The Ancient One (18 page)

Then, like the subtlest rays of dawn emerging over the horizon, an idea glimmered at the farthest edge of her consciousness. She furrowed her brow in a desperate effort to remember some words she had heard but once, words etched into the shaft of the walking stick, words written in the ancient Old Tongue.

She cleared her throat. Slowly, haltingly, she recited them:

Fire of greed shall destroy;
Fire of love shall create.

With a sudden tearing sound, like the ripping of heavy cloth, the knobby appendage of Thika the Guardian reached through the transparent dome. More supple than it seemed, it wrapped itself around the waists of all three companions, even as they wriggled and kicked to break away.

“Let go!” shouted Kate, fighting in vain to free herself. ““You can’t send us away.”

Thika did not relent. As the appendage tightened around Kate’s waist, several of its deep-socketed eyes probed her with curiosity. “You, shhhwhshhh, are an odd creature,” it said disapprovingly.

As the Guardian lifted them up through the dome, Kate saw that the transparent membrane instantly sealed itself, like a bubble that could be punctured but not burst. Still struggling to break free, she barely managed to suck in a last breath of air before she was totally submerged in water.

Upward they swam through the omnipresent blue, higher and higher until Kate finally stopped struggling. Below her she saw the shrinking circle of the dome, the silver square clearly visible in the center of its dark floor. Around it stood more than a dozen treelike creatures, each of them studded with eyes identical to Thika’s. Above, she saw nothing but a dark shadow growing rapidly larger.

Just at the point she could hold her breath no longer, she heard again the same tearing sound. Air suddenly replaced water, and she could breathe again. The grip around her waist relaxed, and she found herself sprawled on another stone floor, gasping. Beside her lay Laioni and Monga, looking as bewildered as they were drenched.

A smoldering torch, fastened to the wall with a lacy metal band, burned unsteadily above their heads, sputtering as it flickered. It appeared to be consuming some sort of incandescent gas. Dark stone surrounded them. The chamber was featureless but for a single stone stairway beneath the torch leading up into darkness. Kate noticed at once that the perfectly carved steps were very small, half the normal size, just like the ones in the tunnel behind Kahona Falls.

Thika’s appendage, rising through a hole in the stone floor that was covered with the same transparent membrane as the dome, studied them with its many round eyes. “Welcome, hhhsh, to Ho Shhhantero,” the now-familiar voice sloshed.

Kate, still grasping the walking stick, leaped to her feet, as did Laioni. “Ho Shantero?” they asked in unison.

“Yessshhwsh,” answered the Guardian, twisting and undulating like a snake as it spoke. “You knew the ancient password, shh-wshh, so I have brought you here as I am commanded. Hshhhh. But at times, shwshh, I doubt the wisdom of the commands. You should feel most privileged, hhhshwsh, for you are the only ones of your kind ever to enter here, sshwsh, unaccompanied by a Tinnani.”

Reflecting on Thika’s words, Kate wondered what humans had ever been admitted here in the company of a Tinnani. And had they ever left? Before she could speak, however, Laioni asked her own version of the same question.

“The boy Toru, one of my people,” she began timidly. “He came to the lake as we did, not long ago. What happened to him?”

“I seem, hhhsshhh, to remember him,” replied the Guardian, whose movements beneath the torch cast coiling shadows upon the stone walls and floor. “He was driven by a dream, shhwshh, a false dream. It was the work, whhshh, of the Wicked One.”

“What did you do with him?” Laioni, water still dripping from her body, stepped a bit closer. “Tell me, please.”

“I sent him away, shhhwshh, through the tunnels, whhhshh, escorted by a Tinnani who made him forget all he had seen. Swshhh. He was left in the forest somewhere quite distant, hhhsh-whshh, but he should have returned to your people by now.”

Laioni’s gaze fell. “He has not.”

“It could be, shhwshh, he was captured by the Wicked One,” said Thika.

“You mean Ga—” began Kate.

“Hhssswshh! Never say that name,” interrupted the sinuous creature, its blue eyes focused squarely on her. “It is forbidden here. If you must speak of him, hhsh-whhsh, you may call him the Wicked One.”

“He’s growing stronger, isn’t he?” asked Kate in a quiet voice.

