Shadow Over Avalon (17 page)

“Ector, I know how long and how exhausting that journey was. I should be the one to keep vigil.”

“Shadow isn’t good with people. I need to revise mission parameters with her. I can’t do that with a conscious Terran male listening. This is my opportunity, and I have stim tabs, or we can take turn and turnabout if necessary.”

Tarvi called over to the lad, “Merrick, we’re off duty for the night.” He glowered his disapproval at Ector as they pushed past the bush to go below.

Shadow had replaced the message sticks and now came over, squatting beside him.

“Shadow, we have to link when you’re inside that fort.” Ector wasn’t sure with her. She would obey orders but would she permit contact of so personal a nature?

“Can’t listen always,” Shadow said.

“I’ll start trying two hours after nightfall. If there’s a problem with people around and you can’t answer, I’ll try the same time next darkness. Agreed?”

She nodded, getting up to break off deadfall branches. Ector wondered why, and then realized he had an answer. She had instructions, had cooperated, so now speech became superfluous.

Shadow built a sort of nest with the twigs, putting sun-dried grass under one edge. She began rotating one twig end against the shaft of another quickly. A wisp of smoke came up after several minutes and a reddish-gray glow coming from the static twig. She pushed the smoldering part against dry grass, blowing gently until it caught to become a comforting blaze.

“Very nice, but what if it brings people?” Ector said. Night fast approached where a glow would be seen at a long distance, and the smoke would stand out against the dark sky.

“Think search. None around.”

Ector sat back to enjoy the warmth without getting roasted. So she’d scanned, had she? He wondered what other tricks she’d picked up from Submariners. He hadn’t taught her, so she must have simply stolen from another mind. Why hadn’t he heard someone screaming ‘raid’ from such a deep penetration? Could she possibly access without leaving a trace? Had the Archive enabled her? Ector thought this more likely. It might just amuse that vast mind to help one it considered an individual. Maybe if he got her talking,
could
get her talking, or even listening, he could read her body language.

“Shadow, remember those sailing ships in the picture?” At least she looked up at that. “I have a building plan for a smaller version from old records. If I survive this war, if it is ever concluded, I’d like to build that boat and sail the seven seas.”

“Seven?”

“Yes, our world is far bigger than you realize. I’d like to find a land where we can make a new beginning, Terrans and Submariners, living together as a community, without rigid laws. One people, all accepting any differences between them, working together for the sake of the group.”

“Nice dream. Won’t happen. People fight.”

“It could with goodwill on both sides. If you wanted to come, we could take your child, sneak out one night,” Ector suggested. “It would be away from Sanctuary.”

“He is safe. Sanctuary can’t control.”

Prickles of fear skittered down Ector’s spine. Tarvi hadn’t mentioned gender. Why had Shadow said ‘he’? What made ‘him’ safe from Sanctuary?

“The child died?” Ector decided someone must have lied to destroy her interest.

“Boy grows strong, but he didn’t like all the thoughts pressing.”

‘Didn’t like’ . . . past tense.
By the deeps, what had Shadow done? He
knew
she had not been outside barracks except with him. All exits were logged, and he would have been told. That left mind link . . . no it couldn’t be, not through Sanctuary. No one held such power, not even the Archive. It needed direct contact through implants to connect mind to mind. Ector’s thoughts whirled.

“You linked with your child, right through the middle of every seer in Sanctuary? That’s impossible!”

“Not impossible. Difficult. So much dust and only one mind tasting unusual. He has different flavor from all others, like me.” She looked into the far distance as if she could see the child.

“Shadow, exactly what did you do to him?”

“Boy wanted peace to grow. They pressed him with so many thoughts he didn’t understand. Now they can’t. Showed him how to block, and other things. I can’t raise boy, can’t love. Can give peace, only gift left. Boy will grow strong and free as he wants.”

Mercy, now he understood why Suki had rushed home. They knew security had been violated and needed every seer for a general sweep.

“Shadow, are you in contact now?” Nothing was apparently impossible for her.

“Boy severed link. He wants peace. Not need help again.”

“That’s it? You’re just going to let go?”

“Not my choice. I can’t do more, so not needed.” Light died in her eyes. “Boy individual with own life.” Shadow stirred to get more fuel for their fire. She brought in more than needed, spending some time snapping it into reasonable sizes before she settled.

“Did you name him?”

“Futile and cruel. Others will name, and if I did, well . . . not fair to him. Tell more of ship on water, Ector.”

Ector obliged. He knew Shadow would never speak of her son again. She had found him, given him the means to independence, and placed his needs above her own to grant freedom. She had accepted the loss of her child with grace. As he talked away the night, Ector resolved to find that lad. He had the clues he needed, and he didn’t share Shadow’s fatalism.

Watching her listen to his ramblings of dreams, he had the sudden impression of the girl she might have been under the shell of a renascent. Her close-cropped blonde curls resembled a helmet, but grown long, would give her face a softer frame. Without deathly hollows in her cheeks and those tightly compressed lips . . . yes, she held claim to extraordinary beauty.

He remembered how surprised he was to discover a sense of humor in one so abused. Would she ever laugh again? Did Brethren have the capacity? He sensed a cathartic quality in her willingness to return to the scene of her effective death, aware Shadow possessed the nature of a metamorph, able to blend into any background at will. Logic suggested this capacity stemmed from insecurity, yet . . . he wasn’t so sure. Whatever returned after this mission, if she returned, wouldn’t be the same.

“Ector . . . those images of sailing ships . . . not clear like Archive recalls. Did they move so fast?”

By the deeps, she must be keyed up for her mind to leap back to this.

