From the Indie Side (24 page)

“We can’t let
things die. I can’t let him die.”

All
Things End Little One. Even I Will Not Live
Forever.

“NO!”

It Is
Too Risky. You Cannot Do This.

“You can’t stop
me…”

Tamina
possessed no knowledge of what she did to the wretched creature.
She retained a lingering memory of the tiny animal sucking greedily
at her life force… of Prim screaming at her to stop… and then
blackness. She awoke some weeks later from a coma. It took her
months to learn to talk again, to walk. Her mother, angry and
confused, had killed the now-healed gute and made Tamina promise to
never, ever repeat what she had done.

How
mother found out about the gute, Tam does not know, but something
bad happened that day. Something made Mother scared of Tam.
Something changed Tam forever.

Prim did not
return, and Tamina had been haunted by a dreadful loneliness ever
since.

Tam
misses her so…

The rider,
moaning in the quiet of the Lady’s cave, broke her reverie. Tamina
clamped her jaws together and placed both hands upon the wound,
pressing down, pressing hard.

Tam
killed death before; why not again? And if Tam die? This girl can
live in Tam’s place.

Where Tamina’s
fingers touched the dreadful gash, there came an answering coldness
and an urgent, intense, prickling need. Her strength trickled into
the stricken woman, who murmured, gaining vigor from her touch. The
heat of Tamina’s life force melting the ice away. Tamina sat on a
massive reservoir of vitality, but too quickly, the trickle turned
into a steady flow that became a deluge.

Tam
won’t let the bad thing happen again… Tam won’t.

Reaching out
with her mind, she found the glow of other life—birds, insects,
small animals, fish in the sea—and desperate for survival, Tamina
drank from them all. Made suddenly strong, she pushed the grasping
girl away and fell into unconsciousness.

A scream woke
Tamina.

“The Olden,”
explained the rider a few minutes later, after she’d regained her
composure. “Waking here, I was startled, afraid; and to find her
face staring at me…”

The woman had
at first spoken in the strangest of tongues, but after a few
sentences from Tamina, the rider had recognized her language. Her
accent was beguiling.

Tamina
rubbed her temples, still dazed. “The Lady in the Glass is
an
Olden?”
Her
voice sounded crass by comparison. Loud, ungainly. But it was more
than just the difference in their voices; Tamina’s senses were
amplified. The colors in the gloomy cave also seemed vibrant and
alive.

The rider’s
full lips pursed into a smile. “You have not been told of the Olden
who keep vigil over the Gyre. Ancients from time long past?”

“
The Gyre
?” said
Tamina from a dream.

“It is the name
of our world and everything within, including you, and I, and… the
Olden.”

“
Tam
knows nothing…” Tamina stopped in mid-sentence, as if she was
hearing her words for the first time.
“I know
nothing of the greater world, of the Gyre. Just
this island and the ever-present ocean. And as for the Lady in the
Glass—the
Olden
—her cavern
did not reveal itself until last night. You must think me naïve and
unworldly.”

“I think no
such thing…What is your name?”

“Tamina,” she
whispered, fearing to make eye contact, hiding behind her long
heavy hair. “And your name? Who are you that rides on the back of
the wind?”

“I’m called
Ennea, and I once flew Mighty Almeera.” Her eyes were open, but
Ennea’s attention was fixed upon an inner world. A tear caught at
the side of her eye.

“Your flying
beast?”

Ennea stared
past Tamina in an unfocused way; a frown playing upon the smooth
skin of her face. “Yes, that was his name before last night,
before…” She put her head into her hands and sobbed helplessly.

Tamina
held her close while the grief-stricken woman cried into her
shoulder. The light of life in her was strong. Tamina sensed power
in Ennea, unlike anything she had experienced before. “You were
injured. I…
I healed you
,”
Tamina admitted. “A long black wicked gash. Where did it come
from?”

“
You
healed
such a
wound?” said the rider, glancing up into Tamina’s face.

