The Surviving Sky, page 10
He couldn’t outthink it. He couldn’t do anything. There was no way out. He’d exhausted all possibilities, all combinations.
The magnaroot taunted him.
He stared at it, the corners of the Moment they were caught in.
To the rages with you, he thought. I’ll take you from the inside. And he flung himself at the star, merging his Two Visions.
Blackness.
* * *
They tore into themselves.
The ecstasy made them weep.
They thought in horror of what they were doing, what they were becoming. But the horror was fleeting.
Veins ripped apart, leaves decaying into mulch, and the dispersion of precious, precious seeds. Dimly, they thought they had become the magnaroot for a purpose. But there was no other purpose except survival. Survival of their kind; for them, it meant death.
They smiled through bloody teeth. The consciousness of the jungle assaulted them. It rose under the earth like a crescendo, waves upon waves of destruction. A million screams erupted in their mind, faces warped in fright, rushing toward them, hungry eyes, regretful mouths.
They knew how they had been able to fight themselves so deftly.
The star wasn’t just their state of being. It was the possibility of the jungle, the possibility of life. Each frozen star, each discrete state was an illusion. When an architect trajected, he only created images to comprehend and navigate the universe, but the Moment was not a motionless reality. It was a furious storm.
I am he, they realized. I am an architect. Iravan. For an instant, his Two Visions separated. They glimpsed him roaring in agony, Ahilya and Oam watching horrified, but then all was as it should be, and they were the magnaroot again.
Holding the line, merged irrevocably, they watched the Moment hurtle to them. It wasn’t the existence of a single plant. It was the pause of the jungle, of the entire planet. The immensity of it… They felt it in every slap of a branch, in every tear of the bark. They were the jungle. And the jungle was poised toward one possibility, aimed at a single intent: annihilation.
They sobbed softly.
Embedded in the Moment, they could see what would happen. His right arm would be ripped off, head smashed in, and they’d be aware of his own death in horrified eternity. They could feel his panic and terror from the future, from far away.
Let it be over soon, he thought.
The Resonance flickered, silvery molten.
It flashed like mercury behind their eyes, and they jerked and reached for it.
The Moment winked out.
An eternal fall.
Then blindness.
* * *
Recognition.
He smelled flesh burning; it was his own. He was descending. We did it, he thought. And then, immediately, This was a mistake.
It was too late now. He had separated.
A call, like the rhythms of his own heart.
Drifting away to eternal loneliness.
Birth.
* * *
There was screaming, but it seemed far away.
His Two Visions separated, but not in the simultaneous way of trajection. Instead, his visions expanded, enhanced into something greater.
A terrifying sensitivity overwhelmed him. Iravan saw for the first time in his life. The magnaroot was a speck, and suddenly its desire to self-destruct was laughable in his power.
He reached into the Moment with precision and crushed the magnaroot star. The nest fell limp, ready to obey.
Why had it been so difficult before?
A part of him knew the horror of what he had done, the unreality, its implications. Then the horror disappeared. He was a mountain and these tiny consciousnesses were insignificant.
Iravan stopped screaming.
He stood up.
Outside, the storm picked up intensity, but he gathered the magnaroot in his mind and it responded, its will destroyed completely. Ahilya and Oam stood as far back from him as was possible. Oam stood in front of Ahilya, shielding her, but she stared at Iravan, reaching out a hand. Her eyes were wide in fear. Iravan watched them both dispassionately.
Beyond the now-stationary magnaroot nest, the earthrage screamed and roared, dust and earth making it impossible to see too far.
He trajected, but it wasn’t trajection, not really. He desired it, and the plant changed its form; it leaped to obey. Branches twined around the three of them, wrapping their legs, torso, arms. Thick wooden armors of magnaroot covered them. In seconds, the three stood completely shielded, facing each other. Through his armor’s eye slit Iravan saw the churning dust.
Ahilya’s voice came to him, muffled. “I-Iravan?”
“All right,” he said quietly. “Let’s try this again.”
9
AHILYA
Ahilya’s body shook uncontrollably. Goosebumps covered her skin.
Her heart thrashed in her ears. What could she do? How could she protect them? She was helpless. Her decisions had already cost them precious time.
