A Division of Souls - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe (31 page)

“Of course it wasn’t,” he frowned. “Rieflin
might be a pushover of a governor, but he’s not stupid.”

“Yes, but now he’s obsessed with finding the
Shenaihu behind the hrrah-sehdhyn.”

He paused before answering. That could
certainly cause more problems for the ARU down the line. “Hmm. I
see your point. He’s not planning to do something rash, is he?”

Matthew waved a hand at them. “Let me reword
that. I think he’s beginning to figure out who is behind them is
what I meant to say. He has no proof, but his heart is in the right
place. His main concern, or should I say his main annoyance, is
commerce. He’s getting hit from all sides by the corporations in
town, and they won’t let go until they have answers.

“So I did a little homework and came up with
something interesting: EdenTree, our ubiquitous technological
monster, has been the most vocal in its monetary concern, but it
has been the least affected, both monetarily and physically, by the
ritual or by yesterday’s attacks. EdenTree is so much an anchor in
the Crimson-Null Foundation that if the Earth were to disappear
tomorrow, they would be, if you’ll pardon the pun, the sole
survivors. Economically and physically.”

“So what does this have to do with Rieflin?”
Caren asked.

Matthew smirked at her. “Think about it,
Miss Johnson. If you were
that
vocal about something that
trivial…”

“Theatrics,” she answered.

“Precisely. And I think there’s a chance the
governor knows that, or will be coming to that conclusion very
soon. And while we’re at it, he’s already taken the next step —
he’s contacted Shirai, the AI for the Mirades Tower, and there’s a
very good chance he’s going to try to take down the Shenaihu
himself.”

“How do you know this?” Poe asked.

Matthew looked at him with the smile of a
child showing off all his toys to the delight and jealousy of his
peers. “Simple. Shirai and I have been in frequent contact.”

Poe frowned at him, startled by his
revelation. It was so off the cuff that it derailed his thoughts
completely. And yet, it made a perverted kind of sense. “Wait. How
is that possible? Shirai’s been around for at least two decades,
and she’s been trying to catch you ever since you restarted Vigil
ten years ago.”

“And who do you think has been helping me
all this time? I wouldn’t have been able to do half of what I do
without her, you know. But what’s more important here, Poe, is that
Rieflin is planning on ending the Shenaihu threat his own way.
Which is all well and good, but…”

Caren leaned forward, as if anticipating the
answer. “…but?”

“…but, truth be told, I don’t think that’s a
good idea at all.”

“Why not?” Poe asked. Caren worked her jaw
to answer him, but stopped herself at the last second and let
Matthew talk instead.

“First of all, Poe, think of the spiritual
end of it. Yin and yang. Everything has a corresponding balance.
One magnet does nothing until you attract it or repel it using the
polarities of another magnet. Take away one and the other ceases to
have any valid
raison d’etre
at all.” Matthew crossed his
arms, leaned back in the chair and stared at him, waiting for a
response.

Poe glanced at Caren and got nothing except
for a quick darting of her eyes at him. She was expecting him to
answer to this conversation that had suddenly made a discomforting
turn. He started softly, talking more to himself than to Matthew or
Caren. “Without the Shenaihu, the Mendaihu are incomplete…and we
are all left in space…” He stopped quickly, shaking his hand in the
air. There was a remembrance poem out there, a famous one that he
couldn’t quite recall at the moment, and it was about this very
situation. “No, wait a minute. That’s not quite it, is it? Why
can’t I see this…?”

Matthew leaned forward and gripped Poe’s
arm. Dark brown narrowed eyes pierced into his through those
black-rimmed glasses, unblinking and steady. “You’re close, Poe,”
he said, just above a whisper. “Think of the Waterfront. Why are
all the Mendaihu joining forces there? Surely it’s not a mass
divination or ritual service, is it? Can’t be. Put the pieces
together, Poe. You’ve got them all in front of you.”

Poe shuddered and spoke in the confines of
the space between them. “A
shimshiya
? No…we already ruled
that out. It’s not an old bitter rivalry. It’s bigger than that.
And this is more than just another Embodiment, isn’t it?”

