Trion Rising, page 13
Not to mention the cold that made her feel like a piece of meat in a freezer. What kind of combination was this— freezing flames? She couldn’t stop the freezing, but every shake only made it worse. Even the tears— which she also couldn’t stop— didn’t help either.
Still, she knew she could not stay this way, twisted and broken in the dark and the white ice. If she died here, who would know the difference? If she could just move the arm around to the front again, maybe even sit up …
No worries, she told herself, and the words reminded her of something. Someone. Who? The fog still hadn’t left her. But she imagined sitting someplace warm, back in the city where she’d come from, with people who cared for her. And because she was trying to remember it, did that make it true?
She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, reached up her free left hand, and screamed.
“Oh!” Did it get any worse? Still she fought to sit up, to free her right arm pinned beneath her. She clawed at the dark as if she could pull herself up, while her shoulder gave a large pop.
And she screamed in pain once more, now clutching her injured arm in front of her, sitting up in the white ice and crying with even more tears that she didn’t know she had. But she had to get up, so she rolled to the side and hoisted herself to her knees.
Don’t stop! she told herself. And finally she stood panting and exhausted, still clutching her arm. She stood that way for a while, catching her breath, waiting for the pain to subside just a little. And she listened— there!
This time she thought she heard it, resembling a faint whisper more than a real chorus. And whether it was above or simply off in the distance, she still could not be sure. But she smiled at the song, even if it was yet hardly more than pretend.
Oriannon tried not to think too much about what had happened. But she knew her shoulder had popped out of its socket, and now was hopefully back in. The pain now throbbed, aching, pushing her to the edge of lightheadedness. And then she heard something else— a faint rustling, pebbles falling from a height.
“Who’s there?” she shouted up into the darkness.
And now she found perhaps it wasn’t as dark as she’d first thought. Dark, yes, compared to where she had come from. But a bright canopy of stars offered a bit of light. The blue-green glow of the white ice added a bit more. And with these nightlights she could see how the three-story walls of her little canyon were pock-marked with ledges and caves. But again she heard the rustle. And when she ducked away behind a rock, the pain from her shoulder nearly made her faint.
Don’t black out, she told herself. Her stomach growled, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything to eat. Or drink. With her good arm she scooped up a handful of white ice; she let it melt on her parched tongue. Better, but it sure didn’t warm her up. Tasted like … space, and was just as cold. The only way to warm up, she thought, would be to move. And that, given her arm, wasn’t going to be the easiest thing to do.
“Okay, then!” she yelled up at the ridge above. “If you don’t come down, I’m coming up.”
It might have been better if she’d been able to explain why she’d come here in the first place, or where she was going from here.
“Well …” she mumbled, and talking to herself only seemed natural in a lonely place such as this. “I know I can’t stay down in this canyon, right?”
She felt in her pocket, finding a small wireless earbud. She held it up in the dim star-glow, wondering what she had used it for. Once again her memories floated just beyond her reach, taunting her, but she knew at least they were there to forget. Now, if she didn’t even know that she was supposed to know, that would be frightening. She slipped the earbud back into her pocket and started up the canyon wall. Slowly, slowly.
Oriannon could have retraced her steps the way she’d tumbled down the side of the hill into the gorge, but this other side seemed a little less steep. Besides, she wanted to keep going the same way she’d been traveling on the scooter.
“This way,” she told herself, breathing heavier from the climb. Didn’t matter what was up here. Even with just her one arm she found her way up a series of broad natural rock steps, each one steeper than the last. And now she could climb, but slowly, using her good left arm to reach up and grab a handhold in the sandstone ledges above her head. Where the rock had been worn by wind and rain, small puddles of sand made her grip that much more slippery. And, of course, it would have gone faster with two hands. But she just reached and pulled, reached and—
The hiss startled her more than the slimy rope feel of the thing she grabbed. But only for a moment. With a yelp she let go as a snake tumbled off the ledge in front of her, covered in a sort of glittery ooze that made it look like a huge worm. As thick around as her own leg, it stretched longer than she was tall.
And the stench! She covered her nose as an odor like dog vomit assaulted her, only worse. When the worm spit hit her in the shoulder she tumbled backwards, trying to blink away the burning pain and wipe off the caustic venom at the same time.
“Get away!” she screamed. She thought of stomping it, but figured that would have made it madder than it already was, hissing and squirming its way down the rock wall and burrowing into the loose sand at her feet.
