Blood of the Cosmos (76 page)

Rod'h could see black tendrils everywhere, like barbed wire lashing through the Ildiran race, drawing tight.

 

CHAPTER

130

SAREIN

The whole continent of the Wild had seemed crowded for a time after Kennebar and his green priests came, and then the Onthos, but Sarein ignored them, and they ignored her in return. Now, though, she felt
too
alone. She felt ominous changes in the wilderness around her, and she did not need to be a green priest to notice it.

As a Theron, Sarein was attuned to the forest in a way that only a native could know. She knew why the Gardeners had come here, and she was well aware that the verdani accepted them. The aliens had tended another worldforest millennia before the generation ship
Caillie
had found Theroc, long before the first human green priest ever became aware of the sentient trees.

When the hundred refugee aliens came to the Wild and scattered deep into the forest, they wanted peaceful isolation so they could recover after their ordeal. Sarein could sympathize with that. Only a hundred survivors of an entire race—she wasn't sure it was genetically viable for them to rebuild and reproduce. The naked gray-skinned creatures seemed to be sexless drones.

She had not spotted the Gardeners in weeks, however—not since they retreated deeper into the forest—and even Kennebar and his green priests had vanished, leaving her entirely alone. Collin had warned her about the disturbing changes. Usually Sarein would see one or more green priests as they traveled along the fronds, walking paths through the dense canopy, but she had seen none for days.

At first, the silence was peaceful, but she grew increasingly uneasy. There was a
difference
in the worldforest, like the persistent dull ache of an infected tooth. She often lay awake just listening to the night.

Frustrated and curious, she left her hiveworm nest and climbed one of the trees. When she reached the top and gazed across the verdant canopy, she frowned. In the distance, Sarein could discern a spreading swath of brown, a section of worldtrees that had withered and fallen. She had not bothered to climb this high in several weeks, and now the unexpected sight alarmed her.

She called out, “Kennebar! Green priests! I know you can hear me through the trees. I must speak with you.” She waited, but did not expect an immediate answer.

Normally, Sarein spent her days in her quiet dwelling while she wrote her memoirs and laid down with brutal truth everything she had done in the Elemental War, giving explanations but not excuses. She had stopped looking for wonder in the world around her. But she was tired of feeling sorry for herself. If something bad was happening to the worldforest, she needed to know. She would contact Peter and Estarra if she had no other recourse.

“Kennebar, I have to speak with you!” she called out again.

The green priests were snoops, eavesdroppers, and she felt that they were always watching her. So, if no one responded to her call, they had to be ignoring her on purpose. What was wrong with them? She grew angry at first, and then anxious. Something was definitely wrong.

With one last look at the ominous die-off of trees, she climbed back down to her dwelling and tried to get some writing done, but she could not concentrate, bothered too much by the moody stillness that was closing in on the worldforest.

Five hours passed, and no green priest came to see her. Sarein frowned, annoyed that they would so blatantly ignore her request. She had once been a powerful person in the Hansa, but she had no authority over green priests. Kennebar's group even spurned the authority of Peter and Estarra, claiming to be devoted solely to the welfare of the trees.

Having seen all those dead trees kilometers away, Sarein didn't think Kennebar was doing his job very well.

She decided to investigate. She couldn't just withdraw and hide, pretending she had no part in human civilization anymore. No, it was time she did something on her own. She had her own small flyer for emergencies, and she was determined to find one of the green priests and demand answers. Maybe they had all gathered around the blight-stricken trees, trying to help. That was where she would start her search, and if she found no priests there, then Sarein would have to report the problem to Estarra.

In late afternoon she flew off, skimming across the treetops toward the blight. The lush expanse of worldtrees seemed comforting, a powerful presence that had welcomed human settlers to Theroc more than two centuries ago. Sarein felt guilty that she had spent too little time respecting and appreciating the sentient trees. The verdani, along with the wentals, had helped the human race survive the Elemental War. Now something seemed to be killing the great worldforest—and no one else knew about it.

