Compendium (4 page)

4
The Voyage

Lumin Cycle 10152

Mia
Jayne stared in awe
at the large ship before her. It was a sight to behold, with its fantastic metal hull eaten away with age and the ravages of the tropics, a relic from a long-forgotten past. A grove of elder trees grew from the center of the deck. She always traveled by canoe through the channels out among the hammocks, but this ship wouldn’t fit through such thin strips of water. It was meant for majestic trips across the straits.

It was Mia’s first trip to Willowslip, as Father always had kept them clear of major towns when they’d traveled. “When you’ve seen how humanity acts during war times, you realize the thin veil of civilization we wear is but a mask we don to be able to continue to live with ourselves,” he’d said once, after imbibing a strongly fermented gourd.

When Mia asked what he meant, his demeanor grew surly. “Such matters are in the past and should stay there!”

She never pressed the subject after that. Now, as she stood waiting to embark upon the ship, a small shiver trilled through her. She should have pressed harder for information, paid greater attention to the ramblings of her elders.

“Fare?” said a sailor. His bony face and sunken eyes wore a bored expression as he blocked the embarkation ramp with his body.

“Gourds,” she replied, and held up a basket of the squash fruit she’d lugged with her from Hackberry.

“They fresh?” he asked suspiciously. He stared at Mia, as if just noticing something odd about her face. Brushing off his stare, she selected one of the gourds from the basket and rapped it solidly against the rail of the ship’s gangway. The gourd pulsed with a soft glow in her hand.

“Freshly picked. They should have at least five uses in them.”

He nodded and took the basket from her hands then offered it to a deck hand who’d slunk up by his side. “That’ll do,” he said, and waved her onto the boat. “Find a place ter set. We’ll be off shortly.”

Mia boarded and surveyed her surroundings. The deck was built around a large grove of elder trees that occupied a significant portion of the center of the ship. They were a particularly hardy and well-tended bunch. She walked over to the rail that surrounded the dense throng of trees and peeked over it toward the roots below. Their trunks descended into the darkness of the hold, but the smell of moist earth wafted up from the recesses. She reached out a hand to touch one of the branches of the closest elder tree.

“I would refrain,” a deep voice said from behind her. She flinched back in surprise and turned her head to locate the source. A tall, lean man stood behind her. He had black hair and dark eyes, not unlike Father’s, but his deep skin, although naturally brown and swarthy, appeared ashy and faded. His complexion would be even darker than Father’s if he didn’t clearly spend nearly every waking moment indoors.

“Why is that?” Mia replied, studying his clothing. He obviously wasn’t one of the hammock folk. His heavy garments were devoid of color, as if each piece had been washed one too many times with lye or had been left in the sun to drab.

“The shipmasters are very particular about maintaining their elders. If you were caught molesting one of the trees, you’d be put off the ship.”

Mia raised an eyebrow. “Molesting?” She spoke the word as if it were a foreign object discovered in her mouth, shrugged, and dropped her hand back to the banister. “I was merely curious.”

He approached the rail to stand beside her and looked at her from the corners of his eyes. “I am called Cedar Kannon,” he said casually.

“Mia Jayne,” she finally grumbled after some brief deliberation.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, and flashed a bright smile at her.

She rolled her eyes in return, but she felt her chest tighten slightly. Something about him disarmed her.

“Quite a pleasant day to set sail,” he said, undaunted.

Mia looked up at the bright blue-green sky with its puffy clouds spattered cheerfully about. “Indeed,” she muttered, although she didn’t feel particularly at ease with the day.

“What takes you to Willowslip?” When Mia didn’t reply, he continued. “I was on an errand and am returning to my duties in town. Serving with the Order of Vis Firmitas is important work.”

Her ears pricked at his admission. She might be able to learn something of use from this gangly fool. The fact that he was a cleric increased her mistrust, but she had no idea what to expect.
The gangly fool that you know is better than the beast you don’t
, she thought.

“I have business with the Order myself,” Mia said, still looking up at the sky through the branches of the trees.

“What business is that? Perhaps I can assist.”

He was rather getting ahead of himself. They’d only just exchanged names.