Stupid worm. And she crouched there on a rock ledge, halfway up the rise, wondering how many more surprises this horrible, cold, dark place held. Her eyes watered and her shoulder and arm still throbbed. At least she wasn’t shivering as much now, though she could feel the raw wind picking up as she climbed higher.
Only now she slowed even more, tossing handfuls of gravel up to the places she couldn’t yet see.
“Away!” she called at each step. Right now she just wanted to make her way to the top and out of the canyon without getting sprayed again by giant worms, these … sand worms. She kicked at another one without thinking, and it hissed but slipped away without doing any more damage. Strange how quickly they could bury themselves in the sand. She stepped lightly, hoping not to disturb any more than she already had.
Finally the wind told her she’d made it to the top— a chilling breeze loaded with the scent of heather and ice, chiseled with a raw power that slapped her cheeks and took her breath away. Her hair stood out like a flag as she stood at the edge of the ravine, hands on her hips, turning to see what this place really looked like.
Dark, yes— but it could have been worse. Now it almost made her think she was looking at the world through shades— but of course she’d lost hers long ago, back on the scooter. Yet even in the shadows of this darkened world she could make out the rugged, rolling hills, stretching as far as the horizon, decorated with the blue-green glow of white ice and warmed by the thick canopy of stars overhead.
“I can’t believe it.” For a moment she forgot even the pain of her arm, just blinked back the tears— and those not from the sting of the sand worm, but from seeing the fierce beauty of so many tiny lights, so close. She reached out to touch them, staring at the patterns that began to blink out of the stars. There— a face! Or a hand holding an ancient sword. She even recognized a jet-black yagwar, crouched as if ready to pounce on its prey.
For the first time in her life, Oriannon saw so far past herself that she wondered who had put so many stars in this sky. This couldn’t be the same cold, lifeless Maker she’d always read about.
Could it?
No. These stars sang and danced to music she’d never before heard, like a window to the universe she’d never witnessed. Like they’d been created yesterday.
She didn’t know how long she stood there staring at the stars, wondering about things she’d never wondered before, when the rumbling beneath her feet shook her out of her wondering.
What was that? The rocky earth rumbled below her, deep and quivering. She leaned over to hold onto a large stone, larger than herself, but it rumbled with the rest of it. And then the dry waves came, one after the other, nearly knocking her off her feet, and she heard this earthquake as much as felt it.
“What kind of place is this?”
The earthquake jolted her back to now, back to the real world of shivering cold and a shoulder that still throbbed. What was she doing here? Alone and lost, cold and hungry, in a place where people were sent to … to die?
How did she know that? The thought tickled a memory somewhere deep, and though she couldn’t quite bring it up, it pushed her to start walking once again.
Keep walking, but which way? She knew without thinking, even walked faster, though her shoulder and arm throbbed worse than ever with each step. She put the canyon behind her, the border lands and the crossing, grateful the probes had not tried to chase her. And she tried not to step on anymore sand worms. Tried not to sink too deep when she came upon a glistening field of dark, dusty ash.
Was she just imagining it, or did it suddenly feel much warmer? She coughed and waved her hands as the dust covered her. And then she heard what she’d been hoping not to hear, ever since she’d climbed out of the ravine.
Another hiss. Only this one came from several directions at once, even as she hobbled a couple of steps and sank knee-deep in the warm, dusty ash. And the harder she tried to lift her legs to walk, the harder the ash seemed to tug at her.
Stop! she told herself, holding her breath and hoping for the hissing sounds to go away.
They grew louder, closer, like a sucking vacuum cleaner. The ground quivered beneath her feet— not like an earthquake this time, but more like a bowl of glaep dumplings, and she thought it odd to be recalling food at such a time.
No going forward. She tried to lift just one of her legs, slowly, and imagined a family of sand worms nibbling at her toes. Maybe the creature couldn’t see her, but she knew better. And when she smelled the telltale vomit odor she knew it was even closer.
Could she back up? She knew of no other solid ground, no place else to go. Even if she met this sand worm, better to be able to run than to be mired in this pit. Her foot finally worked free, leaving behind her shoe. She reached all the way down and hooked it with one finger, fishing it from the dust. But she looked back up to face three sand worms, each one following her movements like a tracking laser.
Oriannon screamed.