Tamina turned
away. The magnificent woman had glimpsed the hue of her
witchery.

“Look at me,
Tamina. Show me your eyes.”

“I’m ashamed of
them.”

“Ashamed?”

Ennea pushed
aside Tamina’s lank locks to reveal twin green eyes sparkling in
the calming light of the cave of the Lady.

“By the Gods…
you are Savant!”

“What?”

Ennea flung
herself to the cavern’s floor, covering her head in supplication,
trembling.

“
A
Savant?
I don’t understand.”

The girl
trembled. “You have the mark of the Chosen—a gift from the
Gyre.”

“It is no gift.
All here hate and despise me. I am an outcast. They tried to kill
me… Please get up.”

Ennea
gradually unfurled, a mixture of fear and respect mingling uneasily
upon her even features. “You have not heard about the war? Of the
evil that has engulfed the Gyre? Of Black Savancery and
who you
are?
”

Tamina shook
her head as if to rid it of a cloying fog. Her words no longer came
in a muddle. “I know of the shorter days, the colder weather, and
something loathsome on the breeze. The islanders are a foolish,
superstitious people. They call me a witch and blame me for their
misfortune.”

“That is your
Savancery,” Ennea said with reverence. “Savancery reveals things to
you, gives you control and influence. Your needs and hungers are
enlarged. Your desires intensified. But White Savants are rare and
their powers dwindling. Our world is in danger, Tamina Savant, yet
she is still trying to talk to us, to aid us against a dreadful
threat.”

“
She
speaks to
us?”

“Her voice was
lost millennia ago. Savants can sometime feel the Gyre’s presence,
her urging, but it is becoming harder and harder to discern her
needs. In truth, we are losing the war.”

The face
of Prim popped into Tamina’s mind.
Did the Gyre speak to me as a child? As Prim?
Could it be possible?

“Tell me,
Ennea, how did you get here, to this lost, lonely island?”

Ennea reacted
as if this were a command, not a polite request, and stood to quick
attention, clasping the cloudy green stone worn upon her breast and
closing her eyes.

“I was on
routine patrol, a few days out of Cairn,” she began. “We had
recently received reports of a Valkreed attack in one of the outer
kingdoms—and there is nothing like a squadron of flying birds to
put fear and panic to rest. The patrol passed with little incident,
and we were heading back to our makeshift eyrie after a long
satisfying day on the wing, when Mighty Almeera gave a warning
shriek. Alerted, we broke formation to take our fighting stations,
but the skies were clear. I had never seen him so agitated. Before
I could calm him, a powerful shaft of air hit us from below,
lofting us high into the sky, leaving the patrol and the other
riders behind. So strong was the wind that Mighty Almeera furled
his wings for fear the updraft might wrench them from his body. We
were pushed into the black space between the topmost clouds and the
faraway night-sun. The peculiar envelope of air protected us from
the cold, otherwise we would have surely perished.”

Ennea stood
rock still, but a shudder passed through her frame.

“The sun that
sits at the center of our world appears like a long tube from the
ground,” she continued. “And as we approached, flung upward at
dreadful speed, it revealed itself as a thing of colossal
dimensions and stunning beauty. A cylinder of purest jet. I was
frightened for our lives, wondering what evil assailed us, but I
could not hide my awe at such a vision. We drew ever closer and I
noticed the blackened exterior was discolored. Thousands and
thousands of shadowy creatures festooned the sun’s cool
surface—feeding there. Eating. I have seen many evils, Tamina. But
these things… I possess no words to describe them.” Ennea fell into
silence as she relived the experience.

“Please
continue,” urged Tamina, drawn in by her extraordinary story.

“
These
creatures were similar to the Valkreed, but larger.
So much
larger
. And where they
converged? The sun was consumed, eroded. Whatever force pushed us
forward wanted me to see this, Tamina. I’m sure of it.”

Ennea opened
her eyes, and Tamina glimpsed the horror she had seen lurking
within them.

