Awoken (24 page)

Lina’s eyes softened for just a moment, but then a few strands of her silver hair slithered out to caress Michael’s cheek. Her lips tightened. “I trusted you all the way here, Mike,” she said. “Now, I need to trust myself.” Pulling away from him, she leaped from the steps and, running on all fours, quickly disappeared into the bustling streets of pale dollmen.

Warmsoil’s staff cut deep grooves into the floor, his art carving into the hard rock as if it were wet cement. A score of lines marked the stone, crisscrossing before branching away to small circles.

“There,” Warmsoil said, lifting his staff from the floor. “These are the near ways. There are more, but they lie on the opposite side of the city and the Fallen have not found them.”

Michael leaned in for a closer look at the map. Blacksong, Greendown, and Tallpath crowded in as well. Their gathered clans waited a little way off, between the gate and the Great Bridge—just over two hundred dollmen in scaly metallic armor, ready for battle.

Michael traced his finger over Warmsoil’s drawing. “These seven circles represent the gates VEN could get to?”

“Yes, Michael,” Warmsoil said. “Some have not been used in years, but the Fallen may find the paths.”

Michael tapped the largest of the circles. “This is us. Where’s the tunnel leading to the surface?”

Greendown, his entire torso covered in green paint, indicated a curving line on the opposite side of the map. “Here is the upper corridor, Awoken.” He moved his finger halfway down the line to a thick cluster of overlapping passages. “And here is where my scouts last placed the Fallen. We have killed many of their trackers, but still, they draw nearer with each passing hour.”

Michael tugged absently at his shirt collar as he considered the map.

“Is the weave too tight, Awoken?” Blacksong asked. “I am unused to crafting for one so large. Perhaps the neckline needs adjusting.”

“The shirt fits great, Blacksong,” Michael said. The dollman had replaced his torn shirt with one made of the same shimmering weave used in Jericho’s kilt. The fabric was far more comfortable than it looked, but it was almost too light. It felt like he was wearing a shirt made of spiderwebs. “Thank you, again.”

Blacksong bowed. “You honor me, Awoken.”

Michael nodded to the little man and then returned his attention to the map. “We need to find a way to close these passages,” he said, indicating several lines. “We need VEN to head straight for the bridge, not some side gate. Can your clan seal those tunnels, Blacksong?”

“My clan could have the four nearest completed by the sixth hour, Awoken,” Blacksong said confidently. “But the other two are further away. They will take longer to reach. Perhaps by the tenth hour all will be sealed.”

Greendown shook his head. “That will not do, Elder Blacksong. The Fallen will reach the far tunnels before the eighth hour.”

“My riders are swiftest,” Tallpath said. “Perhaps they could close the paths.”

“That’s an idea,” Michael said. “What do you think, Warmsoil?”

Warmsoil’s wrinkled forehead creased thoughtfully. “Tallpath’s riders are swift, but they have little skill in stonework. I fear the Fallen would be upon them well before the work was complete.”

“I agree with Elder Warmsoil,” Blacksong said. “Even skilled hands take time to bring down the stone. My clan can seal four at least, and perhaps the Fallen will not stray from the main path.”

Michael thought about it, then shook his head. “We can’t risk it. We have to meet VEN at the bridge, or they’ll run right over us.”

Tallpath shrugged. “If you wish it, Awoken, I will go into the far ways. But Blacksong is right. My clan is ill-suited to this work. Many will die.”

Michael chewed at his lower lip and tried to think. He didn’t want to send anyone on a suicide mission. There had to be a way. If only Diggs was here, or Lina. They would have some idea what to do.

Tallpath’s falcryn ambled over and nuzzled his shoulder, very carefully, with its wickedly hooked beak. It was an impressive specimen, a sleek blending of raptor and feline twice the size of a full-grown lion and with claws to match. So large was the beast, Tallpath’s head barely stood even with his mount’s heavily muscled chest.

The elder smiled as he gently pushed aside the monstrous beak, then stretched up an arm to pat affectionately at the downy feathers around the falcryn’s throat.

“Patience, great one. Soon we will ride.”

“Do you have a spare falcryn, Tallpath?” Michael asked suddenly, as an idea hit him.

Tallpath gave him a puzzled look. “Of course, Awoken, but there are not enough for my riders and Blacksong’s clan.”