“It’s a matter of discretion. However, if you wish to be of assistance, I certainly could use direction to reach Dominus Nikola.”

Cedar coughed conspicuously, trying to hide his surprise. Mia kept her face impassive despite his almost comical reaction to her request.

“You wish to see the head cleric?” he asked with incredulity. “Seeking an audience with him isn’t an easy task.”

“Be that as it may, I believe he’ll want to speak with me.”

As he snorted in repressed laughter, Mia’s eyes narrowed.
Granted, my close circle is on the rural side, but are all city folk so disastrously mannered?

“It’s no concern of yours,” she replied testily. “The offer of assistance was yours. I’m prepared to proceed with or without it.”

Cedar collected himself and nodded. “Oh, I’ll be delighted to take you to Dominus Nikola. In fact I’d trade my right eye for a front-row seat.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said, and leaned against the rail. “It seems I have something the Order needs.”

Cedar shrugged and said no more.

After a quiet moment, Mia rummaged through her bag and pulled out a fist-size spiny yellow fruit. She pried off some of the spines then munched on the creamy white flesh underneath. It tasted of mild sweet lemons, and she murmured her approval. “Want some?” she asked, and pulled a second fruit from her bag.

Cedar eyed the spiny fruit as if it would leap out of her hand and attack him. “What is that thing?”

“In Hackberry we call them rollies,” Mia said. “They need the moisture and warmth of the tropics.”

“Don’t you want to save it?” he asked, taking the proffered fruit with hesitation. “It might be a while before you get back here.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Mia said. “My business in Willowslip will be quick, and I have no desire to whiffle about.”

5
Entry

Lumin Cycle  9499

Melia Kannon caught her breath
as she and Gerard approached the cavernous mountain way flanked by imposing hardwoods. The sprawling roots of the elders hugged the rock crevasses that formed the entry to the stronghold within. She stopped and looked upward. The jagged walls of rock slipped into obscurity as they rose steeply into the air, framed by the trees. Green mixed with brown and gray, and curling tendrils of vines caressed the large hole in the mountain toward which they trudged, inviting them to explore. How had Minister SainClair found this place? It was massive yet completely innocuous. Melia continued her trek, taking double steps to catch up with Gerard. He was doing much better after a good night’s sleep at the hospitality hearth, but their months of foot travel had taken a toll on both of them.

“What will we find inside, I wonder,” Gerard said, more to himself than her.

“Aris said we’d find the future of Lumin,” Melia replied, adding, “although personally I think we’ve carried it with us.” She patted her side where the book was nestled, never out of her reach since that day in the Core, a day that had left her with recurring dreams that had her screaming in the night for the ministers, pleading with them to come with her. She quivered at the memory of the blood, the haunted eyes of Minister Draca, and the crazed expression of Rosewater as he flung himself toward her.

“I hope so. Right now it feels like Lumin has no future.” He scowled and rubbed his neck.

“An uncertain future, perhaps, but one nonetheless,” Melia said, trying to stay positive.

“Look at that door.” Gerard squinted into the darkness of the twenty-foot hole in front of them. “It’s huge.”

Melia slipped a gourd out of the sack slung over her shoulders and knocked it against her palm. The chemical light swirled to life, emanating from the translucent skin of the round knobbed plant. It was too weak to cast light on the distant door, but she held it aloft as they approached, trying to get a better view. The sunlight filtering through the tree branches and down the dark cavern path illuminated the barest outline of the mammoth door. The shadows in the cavern swirled as Gerard and Melia stepped closer, and she grew tenser with each passing moment.

“Do you suppose someone could have made it here before us?” she asked Gerard, clutching at his arm. She felt a niggle in the back of her mind; something worried her. Was it the unnatural silence in the trees, the deep darkness of the entrance, or something else that raised her hackles?

“I don’t see how,” he said, patting her hand. “Mother’s letter said the various families would be notified, but you were the only one that made it out, right?”

Melia nodded, thinking back to the fear and pain of that day. “I’m certain of it. But suppose someone opened their letter first out of curiosity or fear, and they weren’t happy with what they read?”

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” he said, straightening his back. “We’ve traveled thousands of kilometers to get here. It’s taken many months. I’m sure as the
bloody Core
not turning back now!”