Incredulously, Matthew smiled and suddenly
released his arm. He moved away, chuckling to himself. “There’s
that ‘Embodiment’ talk again,” he said, taking his seat. “I’ve been
hearing that everywhere since the awakening ritual. Trust me, Poe.
It may or may not be more violent than the season of the Eight, but
it’s certainly more intense. Ask your Mendaihu contacts when you
meet them, Poe. I think your meeting is in twenty minutes.” He
concluded by clasping his hands on the desk again, tapping his
thumbs. This time there was a wide grin on his face.

Caren growled at him. “How the hell did you
know…?”

Another chuckle escaped him. “Well now, we
wouldn’t be called Vigil if we weren’t paying attention, would
we?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Moulding Warehouse,
Waterfront District

Nehalé Usarai stood on the roof of Moulding
Warehouse, looking at the sky over the Mirades Tower. He saw the
world with the veil lifted, watching the sea of souls converge with
the skyscrapers and BMPD helicopters. There was a strange
peacefulness in watching the two realities intermingle like that,
the physical and technological with the spiritual. They were never
quite aware of one another on a conscious level, yet each moved in
symbiotic fashion, one held aloft by the other.

He watched and listened
for what seemed like hours. The Sprawl's music — the steady,
ominous rush of human spirit waves crashing against the shores of
the land — echoed through his own soul; the sound of unguarded
tension and unaccepted fear rattled through the city, engulfing
everyone and everything. His psychic blast and the hrrah-sehdhyn
response had awakened many in the past few days, though still an
insignificant number compared to the full body of Shenaihu now
amassing in the area. He would need more,
thousands
more, if his instincts
were correct.

This thought disturbed his meditative state,
and he was pulled back into the noisy reality of Bridgetown and the
Waterfront District. Cars trudged westward down McCleever Street
towards the I-91 freeway a few miles distant, escaping Sculler's
Crossing and all the shoreline shops and office parks. Those who
actually lived in this sector relied on public transit instead.
This made the area a little quieter and less congested than usual,
and that was one of the reasons he’d chosen this warehouse as a
base of operations.

The other was the vibe. The people of West
McCleever and the Waterfront were the most spiritual and the least
violent in all the Bridgetown districts, despite their history. He
knew a great many of them through his charity work, and others
through their spirit signature. They talked, word got around, and
he was a familiar and welcome face. He loved being a part of this
community, helping it spiritually any way he could. Their strong
personal faith and sense of extended family amazed him every day,
from the shelters to the education centers. Their lives were
strengthened by their fierce pride in refusing to give up. These
were the souls whose song he'd heard so strongly these past few
hours, crying out almost immediately after Nehalé had escaped St.
Patrick's Church. His departure had been aimless other than finding
shelter, but they had called him here, hearts open wide, letting
him heal.

Nehalé,
the voice said, coming from somewhere behind
him.

He turned to see Anando Shalei, the young
university student from the eastern end of the McCleever District,
standing behind him, close to the roof access door. He was someone
who had grown up in one of the hardest neighborhoods of Bridgetown
and emerged an intelligent Meraladian adult. His appearance hid his
intellect and made him look at least five years younger than he
actually was, with ill-fitting jacker clothes and short, unkempt
faded-blonde hair. He must be in his mid-twenties now, and the
fashion actually looked a bit silly on him, but he must have had a
reason for it. He wasn’t about to judge.

“Somfei, Nehalé,” Anando smiled. “It's been
a while.”

“Anando, my friend,” he replied, cutting the
distance between them. He opened his arms and embraced him, brother
in Light that he was. “It's wonderful to see you. What brings you
here? Better question, how did you find me?”

Anando laughed, scratching the back of his
neck in self-conscious amusement. “Your essence was the first one I
ever memorized, sehnadha. It wasn't particularly hard, once I got
into the neighborhood. Just a matter of sneaking into the warehouse
unnoticed.”

“You've got better things to do in your life
than breaking and entering,” he laughed.

“I certainly do,” Anando said soberly. “I've
been listening, Nehalé. To the souls, awakened and otherwise.
Everyone's feeling a little tense, ever since the Awakening. Your
followers wish for guidance.”