She glanced at Iravan nervously. He stood a few feet in front of her, arms loose by his side. Trajecting light shone dimly through his own wooden armor. To be visible at all, she knew he had to be bathed in the power. Only a few moments before, he had been on his knees, close enough to ripping his hair out, his eyes feral, unearthly screams tearing through him. What had happened? She resisted the urge to touch him lest she disturb his concentration.
The nest dissolved. A whimper escaped her. Vines grew from her suit, anchoring her to the ground, but the fury of the storm was mere inches away. It pushed her heavily, pulled at her, and she gasped, trying to balance herself. Debris flew everywhere. Grit seeped in through the armor and she tasted wet earth. She couldn’t see clearly past the blur of dust and her own terrified tears. Twice, something—a boulder, a tree trunk—split a handsbreadth above them. Clods of heavy earth and pieces of vines ricocheted off the armors. Luck that they had missed?
Iravan. He was trajecting the jungle, crushing boulders before they hit. They were standing in a small bubble of protection. Awe filled her. This power… Even with trajection, it should not have been possible.
Something nudged her: thick vines growing from the forest floor. They encircled her waist and tied her to Oam so the two stood back-to-back. She’d told him she’d keep him safe. What had she done? They should never have left the city.
Oam shouted something; she couldn’t hear, but she could guess from his terrified voice. Where would they go? Was Nakshar still there? Her citizen ring was silent. Had Nakshar survived? What was Iravan doing?
Iravan stood there, his head tilted to a side.
He’s listening. Did this armor amplify sound to him? What was he listening for? What could he even hear in this maelstrom? Ahilya swallowed, her breathing quick and shallow. She twisted her head to look at him. Iravan’s gaze was directed to where the city had landed. Slowly his head moved, gazing up as though he could see something fly through the storm.
He barked something, a raw laugh. The vines tightened around them.
Ahilya burst through the obliterating jungle.
Tied to Oam, unable to move at all, she was flung into the air. Something grabbed the pair of them; they twisted, gasping, bangs echoing inside her armor, locket pealing wildly. Nausea gripped her. She squinted through the eye slit but only saw dust and gigantic tree-trunks flash by. Her body spun, changed directions. An abrupt lurch swirled deep in her stomach, and she saw in horror a gigantic piece of debris heading for her. NO, she cried. Her body turned at the last second, a narrow miss. Blue-green light leapt midair from boulder to tree. Iravan.
Ahilya burst through the canopy and soared into the air. Vines thickened around her legs, keeping them restrained to Oam’s.
Tied together, the two of them surged through the debris, rotating and flipping. Branches and trees whipped past, only just missing them. Iravan ascended next to them in his own armor, a vortex of vines snapping and knitting underneath him, carrying him like a tornado from the jungle.
Ahilya’s body spun and she saw. Less than a hundred feet away from them, hovering like a giant bark moon in the sky. Nakshar.
A sob of relief escaped her. They had waited. Iravan was going to save them.
Iravan wasn’t looking at the city. He faced Ahilya and Oam, rising above them. His arms thrust out forcefully in front of his chest, and he rotated them like wheels.
Ahilya glanced down. Her mind spun. Boulders sailed through the jungle canopy, crashing into trees, churning in the wind. Giant balloons of dust mushroomed, exploded, collapsed. Rocks hit the vine vortex that carried her and Oam, but the vines knit themselves almost immediately. A state of unreality gripped her. Her muscles tensed.
Ahilya’s neck whipped as her body twisted. Nakshar appeared in her view again. She moved her arms, bracing, reaching. So close.
The vines tying her to Oam split.
Her arms flailed. Her stomach plummeted. She spun head over heels in midair, too shocked even to scream, dropping. Glimpses came to her, Oam’s vines untying, horror in his midair roll, the passage of wind, the writhing jungle becoming bigger.
Below—then above her—light exploded.
Something snatched her from midair. Her vision jerked horribly, then steadied. She was rising again, vines encircling her. Far away, Oam was rising too.
