Authors: Jane Lindskold
Artemis Awakening
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To Jim, still my favorite archeologist and historian
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to my agent, Kay McCauley, for striking the spark that lit the fire.
Thanks also to my first readers—Jim Moore, Bobby Wolf, Sally Gwylan, and Julie Bartel. Your thoughtful responses helped me feed the flames.
Thanks to my editor, Claire Eddy, who provided excellent comments. She helped me see where the fire had burned too high and needed to be damped—as well as where I should shift some coals to give the tale warmth.
I’m grateful to my friend Cale Mims for taking the time to turn words into pictures. These definitely helped with the evolution of the cover art.
The quotation in the “Interlude” at the conclusion of chapter thirteen comes from the works of Paul Stamets, noted mycologist. Thanks to Michael Wester with whom, on a tour of UNM’s medical library, I came across a display featuring this material. It was one of those magic moments when creative thoughts jell.
And ever, and always, to my husband, Jim Moore. Thanks for being there when there wasn’t even a fire, for blowing gently on the sparks so they’d catch, and for constant attention so that the flames neither ran out of control nor guttered out.
Finally, thanks to all those cats, great and small, who contributed to my enduring love for all things feline. From the white tiger cub at the National Zoo that I petted when I was very small to the pumas at the Rio Grande Biological Park to all those domestic cats who have domesticated me—you’ve provided tremendous inspiration.
CONTENTS
Interlude: Between Waking and Sleeping
Interlude: Battle Won, Search Begun
1
Crash Landing
A falling star! What luck!
Adara the Huntress froze in place, watching as a thin white line with a heart of fire grew into a wider streak that rushed earthward at an incredible speed. She frowned thoughtfully.
It must be huge to be visible in daylight.
The moment the streak vanished below the tree line, the ground trembled. A crashing louder than any thunder caused Adara to press her hands protectively over her ears. In the glade around her, spring pale leaves shook and dry needles showered from the evergreens.
Immediately, Adara sent out a mental cry. Sand Shadow had been ranging near where the star must have hit. The puma should be unharmed—Adara would have felt its death or pain.
Sand Shadow, did you see where it fell?
The image that came in response placed the puma atop a cluster of boulders, looking down where dust and steam fountained up from a narrow ravine. The puma had not yet mastered the art of linking her senses to those of her partner, but Adara received the impression that something smelled very bad—acrid and bitter, like nothing in nature.
Wait for me.
Adara’s thought was a suggestion, not a command. Though the untutored took comfort in the idea that hunters commanded their demiurges, the truth was that who commanded whom was more a matter of the personalities involved than of any automatic superiority of human over beast.
However, although Sand Shadow would be the first to assert she took orders from no one, Adara sensed that this time the puma was content to watch and wait.
I’ll be there as soon as I can,
Adara promised, not so much in words as with an image of her booted feet carrying her closer to the rising column that marked the star’s grave.
As Adara raced to join Sand Shadow, she speculated as to what they might find. Certainly something that had struck down with such force would not have been melted to nothing by the heat of its passage. That meant there would be a treasure to retrieve.
Best would be one of those pieces of iron ore the smiths valued. Next best would be one of those strange things the seegnur had left swirling in the currents of the sky. These curiosities weren’t as useful as iron, nor as valuable, but Bruin knew those who collected such artifacts. Even if Bruin could not trade an artifact for as much as he could for iron, Adara’s find would gather favors for them both.
Adara loved her mentor and knew he would be pleased if she found an artifact. She was considering how favors might be more valuable than goods when she felt a flash of astonishment from Sand Shadow. The puma focused hard, carefully shaping a new image. Adara gasped and redoubled her pace.
Down in the dust and steam, something was moving.
* * *
He hadn’t meant to crash the shuttle. That was Griffin Dane’s first thought upon coming to, hanging upside down in his restraining harness with his pulse thundering in his ears.
His second thought was that his first had been incredibly stupid. No one ever
meant
to crash. Crashes by definition were unintended. His third thought, how he supposed that in some cases a crash might be intended—as in certain sports or forms of combat—died half-formed as Griffin became aware that the thudding noise in his ears was not solely his pulse.
