Revelation (24 page)

It was mind-boggling, but the one thing I did know was that
my
world would end if the
Radaskim
won. The world of my children, if I ever had any, would end. Everyone else’s world would end. The universe didn’t exist so an alien race could play with the Secrets of Creation – whatever those were. It existed for all. It was so weird, to think of these things, to be processing all this information. The world – the entire universe – was so much bigger than I had ever thought.

“How do I stop them?” I asked. “I know you already said that I have to infect Askala with the
Elekai
version of the virus. But how do I do that, practically?”

Again, the Wanderer looked at me, his white eyes clouded, mysterious. “To stop the
Radaskim
...you must go to Ragnarok Crater, find the Xenomind, and sacrifice yourself.”

It took a moment to comprehend what the Wanderer had just told me. I looked away, my head spinning. I saw the surrounding pond frothing in agitation, steam rising. The walls of the cave quivered.

The Wanderer gazed at me intensely, awaiting my response.

“Sacrifice myself?

The Wanderer nodded. “That is all I can say, because that is all I know. I can’t tell you what that will look like, practically speaking. No one has ever been successful.”

“You say other people have tried. Who
were
these people?”

“They were sentient, intelligent races on other worlds – long dead – with nothing but the memories of the
Elekai
to preserve them.” The Wanderer paused. “Some were not unlike you. Some were incredibly different. But the
Elekai
have always chosen one.”

“Why does it have to be one of us?” I asked. “Why can’t it be one of you?”

The Wanderer smiled bitterly. “You will think this strange. Very strange. But we are prevented from doing so. On the smallest levels, it occurs. An
Elekai
dragon, for example, can kill a few crawlers and not disobey his morality, especially if it’s self-defense. Still, something so direct as to strike at the heart of a Xenomind itself...” The Wanderer shook his head. “We are unable to do that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember. We cannot kill. We cannot destroy, willingly. The difference between an
Elekai
Xenomind and a
Radaskim
Xenomind is the ability to kill the other.” The Wanderer shook his head. “We cannot do that.”

“So, you do it indirectly?”

The Wanderer nodded. “It is the only way we’ve found so far that allows us to try. But remember: it is your decision. The fact that this is your free choice is critical.”

“There is no way that a Xenomind could attack another one?”

“If we changed, we would become
Radaskim
. And if we do that, the
Radaskim
win.”

“But...you can
choose
not to kill, right? Maybe you have the ability to do it, like people do, but you can always choose not to.” I looked at the Wanderer. “Right?”

The Wanderer smiled once more. “That is also where we are different. When a Xenomind becomes as misdirected as Askala, or any other
Radaskim
Xenomind, there is no choice. Maybe free will and the ability to choose is natural to humans. Some will choose wrongly, some rightly. For Xenominds, it is not so simple. It is all, or nothing.”

That was it, then. To stop this invasion, I would have to give my own life. I didn’t know what that meant, but this might be my only chance to make a difference. I had to meet my fate.

I made my decision.

“I’ll do it, but...I don’t know how I’m going to make it to Ragnarok Crater.”

The Wanderer smiled. “What about your friends?”

“They think I’m a Howler, or worse,” I said. “They saw me fly away on the dragon. I wouldn’t be surprised if they just shot me as soon as I landed.”

“I don’t think you give them enough credit. You need to tell them what I’ve told you. You will need their help. This cannot be done alone. Those who have tried to stop the
Radaskim
alone have failed.”

I didn’t bother to point out that everyone had failed, regardless of whether they were alone or not.

“But if I go back...” The thought of making that long journey across the Great Blight and through the pursuing swarm terrified me. “I’ll just get killed.”

“Being
Elekai
has its own benefits,” the Wanderer said. “I think you will find that xenolife will respond to you in a way it never would have before.
Elekai
xenolife, anyway.”

“Respond? What do you mean?”

“The
Elekai
are all one tribe, and we help each other out, when we can. I think you will grow to understand what that means, with time.”