Sarein did, though, and she would investigate.

As she approached, she saw that the die-off area was much larger than she had expected. Arita had mentioned the blight, but Sarein had thought the girl was just being alarmist. Now her throat went dry, and her eyes burned with tears. This was a true emergency. Sarein landed her craft in a meadow and emerged, walking through tall grasses and bright flowers, staring up at the brittle worldtree skeletons. The large grove looked entirely drained.

Sarein was unprepared for this, and she chastised herself for not bringing an imager with her or a long-range communicator so she could transmit what she saw. This demanded a large crew of further investigators, and as soon as she got back to her hiveworm nest, she vowed to report this back to the King and Queen. In fact, she might just fly all the way back to the main fungus-reef city.

As she approached the edge of the dead grove, Sarein heard a crackling sound, snapping wood: the groaning of big brittle trees as they settled, dried, and twisted. She jumped when a large branch crashed down, shattering into the underbrush. Inside the dead grove, there were stirring and smashing sounds, as other tree corpses collapsed.

She stood beside one of the largest withered trees, the golden bark scales on its trunk now dull. Large cracks ran through the bole, heartwood splitting apart as it dried. The creaks and low groaning sounded like cries of pain from the worldforest.

She hesitated, afraid to go inside the dead grove. Pragmatically speaking, with fronds breaking off and crashing to the ground from high above, it would be hazardous to enter. But Sarein needed to know what was happening here.

She heard a distinct rustle in the brown fronds ahead of her. Sarein pushed inside the haunted grove, glanced up, and saw one of the small Gardeners. The alien crouched on the dead branch, peering down at her; then he bounded across to another frond and skittered away.

“Wait! What is happening here?” She stumbled after him, scratching herself on the brittle underbrush, ducking under dry brown fronds.

Overhead, another Onthos stared at her, then bolted after his comrade.

Sarein pushed her way into the skeletal grove, both angry and disturbed. The Gardeners knew about this die-off, and she feared they might somehow be responsible for it. She saw five more aliens making their way through the dead branches. One broke a branch that smashed to the ground so close to Sarein that she had to leap out of the way. That was intentional!

“Come here! What have you done to the trees?” She couldn't fight her way through the undergrowth as easily as a green priest, but she thrashed along, snapped a branch that got in her way, flailed with her hands.

Finally she broke through into a dusty, well-trampled clearing that had once been a lush glade. Chittering sounds surrounded her, and she saw a great deal of movement, as if this blighted thicket were some kind of nest. Gardeners scrambled up the trees, holding on to the dead branches. They all looked down at her with large emotionless eyes. The Onthos were not overtly threatening, but she got the clear impression that they didn't think she belonged here.

She stared at the furious activity. If the Onthos had come to the Wild so they could recover and find peace, they must all be gathered in this vicinity. Only a hundred refugees had come to Theroc in the first place—but there were so many around her now!

She whirled when she heard a loud
crack
from one of the dead tree trunks. Layers of golden bark scales split open like a chrysalis—and in the raw, open wood beneath, a figure moved, squirmed.… An Onthos emerged, pulling itself free from the gap in the heartwood as if freshly born. It stood there, smooth-skinned and sexless, blinking as it gazed around at the world for the first time. Another alien rushed forward to greet it.

Around her, a sequence of popping noises sounded like gunfire, and more dead worldtrees split open. As Sarein watched in astonishment, another six fresh and seemingly identical Gardeners crawled out of the broken trees, like newborns.

Sarein was indignant. She shouted, “What have you done to these trees? You are supposed to care for them!”

One of the creatures stood before her. She couldn't tell whether or not it was Ohro. “We are the Gardeners. You should not be here. You should not see.” The large, dark eyes looked even more alien than before, filled with a flickering, unnatural shadow.…

“Where are the green priests?” she demanded. “Why are you not tending the trees?”

“We are tending our race.”

