All Light Will Fall (15 page)

Deeper in the marsh were these spider-like critters shining
white in the sun. They sat atop the water, spinning cocoons into the air. I
moved gently around them, watching their claws ticker and their eyes flick side
to side. Their bodies jittered as they worked, making small ripples over the
water. The cocoons flew from their hind legs and clung to the plants and trees.
They looked like stars shimmering across the velvet stumps of darker trees.

I found one crawling over my shoulder and gently settled it
back onto the water. Holding it reminded me of before. Uway Levíí’s relic was
still in my hand. It was a fantastic piece of stone.

On a plate of blue steel sat a beautiful tear of sapphire.
Around it was a shield of jade, branching from the gem in bright, elegant
swirls. There were markings etched in the steel, magenta symbols all around the
vines of jade. The relic burned white in my hand, like a beating heart, like a
living spirit. I took a lingering look at it then slipped it into my pocket.

I came to a rest in the heart of the marsh. There was a tree
there, a great temple of stone surrounding it. The arcs were high and smooth as
if they were made. I saw images on them, ancient languages carved deep into the
rock.

I climbed the grassy mound to reach them, using the foliage to
hoist myself up. When I reached the top, the bows of stone were almost
frightening. They were humming, speaking to each other. And there were murals,
giant hands and faces telling stories, telling the ancient tales of the
Meridian.

The image in the center awed me most. It called to me,
luring me in, compelling me to look. There stood a masterwork of art engraved
in brilliant colors, struck bright by the light of the sun. The stone
glistened, an ebony pillar hammered with lines of ruby, and emerald, and amethyst.

As I stood there, with my breath long forgotten, it seemed
like the images were moving. From the top of the mural, there came a divine
light breaking from outer space. And in the sky, a circle of planets and stars
lit the dark, revolving around that beam of light. In the following image, the
light was turning, spinning up a hurricane of color until a world formed from
the dust.

I saw a land of green, overflowing with holy waters and
golden fruit. Then there was a hand taking up the fruit and a pair of lips, raw
with innocence, sinking deep into the core of that fruit. And suddenly, the
world of light went dark, black with rot. A sweep of darkness came in, and
then, there was nothing.

I drew back from the images, stumbling over myself, my
breaths swallowing themselves, going in and out of my lungs like knives. I
moved along the stones, searching for the image that followed. When I found it,
my hands shook. I was far too afraid to touch it.

A legion of creatures feathered from the dark sky. There
were hundreds of them. And they were large, each of their six wings casting
away the dark. I saw them singing and heard their song opening the gates of
space. And as the gates were open, the world formed again. And again, the
waters were holy. And again, the fruits were gold.

I took a step back. I felt disturbed. These images, they
couldn’t be true. Of course they weren’t. They were only legends, images
crafted by an old and imaginative mind. They were myths, created for the
curious and wondering eye. They held no truth. No truth at all.

Then why was I so still, trembling inside of myself? Why did
my heart beat cold and my skin stiffen with a chill? I didn’t know. I couldn’t
understand it. Nor did I want to. Because if I did, those images would haunt me
until they became a part of me. And if they did, I could never escape them.

I rested away from the temple, on a mossy hill. I could
still see them across the way, the great arcs bending between the trees.
Something suddenly splashed in the marsh. I looked out over the water to find
what was moving in the reefs. Down in the banks, large humpbacked creatures
trudged in the shallows. Their moans echoed, long and deep over the soft chirps
of nature.

I closed my eyes—thinking but trying not to think. It was
impossible. I thought about Uway Levíí, and how he spoke, with a voice of fire
and his eyes like lightning. I remembered the relic I took and the horror on
his face as I touched it. The relic was mine now, mine to keep and use however
I wished. If we were to ever meet again, I would keep it hidden, say I lost it.
Because I was vengeful that way. I wouldn’t forget it. How helpless he made me.
How his eyes ridiculed and cursed me.

