Death Weavers (20 page)

“Is my sword useless?” Cole asked.

“Not completely,” Elana said. “In a pinch, you could hurt or kill an echo with it. But consider the weapon a last resort. You'll find different social patterns here than in mortality. There is a camaraderie like you might expect among castaways. They've all left their former lives behind. They're clinging to this phase of existence, or else they would move on. There is no shortage of food or shelter to motivate crime, and most echoes lack many of the drives and passions inherent in our physical bodies, which tends to make them gentler. How do you feel, Cole?”

Now that she mentioned it, he felt better than he had in days. “Really good, actually. I was pretty tired, but I feel refreshed.”

“The physical needs of an echo are different from a mortal body,” Elana explained. “Before you crossed over, your body was tired and hungry, but you left those needs behind. You don't require sleep here. Or food. Or water. At least not how a physical body needs those things. You won't age. But there are some new challenges. Your echo won't naturally heal. And your energy can fade.” She stopped at a door. “Do you hear the music?”

Cole recalled Hunter describing the disturbing music that greeted him when he crossed over at Gamat Rue. Bowing his head, Cole listened. Barely audible, as if originating several rooms away, gentle strains reached his ears. Or was the music playing in his imagination? Long, slow, rich chords gradually evolved. No individual instruments stood out. He felt the emotion of the tune as much as he heard it. “Faintly.”

“The music is seldom softer than when you're inside a temple,” Elana said. “Everything in the echolands has music to it. The places, the land, the vegetation, every animal, every person. Some of the music is easy to discern. Some takes great talent and practice to recognize.”

“Do I have music?” Cole asked.

“Yes, you poor boy,” Elana said, stroking his hair. “The specific music of a person can be tricky to apprehend. It takes practice. Yours is confusing and discordant.”

“Why?”

“Your shaping power is in disarray.”

“That comes through?”

Elana nodded. “Some weavers devote their entire effort to reading music. The most skilled can apprehend surprising details without ever seeing you. They can judge your mood or uncover a lie. They can also locate a person across great distances. But you don't need to worry about any of that yet. You must first learn to beware the music of the Other.”

“That's what lies beyond the echolands,” Cole said.

“The echolands are a way station,” Elana explained. “This is only the first stage of the afterlife. None can say how many stages lie beyond. At least one. Some have taken up long-term residence here with considerable success, but they can only do so by resisting the call of the Other. The more time you spend in the echolands, the more beguiling that invitation becomes.”

“Is the call quieter in the temples, like the music?” Cole asked.

“That's one advantage of the temples.” Elana opened the door, revealing a staircase that wound upward. This looked different from the way they had come down. “They protect you from being summoned into the next phase of existence.”

Cole followed her up the steps. “Are there tricks besides hiding in temples?”

“Don't be caught by surprise. The music of the Other tastes like home. You'll know it when you sense it. At different times, that particular music calls to different individuals at varying intensity. No other music in the echolands is as beautiful or as alluring. Eventually, it becomes irresistible. Unless you wish to move on, the music of the Other is the greatest threat in the echolands. It claims far more lives than any other hazard.”

“How do I resist?” Cole asked.

“Being a bright echo helps, especially at first. You should be almost completely immune for a time. It helps to stay where the music is quieter, or in places with strong enough music to overpower the call. It helps not to stray to the fringes of the echolands. It also helps when you have reasons to remain. More than a few echoes make bargains with people in Necronum primarily to anchor themselves against the call. Of course, whenever possible, you should stay away from the channels.”

“Channels?” Cole asked.

Elana shook her head. “You're so new here. So underprepared. It was criminal of me to let you cross over.”

“It's not your fault. I insisted. So did Destiny. I can learn. Tell me what I need to know.”

“Channels are like rivers,” Elana said. “They're also unlike rivers.”

“What do you mean?”

