Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Lliferock (17 page)

In fact it was almost windy up close to black boulder, and when Pabl approached, he saw that the glassy surface was pocked and mottled, a catalog of all the obsidimen who had pressed their hands into the stone on their way through Domorpen.

The lava burned in red rivulets in front of his face as he put his feet into the flow of water. The draft was strong here, elemental air blowing down through channels in the rock from the peaks of the mountains.

Pabl’s breath quickened, and his skin prickled with heat. I must cast aside my doubts and just move. But what if —He squeezed his eyes closed.

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Move, he told himself.

He grit his teeth and placed his hands on the black rock.

He pressed hard, feeling the stone give under his strength.

The lava touched his fingers and burned as he added marks to the boulder’s surface.

He spoke in loud voice, articulating in the language of his race. “Great Liferock, which houses the Spirit-That-Pervades-All, take me to my Elders. I am as yet unnamed.”

Pabl felt a tug in his mind, then a whoosh behind him as air rushed into the space where his body had been. The room gave way to a deep flow of stone in bright rainbow colors around him; he floated in it, his body swept away by the gush-ing current of liquid rock.

He did not know how long the river of stone carried him in its flow. But suddenly it was gone, and he lay on his back, staring straight up into a blue-black sky studded with stars he did not know. He was far from the Tylon mountains, far from his friends. Far from home.

A giant cylinder blacked out the sky on his left, and from it came a grinding noise, like a sandstorm only a thousand times louder. He pressed his hands to his head to dampen the sound.

Pabl stood then, knowing he had made it to the Valley of the Elders.

This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected])  Chapter Seventeen 

Gvint Od was running out of options. Every time he merged, he discovered that Ganwetrammus suffered more and more. The air elementals had failed to find Reid Quo, and his attempts to deter the mining team had had only a temporary effect.

With most of brotherhood still healing in the aftermath of the attack on the mining site, Gvint had worked magic with the help of Ganwetrammus and Gavi Arndt. They had created a spell to fill the mining tunnel with earth in an attempt to stop the Nuinouri.

The dwarfs in the tunnel had withdrawn in shock as earth and rock had magically appeared around them. The tunnel walls closed in, the wound healing itself. But when the spell’s power faded, leaving Gvint and Gavi exhausted, the dwarfs returned to continue their excavation.

It slowed them down for a day or two, but that was all.

Soon the hideous Nuinouri continued their relentless diges-tion of the rock. Gvint had few options left; it was time to discuss the Ritual of Protection with Jibn Sra.

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of the tepuis, in a small house made of crudely cut stone and mortar. Jibn Sra was the next oldest, in line to become Elder after Reid Quo. He had also followed the discipline of illusory magic in the past, and he had gained much power and an art-istry with magic that few in Barsaive could equal.

Jibn Sra understood magic, and because of that, Gvint held a faint hope that the exiled brother could learn the Ritual of Protection from Ganwetrammus. The Ritual required two Elders, two participants. Perhaps Jibn could substitute for Reid.

Gvint went to see him on a cold, wet morning, ten days after the failed attack. Gray clouds spewed icy drizzle onto the rock, making the trails through the Dance of Stones slick under Gvint’s booted feet. He huddled into his heavy cloak and walked towards Jibn’s front entrance.

I must convince him to merge with Ganwetrammus, thought Gvint. He stepped up to the door and knocked.

Jibn answered wearing a loose tunic of bright blue cotton.

He stood several inches shorter than Gvint, with a rounded forehead and reddish sandstone eyes. His skin was dark, nearly black in color with a web of fine white lines tracing the peaks and valleys of the many craggy wrinkles in his old skin.

A tattoo of inlaid emeralds traveled up his forearms and disappeared under his sleeves. The tattooing had been popular among the brotherhood who had spent time with the trolls of the Twilight Peaks before the Scourge.

“I bring riflev water,” Gvint said. “And a fire basket.”