“And we have not the time to spare even if there were,” Blacksong added. “I shall need all of my clan and their tools to seal the closest ways.”

“I’m not asking for them,” Michael said. “The stonesong can collapse those tunnels without tools. Tallpath just needs to get me to them ahead of VEN.”

Greendown scowled. “This is not good, Awoken. Who shall protect you so far from the city?”

“My riders shall die for the Awoken if need be,” Tallpath said gravely, “as will I.”

“You are brave, Elder Tallpath,” Warmsoil said. “But there are but forty falcryn. The Fallen choke the tunnels with their numbers.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Michael said. “We need those tunnels sealed, and I can do it fast.”

“I can go,” Greendown offered, “as can any of the elders. We too can sing the stone, if not as well as an Awoken.”

Warmsoil rapped his staff on the ground. “Do not seek to protect the Awoken with half-truths, my brother. I am among the strongest of the elders, and it would take me many hours to do as you claim.”

“It’s settled, then,” Michael said. “Tallpath, get me a falcryn. We should leave right away.”

“As you command, Awoken.” Tallpath leapt onto his falcryn’s back and gave a shrill whistle. Immediately, his riders broke away from the rest of the dollmen and came at a run.

“We have come, Elder,” they chorused before their leader.

“My People,” Tallpath said loudly. “The Awoken must travel to the far ways, and he has chosen us to guard him on his journey. Let us find him a mount.”

The riders let loose a howling cheer of delight, and a tawny falcryn was hurriedly brought forward.

Imitating Tallpath, Michael seized his falcryn’s feathery mane and threw a leg over its back. Though he was much larger than a dollman, the falcryn didn’t move so much as an inch as he settled his weight onto the web-like padding covering its shoulders and back. He glanced around at the other riders, noting how their spindly legs seemed tangled in the crisscrossed webbing of the falcryn’s peculiar saddles. After a few moments of difficulty, he managed to wiggle his own legs through several hoops of the padded webbing. He leaned to one side experimentally, and felt the loops tighten on his legs and thighs. He couldn’t fall off now, even if he tried.

“The Awoken sits like a rider born,” Tallpath announced, and his riders whooped approvingly.

Michael smiled. He felt good atop the falcryn. Not quite natural, but good. If only Barbara could see him now. “Jericho!” he shouted.

A single head popped up amongst the crouched dollmen. “I come,” answered Jericho, hurrying over. “Where do you go, my Michael?”

Michael shrugged. “We’re gonna race some killer VEN to a couple of tunnels before the world comes to an end. Wanna come?”

Jericho grinned and leapt up behind him with practiced ease. “Is little sister to come?”

Sadness closed on Michael’s heart like an invisible fist. “No, Jericho. Not this time.”

“Come, my brothers,” Tallpath whooped. He leaned back in his seat, tugging at the webbing around the falcryn’s wide neck. His mount reared, pawing the air and screeching like an angry hawk. “Let us ride!”

Michael’s mount reared up as well. It was terrifying, and the sound was deafening. He had never felt cooler in his life. When his falcryn finally came back down on all fours, it was already running. Michael clung to the falcryn’s webbing in a white-knuckle grip, leaning against the animal’s neck as it followed Tallpath’s mount toward the bridge. The dollmen near the bridge broke apart for the riders, and the falcryn galloped across the Great Bridge and into the tunnels.

The cavern was the size of a modest kitchen, with tunnels leading to the east and west. Ugly gouges scarred the once-smooth walls where VEN workers had carved earthbone-rich ore from the surrounding rock.

Diggs breathed deeply of the cool air. He smelled earth, the sweat of men, and other, less wholesome creatures. Blowing out his long whiskers, he continued to quietly strain against the chains attaching his wrist shackles to the wall. The sight of his furry hands on the links drew a feral growl from his lips, and a red wall of rage filled his vision.

“No,” he said aloud. “I’m not an animal.”

Forcing himself to remain calm, he ignored the urge to gnaw at the steel links and continued to pull on the chain.

The six-foot chains were too heavy to break, but given time, he could pry the anchoring piton from the wall. The anger was getting worse. He hadn’t taken his suppressants in days, and the leopard part of him was growing stronger. He had to hurry. Since his capture, VEN had kept him too sedated to consider escape. Why they had left him unguarded and conscious this time was a mystery, but they were certain to return with more sedatives soon.