And for a moment they recoiled, before weaving their heads back around and hissing at her shoe, following it from side to side. Almost without knowing it she held her breath, and by this time her eyes were watering from the smell. But after a long minute’s standoff, Oriannon couldn’t stand it. She sneezed, which drew the instant attention of the sand worms. Which made her wonder: Could they only see things that moved?
This time she was ready for what came next. She dove to the side as all three creatures reared back and spit wicked streams of bile straight at her. One stream caught her on the knee, spinning her around, but that wasn’t going to stop her this time. Shoe in hand, she scrambled to the side looking for firm ground. She hoped they couldn’t squirm that fast.
Up ahead and to the right, she leaped over an odd bubbling pool set into a cluster of rocks where the steam smelled like rotten eggs. Right now she needed to put as much room as she could between her, the ash pit, and the angry sand worms. She didn’t stop until she had climbed another rise a half kilometer away, where she fell to her knees and gasped for breath.
They wouldn’t follow me, she told herself. They can’t. But still she wasn’t at all sure, and so she listened once more to the wind. She only heard her own heart beating, and again a rustling sound in the bushes that seemed more like footsteps than worm creatures. But she couldn’t be sure. She picked up a rock and threw it at the sound, wincing at the pain in her shoulder.
Nothing moved.
“Yah!” She stomped in the direction of the sound, but that only hurt her shoulder even more, so she crouched low, listening and catching her breath. By this time the day was catching up with her, the deep fatigue settling upon her, pushing past her adrenaline rush.
She licked her dry, cracked lips, wishing for just a little more of that white ice. Something to cool her throat. But up here on the rise most of the ice had melted. She tried to swallow; it didn’t help. Never mind noises in the shadows— where could she find something to drink?
What’s more, how could she find what she came here for? How would she know what she was looking for in the first place?
She would figure that out, in time. The answers would come. For now she just wondered how it might feel to stretch out on a comfortable bed again after a long, steamy shower. That would be so nice. Maybe she could just close her eyes for a minute or two. She nodded.
“Just for a minute or two,” she mumbled. Still shaking, she dropped to the ground behind a cluster of boulders and curled up into a ball. Never mind the worms. Never mind the sounds in the shadows.
Just sleep.
16
It took a moment for Oriannon to sort out the dream from reality. Even then, she huddled behind the shelter of boulders so the probes wouldn’t find her. And she tried to shake away her nightmare, shocked that she could remember every detail: the fear and the running, the tripping, the attacking probes, and the sand worms wrapped around her ankles.
She could not recall ever having had such a dream, couldn’t even remember recalling a dream in such detail. The dark must have brought it on. Where was she? Oriannon pulled a thick, hand-woven cloak to her chin, sweating, shaking, wondering. Only the dull, throbbing pain in her shoulder convinced her this Shadowside was real, rather than the bizarre chase she had just tumbled through in her sleep. She held the cloak a little closer; it smelled of cook fires and garlic, earthy spices and fried fish. It was obviously not hers.
So where did it come from? She knew she had not fallen asleep with it wrapped around her shoulders. Would the owner return to reclaim it? She sat up with another mystery added to the list, right behind “What am I doing here?” and “Where am I going?”
Without answers she studied the cloak’s weave for a minute, tracing her finger along an embroidered golden thread, a pattern of three suns against a dark background. She thought it quite beautifully made, really, with its intricate stitching and a sort of rustic charm. The suns reminded her of the place she had left, the place where it was always as bright as this place was dim. Perhaps if she just studied the cloak long enough she would remember.
Or not. She sighed as she pulled herself to her feet and looked around, trying to decide which direction to follow. Every stiffened muscle in her body protested, and her right shoulder throbbed worse than ever. Her eyes followed the outline of distant barren hills, a deep purple set against thousands upon thousands of stars dashed across the western sky. To the south a small, distant moon meandered into view, lending its own pale, yellow light and a certain sense that she was not completely alone. A reddish-blue glow danced above the eastern horizon, illuminating a familiar sight.
The pipeline.
“I’ve seen that before,” she told herself, and with her eyes she traced the paths of three good-sized pipes snaking their way across barren hills, much as they had on the other side of the border. She approached them carefully, pausing here and there, unsure just how close she should get.
Each probably measured three meters across— big enough to drive a large transport inside. She guessed they might be for water, and even leaned close, listening to its rushing pulse. This had to be a good trail to follow, one that would lead her somewhere.