I had no idea what the Wanderer was talking about, but I hoped that it would make sense eventually. I was just wondering how everyone would react when they saw me returning. I didn’t know how long I had been on the island with the Wanderer, but it had felt like a long time.

I felt myself growing tired. I leaned back into the xenofungus. It felt soft and warm beneath me, no longer threatening. As the bed touched my skin, I felt a slight tingle that faded over the next few seconds. A sense of peace overwhelmed me, and soon I was asleep.

Chapter 20

I awoke much later. Time had passed – a long time. I couldn’t remember the last time I had awoken so rested and refreshed. I felt the fungus, soft around me. Maybe it nurtured as much as it killed.

I stood, stretching stiff muscles. The cavern appeared much as it did before, except that it was now missing the Wanderer. Alone with my thoughts, I found everything the Wanderer told me still made little sense. All I remembered was the conclusion: that it all depended on my being able to infect the
Radaskim
Xenomind called Askala.

Me against
that
seemed an impossible match-up. No wonder no one had ever succeeded – no one on a thousand worlds. I wondered what they must have thought, hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of years ago. Had they stood before a pink lake like this, a lake as still as glass, wondering if they could ever be enough? Despite this thought, I felt a sense of peace, a sense of purpose.

I guessed when you had something to be afraid of, something as big as the
Radaskim
, nothing else was so scary. Everything else burned away into nothing. It became a void through which I would travel to my end.

I walked to the shoreline, stepping into the viscous liquid. It wrapped around my boot. I waded in further, the liquid warm on my skin. I swam forward, contemplating where I would go now, whether it would be north to meet my fate, or west to my friends, who still knew nothing of what I had learned. The Wanderer said that all who tried to go alone had failed. Still, I felt strongly that I needed to go to Ragnarok Crater and see what there was to see. Maybe I would find my final answer there. Maybe I would be the first to succeed.

I climbed from the pool and walked up the spiraling tunnel that led to the surface. The liquid slid down my skin, rejoining the xenofungal floor. My footsteps padded on the ground, squishing and then deadening on the walls. Pink daylight stretched down the walls, the floor, and the ceiling from ahead. The light grew in intensity, until I was at the cavern’s entrance. I stepped into bright daylight, finding the crimson clouds boiling. The air was thick with an alien spice I couldn’t quite describe – like cinnamon so strong that it felt like a punch in the nose. I should have been knocked out from it, but if these were spores, they had no effect on me.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light. The pink surface of the Great Blight stretched before me, alien and ethereal. The sunlight made it glitter like billions of gems, orange, red, and pink. I could not have named the color that spread before me, but that color covered hills, rocks, and mountains. Gnarled trees grew from the fungus, along with thin, tube-like reeds in massive fields, swaying in the breeze. There was not a sound of life – only the wind, and a strange sighing that was not natural to Earth.

Behind, the Xenolith was twisted and dead. I wondered what the
Elekai
would do now that it was gone. The Wanderer had said they would plant a new garden. I was just sorry that their old one had been uprooted. It wouldn’t be long now, I imagined, until this small part of the Great Blight reverted to the
Radaskim
.

I was startled from my thoughts when a massive creature swooped over my head from behind, landing with extended claws right in front of me. A gust of wind buffeted me back, sending me sprawling to the ground. The soft fungus broke my fall.

When I stood again, I saw that it was the same dragon that had transported me here. It let out a mighty roar, and with one foot gently pawed the ground, stretching its six long claws into the xenofungal bed. The dragon lowered its head, shutting its eyes for a moment before reopening them. Those white orbs stared into me, almost pleadingly. As strange as it may sound, I saw something almost human in them. The Wanderer had said these dragons were intelligent. Now I believed him.

“I guess you’re here to take me back, huh?”