“
An
unimaginable time later, we left the sun, plummeting toward what is
the roof of my world. Through angry clouds and beating rain. Mighty
Almeera found his wings again, struggling within terrifying winds.
Below us, overwhelmed by a swirling tempest, was the expanse we
call the ‘Never-Ending Ocean’. I have often stared at your sea,
Tamina, at the storms silently passing across its vast breadth. To
experience such a squall in person was a different matter. But
there was another danger.
The Valkreed
.”

“What is this
Valkreed you speak of?”

Ennea took a
deep breath. “’Tis a creature unlike anything found in nature. All
claws, teeth, and cowardice.”

“That is no
description.”

“
I’m
sorry, Savant Tamina. They defy all words. I have seen them many
times, but my eyes refuse to focus upon them. The Valkreed blur,
they whirl, winking in and out of existence. Their presence is
accompanied by unspeakable dread. They do not normally attack our
birds, for they are fierce adversaries, but something forced them
to pursue us. Some greater evil. I commanded Mighty Almeera to
fight, but… he ignored my order. He flew ever downward, the
Valkreed at his tail. And then I spotted…
an isle amidst an angry sea.
Mighty Almeera flew with a
desperate purpose. Down he went, down he plummeted toward this
island. I caught a glimpse—a promontory jutting into the crashing
waters like a knife and a ring of flaming torches—and then the
Valkreed attacked, raking Almeera with their dreadful claws,
dashing him from the sky. His final act was to save me, twisting
himself around as we crashed into rocks. The last sound that
reached my ears was the snap of Mighty Almeera’s neck… before I
succumbed to my wounds.”

Ennea’s hand
leapt from her amulet to grasp forlornly at the air. “Mighty
Almeera was my true friend. He would not sacrifice himself
unnecessarily. The Gyre needed us to come here, Tamina, I’m sure of
it. Now tell me, for I must understand: how did you mend my wound?
The Valkreed are diseased. No power in Savancery can heal an injury
from such a beast.”

Tamina’s
eyes widened in horror. Her memory came flooding back.
The
animals…

“What is it?”
Ennea asked with confusion and fear.

Tamina ran to
the cave entrance and climbed down to the beach. Hundreds of fish
floated dead on the surface of the sea. Birds lay sprawled in
twisted ruin. Instead of the steady chirrup of insects and the
buzzing of flies, the air was quiet. “No!” she squealed, in full
realization of the destruction her healing had wrought.

Ennea’s lips
parted to shout in warning, but it was too late. Bodies flew at the
two women from all sides. Tamina tried to struggle, aware of Ennea
putting up a good fight. Then a lump of wood caught a glancing blow
across Tamina’s temple and she pitched forward into blackness.

A distant
clamoring.
Voices raised
in anger. The banging of sticks, shouting and singing. Rage filled
the air like a living thing. Tamina slowly came to, her head
throbbing with the steady thud of her heart.

Earnest words
in an exotic accent close to her ear: “You should have slept, my
friend.”

“
Ennea?”
As the name passed Tamina’s lips, the foul vista of all those
accusing animal corpses flooded across her mind. “No.
I killed
them
…”

“It was not
your fault, Tamina. ’Tis the darkness of these loathsome days.
Savancery is twisted beyond all recognition. Forget them, for we
have more serious concerns. Your islanders are indeed a
superstitious people.”

Tamina’s wrists
and ankles burned—they were tied tightly together. With sick
confusion, she realized she could not move. She pushed open her
eyes and tried to focus. Sunlight threatened to sear the back of
her skull. As if this were a sign, the braying voices, dreadful
singing, and shouting reached a deafening crescendo.

Her eyesight
adjusted and the scene before her came into slow focus. She was
tied up, back to back with Ennea, perched above a vast pile of
bales, sticks, and a mass of feathers. The islanders—a mob of
eager, hungry-looking and angry men, women and children—surrounded
them on all sides. Through them strode the fetishmen, their faces
painted with the blue of punishment, their ceremonial beating clubs
snapping together as they chanted, sang and danced.