“That picture is very old, Shadow. It was painted during the time those vessels were the primary form of transport over water.”

“Ector . . . what is painted?”

“Liquid color is applied by using a small stick with bristles or fur on the end to a blank surface. The clarity of an image is determined by the skill of the person applying it.” He assumed she didn’t have the word in her vocabulary due to her memory problem.

“If it is so old . . . this picture thing . . . then an ancient shaped it?”

“Yes.”

“But this isn’t allowed. Harvesters forbid any form of image marks on blank surfaces except for territory maps.”

“What about message sticks?”

“They not represent living form, or useful object. They for if messenger dies on route. That happens.”

“Are you telling me no one is permitted to record the beauty of a single sunset, or preserve the liquid poetry of a profound observation?” Shock swept over him.

“What is poetry?” Shadow asked.

His mind still reeling from the implications, Ector began to attempt an answer as best he could.

The Archive’s night call wakened Arthur from a vivid dream of being a young Terran searching for his special sword. Others would rather have the sword lost than allow him to touch it. One helped him in his quest, but Arthur never saw his face, he just felt the mantle of power. A red dragon flew across the sky when he came close to the sword: a disappointment, as dragons didn’t exist, and it was not a mutated saurian. The dream had seemed plausible up to that point.

Forcing his mind back to present concerns, Arthur strode through deserted corridors. Shadow having a child in Avalon shook him. He wondered what had happened to the boy, for they must be fairly close in age. Maybe the hybrid hadn’t lived? The most likely conclusion, as the distinctive Terran skin, and absence of gills would make the boy stand out just as much as Shadow did among the Submariners. If the child had survived, he must have formidable powers, and have seers fussing around him. They would want to conserve the genes, but Arthur hadn’t noticed any brood mothers of high caliber removed from the roster without the sire being documented on records. On the other hand, Shadow might have rescued her child. If this were the case, Arthur might find two allies on the surface.

His own creation must have been a blind to keep the child concealed – a gut churning thought. Someone had ordered a child created purely to stand in as a sacrifice if one was needed. Perhaps Arthur still was a living shied for Shadow’s son. Who would stand as parents for such a one? What sort of people could create expendable offspring? The thought sat like a piece of rotting fish churning in his system.

A puff of scentless, sterile air hit him as he rounded a corner. He paused, trying to get some odor, some small fragrance, but his mind filled with the aromas of his dream: the wet smell of grass just after dawn, and a rich, loam scent when the morning sun heated it. The gray walls of his world vanished against a background of moorland, where a bird of prey spiraled on a rising thermal. There, in the distance was an outcrop of rocks erupting from the greenness like a wart forcing through healthy flesh. For a brief moment, black eyes appeared on the surface of the rock, and then they vanished back into the stone. Arthur hurried on before his dream-watcher could return.

The Archive sparked the console equipment as he entered, indicating its impatience. Arthur slid into the solitary chair to link.

“One hour only, Arthur. Those who monitor for energy surges are getting clever. Do not log on in the future, I can recognize your brainwave signature without a code.”

“They’re checking acolyte activities.”

“Very quick, Arthur. I did not give many clues.”

“Is Shadow’s son still alive?” Arthur wanted the answer before he entered linkage. Was he still being used as a shield?

“Yes, Arthur. He serves my purpose. Seers have no dominion over the ones I protect.”

“As you are protecting me?”

“Precisely. I have sent two seers into sleep for you. I cannot continue control beyond one hour without creating suspicion.”

Arthur agreed, although he wondered at the Archive’s motives. Did it intend to use him as another false lead to Shadow’s son? One hour of unexpected sleep could be explained away by fatigue or stress, longer implicated Archive interference.

*

Earth Date 3874

Shadow sucked in the warm night air. The seasons had turned, and a heavy, musky scent announced autumn, along with drying, yellowed grass. No hunters dared challenge her; too much time had flown by while she healed. Her world, and yet not the right location to figure out her gnawing sense of loss. Another child, or did a lost kinsman call to her?

Ector slept soundly since her delicate command slipped under his guard. He looked so tired and tried hard to entertain her, make her talk. Poor Ector didn’t understand Brethren. He knew about belonging to a collective, but not much of individuals. None of the water beings did; how could they, all linked to one another like an endless string of interlocking bubbles? These ones here reached out to one another to touch minds as they slept.

Shadow didn’t relish working among Terrans after so long with the Submariners, but better she did this to wipe out her near error. Ector had almost become important to her, before she remembered all about Brethren. Others always hurt Brethren. Others must remain outside consideration.

She spared a moment’s regret for the boy. The hive mind known as Sanctuary held him captive, for all the good it would do them. They would never undo her work. Shadow had learned by picking through seer minds that no one, however powerful, could duplicate another’s thoughts. Boy possessed a strong survival instinct and already had learned resentment by the time Shadow located his essence. She doubted they would ever connect again and wished him well.

Seers had such interesting skills, she enjoyed raiding their minds. They imagined themselves so invincible that they could detect intrusion. A simple distraction followed by gradual infiltration gained the needed data without leaving a trace of theft.

Shadow utilized one of those stolen skills while she waited out the night. Acetones flowed in her blood, and these were eliminated by the attachment of various molecules. Oxygen intake increased to provide fire for this fuel. A dextrose pack from Ector’s kit prevented further protein breakdown as well as giving her energy.

The sun inched up, due east. Mist swirled up from warming ground – rich autumn-charged moisture with the scent of decay and overripe fruit. Shrill whistles from small birds sounded from branch to branch, and high above, the cry of a curlew welcomed day. Shadow remembered this world, yet it had never seemed so full of life.