Uway Levíí was so blessed with power. He could never
understand it—the torment of loss. He knew nothing of pain. ARTIKA had tortured
me, mutilated me. They had programed me long before the chamber and long before
the night on Marx Avenue. Who was he to curse me, a soul already cursed? What
did he know of grief? What did he know of wandering, stricken with madness
between the human I was bred and the savage I’d become?

I gripped the grass, my chest pitching forward in heat. I
couldn’t control it—the anger, the insufferable rage. It was electrifying,
throbbing inside me, wave after wave. Then there was pain, a torturous burn
flaming in my blood. I stumbled to my feet and crashed into the bank.

I saw myself in the water, my eyes gone black, thick whips
of blood protruding from my veins. I reached for my life pack and found the
halos. I stuck myself, the energy shooting through me, cooling the fiery throbs
of my body. Then I fell, limp and mindless into the water. My legs wouldn’t
move. There I was, shoulder deep in the swamp, until the night came and the
spirit of the earth rose from underground, bringing light to the darkness.

I dreamt that night. It was strange. I thought I was beyond
dreaming, beyond a rest that deep. Dreaming… I wondered when it last came to
me? After ARTIKA took me, the images in the dark of my mind were hardly dreams.
They were nothing but blindness, black shapes, and muted sounds. But that
night, the dreams were vivid, vibrating with noise, so real to the eye that no
manner of waking could make them any less real.

I rolled to the right. Something brushed the side of my
face, something soft with a kind of rosy, sweet aroma. I opened my eyes. And
what I saw, made my mind turn. I was amazed.

Somehow, the world had changed. That mystic, blue-watered
swamp had vanished in the light of day. The land was a high rolling plain,
millions and millions of silver flowers running into the horizon. An amber sun
rose above the meadows, arching over the skyline like a crown of gold. Blue
grasses sprung between the alabaster blossoms. They were long and thick,
bending into themselves in delicate curls.

The beauty of those hills was too pure. It was agonizing to
look at. I felt so out of place, so out of mind. And the feeling welled in my
chest. I felt the hand of God inside me, stirring up a pain beyond the flesh.
It was a pain worse than death. It was the pain of living. And as I sat there,
staring at this torment of beauty, I felt them coming up slowly behind me.

“Be still
kachi
, or I will . . . I will shoot!” Never
had I heard a voice so like the air, so free and song-like. I turned towards
the boy. He jerked in fright, fumbling with the weapon in his hands. He was a
strange looking thing. His skin was dark as mahogany, his eyes the look of a
feline. An emerald braid lined the center of his head, weaving beyond his
waist. His scales were the color of rouge, highlighting the blush in his
cheeks.

A small hand came from behind him and tugged at his tunic.
“Wait, Windlen,” a voice said. It was gentle enough to break. The child took a
peek from behind him. She smiled.

“Be quiet,” the boy hushed her. “Father said that if we ever
run into one of these
kachien
, we should kill it before it kills us.” He
spoke in Hedai, with a voice far larger than he was himself. I watched him. He
shifted timidly on his feet, steadying the weapon.

The girl slowly came out of hiding. She stuck her foot out
then drew it back in; out and in, in and out a few more times until she deemed
it safe. For a second, it was as if she were playing a game. Each time she
stuck her foot out, she would giggle, jumping up and down in delight. When she
finally showed herself, I couldn’t stop staring at her. She looked like a
wooden antique doll. Her skin was a polished brown. Her cheeks were flushed
with violet, her eyes green as a forest.

“Do not hurt her, Windlen. She is so pretty,” the girl said.

Pretty? I rose a hand to my face. Now that I thought about
it, I suppose she was right. The first time I saw myself in that mirror I
couldn’t help but notice the dark perfection of myself.

“Stay behind me, E’lana,” the boy ordered. “She is not
pretty. It is a trap. She is dangerous.”

The girl ignored him. She skipped forward and knelt beside
me in the pool of flowers. “Are you a good
kachi
or a bad
kachi?
”
she asked.

“E’lana!” the boy snapped. He fired at me all of a sudden.
He hadn’t meant to shoot. I could tell by the look of horror on his face. I
caught the miniature spear in my hand and broke it. His eyes widened as the
weapon went limp in his grasp.