Ahilya craned her neck. High above, Iravan had stopped moving toward Nakshar. He shone like a miniature blue-green sun, but his own vortex was barely a raggedy vine. Furious beams shot out of his armor. She could see his face now, and she knew. The trajection was too much; he couldn’t keep it all up. His armor split, cracking. He was directing all his ropes to Ahilya and Oam. He was sacrificing his safety for theirs. No, she thought in horror. What are you doing? Save yourself. Save Oam.
More bark peeled off him, she felt his desperation, his exhaustion, even as she arose. Debris punched at him, slapping his face, and he spun for a moment, losing balance. The straggly vine connecting him to the jungle tore.
Iravan flung an arm, a frantic gesture, and something surrounded Ahilya like a tentacle. In a whirlpool of wind, she was sucked toward the city at a dizzying speed. The last vine connecting her to Iravan snapped.
Then shocking pain smashed into her, vibrating through her feet, her knees, jarring her teeth. Air squeezed out of her. She was being chewed up, the magnaroot armor peeling off her, taking rips of clothing and skin with it.
Ahilya broke through Nakshar and slammed into something hard.
For a moment, she lay there, her ears roaring, spots in her vision. Her breath came out in heavy gasps. She rolled on her side and emptied her stomach. Her body was a mass of blood, a million cuts and scrapes, but there was no sign of the magnaroot. The city’s bark had scraped it all off. Nakshar had let her in but not the jungle.
She staggered to her knees. Already the solid ground was growing soft grass. The walls became a tapestry of curling leaves.
A moment later, Iravan slammed through the foliage, sliding on the grass next to her. Ahilya sobbed in relief, scrambling over to clutch at him. He didn’t move. His skin was dark again, no longer trajecting. Bruises and bloody scrapes covered his face and body. His breathing was shallow. She waited, one, two, three seconds but the wall didn’t move anymore.
Ahilya released Iravan and staggered to her feet, her heart beating frantically. They were in a corridor, and it was empty save the two of them.
There was no sign of Oam.
10
AHILYA
She surged to the leafy wall, pounding it with her fists. “Open, rage you!” she screamed.
In response, thorns emerged out of the leaves. The thorns were too soft; they didn’t hurt her, but they were a warning. The wall would not open.
She banged at it again in frustration. Why wouldn’t it respond? She was in Nakshar; the plants ought to obey her now without the need for trajection. Was the city still on flight protocol?
“Open, rage you to death,” she screamed, tearing at the leaves with bloody fingers. But the wall just grew back, denser than before. Why didn’t it—
She was trying to go outside Nakshar. She wouldn’t be able to, not without a maze key like the one Naila had, or a Senior—
Ahilya spun on her feet to where Iravan lay slumped on the floor. Grass had grown around him, cushioning him. Healbranch vines circled his chest, reacting to his deepest desire: rest. The pale white vines grew all around the city, boosting immunity and elevating strength. Ahilya hastened to him and dropped to her knees.
The scent of eucalyptus and firemint came to her. Iravan’s scents—plants that healed him, specific to his body. Nakshar had already begun curing him, but he didn’t move. Ahilya choked, clutching his hand. “Please be all right,” she wept. “Please, Iravan, please be all right.”
His eyelids fluttered open, “A-lya,” he breathed. “You… safe.”
“I’m safe,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face.
He exhaled and collapsed deeper into his cushion of grass.
“But Oam,” she said, her voice trembling. “Oam is still outside.”
He moaned, a soft sound.
“Please,” she whispered, sobbing. “He’s just a child, Iravan. A foolish boy.”
Iravan’s eyes flickered underneath closed lids. His veins pulsed under her fingers, a brief spasm of blue-green, in and out, blue-green then dark, over and over again like he was malfunctioning.
Ahilya’s vision blurred. “I’m so sorry, Iravan,” she wept. “I’m so sorry. Please, I had a duty of care.”
“No,” he mumbled, his voice soft. “I did.”
He tried to straighten, and she put her arms around his shoulders, but he felt like deadweight. Iravan gritted his teeth, eyes still closed, his breath coming out in shudders. His tattoos sputtered again. Sweaty hair lay limp on his forehead. Ahilya gazed at the wall outside, hoping.
He collapsed in her arms, unconscious.