The blue eyes scanned her with pained intensity. “By the day, shhwshhh. We measure his strength, hshhwsh, by the warmth of the lake. For as it grows warmer, the Guardians grow weaker. Hhhssshh-swhshh. Already some of our very best have died from the heat, sshwshh, a terrible slow death that saps our strength and turns us whiter than skeletons. Soon the rest of us will follow, hwshhhh, unless something changes.”

The many-eyed being made a low gurgling sound, like a dog growling underwater. “But the Wicked One, hwshh, cares not about us, nor about any living thing but himself. He thinks the whole world, shwshh, and everything in it, shwshh, exists solely for his benefit, to be consumed or destroyed as he chooses. The Guardians he knows only because we stand in the way, hwsswss, of his true desire.”

“What is that?”

“To invade Ho Shhhantero and make it his own. Yesshhhwsh! He does not even care if he destroys it in the process, so long as he controls it at last. Whssshhh, for time beyond memory, since the Great Battle long ago, the cool waters of this lake prevented him and his molten warriors from reaching the floating island, hsh-whshh, for they must stay as hot as their realm underground or perish. And none of his servants above the ground—like the Slimnis—have dared to enter the crater either, hswshh, rightfully fearing the wrath of the Guardians. But those days, whhshhh, are numbered. Hssshhhh. The Guardians are nearly no more.”

Kate glanced at Laioni, then addressed Thika. “We saw some of his servants in the crater. The ones you call Slimnis.”

Thika’s limb lifted with a jerk. “Slimnis? In the crater? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” answered Kate. She squeezed the knotted kerchief in her left hand, causing more water to drip onto the floor. “We fought them, and we won. But I’m afraid more will follow.”

“Those are terrible tidings indeed,” replied the Guardian. “Hwhssshh. If the Chieftain ever was going to help you, shhwsh-shhwsh, he will not be in the mood now. He has, hhhswshh, greater problems of his own.”

“The waters of the lake are warm in my time, too,” said Kate somberly.

“Then, hshwshh, I pity you,” spoke the watery voice. The creature straightened itself, observing Kate closely one more time. Then it slipped swiftly down the hole in the stone floor. The sound of ripping fiber rent the air, followed by a distinct pop, followed by silence.

Kate pivoted to face the narrow stairway. The light from the flickering torch danced mysteriously upon the carved steps, making them seem more like water than stone. She stepped closer, drew in a deep breath, and started to climb.

XVII:
T
HE
B
LACK
I
SLAND OF
H
O
S
HANTERO

Leaving a trail of water behind her, Kate ascended the darkened stairway, followed by her equally wet companions. She wondered at the skilled hands that had carved these small steps out of the solid rock. Unlike the buff-colored pumice she had seen elsewhere in the crater, this rock was utterly black, perhaps charred in the final fiery gasp of the volcano that created the crater long ago. As in the pumice outside, small holes permeated every surface, lessening the weight of the rock and making it at least conceivable that beings of great intelligence could have somehow caused this island to float. Still, if she had not seen so much to convince her that Ho Shantero did indeed ride upon the waters of the lake, she would never have believed it possible.

The stairway spiraled up, up, and up. At each complete turn of the spiral, another torch flickered, casting its wavering light for several more steps. Beneath each torch, Kate saw the outlines of petroglyphs cut deep into the blackened stone. Faces of all descriptions, winged creatures soaring high above the trees, long-tailed lizards, stick figures that seemed to represent humans, cones and needles, roots and branches, all crowded the dimly lit walls. As she continued to climb, taking the miniature steps three or four at a time, Kate guessed that the petroglyphs told a single connected story. If only the stairway were better lit, its walls would be a continuous mural of Tinnani history, twisting and turning like the cycles of time.

At length, the stairs came to an end. Before them ran a long hallway with a rounded ceiling, itself dimly lit by two of the same sputtering torches. Kate, Laioni, and Monga, ears thrust forward in alert position, started to walk down the hallway, the clattering sound of the walking stick echoing and re-echoing within the walls of stone. Soon they heard a new sound as well: the steady drip-dripping of water not far ahead.

“I wonder where that sound is coming from,” said Laioni.

“There, look,” observed Kate, pointing to a raised circle in the middle of the floor, barely visible in the dim light. “It looks like a fountain of some kind, except there’s so little water.”

“And look,” added Laioni, leaning close to the tiny spout of water gushing out of a hole in the center of the circle. “This water has colors in it. Can you see?”

