The Yanti

THE

Y
ANTI

ALSO BY CHRISTOPHER PIKE
PUBLISHED BY TOR BOOKS

The Cold One
Sati
The Season of Passage
The Blind Mirror
The Listeners
Alosha
The Shaktra

Christopher Pike

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

THE YANTI

Copyright © 2006 by Christopher Pike

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010

www.tor.com

Tor
^®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Pike, Christopher, 1961-

The Yanti / Christopher Pike.

     p. cm.

“A Tom Doherty Associates Book.”

Summary: Thirteen-year-old Ali, eager for vengeance after the death of her friend Steve, must now master the powers of the Yanti, a mysterious artifact somehow keyed to her mind, while trying to defeat the Shaktra.

ISBN-13: 978-0-765-31100-9

ISBN-10: 0-765-31100-3

[1. Fairies—Fiction. 2. Kings, queens, rulers, etc.—Fiction. 3. Magic—Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.P626Yan 2006

[Fic]—dc22

2006006205

First Edition: October 2006

Printed in the United States of America

0  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

For Jason

THE

Y
ANTI

T
he night sky was a vast black curtain littered with a thousand frozen sparks—the stars so far away, their light so feeble, that if the constellations did indeed have stories to share, then they could only relate to ancient gods, whose names had been forgotten. To the bulk of humanity, the threat from invaders beyond their world was a silly idea . . .

Yet there was one, in the night, who did worry about the beyond.

What might come out of it. What might kill the Earth.

In the midst of the dark sky, high above a snowcapped peak, there floated a warm green emerald. Egg-shaped as well as transparent, it was roughly seven feet from top to bottom; and it emitted a soothing green light that eclipsed handfuls of stars as it slowly, but purposely, drifted across the heavens.

At the heart of this egg stood a thirteen-year-old girl, with flaming red hair and mighty green eyes. It was almost as if the light that shielded her from the night—and the planet’s gravity—emanated from her eyes alone. For there was something so potent about them, so deep . . . that they could not be called human eyes at all.

The girl’s name was Ali Warner.

Yet Ali had other names as well: Geea, Alosha—titles that had been bestowed upon her by members of a race of elementals that lived alongside humanity. These latter usually went about their business unseen by mankind, because they lived in a dimension close to us, but also far away. The elementals were like characters on a TV program that were separated from the Earth by a single channel.

Many elementals—elves, dwarves, dragons, trolls, leprechauns—knew that Ali Warner was the queen of the fairies. That she had in fact chosen to be born as a human being in order to stop a war that was coming between them and mankind.

Ali, however, knew that was not the complete truth. For even though the elementals were only two or three days away from invading the Earth, the real enemy of mankind—and the elementals for that matter—was a creature called the Shaktra.

It was concerns about the Shaktra that had brought Ali to this unique place—floating above Pete’s Peak—when she could have been at home, warm in bed, asleep. Her single most disturbing problem related to a remark her sworn enemy, Karl Tanner, had said moments before she had killed him. That gruesome, and somewhat satisfying event—she had broken every bone in his neck—had happened only five hours ago.

As if it had been written in the sky with stardust, she recalled every word of their final exchange . . .

“I want you to tell me something.”

“You’re going to kill me!”

“I have this question. I want you to answer it.”

“Geea . . .”

“Who is the Shaktra?”

Karl, knowing he was doomed, had laughed at her then.

“You fool, she’s your sister!”

And she had replied, just before she had killed him:

“I thought so.”

That final remark of hers had been something of an exaggeration. The last few days, while traveling in the elemental kingdom, she had picked up a wide collection of hints that indicated she was related to the Shaktra. But in her heart of hearts, she had never truly accepted the possibility.

Ali tried to laugh at the irony of the situation, but failed. The sad truth was, Karl’s words had thrown her into a mass of confusion. For the last month—ever since she had learned she was not a normal teenager—she had been bracing herself that she had to kill the Shaktra, or else be killed by it. Now the situation had transformed itself into something too tragic to contemplate.

Ali shifted her gaze from one side of the icy mountain peak to the other, back and forth. Through the luminous field that enveloped her, she could sense the chilly night, but it felt distant. In no way did it disturb her focus. A power inherent in the magnetic field allowed her to fly. It moved as she wished to move. She was not sure how fast she could fly, but had no doubt she could outrace the fastest jet ever built.

The field was also a shield of sorts. It could be used to amplify certain natural weapons she possessed. For example, before leaving the elemental kingdom, she had been attacked by a host of dark fairies and . . . well, they were all dead now. A vicious clap of her hands had ruptured their internal organs, and now their guts lay spewed over the rocky side of Tutor—a mountain in the elemental kingdom that served as a gateway between the two dimensions.

Tutor was the elemental’s parallel version of the Earth’s
Pete’s Peak. The mountains were similar, but not identical. For that matter, nothing in the elemental world was exactly the same as Earth. Certainly, the elemental cities bore scant resemblance to human towns.

To the right, Ali could see the city of Breakwater, huddled beside a dark gray sea whose salty breeze she could taste from thirty miles away. The small town was home, and it was where Cindy Franken and Nira Smith were presently awaiting her return.

On Ali’s left—on the other side of the mountain—was another town, Toule, where a host of puzzles and pain awaited her. For it was in Toule that a strange woman named Sheri Smith had held her friends, Steve Fender and Cindy Franken, captive for the last few days—while Ali had been busy in the elemental kingdom. Indeed, it was in Sheri Smith’s basement that Steve had died—from a stab wound to his heart. Karl had committed the diabolical deed, but it had been Sheri Smith who had given the order.

Yet the evil woman had not killed Cindy.

Also, she had left Nira behind, her daughter, for them to take care of.

Nira, who appeared to be a helpless autistic child of only six years old. Yet whom Ali suspected possessed more power than she and the Shaktra combined.

Why had Sheri Smith given them Nira?

To answer these questions, and others, Ali had decided to return to Toule tonight—to storm Sheri Smith’s huge home with force if need be. Stretching her arms out to her sides, as if she were an eagle preparing to pounce on an unknowing prey, Ali lowered her head and glided down toward Toule—specifically, toward the trees at the edge of the town. There Sheri Smith had constructed a mansion, and a successful software
company—Omega Overtures, a midsized firm famous for its end-of-the-world computer games.

As she flew, Ali allowed the tips of the trees to brush her open palms. Sweeping so close above the forest was stimulating. Sucking in an invigorating breath, she allowed the odor of the firs and pines to turn her shimmering field a deeper shade of green.

Ali loved trees, almost as much as she loved people, and fairies.

For Ali, it was a guilty pleasure—the thrill of flight, when there was so much at stake. But she had not possessed the ability long, and she wasn’t sure if she wasn’t minutes away from running into Sheri Smith . . . and dying. She figured she might as well enjoy it while she could.