The girl, on the other hand, clapped her hands and giggled.
Her laughter carried for miles across the plains. “
Alamanya!
” she
cheered. “Windlen, did you see that?”

Speechless, the boy nodded. The girl laughed, her curly
locks bouncing over her shoulders. “So then, are you a good
kachi
or a
bad
kachi
?” she asked again.

Kachi? I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I answered her. “A
good one . . . I guess,” I said.

“
Aya,
she is a good
kachi
. That means we can
take her home with us, Windlen. She must want food. Are you hungry
manma
kachi
?”

“Ah, yes,” I replied.

“
Aya,
follow me. I will show you the way.” She
grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stand.

I followed her, the Windlen boy tagging behind us. “If
Father catches us, I will blame you, E’lana,” he growled.

The children led me through the meadow, E’lana collecting
flowers as we went. They took me into a scattered wood where the tree leaves
fell like crystal paper atop the ivory landscape. And in the midst of the
pasture was an open cottage shrugged against a wall of sapphire blossoms.

Windlen gasped all of a sudden. He strapped the weapon to his
hip and went running with his hands in the wind. One after another, he snatched
the leaves from the air and slipped them into his mouth.

“Are they good, Windlen?” E’lana asked him.

Windlen turned and smiled. “Good!” he shouted.

E’lana raised her hand, catching a leaf in her palm. She
giggled as if it had tickled her then offered up the leaf to me. “Have some,”
she said. Hesitantly, I picked it from her hand. I had never eaten a tree leaf
before or anything near it back in Helio Tellus. Most of what we ate was
processed and so depleted by halos it hardly held any flavor. This tree leaf,
however, looked difficult to digest. It was like glass in my hand, a frail,
coiled piece of glass cut from a stone of ruby. I looked down at E’lana. She
stared up at me, patient and starry-eyed.

I took the leaf in my mouth. It shattered at once, melting
over my tongue like hot sugar. The taste was strong, cool like ice, but spicy
as a spoonful of cinnamon. “Is it good?” E’lana asked. I nodded.

“Very good,” I said.

The girl giggled and took to me by the wrist. “Come on,” she
sang. “I will make you something good to eat,
manma
kachi
.” She
led me up the stairs of the cottage. There was no door or walls for that
matter. Well perhaps there were walls, but they were open, with tall angles of
glass curving this way and that. Sapphire blossoms covered the floor, running
in thick vines up the walls.

When I first entered, there was a garden in the forefront of
the house. And in the center was a ground well surrounded by a jungle of fruit
trees.

Deeper in the house, the walls became a mosaic of colored
glass. Images danced across them. They looked familiar, like the temple I had
stumbled across in the marsh.

“You must like them,” E’lana said. “Pretty, do you think?”
she giggled.

“Mother made them,” Windlen said, “all of them by hand.”

I stared at them, my eyes unblinking, enchanted by their
mother’s devotion to detail. She was brilliant and uncensored with her
subjects. There were creatures on the walls, nude in their innocence. They were
human-like—Meridians I assumed, their skin alight with a pinkish flame. They
lay among the grass in a white woodland. Some were children, others mature in
their adulthood.

In another image, I saw creatures with them; massive beings,
mighty and armed. I saw them roaming the dark for miles in a hungering desert.
Wherever they traveled, that dry death followed them, plaguing the land.

And in the following design, there was war. The Meridians,
with their weapons and shields, drove out the beasts. A crown of moons circled
the battlefield, ten moons for the twenty years it took the battle to end. And
when it did end, there was no death. Life returned to the land, an overflow of
honeyed hills and blue pastures.

“What are these?” I asked.

E’lana smiled. “It is Ala...”

“Quiet, E’lana,” Windlen hushed her. He put a hand over her
mouth, glaring at me. “You have no business telling this...
kachi
of our
sacred beginnings.”

E’lana squirmed free of his grasp. “It is not sacred,
Windlen,” she huffed, stomping her foot. “
Manma kachi
can know,” she
took my hand, “I trust her.”

Windlen stared wide-eyed in disbelief then threw a hand to
his face. “So foolish,” he muttered.