Awoken (22 page)

A few of the diminutive warriors laughed, and Warmsoil smiled. “You are correct, Awoken,” he said. “Though these falcryn feed mainly upon plants, it is not wise to anger them.”

The journey continued, and Michael continued to marvel at the underground wood. Everywhere he looked, impossible animals grazed or played among the gleaming trunks. It was breathtaking. He was almost disappointed when they reached the city gates. The tall gates already stood open, and Warmsoil guided them without preamble through the gates and into the city.

Hundreds of sparkling towers connected by arched bridges and ramparts overlooked a rabbit’s warren of corridors, halls, bustling streets, and dome-shaped rooftops. Dollmen dressed in all manner of clothing, from Jericho’s shimmering black kilt to long tunics of multicolored metallic weave, moved from building to building, carrying exotic foodstuffs or other tools and supplies like crystalline wood or worked stone. Females were present as well. Dressed in shimmering gowns, the silver-haired dollwomen were slightly smaller than the males and often had tiny infants or toddlers in tow.

Despite the magnificent sights, Michael grew more uncomfortable the farther they moved into the city. Dollmen paused to stare and whisper as he passed, and dollwomen hustled wide-eyed children from the streets. Wrinkled ancients glared at him from raised stone porches, unconcealed suspicion glowing in their silver eyes.

Michael leaned over to Jericho. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not welcome?”

“The People do not know you, Awoken,” Jericho said. “Do not worry. When the elders reveal you to the People, all will be well.”

Warmsoil stopped before a lofty white tower, with wide steps leading to a coal-black door. “The Tower of Elders,” he said. “The rest of the elders have already gathered inside. From here, only the Awoken and I may travel.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked. “I’m not leaving Lina and Jericho out here by themselves. What if something happens to them?”

“None may enter the tower save Awoken or elder,” Warmsoil explained. “Fear not. No harm shall come to your companions in this place.”

“Forget it. I’m not leaving my friends.”

“It is not permitted, Awoken,” Jericho said. “Go with Elder Warmsoil and do not worry. I shall protect little sister.”

Lina grunted. “Listen to him, Mike. We’ll be fine. Besides, the sooner you talk to the elders, the sooner they can get this thing out of my hand.”

Michael frowned. “I don’t like leaving you alone, Lina.”

Lina lifted a handful of her silver hair. “Well, I don’t like this either. So stop being a ninny and go talk to the elders.”

Michael shook his head in resignation. “Fine, I’ll go. Try to stay out of trouble until I get back.”

“With you gone, what kind of trouble could I get in?”

“Very funny.”

“Come, Awoken,” Warmsoil said. He waved his staff, and the black doors swung open. “The elders wait, as does your destiny.”

“If you don’t mind, Warmsoil, let’s just meet the elders and leave destiny out of it,” Michael said, entering the spire behind the dollman. “The way things have been going lately, I don’t think destiny likes me very much.”

Michael leaned far out the oval-shaped window. It was a long way down. The Tower of The Elders was among the tallest buildings in the city. Somewhere far below, Jericho and Lina were waiting, forbidden by tradition to enter this sacred chamber.

“The danger is too great, Awoken,” Warmsoil said behind him.

Michael turned from the window. “But can it be done, Elder Warmsoil?”

The council chamber of the elders was tall and domed, devoid of furniture save for a large pillar of blue crystal set in the exact center of the snow-white floor of polished marble. Gems of every color and size intermixed with carvings of bizarre animals and plants on the inward-curving walls and ceiling.

The elders, seventeen in all, stood across the room from him in a loosely huddled crowd. Warmsoil had introduced them all, but Michael remembered only a few of their names. And right now, their expressions ranged from pinched and sour to frustrated and regretful.

Rockspeak, a sturdy dollman wearing a headdress of gemstones braided in silver wire, waved Michael’s question aside. “Your friend is become, Awoken. The elders have not the power to draw the earth and bone from her now,” he proclaimed in a gravelly voice. “Accept it.”

Michael clenched his fists. “I can’t accept that. I won’t. We came all this way. We fought VEN, lost Diggs. There has to be a way!”

The elders murmured to one another. Some of the little men gave him sympathetic looks, while others only shook their heads vehemently in denial.