She heard crashing sounds as more branches fell in the dead thicket. Onthos came in from all directions, parting the dry fronds, pressing closer. There were far more than a hundred of them.

She had been present at the main fungus-reef when all of their teardrop ships had landed. The Onthos had claimed to be sterile, saying that they could not reproduce without the worldforest, but they had saved something called a “spore mother.”

Sarein's stomach fluttered. These creatures had always been quiet, calm, innocuous, but now they looked like a gathering mob.

Nearby, the trunk of another worldtree groaned and broke open, and a trio of identical newborn Onthos emerged; yet another broke out of a swollen knob of wood higher up the trunk. The new creature dropped to the ground, crouching and aware.

“This isn't a colony,” Sarein said. “This is an infestation!”

Nearby, two Gardeners broke off dry branches and held them up as clubs. Another Onthos stared at Sarein with his large eyes—which held a deeper inner blackness than she had seen before. “We need to reproduce, and our other worldforest is dead.”

“You're killing this forest!” Sarein knew she had to get back to her flyer so she could race to the other continent and sound the alarm.

“We are surviving,” the Gardener said. “That is our imperative.” Dozens more broke off dry branches and closed in on her. “You will not be allowed to witness or interfere.”

Sarein held up her hands and backed away. There was a time she would have been full of her own self-importance, but out here she was all alone.

She heard the crackling and popping sounds all around her. Worldtrees split open after they had served as some kind of terrible womb for these parasitical creatures. She needed to inform Estarra and the whole Confederation! Kennebar's green priests had allowed this somehow, or they had been tricked.

Sarein doubted she could even get to the comm in time.

She turned to run out of the skeletal grove, but the Gardeners darted forward with astonishing swiftness, hundreds of them, each one armed with a sharp, hard branch broken from the worldtrees.

The first blow caught Sarein in the back of the legs, making her stumble and crash face-first into the dead shrubbery. She scrambled ahead, tried to get to her feet. She rolled over, thrashing with her hands in an attempt to defend herself.

The second blow caught her on the side of the head, stunning her. Her eyes filled with blood. She could barely stay conscious. She dragged herself forward, and another branch caught her on the shoulder. She felt the bone shatter.

The rest of the blows rained down on her head, but after the fifth one, Sarein felt nothing else.

 

CHAPTER

131

MAGE-IMPERATOR JORA'H

The Solar Navy returned to Ildira, battered but victorious. The cohort had suffered devastating losses, and Kuivahr had been wiped out—but the Solar Navy had definitely inflicted serious harm on the Shana Rei. And the robots were all but exterminated.

Tal Gale'nh looked pale as always, but stronger and more confident than before. They had lost the planet but rescued Osira'h, Prince Reynald of Theroc, and the Roamer family that ran the kirae distillery there. The refugee green priest had already spoken with Nira at great length via telink.

The Mage-Imperator received Adar Zan'nh as soon as the remnants of the cohort settled into orbit. Jora'h and Nira listened to the commander describe the battle. “We had a stunning effect, Liege. We entirely destroyed the black robots—out of their entire fleet, only three escaped. In wiping out their fighters, we dealt a devastating blow to the creatures of darkness.”

Nira ran to embrace Osira'h, fighting back tears and glad to see her safe. “What about Tamo'l?”

“We don't know for certain,” Osira'h said. “Many of the misbreeds were trying to escape through the Klikiss transportal wall. We don't know where they chose to go, but we hope Tamo'l is with them.”

“Kuivahr didn't have enough ships to move all those people,” said the Roamer woman, Zhett Kellum.

“We got as many away as we could,” said Patrick Fitzpatrick.

Muree'n spoke up. “Gale'nh, Osira'h, and I could also sense Rod'h through our bond, but none of us could help him.”

“The Shana Rei are using him,” Gale'nh said. “They drained me and discarded me, but Rod'h is much stronger. They may be able to use him to inflict more damage.”

Prime Designate Daro'h looked distraught, remembering Rod'h as a friend. “But we must save him.”