So as she continued her hike she listened for any sign of life. A crow, maybe. Even the rustling footsteps of the person— or animal— that she thought had followed her. Just in case it had, she stopped and shot a look over her shoulder, strained her eyes to peer into the shadows.
Nothing moved.
See? she told herself. Nothing lives here. No animals, no people, no birds. Nothing except the sand worms.
Other than that, the wind and the sky seemed to carry all the life in this Shadowside. But still she wondered: How far can this pipeline go? Several hours later she leaned up against it once more, felt the thrum of liquid inside, and thought she heard the faintest of new sounds— like a river far off. It made her hurry on, hopping over rocks, downhill once again.
Pretty soon she was certain she heard rushing waterfalls, which meant they weren’t cold enough to freeze entirely. Several nice-sized streams trickled down a nearby hillside, adding to the music. Oriannon tried not to stumble as she kicked pebbles and sand down the hill in front of her, while the scent of water quickened her step.
Water! Now she came upon a small, stream-fed pond, not much bigger than a ragball field. Ripples reflected from dozens of tiny waterfalls emptying here from surrounding hills. Finally a place to drink! She tried to ignore her aching shoulder as she ran the last few meters to the icy edge. Just then she didn’t care how the ice ledge cracked a bit under her weight. She got down on all fours and reached over the edge, down to dark waters.
It did call to mind a pot of clemsonroot tea that had been steeping a few minutes too long. Or maybe it was just the shadows. Steam from the water caught her in the face, and she actually giggled.
For the first time Oriannon had something to feel good about, as she scooped handful after handful of dark water, lapped up like a dog, and she didn’t mind that it felt lukewarm. It tasted as dark as it looked, though— earthy and rich, in any case not the kind of refreshment to bottle and take home. She imagined some kind of warm springs here.
But what was that?
When she paused to catch her breath, she heard the start-up of a distant hum, then a faint sucking sound like a bathtub emptying. She guessed it had something to do with one of the huge pipes terminating here. In fact, she could see such a pipe lurking only a few meters away, only half underwater. A pump must have activated, because now it was sucking the pond dry like a giant straw.
She kept drinking and didn’t hear the ice cracking again until it was too late to back away from the edge. This time it cracked all the way through, catching first her leg and then sending her slipping down, down toward the water, face first.
Still, she knew she could not stay this way, twisted and broken in the dark and the white ice. If she died here, who would know the difference? If she could just move the arm around to the front again, maybe even sit up …
No worries, she told herself, and the words reminded her of something. Someone. Who? The fog still hadn’t left her. But she imagined sitting someplace warm, back in the city where she’d come from, with people who cared for her. And because she was trying to remember it, did that make it true?
She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, reached up her free left hand, and screamed.
“Oh!” Did it get any worse? Still she fought to sit up, to free her right arm pinned beneath her. She clawed at the dark as if she could pull herself up, while her shoulder gave a large pop.
And she screamed in pain once more, now clutching her injured arm in front of her, sitting up in the white ice and crying with even more tears that she didn’t know she had. But she had to get up, so she rolled to the side and hoisted herself to her knees.
Don’t stop! she told herself. And finally she stood panting and exhausted, still clutching her arm. She stood that way for a while, catching her breath, waiting for the pain to subside just a little. And she listened— there!
This time she thought she heard it, resembling a faint whisper more than a real chorus. And whether it was above or simply off in the distance, she still could not be sure. But she smiled at the song, even if it was yet hardly more than pretend.
Oriannon tried not to think too much about what had happened. But she knew her shoulder had popped out of its socket, and now was hopefully back in. The pain now throbbed, aching, pushing her to the edge of lightheadedness. And then she heard something else— a faint rustling, pebbles falling from a height.
“Who’s there?” she shouted up into the darkness.
And now she found perhaps it wasn’t as dark as she’d first thought. Dark, yes, compared to where she had come from. But a bright canopy of stars offered a bit of light. The blue-green glow of the white ice added a bit more. And with these nightlights she could see how the three-story walls of her little canyon were pock-marked with ledges and caves. But again she heard the rustle. And when she ducked away behind a rock, the pain from her shoulder nearly made her faint.
Don’t black out, she told herself. Her stomach growled, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything to eat. Or drink. With her good arm she scooped up a handful of white ice; she let it melt on her parched tongue. Better, but it sure didn’t warm her up. Tasted like … space, and was just as cold. The only way to warm up, she thought, would be to move. And that, given her arm, wasn’t going to be the easiest thing to do.