“Channels sometimes correspond to rivers and streams in physical Necronum,” she said. “But the substance flowing through them is not water. We call it ether. It moves quickly, a wild hybrid of wind, water, and music, and always flows away from the Source at the center of the echolands, out toward the fringe. The music of the ether harmonizes with the music of the Other. If it draws you in, you'll be swept away.”

“So don't wade in the rivers,” Cole said.

Elana smiled sadly. “That's putting it lightly. Flowing ether is nicknamed a slipstream. If you enter, you won't come out.”

“They all start at one place?” Cole asked.

“There is a churning fountain at the center of the echolands called the Source,” she said. “Channels of ether large and small flow away from it.”

They reached an iron door flanked by two guards in dark blue robes. Their skin didn't glow like Elana's. They silently opened the door and let them pass. Elana led Cole down a few corridors. They went through another door and started up another stairwell.

“Do you have normal rivers?” Cole asked.

“Water is a rare resource here,” Elana said. “Fortunately, it's not needed. Your echo doesn't even need air to survive.”

“I'm breathing,” Cole said.

“I breathe too,” Elana said. “And you can eat and drink, if you choose. Go ahead and try not breathing.”

Cole held his breath as they climbed the stairs. She was right. As the seconds ticked by, the need to exhale never increased.

“Weird,” he finally said.

“No harm in breathing,” Elana said. “No harm in losing the habit. Echoes who have been here for centuries do it both ways. Eating is another matter. Your echo can survive without eating, but food can be helpful, as well as subtly harmful.”

“How?” Cole asked.

“We don't bake in the echolands. We don't eat meat. But you will find abundant fruit and vegetables. Consuming these in moderation can help replenish your energy. It can improve focus. We don't sleep here, but we can slide into trances. Keeping your energy up with occasional meals helps you avoid accidental trances.”

“Are the trances bad?” Cole asked.

“They can have benefits,” Elana said. “Trances rest the mind much like sleep does. They occur as you get lost in certain music. If you slip into a trance here at the temple, chances are you will simply meditate. But if you are drawn into a trance while listening to the call of the Other, you could end up wandering off toward the fringe or into a channel.”

“How can food be harmful?”

“If you eat too much, you can become more susceptible to unwanted trances. Consume too little, and your energy can seep away with similar consequences.”

“How do you get it right?” Cole asked.

Elana gave him a pitying look. “This is one of many reasons I'm worried about you exploring this place on your own. The echolands are riddled with unique perils. It takes time to learn how to survive here.”

“Doesn't everyone come here when they die?” Cole asked. “Aren't people getting used to it all the time?”

“Many only visit briefly,” Elana said. “They often move on to the Other before long. There are debates regarding the purpose of the echolands. I believe they are a landscape of forgetting—a place to shake off your attachments to mortality, especially to let go of your heartaches and regrets. The more time you spend here, the more distant you will feel from your former life, causing less reluctance to proceed to the Other. If you want to last in the echolands, it takes effort. If you come here as a bright echo, once your lifeforce goes to the Other, your physical body will truly die.”

“At least this proves there's life after death,” Cole said. “I used to worry about that a lot.”

“It's a consolation, but beware of that mindset,” Elana said. “Accepting death can give the music of the Other extra power over you. The certainty of life after death doesn't mean we need to rush through any of the previous phases. It's a comfort to know the Other is there. We'll head that way when the time comes, but why pass on before we must?”

“Makes sense,” Cole agreed. They were still going up. “Lots of stairs.”

“Are you tired?” she asked.

“Not a bit,” Cole realized.

“Physically, you could keep going forever,” Elana said. “The key is maintaining the energy of your will.”

“Tired or not, I could just get sick of climbing stairs.”

“Exactly. A strong will is your best weapon in the Outskirts. It can protect you from the Other and from those who seek to control you. Here we are!”

The stairway ended at a room with a ladder that led up to a hatch in the ceiling. Elana climbed up and opened the hatch, revealing a deep blue sky. Following her, Cole emerged onto the flat top of a lofty tower edged with low golden railings.