Nehalé's smile faded
slowly as he contemplated that.
Followers
. He had merely opened
their eyes, but they were looking upon him as a leader already.
Warrior of the One he may be, or even Prophet, but this was far
beyond his capabilities, let alone his wishes. He was awakening
them, opening their eyes! They needed teachers, but the
Mendaihu
sehndayen-ne
of this city could not handle
this many people in a short amount of time. Unless the One of All
Sacred awakened...he shivered at that thought. To assume such a
task of the One was nothing short of blasphemous! No, he would have
to find the teachers of this city. Briefly, he felt the guilt of
releasing them into the Gharné world without showing them the
way...but there was little he could do now. So many balances to
maintain.
“They are not my followers, any more
than I am their leader, Anando. They need to understand that. I may
give them opportunities, but they are rulers of their own
fate.”

“True,” the young man said, though not fully
convinced. “But that just creates chaos. We must find The One of
All Sacred in order to reset the balance between the Mendaihu and
the Shenaihu.”

“Then I am at a loss. I did what I could to
maintain the balance of power, Anando. But the Shenaihu are
responding in a much more dangerous fashion than I’d feared.”

Anando crossed his arms at him. “Do not
confess to me, sehnadha. But if we end up with another season of
war, you have every right to be worried.” He reached a hand out to
him and laid it on his shoulder, grasping it. “Such is fate, my
dear friend, but we have faith. I am sure the One is alive and
well...”

Nehalé whirled at him,
eyes wide. “The One has not fully awakened, Anando! Don't you see?
Just as the Elders taught us:
Without the
One of All Sacred there is no balance, and all is mere
chaos.
No one knows where the One is or
how she is to be awakened!” He turned away and returned to the
roof's edge, frustrated. “Anando, I beg you to understand why
I
must
continue
to awaken these souls. Do you?”

The silence between them lasted long enough
for Nehalé to calm down, his eyes fixed on the intersection down
below. The surge of cars had abated somewhat, the nervous energy of
drivers dissipating into the air, adding to his relief.

I do understand,
Nehalé,
Anando said from within.
And I believe I
do
know where she is.

Nehalé turned and stared at him. “What?”

“I’m not exactly sure of the location,” he
said quickly, fumbling his words. He was caught between wanting to
explain everything and reveal nothing. “I’ve met her sister,” he
said quietly. “I’ve known her from elsewhere. Her name is Karinna,
and she’s…she used to be someone I knew, a long time ago. Maybe in
a previous time, I think. She’s a Protector…an extremely strong
one, at that. She has the Shalei spirit within her...as does the
One.”

His shoulders dropped in shock. Why hadn’t
Anando told him earlier? “You...you talked to the One?”

Anando waved his hands quickly. “No. I
talked with Karinna. She remembers me. She remembers me as well,
though neither of us quite know the exact time right now.”

He frowned at him. “She’s a Trisandi soul,
then?”

Anando nodded. “If she can Lightwalk as
easily as she did in her lumisha dea, she must be. I…I looked her
up the other day as well, and she’s also an ARU officer. A Mendaihu
Gharra, Nehalé! A World Protector! Do you know what this
means?”

He certainly did know, and it shook him to
his core. It meant that the One of All Sacred was a Trisandi soul.
A pure soul from the homeworld, neither a Mannaki nor a Meraladian.
Of all the Embodiments of the One on this planet...none had ever
been Trisandi.

This was something even Nehalé hadn’t
foreseen.

“Do you know her name? The name of the
One?”

Denysia,
Anando said, inner voice quieter than a
whisper.
Denysia Shalei si Emmadha si
Dhumélis. Pure Trisandi spirit through three clan ascensions,
Nehalé.

“Goddess...” Nehalé whispered, awed by the
reality and the miracle of it all.

Neither spoke again for quite some time.
They stood side by side, leaning over the railing and watching the
traffic below. Still stunned by Anando’s news, Nehalé could not
hold a thought, except that he knew...tomorrow, or in the next few
days, he would meet her for the first time. The One of All
Sacred!