crossed the Ayronath?

The Aronak Sea, she corrected.

There are…winds.

The Barrier. I know.

Then how–?

Because I was with a man who doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘impossible’. She smiled wryly at Byrdach’s confused expression. We modified a ship and pulled it in. Boxx and me were swept overboard and washed up on the beach not far from here.

You modified a ‘what’?

A ship.

I…am not familiar with that word.

They reached an intersection just as one of the floating carriages passed in front of them. It was silver, with a festive yellow stripe along its length and lamps attached to the front end, although they were not illuminated. It made only the faintest whooshing sound as it moved. She craned her neck to watch as the carriage flew down the street, then slowed to disappear around a corner. A realisation struck her–the lodestone in the street; that was how the carriages moved. But that would take a great amount of refined lodestone. She thought back to the extravagance of the globes. The people here must have wealth beyond imagining.

Byrdach led the way across the intersection and into the street opposite. The buildings were taller here; up to four stories high, but constructed of the same uniform stones in varying shades of grey. Opulence with a cloak of austerity. Flying carriages plied their way up and down the highway. Shann wondered idly how they always managed to avoid colliding with one another.

You spoke of a…‘ship’, he reminded her.

A vessel that carries people over the sea. Surely you know what a ship is.

I have never heard of such a wonder, Byrdach said. Shann listened carefully but could detect no hint that the man was joking. How could a people who lived in a lighted city and rode in flying carriages not know what a ship was? Where is your ‘ship’ now?

Is he testing me? I…don’t know. We were attacked. The hull was breached. I… Shann castigated herself. Maybe I should not have mentioned that we were attacked. She shot him a sideways glance, but he merely looked thoughtful. They walked on in silence for some moments. He made a right turn down a narrow street. It looked like an artisan’s district–some shops she seemed to recognise, like smiths and glassmakers; others she could only guess at. One had an adjacent yard stocked with some types of machinery, larger and more intricate than any she had ever seen. Alondo would go crazy here.

Shann looked over her shoulder and saw that the blue coats were still following. Despite Byrdach’s ready smile and disarming manner, it still felt as if she were under guard. Their route was leading them toward the western edge of town, in the direction of the sea. He said he was taking me to a place of safety–safe for whom?

It was Byrdach who broke the silence. That is a…Candachra you have with you, is it not?

We call them ‘Chandara’–yes. She felt a rush of excitement. Boxx had said there were Chandara in this world. You know of the Chandara? she asked conversationally.

I have never actually seen one. They disappeared after the war. You say yours came with you, through the…Barrier?

Yes.

How come it is travelling with you?

Why don’t you ask it? she said innocently.

Your Candachra can speak?

Oh, yes.

The shelled creature was ambling along behind them, sniffing at the air and taking in the sights. Byrdach turned to address it. Candachra–

Its name is Boxx, Shann interposed.

Byrdach looked at her oddly, then raised his eyebrows and began again. Boxx, where do you come from?

The Great Tree, Boxx responded in its thin, high tone.

Where is that?

It Is In The Midst Of Our Forest. Kelanni Had A Name For It In The Before. Illaryon. Kelanni Name All Things, As Is Their Way.

And where is Illaryon? Byrdach asked.

Boxx appeared wistful. Far Away. Over Storm And Sea. Deep Pits And High Hills. Crowded Prairie And Empty Desert. To The Heartwood. My Home.

They had left the last vestiges of the town behind and were wending their way up a hillside covered with an unbroken blanket of the white powder, its crystalline surface glinting in the light of the suns. A flock of birds took to the air as they passed, before gradually settling back to the ground. Large cylindrical structures were set back from the path at odd intervals.

Why are you here? Byrdach continued his interrogation of the Chandara.

For All Kelanni. I Am The Key.

The key? The key to what?

You Are Not The Key. I Cannot Speak It. Only To Keris.

He looked back at Shann, who only smiled sweetly.

The hill they were ascending was dominated by a large building, quite different from any she had seen in the town. The main part formed a huge silver dome which rose majestically over the white landscape. To one side, there were other constructions of the more familiar grey stones. A palace, perhaps? It would make sense that they would be taken to a higher authority–someone with the power to decide their fate. She briefly considered the possibility of flight once again, but she could not guarantee Boxx’s safety, and she needed more information. Not to mention food.

They walked up the final section and through an ample gateway to a large wooden door, set with a bronze coloured ring. Byrdach grasped the ring and banged it loudly twice.

We are here, he announced.

Chapter 3

Go Away.

The words, though heavy with dialect, were unmistakeable. A door opened and a portly woman came bustling through it before closing it behind her with utter finality.

Shann and Boxx stood next to Byrdach in a spacious hallway lined with wood panelling and set with lamps that looked like miniature versions of the ones lining the streets of the town. The decor seemed appropriate to the dwelling of a rich person, but it was hardly the palace Shann had envisaged earlier. Byrdach stepped forward, and there was a frank exchange of words. Finally, the woman acquiesced, after a great deal of tutt-tutting and shaking of her head. He made for the door she had come through, then stopped with his hand on the door lever as if remembering something. He turned back and whispered to the woman, his head inclining slightly in Shann’s direction. Then he opened the door and disappeared through it, closing it behind him as if he did not want what was inside to get out.

The plump woman hustled over to Shann, then her face fell, as if she had just noticed Shann’s condition. Her hands went to her round cheeks, then smoothed down the apron fronting her workmanlike dress, as if she were preparing for battle. You…come. She grabbed hold of Shann’s arm to emphasise her point, aggravating the girl’s shoulder injury.

Shann winced. Oww.

The woman instantly let go, unsure what to do next. Then she went to a side door, opened it and waved Shann through. You come…

Shann was too weak and tired to argue. With Boxx in tow, she allowed herself to be led through a generous sitting room whose walls were lined with strange clicking devices and more books than Shann had ever seen in her life, to another wood panelled hallway, and finally to a smaller room with white walls and a white tub against one wall that she