As Kate bent lower, she discovered several subtle, shimmering rainbows within the spray. “You’re right, but in this light it’s hard to tell if it’s the torches making those colors or the water itself.”

Just then Monga started barking loudly. Kate and Laioni straightened to see—or, more accurately, to sense—they were surrounded by eight or ten nearly invisible beings. A vague white glow hovered in the spot where each of the beings stood, as much a Lessening of shadow as a presence of light. Though it was difficult to tell, the figures appeared to be quite compact, no higher than Kate’s waist. They were each rather round in shape, and if she wasn’t mistaken, Kate thought she glimpsed the barest flash of yellow near the top of each form.

Without a sound, the ring of glowing beings opened in the direction of the hallway, then moved closer to Kate, Laioni, and Monga. They came very near, paused, then as soon as any of the three companions moved down the hallway, moved closer again. Kate realized they were being herded, like sheep, by the vaguely visible creatures.

Monga continued barking until Laioni reached down and stroked his scruffy coat along his neck. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “They’re not going to hurt us.”

“What makes you so sure?” asked Kate, her brow furrowed.

“Because,” announced Laioni, “they are Tinnanis.”

Kate stopped short. “You mean these white glowing shapes? The Tinnanis don’t have real bodies?”

At that, a stirring sound filled the hallway, accompanied by a muffled sort of clucking, almost like the stifled laughter of great birds.

“They have bodies,” replied Laioni. “Just like the Slimnis can change from their basic lizard forms into manlike shapes, their brothers the Tinnanis can change from their basic forms into invisible puffs of wind. Right now they’re not quite invisible so we can see them enough to be herded.”

“And what is their basic form, when they’re not invisible?”

Laioni did not answer. Her eyes focused on something down the hallway. Kate turned from her to look, and saw that a new and brighter light had come into view. As they drew nearer, the light expanded, until finally it opened into a wide and high room.

As they entered the chamber, Kate thought of the great hall of the grand Scottish castle she had once visited with Grandfather. Glowing balls of white whom she now knew to be Tinnanis lined the walls on both sides. Overhead, a dozen sputtering torches flamed, suspended from a circular chandelier made of heavy metal chains. Though the torches were no brighter than those lining the hallway and the spiraling stairs, because so many of them hung from the chandelier a brighter light filled the room. Darkness still clung to the walls and corners, but at least Kate could see Laioni and Monga more easily.

At the farthest end of the room, Kate spied three grand high-backed thrones. The middle one, tallest of the three, was delicately wrought of white whalebone, studded with stones of all colors and descriptions. Purple amethyst, yellow sulfur, red jasper, green-and-silver agate, and black obsidian rimmed its edges. At the very top, the whalebone curved as if to support something shaped like a sphere, but the cup-shaped space was empty. In a flash of irreverence, Kate imagined that one of her softballs would fit perfectly there. The two thrones on either side, carved from huge transparent crystals of quartz, were identical. They shimmered in the wavering torchlight like two gigantic blocks of ice, clear and cold.

In the central throne, as well as in the transparent seat to its left, round balls of white glimmered. Then, as Kate and Laioni stood transfixed, the two forms started to solidify. The glowing masses grew whiter, even as they grew more defined. Kate glanced to one side to see that the same thing was happening to the rows of Tinnanis lining the walls of the chamber. When she turned back, the true form of the Tinnani Chieftain had nearly materialized.

She gasped, for the owl’s head handle of the walking stick had seemingly sprung to life. The Chieftain’s eyes, perfectly round and yellow, were those of an owl, but the rest of his face seemed more human. Instead of a beak, a long hooked nose hung low above his small mouth. His eyebrows, made of dozens of tiny feathers, protruded from his forehead like tufts of white cotton. Fluffy white feathers covered his round body, and two great white wings pressed close to his shoulders. Beneath his cloaklike wings, two arms sprouted, now resting across his ample white belly, which was adorned with a wide belt bearing an amethyst crystal in its buckle.

Both legs, like both arms, were covered completely with white feathers. His feet, shaped like those of a man, looked tough and callused. From each of his fingers and toes grew talons, curved and sharp, though Kate suspected they could be retracted for everyday uses like walking. He wore a gleaming silver band around his brow, tilted slightly to one side. But for his face, hands, and feet, he looked like an enormous white owl, glowering at both Kate and the walking stick.