The dragon gave no reaction. It folded its gigantic wings to its sides, a deep rumble emanating from its throat. I suddenly became awed by the magnificence of this noble creature. It was probably about forty feet long, its long tail increasing its length even further. Its scales were a pink so light that it might have been mistaken for white at first glance. Low ridges trailed its back, sharpening as they neared its tail. By the time the ridges got to the tail, they transformed into wicked spikes. The largest spike was mounted at the end of the tail – a curved, organic blade that could easily rend men asunder.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

The dragon remained silent. I closed my eyes, trying to think of what to do. Maybe I had to tell it where to go.

“Take me to the army,” I said. “Where you picked me up before.”

Still the dragon did not move. I was starting to grow frustrated. Apparently, I was doing something wrong. I stood there for a moment, feeling like an idiot. I wondered if I was mistaken in my assumption. Maybe the dragon had just landed beside me for some other reason.

The dragon stared at me with neutral white eyes, each eye about the size of my hand. I noticed the details of its face. Unlike the dragons I had seen in the Empire, this one was not blind. It had eyes that I suspected could see in much greater detail than my own. Crimson spots speckled the face. The face was smooth, and appeared soft to the touch. I wasn’t going to reach out and touch it, though, even if a part of me wanted to. I was not that stupid. This thing could bite off my hand, or even my entire head, if it wanted.

I didn’t know where the thought came from, but for some reason, I felt that this dragon was young. That it was like me.

“I’m Alex,” I said.

The dragon gave a strange, chortling sound that was very jarring to hear from a creature so large.

The dragon closed its eyes, and kept them closed. It lowered its head again – I didn’t know why. For some reason, I reached out and touched it. The skin was warm and soft. Below my hand, the dragon’s skin vibrated, and then a flood of thoughts entered my mind in a chaotic stream. I saw the dragon flying around the spire, being chased by other dragons – younglings at play. I saw the pool beneath the Xenolith, from which the dragon had come into the world. Then I felt emotions – sadness, anger, confusion, shock – as the Xenolith exploded and fell in brilliant, fiery hues. The memories suddenly stopped when I lifted my hand.

I realized that these were memories – the dragon’s memories. Somehow, the dragon was transmitting its thoughts directly to me. When I pulled my hand away, losing touch with the dragon, the stream of thoughts ceased. So: I had to be touching the dragon for the thoughts to enter me.

I wondered
why
these thoughts were coming. Then I realized; the dragon was showing me who he was. It was no longer an
it
. Somehow, I knew this dragon was male. This meant that they had both males and females. That gave them at least one thing in common with humans. What the pool beneath the Xenolith had to do with that, I had no idea. Maybe the pool was important to their mating or giving birth. Which would mean this dragon youngling would have a mother somewhere, and, I supposed, a father.

The emotions I had felt from the dragon were shocking, just as great and full and colorful as any human being’s. This was a creature of intelligence – a creature that was, perhaps, smarter than humans. Maybe the
Radaskim
dragons were different, but at least the
Elekai
dragons had thoughts, feelings, intents, sorrows, and joys.

“Do you have a name?” I asked.

The dragon, not understanding, closed his eyes and lowered his head once more. I couldn’t just talk to it. I had to touch it. I placed my hand on its head once more, thinking my question.

Askal
.

The word returned clear, so clear that it startled me. I wasn’t sure if this was what his name would actually sound like, or if it was my brain’s way of turning Askal’s thought into something it understood. Then again, if my brain was trying to do that, it probably would have picked a name less weird than Askal. Like Dave.

“Askal?” I asked.

The name was very similar to what the Wanderer had called the
Radaskim
Xenomind – Askala. I wondered what the connection was. Perhaps Askala was just the name for their entire species. Maybe they had no
need
for names. After all, the Askala did not communicate with language, but with direct thoughts and images. There it was – I was now beginning to think of them with that name. Even if Askala was what they were called, why shouldn’t I be able to name my own species? The only confusing part about it was the other Askala – the
Radaskim
Xenomind. But this could be easily differentiated by saying “the Askala,” or “an Askala;” then people would know I was talking about one of the dragons. But, if I just said, “Askala,” then they would know I was talking about the Xenomind.