“Okay, then!” she yelled up at the ridge above. “If you don’t come down, I’m coming up.”
It might have been better if she’d been able to explain why she’d come here in the first place, or where she was going from here.
“Well …” she mumbled, and talking to herself only seemed natural in a lonely place such as this. “I know I can’t stay down in this canyon, right?”
She felt in her pocket, finding a small wireless earbud. She held it up in the dim star-glow, wondering what she had used it for. Once again her memories floated just beyond her reach, taunting her, but she knew at least they were there to forget. Now, if she didn’t even know that she was supposed to know, that would be frightening. She slipped the earbud back into her pocket and started up the canyon wall. Slowly, slowly.
Oriannon could have retraced her steps the way she’d tumbled down the side of the hill into the gorge, but this other side seemed a little less steep. Besides, she wanted to keep going the same way she’d been traveling on the scooter.
“This way,” she told herself, breathing heavier from the climb. Didn’t matter what was up here. Even with just her one arm she found her way up a series of broad natural rock steps, each one steeper than the last. And now she could climb, but slowly, using her good left arm to reach up and grab a handhold in the sandstone ledges above her head. Where the rock had been worn by wind and rain, small puddles of sand made her grip that much more slippery. And, of course, it would have gone faster with two hands. But she just reached and pulled, reached and—
The hiss startled her more than the slimy rope feel of the thing she grabbed. But only for a moment. With a yelp she let go as a snake tumbled off the ledge in front of her, covered in a sort of glittery ooze that made it look like a huge worm. As thick around as her own leg, it stretched longer than she was tall.
And the stench! She covered her nose as an odor like dog vomit assaulted her, only worse. When the worm spit hit her in the shoulder she tumbled backwards, trying to blink away the burning pain and wipe off the caustic venom at the same time.
“Get away!” she screamed. She thought of stomping it, but figured that would have made it madder than it already was, hissing and squirming its way down the rock wall and burrowing into the loose sand at her feet.
Stupid worm. And she crouched there on a rock ledge, halfway up the rise, wondering how many more surprises this horrible, cold, dark place held. Her eyes watered and her shoulder and arm still throbbed. At least she wasn’t shivering as much now, though she could feel the raw wind picking up as she climbed higher.
Only now she slowed even more, tossing handfuls of gravel up to the places she couldn’t yet see.
“Away!” she called at each step. Right now she just wanted to make her way to the top and out of the canyon without getting sprayed again by giant worms, these … sand worms. She kicked at another one without thinking, and it hissed but slipped away without doing any more damage. Strange how quickly they could bury themselves in the sand. She stepped lightly, hoping not to disturb any more than she already had.
Finally the wind told her she’d made it to the top— a chilling breeze loaded with the scent of heather and ice, chiseled with a raw power that slapped her cheeks and took her breath away. Her hair stood out like a flag as she stood at the edge of the ravine, hands on her hips, turning to see what this place really looked like.
Dark, yes— but it could have been worse. Now it almost made her think she was looking at the world through shades— but of course she’d lost hers long ago, back on the scooter. Yet even in the shadows of this darkened world she could make out the rugged, rolling hills, stretching as far as the horizon, decorated with the blue-green glow of white ice and warmed by the thick canopy of stars overhead.
“I can’t believe it.” For a moment she forgot even the pain of her arm, just blinked back the tears— and those not from the sting of the sand worm, but from seeing the fierce beauty of so many tiny lights, so close. She reached out to touch them, staring at the patterns that began to blink out of the stars. There— a face! Or a hand holding an ancient sword. She even recognized a jet-black yagwar, crouched as if ready to pounce on its prey.
For the first time in her life, Oriannon saw so far past herself that she wondered who had put so many stars in this sky. This couldn’t be the same cold, lifeless Maker she’d always read about.
Could it?
No. These stars sang and danced to music she’d never before heard, like a window to the universe she’d never witnessed. Like they’d been created yesterday.
She didn’t know how long she stood there staring at the stars, wondering about things she’d never wondered before, when the rumbling beneath her feet shook her out of her wondering.
What was that? The rocky earth rumbled below her, deep and quivering. She leaned over to hold onto a large stone, larger than herself, but it rumbled with the rest of it. And then the dry waves came, one after the other, nearly knocking her off her feet, and she heard this earthquake as much as felt it.