Warmsoil raised his hand, and the elders quieted. “What you ask is beyond our power,” he said sadly. “It is true we elders can stonesing in our way, but we are not Awoken. The art of the elders is a grain of sand compared to the mountain of the stonesong.”

Michael slumped. “So that’s it? Lina’s going to stay this way forever?”

Warmsoil sighed, and leaned heavily on his staff. “Yes. Had you a waystone, perhaps you would possess the strength to free the earthbone from her flesh. But we elders cannot.”

Michael’s eyes lit up. “But I have a waystone now,” he said. “Show me what to do, and I’ll fix Lina myself.”

Warmsoil shook his head. “It cannot be done, Awoken.”

“Why not?”

“The waystone is bound to her,” Warmsoil explained. “If you touch it too deeply with the stonesong, the power will consume her. Only another waystone, combined with the power of the Awoken, might undo what has already been wrought by the binding.”

“Enough,” interrupted a grumpy ancient called Redflint. “This is pointless. You cannot save the little sister, Awoken. Nor do we have the strength to remove the waystone from her flesh. And even were you grown into your power, the elderstone we’ve given you has not the power of the waystone. You could not help her.”

Michael fingered the pendant Warmsoil had given him. “What do you mean? This stone works pretty good.” The moment he’d fastened the stone around his neck, the deafening music of earthbone had muted to a distant hum. For the first time in what seemed forever, he could let down his guard without worrying about losing control of the stonesong. “I can still hear the music in the rocks. It’s just different now, less noisy. Man, it’s like I’m listening through earplugs or something.”

Greendown, a husky dollman with a green handprint on his chest, leaned closer to Warmsoil. “What are earplugs?”

Warmsoil tapped his fingers along his staff thoughtfully. “I’m not certain. A surface ornament, perhaps? Not unlike a headdress, I’ll wager, only fitted upon the overlarge flaps around their ear holes.”

Greendown grunted. “If the Awoken desires them, I will send a scouting party above to bring him these earplugs.”

Redflint gave them a sour look. “The elderstone will quiet the music of the earth, yes. But it is not a waystone. It will not allow you to channel your full power, Awoken.”

“Then give me a waystone,” Michael said.

“Bah,” Redflint spat, his face screwing up like an ugly white prune. “Waystones do not fall from the ceiling. You would know such things if you took instruction.”

Michael took firm hold of his anger. He needed this little creep’s help to save Lina. “I’m sorry I lost the first waystone, Elder Redflint. But Lina needs a cure now. Please, can’t you loan me another so I can save her?”

“Only two waystones survived the great fall, Awoken,” Warmsoil said. “And the new little sister you have brought carries one of them in her flesh. Only a stone of equal power can remove it.”

“Well, what about the other one? Where is it?”

Warmsoil looked away.

“We will address the lost waystone in time,” Rockspeak said loudly. “Let us first speak of the naming the Awoken has done on one of the People. It is not a true naming. The Awoken must renounce this thing.”

Greendown stomped forward. “The Awoken has named the one,” he growled. A few elders nodded their assent. “Jericho will not be unnamed.”

Rockspeak showed his pointy teeth. “You speak in pride, Greendown, ninth elder of the People. All here know the one named is among your scouts.” Some of the elders nodded in agreement, exchanging angry glares with those who’d sided with Greendown. “All know the newest Awoken is young and untutored in our ways. He has made a mistake that must be undone.”

“It is you who speak in pride, Rockspeak, fourth elder of the People,” Greendown said. A distinct line began to form in the center of the room, splitting Rockspeak and Greendown’s supporters into two distinct groups. “Had the Awoken named one of the spears, you would not speak thus.”

“This is not good, Awoken,” Warmsoil said softly to Michael. “The People must stand together, now more than ever.”

Other elders began to argue the point, many shaking staffs or clubs in their fervor.

Michael scratched his head. “Is everyone here crazy? There is a VEN army knocking on the door, and Lina is getting worse. What’s the big deal with Jericho’s name, anyway?”

“Names have power here, Awoken,” Warmsoil said. “A single elder is named for each clan of the People. Look there.” He pointed to a spindly dollman standing to the right of Greendown. “Tallpath leads the riders who patrol the forest.” He shifted his finger to a squat elder behind Rockspeak. “Coldrun speaks for the climbers, those who venture to the great walls and climb the frozen heights seeking the high tunnels. Names carry their own honor here.”

“If it’s such a big deal, why does Greendown want Jericho to keep his name?”