Cole slowly turned in a circle, trying to absorb the stunning view. It was a duskday—all horizons were aglow as if multiple suns were poised to rise, but the colors looked richer and brighter than any duskday he had seen, and the higher regions of the sky were a deep blue that seemed more appropriate for gemstones. Not a single cloud trespassed in the vivid firmament.

But the sky wasn't the most striking surprise.

Cole could hardly believe the color and beauty of the land visible in all directions—gleaming channels, lush lawns, splendid trees, colorful shrubs, and abundant flowers all vied for attention. Only some scattered boulders and buildings lacked vegetation. He saw no empty dirt and no dead plants. For miles around, the terrain appeared immaculately landscaped.

He glanced between the sky and the ground. The glorious horizon shed a warm, even light from all directions, virtually eliminating shadow. The vibrant colors reminded Cole of something. . . .

It came to him in a flash. The Red Road at the Lost Palace! After he crossed into Trillian the torivor's prison, the Red Road had seemed redder than any red he had ever witnessed. The colors arrayed before him had that same quality—bluer than blue, greener than green, whiter than white. They were the familiar colors he knew, but intensified to a degree that he had not known was possible.

“It's paradise,” Cole marveled.

“More or less,” Elana said. “It's inarguably beautiful.”

“Shouldn't it be nighttime?” Cole asked.

“It's always like this here,” Elana said. “No sun in the sky. No moon, no stars. Just an endless duskday.”

“How do you keep track of time?” Cole wondered.

“When you crossed over, you took a big step away from time and toward eternity,” Elana said. “Time is chiefly relevant in the echolands as it pertains to the physical Outskirts.”

“How do you make appointments?” Cole asked.

Elana laughed, and there was music in it, a light melody Cole felt more than heard. “That can be a problem. There are still some elements of time. At the temples, for example, we use hourglasses to stay aware of the time in Necronum. We don't have sunrise, or sunset, or seasons. Nothing really ages or dies, except for the occasional new fruit or plant growing to replace something that was removed. But feelings and attitudes still change. And people grow more susceptible to the music of the Other. Wherever you can find change, there are elements of time.”

“Too deep for me,” Cole said. “How do I know when to eat?”

“Eat when your energy gets low,” Elana said. “One item is usually enough—an apple or a carrot. Avoid eating for the pleasure of it. Eat to replenish.”

Cole looked down on the other brilliant white buildings and spires of the temple. No other structure rose high enough to obstruct their view of the sky or the landscape. “Is this the Tower of Eternity?”

“Yes,” Elana said. “I have visited the other temples, and this is my favorite place in any of them.”

“The echolands are big,” Cole said, scanning the horizon and trying to imagine what lay beyond.

“Much bigger than Necronum,” Elana said. “The echolands stretch on and on, with no known end, though if you venture too far from the Source, you will probably not return.”

“Do you eventually reach the Other?” Cole asked.

She shrugged. “Could be. None who got near enough to know have returned to tell. And nobody has deciphered any clues in the music.”

“I think I heard your music when you laughed,” Cole said.

“That could be,” Elana said. “Yours became more fluid when you first gazed at our surroundings. Cole, I hate to pry, but I wish you would tell me where you are going. I could at least steer you in the proper direction.”

Cole considered her offer. He would have to ask directions from somebody. He should be able to trust Elana more than some stranger. “Will you keep it a secret?”

She gave a knowing smile. “You want a pledge from me? Are you sure you're new to Necronum?”

“I've already been burned.”

“I hope it served as a learning experience. I will not share your secret, if that is your wish.”

“It's called Deepwell. In the Hundred Forests.”

By the way she inhaled, Cole could tell it wasn't good. “I see.”

“Scary?”

“Unsafe,” Elana said. “There are regions in the echolands where the music becomes . . . unsavory. Like the discord of your mangled power. Gamat Rue is such a place. Some of these tormented locations are ancient. An alarming amount are new. Deepwell is such a place. We blame the followers of a new power in the echolands. A power that recently assumed a name.”