“What kind of place is this?”
The earthquake jolted her back to now, back to the real world of shivering cold and a shoulder that still throbbed. What was she doing here? Alone and lost, cold and hungry, in a place where people were sent to … to die?
How did she know that? The thought tickled a memory somewhere deep, and though she couldn’t quite bring it up, it pushed her to start walking once again.
Keep walking, but which way? She knew without thinking, even walked faster, though her shoulder and arm throbbed worse than ever with each step. She put the canyon behind her, the border lands and the crossing, grateful the probes had not tried to chase her. And she tried not to step on anymore sand worms. Tried not to sink too deep when she came upon a glistening field of dark, dusty ash.
Was she just imagining it, or did it suddenly feel much warmer? She coughed and waved her hands as the dust covered her. And then she heard what she’d been hoping not to hear, ever since she’d climbed out of the ravine.
Another hiss. Only this one came from several directions at once, even as she hobbled a couple of steps and sank knee-deep in the warm, dusty ash. And the harder she tried to lift her legs to walk, the harder the ash seemed to tug at her.
Stop! she told herself, holding her breath and hoping for the hissing sounds to go away.
They grew louder, closer, like a sucking vacuum cleaner. The ground quivered beneath her feet— not like an earthquake this time, but more like a bowl of glaep dumplings, and she thought it odd to be recalling food at such a time.
No going forward. She tried to lift just one of her legs, slowly, and imagined a family of sand worms nibbling at her toes. Maybe the creature couldn’t see her, but she knew better. And when she smelled the telltale vomit odor she knew it was even closer.
Could she back up? She knew of no other solid ground, no place else to go. Even if she met this sand worm, better to be able to run than to be mired in this pit. Her foot finally worked free, leaving behind her shoe. She reached all the way down and hooked it with one finger, fishing it from the dust. But she looked back up to face three sand worms, each one following her movements like a tracking laser.
Oriannon screamed.
And for a moment they recoiled, before weaving their heads back around and hissing at her shoe, following it from side to side. Almost without knowing it she held her breath, and by this time her eyes were watering from the smell. But after a long minute’s standoff, Oriannon couldn’t stand it. She sneezed, which drew the instant attention of the sand worms. Which made her wonder: Could they only see things that moved?
This time she was ready for what came next. She dove to the side as all three creatures reared back and spit wicked streams of bile straight at her. One stream caught her on the knee, spinning her around, but that wasn’t going to stop her this time. Shoe in hand, she scrambled to the side looking for firm ground. She hoped they couldn’t squirm that fast.
Up ahead and to the right, she leaped over an odd bubbling pool set into a cluster of rocks where the steam smelled like rotten eggs. Right now she needed to put as much room as she could between her, the ash pit, and the angry sand worms. She didn’t stop until she had climbed another rise a half kilometer away, where she fell to her knees and gasped for breath.
They wouldn’t follow me, she told herself. They can’t. But still she wasn’t at all sure, and so she listened once more to the wind. She only heard her own heart beating, and again a rustling sound in the bushes that seemed more like footsteps than worm creatures. But she couldn’t be sure. She picked up a rock and threw it at the sound, wincing at the pain in her shoulder.
Nothing moved.
“Yah!” She stomped in the direction of the sound, but that only hurt her shoulder even more, so she crouched low, listening and catching her breath. By this time the day was catching up with her, the deep fatigue settling upon her, pushing past her adrenaline rush.
She licked her dry, cracked lips, wishing for just a little more of that white ice. Something to cool her throat. But up here on the rise most of the ice had melted. She tried to swallow; it didn’t help. Never mind noises in the shadows— where could she find something to drink?
What’s more, how could she find what she came here for? How would she know what she was looking for in the first place?
She would figure that out, in time. The answers would come. For now she just wondered how it might feel to stretch out on a comfortable bed again after a long, steamy shower. That would be so nice. Maybe she could just close her eyes for a minute or two. She nodded.
“Just for a minute or two,” she mumbled. Still shaking, she dropped to the ground behind a cluster of boulders and curled up into a ball. Never mind the worms. Never mind the sounds in the shadows.
Just sleep.