Jibn smiled at him. “Welc-c-come, Gvint Od. I am pleased to s-s-see you.” His shoulder twitched. “C-c-come in.”

“Are you well?”

“I am the s-s-same.”

Gvint walked past him into the room beyond. A cluttered stone table dominated the space, and the walls were covered with bookshelves and detailed maps and drawings; the lines This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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were too fine to have been drawn by the huge hands of an obsidiman, unless by magic. Hardly a clear area remained.

Gvint set his pack down on the only chair. He removed a sealed clay urn which he had filled from the riflev pool, and a small stone box, carved to look like a wicker basket on the outside. “You can keep these,” he said, carrying the stone basket over to the hearth. He pushed some books out of the way and opened the box.

Fire crackled and burst as the cover was pulled back. Inside, a fine mesh of orichalcum-laced netting billowed up as its quarry — a tiny fire elemental — burned and flickered in a struggle to break free. Heat radiated into the room, and Gvint rubbed his warming hands. “Ah, that’s much better,” he said.

“Your old bones must be impervious to the cold, Jibn.”

Jibn chuckled, but said nothing.

As Gvint shared the water with Jibn, he explained the situation with the miners. Jibn knew some, and he had been worried. But when Gvint asked him to merge with Ganwetrammus and help, he refused.

“I c-c-can’t,” he said, his phobia causing his voice to waver.

“What if the Horror returns and I . . .” Jibn bowed his head.

“The Horror is dead, Jibn. Garen killed it when he sacrificed himself.”

“B-b-but what if I infec-c-c—” he paused, trying to gain control of himself. “What if I infect the rock again?”

“How? The Horror is dead, gone. There is no way you can infect the rock.” Gvint paced across the small space, then back again. How do I convince him? he thought.

“B-but there is s-s-s-still a chance,” Jibn said, fear evident in his eyes. “You m-m-must know that.”

“Look, Jibn, I came because the situation is desperate. I think the rock may die unless we perform the Ritual of Protection.”

“I c-c-can’t help you with that.”

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“Maybe you can,” Gvint said. “You are the next in line, Jibn.

Maybe you are old enough to understand the magic involved.”

“You d-d-don’t really th-think that, do you?”

Gvint sighed, breathing out slowly. “No, I confess I do not.

According to legend, the ritual magic is meant for Elders only, but you may be our only chance. You have magical knowledge and power equal to mine. Even though the chance that you will comprehend the ritual is remote, I must ask you to try.

Please, merge with Ganwetrammus.”

“I will n-n-not be responsible for k-k-killing our rock. If I merge again . . .” His voice trailed off, leaving a heavy, expect-ant silence in its wake. He did not want to breath life into his phobia by speaking the words.

“You do not realize the danger here, Jibn.” Gvint’s voice rose involuntarily. “If we can’t stop the miners, and Pabl Evr fails to find Reid Quo in time, the Ritual of Protection cannot be performed and our liferock will die. You have to try. Please, for the sake of our brotherhood.”

“But my H-h-horror c-c-could re-infect . . .”

Gvint put his hands on Jibn’s shoulders, holding the other obsidiman so that he could not look away. “If you don’t try, you will be just as responsible for our rock’s death.”

Jibn stared at Gvint, his sandstone eyes ablaze with anger.

“The answer is no.” Then he twisted out of Gvint’s grasp and turned away.

This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected])  Chapter Eighteen 

Pabl clamped his hands over his ears against the grinding roar of the sand column next to him. In the darkness he couldn’t determine the size of the column, but it was big, at least thirty yards across at the base. Wind buffeted him as it was sucked into the vortex, pulling dirt and sand from the ground up with it. There were no trees or vegetation of any kind this close to the column, and Pabl wondered just how he was able to resist the pull of the elemental air that rushed in.

He turned away and ran, quickly finding a path which led down into the valley. Soon the path entered a forested area, and Pabl slowed. The trees dampened the noise of the swirling sand behind him, and after a time he made his way to the center of the valley.