A grinding, grating sound mingled with the thudding. Those sounds almost certainly meant that—despite the force with which the shuttle had impacted
terra firma
—Griffin’s ship was sliding. Sliding probably did not mean anything good either for him or for the ship and its irreplaceable contents.
With efficiency born of frequent and meticulous practice, Griffin set about getting himself out of the crash harness. The shuttle had landed top down. Griffin flipped over so he could walk on the ceiling-turned-floor. Even though he landed lightly, he felt the shuttle slide in response to the shift in balance.
Unstable,
Griffin thought.
Still, if I move slowly, I can grab some supplies. There’s an emergency kit in the locker near the exit hatch. I’d better get my excursion pack, too …
He moved, first stepping, then—when even that small motion started the shuttle jolting along again—lowering himself so that he could slide on the decking. Sweat stood out on Griffin’s forehead by the time he reached the exit hatch. When he tapped the release on the locker, nothing happened. Next he tried the airlock. Nothing.
Nothing, that is, except another of those sickening surges of motion and a sound like hail falling. Claustrophobia—a ridiculous sensation for a starship pilot—hit Griffin.
If I don’t get out of here fast, I’m going to be buried alive. Equipment won’t do me any good then. Out first. Gear later.
The airlock was equipped with a manual override. Frowning when each jerk of the lever jolted the shuttle, Griffin forced the heavy levers through their prescribed patterns. He’d been worried something like this power outage might happen, but he hadn’t thought it would occur so soon.
Maybe I didn’t crash the ship after all,
he thought.
Maybe it was crashed for me. Still, I thought I had the shuttle systems sealed. I followed the protocols … Maybe what happened was just an accident.
Focused as he was on these unsettling speculations, Griffin could hardly believe what he saw when he finally slid the airlock door open.
An enormous tawny lion crouched on a steep, crumbling talus slope only a short distance from the shuttle. When the wild cat saw Griffin, its fanged mouth opened in a snarl, its dark-tipped tail lashed, and its shoulders tensed to spring.
* * *
A human male!
Sand Shadow was too flustered to send more than the most minimal image.
Within the fallen star!
Adara put on a burst of speed and arrived at the same rocks upon which the puma had stood moments before. She looked down. The stranger remained crouched within an opening in the surface of his strange vessel—for vessel it must be.
His eyes, which he held fixed on Sand Shadow, were wide and well made, their color a warm brown. His hair, which was mussed and cut much shorter than that of any man of Adara’s acquaintance, was golden fair with darker undertones. His skin looked as if it never saw the sun.
He’s afraid of you,
Adara reproved Sand Shadow, and felt the puma’s pride that this was as it should be.
Yes. At most times I would agree most heartily, but this time … That thing is sliding on the talus, sliding more with every motion the man makes. If the man does not get out soon, he will be carried with it. I do not think he will live if he does.
Sand Shadow acknowledged the sense of this. With a flick of her long, heavy tail and a frolic of her hindquarters, she bounded away. The man stared after the puma, obviously eager to escape, but afraid lest any movement on his part bring the great cat back.
Adara called out to the stranger, pitching her voice so that it would carry, but hopefully not frighten the man.
“Hold still! I’m going to throw you a line.”
* * *
At the sound of the voice, Griffin started, causing the shuttle to jolt downward, jarring against something and jamming to a halt. He heard footsteps crunching on the gravel slope above him. A piece of rope snaked down and landed near him. Then the footsteps retreated.
“The rope’s anchored to a tree,” a confident, female voice said. The words were spoken with an accent like but not identical to that in the induced language lessons Griffin had brainloaded in preparation for this trip.
Leaning out from the shuttle, Griffin grabbed hold of the rope. Even that controlled motion proved to be a mistake. The precariously balanced vessel broke loose from whatever it had been resting upon, then began to plummet downward. Hands tight around the rope, Griffin was jerked free from the vessel, then smashed flat onto his face. Despite the red flash of pain, he kept a tight grip on what had become his lifeline.