16
It took a moment for Oriannon to sort out the dream from reality. Even then, she huddled behind the shelter of boulders so the probes wouldn’t find her. And she tried to shake away her nightmare, shocked that she could remember every detail: the fear and the running, the tripping, the attacking probes, and the sand worms wrapped around her ankles.
She could not recall ever having had such a dream, couldn’t even remember recalling a dream in such detail. The dark must have brought it on. Where was she? Oriannon pulled a thick, hand-woven cloak to her chin, sweating, shaking, wondering. Only the dull, throbbing pain in her shoulder convinced her this Shadowside was real, rather than the bizarre chase she had just tumbled through in her sleep. She held the cloak a little closer; it smelled of cook fires and garlic, earthy spices and fried fish. It was obviously not hers.
So where did it come from? She knew she had not fallen asleep with it wrapped around her shoulders. Would the owner return to reclaim it? She sat up with another mystery added to the list, right behind “What am I doing here?” and “Where am I going?”
Without answers she studied the cloak’s weave for a minute, tracing her finger along an embroidered golden thread, a pattern of three suns against a dark background. She thought it quite beautifully made, really, with its intricate stitching and a sort of rustic charm. The suns reminded her of the place she had left, the place where it was always as bright as this place was dim. Perhaps if she just studied the cloak long enough she would remember.
Or not. She sighed as she pulled herself to her feet and looked around, trying to decide which direction to follow. Every stiffened muscle in her body protested, and her right shoulder throbbed worse than ever. Her eyes followed the outline of distant barren hills, a deep purple set against thousands upon thousands of stars dashed across the western sky. To the south a small, distant moon meandered into view, lending its own pale, yellow light and a certain sense that she was not completely alone. A reddish-blue glow danced above the eastern horizon, illuminating a familiar sight.
The pipeline.
“I’ve seen that before,” she told herself, and with her eyes she traced the paths of three good-sized pipes snaking their way across barren hills, much as they had on the other side of the border. She approached them carefully, pausing here and there, unsure just how close she should get.
Each probably measured three meters across— big enough to drive a large transport inside. She guessed they might be for water, and even leaned close, listening to its rushing pulse. This had to be a good trail to follow, one that would lead her somewhere.
So as she continued her hike she listened for any sign of life. A crow, maybe. Even the rustling footsteps of the person— or animal— that she thought had followed her. Just in case it had, she stopped and shot a look over her shoulder, strained her eyes to peer into the shadows.
Nothing moved.
See? she told herself. Nothing lives here. No animals, no people, no birds. Nothing except the sand worms.
Other than that, the wind and the sky seemed to carry all the life in this Shadowside. But still she wondered: How far can this pipeline go? Several hours later she leaned up against it once more, felt the thrum of liquid inside, and thought she heard the faintest of new sounds— like a river far off. It made her hurry on, hopping over rocks, downhill once again.
Pretty soon she was certain she heard rushing waterfalls, which meant they weren’t cold enough to freeze entirely. Several nice-sized streams trickled down a nearby hillside, adding to the music. Oriannon tried not to stumble as she kicked pebbles and sand down the hill in front of her, while the scent of water quickened her step.
Water! Now she came upon a small, stream-fed pond, not much bigger than a ragball field. Ripples reflected from dozens of tiny waterfalls emptying here from surrounding hills. Finally a place to drink! She tried to ignore her aching shoulder as she ran the last few meters to the icy edge. Just then she didn’t care how the ice ledge cracked a bit under her weight. She got down on all fours and reached over the edge, down to dark waters.
It did call to mind a pot of clemsonroot tea that had been steeping a few minutes too long. Or maybe it was just the shadows. Steam from the water caught her in the face, and she actually giggled.
For the first time Oriannon had something to feel good about, as she scooped handful after handful of dark water, lapped up like a dog, and she didn’t mind that it felt lukewarm. It tasted as dark as it looked, though— earthy and rich, in any case not the kind of refreshment to bottle and take home. She imagined some kind of warm springs here.
But what was that?
When she paused to catch her breath, she heard the start-up of a distant hum, then a faint sucking sound like a bathtub emptying. She guessed it had something to do with one of the huge pipes terminating here. In fact, she could see such a pipe lurking only a few meters away, only half underwater. A pump must have activated, because now it was sucking the pond dry like a giant straw.
She kept drinking and didn’t hear the ice cracking again until it was too late to back away from the edge. This time it cracked all the way through, catching first her leg and then sending her slipping down, down toward the water, face first.