“Jericho is one of Greendown’s far scouts,” Warmsoil said. “You have honored the scouts greatly by this naming. Greendown will stand with you against all others if need be.”

Michael felt an instant kinship with the green-painted elder. At least he’d made one friend among the squabbling elders.

“Rockspeak commands the spears, those who guard the secret gates,” Warmsoil continued. “His is the largest clan, and so feels his spears deserve the greater honor. But the old laws are set. Only an Awoken or a full council of elders may remove a name once it is given. Greendown will vote against the unnaming. So, Rockspeak must convince you to undo Jericho’s naming.”

“That is nuts,” Michael said. “VEN is coming. It’s stupid to argue over something so small.”

Warmsoil nodded sagely. “This is truth. But even something so small as a pebble can start the mightiest avalanche.”

The shouting match went on for several minutes.

Finally, Rockspeak, shaking with rage, threw down his staff. “You speak like a child, Greendown, ignorant and without wisdom. The Awoken will undo what he has done, or I will force him!”

Greendown hefted a serrated club. “Do you threaten the Awoken, Rockspeak?”

“Enough,” Michael said. “I’ve had enough of this.”

A wall of silver flames burst from the ground between Rockspeak and Greendown. The elders fell back on either side, shielding their eyes from the fire.

Squinting against the glare, Rockspeak pointed an accusing finger at Michael. “You see, my brothers? See how he wields the stonesong like a spoiled child, eager for attention? This Awoken needs instruction.”

“I’ve got no time to take lessons,” Michael exploded. “Are you all nuts or just stupid? Read my lips, you morons, VEN will be here soon!”

Rockspeak smirked. “The fear of a child. The spears of the People have defended the secret ways for generations. They will continue to do so.”

“You think killing a few belua makes you an expert on VEN?” Michael asked. Silver fire dripped from his fingers, causing rippling tremors in the stone floor as it struck. “You have no idea what you’re up against. Diggs said there is an army of hybrids, and they know you’re down here. Equinox wants the earthbone, and he’s coming to get it.”

“If more come, we will kill them,” Rockspeak said. “The Fallen will not enter this place.”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Michael shouted. “If we don’t get organized now, VEN are going to run right over you!”

“Indeed?” Rockspeak picked up his staff. “Do not fear, Awoken. The spears of the People will protect you.”

Michael clenched his fists, and the stonesong roared in his veins. A small hand touched his thigh.

“Calmly, Awoken,” Warmsoil warned. “The People will not be forced to hear your words. That is the way of the Fallen.”

Taking notice of the contemplative looks most of the elders were giving him, Michael realized Warmsoil was right. Losing his temper was playing right into Rockspeak’s hands. He needed to try a different approach.

The wall of silver fire died, and Michael’s eyes returned to normal. “You are right, Rockspeak,” he said evenly. “I am young, and I do need instruction.”

Rockspeak straightened his shoulders triumphantly. “I am glad, Awoken. The elders can begin your instruction as soon as you renounce this false name ‘Jericho.’”

Greendown’s face fell. “But Awoken…”

Warmsoil placed a restraining hand on Greendown’s shoulder. “Let the Awoken bring peace, my brother. It is his choice.”

“You misunderstand me, Rockspeak,” Michael said. “I do need instruction, but Jericho has earned his name a hundred times over. And neither you nor anyone else will take it away from him.”

Rockspeak banged the butt of his staff on the floor. “What trickery is this? You must remove the name.”

“It is his choice, Rockspeak,” Warmsoil interjected. “Let us be done with it. We must be as one if we are to face the Fallen in the tunnels.”

“The Awoken is not the elder of the spears, Warmsoil,” Rockspeak said coldly. “We know best how to defend our city. And it is at the gates, not the tunnels.”

Michael’s eyes flickered. “I’d reconsider that tactic, Rockspeak. The gates won’t stop Equinox, and if he gets in the cave, he could bring down the ceiling on top of you. We should face him in the tunnels.”

A few of the elders murmured their agreement. Far more looked to Rockspeak, awaiting his response.

“Ignorance,” Rockspeak snarled. “This Awoken is too young to direct the path of the People. The fifth clan will not abide his words.”

“That ignorant child had wisdom enough to bring himself here, Rockspeak,” Greendown pointed out. “The tenth clan stands with the Awoken.”