Broad, flat flagstones of granite gray formed a floor between four massive pillars of rough stone. The pillars were black and brown in color, and Pabl could see that they cor-responded to the four twisting elemental columns at the corners of the valley. Each bore carvings representing one of the elements.

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At the center of everything was an obelisk, glowing faintly white. The obelisk’s shaft was made of pure white stone, its surface perfectly smooth and clean, jutting from the floor in the exact center of the valley. As Pabl stepped onto the flagstones and looked up at the sky above him, he found that he could see the eerie shadows of all four of the huge swirling columns. An illusion served to distort the image so that the shadow cylinders seemed to come together high above the point of the obelisk.

Petroglyphs carved into the flagstones told the story of the First Order. How the eldest four gave up their liferocks to live forever in the Valley of the Elders. How they decided to make this personal sacrifice in order to ensure the continu-ity of obsidiman culture, magic and life through the ages. As Pabl read the petroglyphs, he felt an irresistible pull from the obelisk. The Council of Four beckoned him to merge. And he stepped forward to embrace the spear of pure white rock which towered above him.

It was like walking through a plane of water at first. Then he felt his body come apart into its constituent elements. No pain; merely disintegration. And with it came an expansion of his consciousness into unfathomable dimensions.

He saw the entire history of his race in a split second. He experienced the life memories of every obsidiman, but the knowledge came too fast for him to assimilate. The world was much larger than he had known; so far beyond his comprehension that he felt his mind exploding. Even his merging with Ohin Yeenar hadn’t prepared him for this.

All this happened in a fraction of a moment, and Pabl forgot it all instantly, left only with the sense that his existence was tiny and insignificant in the face of a vast universe. Then the memories of his own life filled his mind. He remembered everything clearly. His Emergence and First Merge. The history of Ganwetrammus he had learned while merging, back This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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to the First Order. His Awakening and the twenty-one years spent in the company of the others.

Pabl remembered his first years outside, just after emerg-ing from the liferock, famished and thirsty. He had eaten for several hours before his hunger abated. He remembered seeing his brothers, how odd they looked in the flesh, like sculpted boulders of muscle and skin, bones and blood. So fragile.

After he had eaten, they’d taken him down to the riflev pool to bathe away grime from his new skin. He had seen himself in the black glass of the pool’s surface. He looked like the others except his skin was new, smooth like polished marble, his eyes dark and wide. No cracks, no blemishes. The icy chill of the water shocked him as he washed.

His first months passed in a barrage of new sensations, sights and sounds, smells and the wondrous texture of the outside world. After a few months he was ready to see more of the world, so Chaiel accompanied him down the rock and into the jungle. The two of them made excursions into the jungle for days or weeks at a time, learning the tricks of camouflage and negotiating treacherous terrain. They were never gone too long, always returning to the liferock. The first year was a weaning process.

Bintr and Tinu replaced Chaiel after the first year, escort-ing Pabl into the village and his first experiences with civilization. Pabl was fascinated by the other Name-givers, especially one young dwarf who could make colors dance in the air around him. They became friends, despite initial objections by the dwarf’s grandparents, and when it was time for Pabl to move farther away from the liferock, Jan took the opportunity to get out of Rabneth.

Tinu and Bintr traveled with Pabl and Jan for the first few years as they wandered Barsaive. Tinu taught Pabl to respect nature; he trained Pabl in the magic of the purifier discipline.

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And for a while that was enough. But the more Pabl learned about the world, the more he realized that power came from magic. It was his frustration at his own inability to understand Jan’s magic which finally drove him to take up his own studies of wizardry several years later.

Now, in the merge with the Council of Four, Pabl’s motives and personality were being evaluated — his devotion to purge nature of destructive forces, and his commitment to understanding the manifestation of magic in the universe and how it can help him purify. His problem, that of finding Reid Quo, was being considered.