She half-arose then, thinking of getting help, when she heard the crunch of footsteps. Ahilya spun toward the sound just as Bharavi appeared and pushed her aside. The short-haired woman fell to her knees next to Iravan, her face ashen. She pulled one of Iravan’s eyes open. The capillaries were blue, the pupil rolled back.
Bharavi cursed. She tore the tattered remains of Iravan’s kurta and lifted his bare arm to the sungineering bulb that appeared in the grass, supplied by Nakshar in response to her desire for light.
Illuminated by the golden beams, Ahilya saw what she hadn’t before. Iravan’s dark skin was crisscrossed with angry black welts. They looked like grotesque creepers, sharp and angry, burned as though permanently.
“He’s overextended himself,” Bharavi said, her tone clipped. “The trajection has left an afterimage. He needs help now, or his veins will incinerate.”
Ahilya’s heart skipped a beat. “The sanctum?” It was where architects were healed.
“This is beyond the sanctum.” Bharavi stood up. “He needs to be connected to the rudra tree directly now.”
She gestured for Ahilya to move away, and Ahilya scuttled back. Bharavi narrowed her eyes. Light exploded from her. Ahilya threw a hand up for shade, her eyes watering. When she lowered it, Iravan lay on a pale white healbranch platform, his head turned to a side. The waist-high platform began to skim forward. Bharavi swept past Ahilya, following it.
Ahilya struggled to keep up. “Will he be all right?”
“I don’t know. He needs Chaiyya now.”
Ahilya’s heart pounded harder. She reached to touch Iravan’s damp hair, but the platform moved too fast. Tears trickled down her face. Her mind couldn’t comprehend what had happened. They had been safe. She’d gone on a hundred successful expeditions before. This was supposed to have been a routine excursion. The platform passed through darkness and light, sungineering glowglobes flashing through the corridor.
“Bha,” Ahilya began, in a whisper. “My apprentice. Oam. He’s still outside. Iravan had him, too—”
Bharavi’s eyes were on Iravan. She cursed and trajected again, her veins sparkling. Underneath Ahilya, the ground firmed, and then she and Bharavi were skimming behind Iravan.
Ahilya swallowed back her questions. Oam had to be all right. He had to be. If Bharavi had known to come to the part of the city where she and Iravan had entered, then the temple—the council—had been watching their ascent from the jungle. Surely it meant Oam had made it safe. He must have entered Nakshar through another part. Maybe he was already at the infirmary, receiving healing. Ahilya opened and closed her mouth, wanting to confirm it, but hot tears choked her. She couldn’t take a full breath.
At last, Bharavi put up a hand, blue-green with a simple curving pattern. The corridor ended in a wooden wall. Bark retracted. The platform skimmed forward, and the wall closed behind them again. They were back in the temple.
Unlike the expansive courtyard Ahilya had left, the temple now resembled a small dark cavern. The rudra tree stood at the center, shorter, and the Architects’ Disc was only a few feet off the grassy floor. Maze Architects moved over it, as many as during the landing. Most wore their robes, but several wore ordinary kurtas and trousers. A nervous chatter hummed around them, sharp and anxious.
“He’s here,” someone shouted.
Instantly, Ahilya and Bharavi were surrounded by the other councilors. The rudra tree grew thicker, taller, carrying the Disc into its upper stories. Senior Architects Airav and Chaiyya trajected Iravan’s platform away, and laid him at the tree’s base. The temple transformed as rock walls expanded, pushed by writhing roots. Multiple levels formed, doorways materializing then disappearing, passageways lit by sparkling glowglobes before all became dim once more. Ahilya gazed up but saw the ceiling had risen too high.
With the ascension of the Disc, only the six councilors remained in the temple. Bharavi stood next to Ahilya, but the two Senior Sungineers Kiana and Laksiya strode away, heads together, voices indistinct. Lying at the base of the now-massive rudra tree, Iravan was a mere dark shape buried under wet earth. Chaiyya knelt by him, trajecting fiercely, and Airav’s voice was raised in a lilting hum. Ahilya made to move, but vines had crept over her legs without her notice, up her arms and chest—healbranch and sandalwood, scabbing her wounds, sealing her cuts. She blinked, not fully understanding.