“Poor choice of words,” she said weakly.

Gerard looked over at her, his eyes softening. “Sorry.” He rested his hand over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

The lump that had been building in Melia’s throat overcame her voice. She nodded instead of replying, her eyes remaining fastened on the undulating darkness just outside of her vision. As she and Gerard slowly approached, the door resolved itself into focus. The shadows retreated from the gourd’s intrusive twinkle, and the bright expanse of polished elderwood jumped forward as the light of Melia’s gourd danced on its surface. The gold flecks in the wood shimmered with each step they took, and the intricate carvings—symbols of the old lineages of Lumin—seemed to move with them. She released the long breath she’d been holding, a sigh escaping her throat.

“’Tis quite lovely,” he said, his mouth turning up in a bemused smile. “That door is Mother all over.”

“It’s a beacon of civilization in the grayness,” said Melia, smiling as she saw House Kannon, House Draca, House SainClair, and the others, each worked into the smooth wood. Her body softened at the familiar trappings of the Lumin she missed dearly.

They were only a few steps from the mouth of the cavern when Melia heard a noise. Before she could turn, Gerard shrieked beside her, going down on his knees. She screamed reflexively and knelt beside him. A wicked-looking arrow stuck out behind him, lodged deeply in his right shoulder. She dragged him toward the door as quickly as she could.

“I may have missed my mark on the first shot, but you’re trapped now, my friends,” a deep voice called out. It echoed inside the cave entrance while Melia frantically tried to stem the blood seeping from Gerard.

“It’ll be fine,” he muttered. “It’s just my shoulder.”

“I can’t lose another SainClair,” she said through clenched teeth, as she pressed her hand to the wound. “How the blast do we get in this door?”

Footsteps rang out on the path as their pursuer advanced at a leisurely pace. “Rosewater sends his regards,” said the voice.

Melia paled, her brown skin feeling clammy. He couldn’t have escaped. He couldn’t have.

“Then why doesn’t he tell us himself?” she called back. She pushed Gerard into the corner next to the door and stood before him, shielding his body from further arrows. If this stranger wanted Gerard, he would have to pick her off first.

“I think you know the answer to that. The ministers weren’t the only ones to leave instructions. Rosewater was every bit as prepared for this as Draca and SainClair were,” he said, coming to a stop right at the entrance to the cave. The sun was at his back, but Melia held up the gourd to gaze upon their attacker. He was a young man with hatred in his eyes and a sneer on his face.

“Our dear friend Gerard looks like he’s losing a bit of blood. What say you hand over the key, and I’ll be on my way? Neither of you has to die this day, but I’m leaving with the key one way or the other.”

Melia tensed and pushed back against Gerard, shielding him as best she could. She started to slide her hand into her tunic, when the stranger cocked his bow once more.

“I’d think again if I were you.”

“Do you want the key or not?” she asked. “Am I supposed to teleport it over to you?”

Sneering, he started toward her, bow taut. “I’ll just see to that myself then.”

Five, four, three, two…
She counted down his approach with each step he took.
One!

Melia dropped toward the stone floor, kicking her leg to the side and giving his knee a good punch with her foot. He lost his balance, his arrow dislodging and bouncing off harmlessly to the left of the door. The man fell backward onto the ground with a grunt and a curse. He tried to roll to his side, but Melia sprang on top of him, pulling a dagger from her robes. He grabbed for the knife, wrestling her arm. She fought him, thrusting the dagger with both hands toward his heart and kneed him in the groin. He groaned, and his grip spasmed.

“You tiny mongrel,” he growled. “You had your chance, but now you’ll die.”

“Not this day.” She leaned down on the knife, the weight of her body overcoming the strength in his arms. The knife was almost to his chest when Gerard came up behind his prone form and smashed a rock into his head. The man went limp. With no resistance to keep Melia’s dagger from plunging, it slid into his flesh. She rolled off the man, breathing raggedly, and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

“Is he dead?” she finally asked.

“Surprisingly, no,” said Gerard, his voice thin but alert.

“Good. I have some questions for our guest,” Melia said, sitting up. “Assuming he continues to breathe. But first let’s get you inside, if we can figure out this damnable door.”