The sound of approaching footsteps made him pause.

Putting down the chain, he closed his eyes and slumped against the wall, as if he were asleep. There was only one set of footsteps. If the guard got close enough, he could overpower the man, retrieve the key to his shackles, and make his escape.

The footsteps grew louder, bringing with them a soft and familiar scent.

Diggs opened his eyes just as a stealthy silhouette appeared out of the eastern tunnel. “Lina?”

Lina froze at the edge of the cave, and then stepped cautiously into the cave. “Diggs? Is that you?”

“VEN picked me up after the accident.” He lifted his shaggy hands to show her his shackles. “I haven’t had my meds since. Are Michael and Jericho with you?”

“They were in the dollmen city last time I saw them. I’m out here alone.”

Diggs frowned. “Why would…never mind. Help me get the piton out of the wall, and you can tell me about it on the way.”

“We thought you were dead. You weren’t supposed to be here.”

“Well, I’m not.” Diggs held out the chain. “Give me a hand, Lina. The guards could be back any minute.”

“No they won’t, but…” Lina looked away. “…I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

Diggs slowly lowered his hands. “What are you talking about, Melina? I have to help Michael.”

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” Lina said again. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t come here to save you.”

“Then why have you come?” Dr. Equinox asked, stepping out of the western tunnel with a pair of belua at his side. “I dare say, I thought to find you and young Michael Stevens inside the People’s cave.”

Diggs shoved Lina behind him. “Run!”

“No,” Lina said. “I’m through running. I’ve come for Equinox.”

“No, Melina!” Diggs said. “Equinox will kill you.”

Lina took his grasping hands in hers. “No, he won’t.” Pressing something small and cold into Diggs’s palm, she released him and started toward Equinox. “Trust me.”

The belua moved to intercept her, but Equinox raised his hand, and they froze. “My dear, am I to understand that you incapacitated your friend’s guards not to free him, but to challenge me?” He shook his head, and his eyes filled with silver. “How unwise. Your mutations are extraordinary, Melina, but you cannot hope to confront one who controls the very ground you walk on.”

“I’m not here to fight you.” Lina lifted her hand, exposing the waystone and the lines of silver metal in her palm. “This is the only waystone besides the one you have. I need you to take it out of me.”

“What are you doing?” Diggs cried. “The dollmen—”

“The dollmen can’t help me,” Lina said bitterly. “Neither can Michael. Or you. Don’t you understand? I want to be normal again. I want to go home.”

Equinox’s silver eyes faded to blue, and a small smile appeared on his lips. “So, the new Awoken has no waystone,” he pondered aloud. “That would certainly explain the wild fluctuations of his power. How interesting.”

“There’s more,” Lina said. “They’re planning a trap for you, for all of VEN. Take this out of my hand, give me my life back, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Equinox nodded. “An interesting proposal. I can certainly remove the waystone, Melina. However, I can’t be certain to what extent I can reverse your mutation. The earthbone has been in your system for quite some time. In the event I am not completely successful, would you still show me the way to the underground city?”

“I’m getting worse every day,” Lina said softly. “If you take this rock out of me, I’ll show you the way.”

Diggs snarled, leaping toward her back, but his chain brought him up well short. “Traitor,” he roared. He channeled all of his anger into his voice, making it as believable as he could. Lina’s life depended on convincing Equinox she had betrayed them. “I’ll tear you to pieces!”

Equinox clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Such aggression, Christopher, and from a scientist, no less. I understand you’re going through some changes, but a man of cerebral pursuits should not succumb so easily to the baser urges of mutation.”

His hairy face twisted with rage, Diggs jerked at the chain, snapping at Lina’s back like a rabid dog.

Lina glanced over her shoulder at him, her jade eyes full of sadness. “Like I told you, I didn’t come to fight Equinox.” A single tear flowed down her cheek. She made no move to brush it away. “I came to join him.”

On the outside, Diggs appeared to go completely mad, roaring and gnashing his teeth in impotent rage. But on the inside, he was calm as death, waiting for his chance to use the key Lina had so elegantly slipped him, the key she’d taken from one of the guards. The key that unlocked his chains.