Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Lliferock (8 page)

After three hours of bushwhacking along the trail that 55

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had been used mostly by the slighter-built elves and humans, Pabl and the others approached the Cathan camp. Abruptly, a group of the strange humans surrounded them, swinging out from the vines and trees of the jungle around them. The painted humans were hard to see against the shifting background of green and brown vegetation. It was a good thing that they knew Bintr and trusted him; at least as much as they trusted anyone, which was not a lot.

Still, one of them — a female who had guided Bintr in the past — offered to help again. For payment she wanted the newly forged arrowheads which Bintr had brought. She came along immediately, Bintr doling out one arrow head at a time along the way.

As they traveled, hacking through vines and thick undergrowth, Jan told Pabl about Pontintown — the shantytown along the stream in Rabneth, named after Pontin Nemish, the dwarf who owned and operated it. Jan had spoken with his friend, Abrin Thist, who was on the town council. And together they had confronted Pontin, trying to convince him to do something about cleaning up the shantytown. Pontin had listened to them, saying he would consider their words.

“The humans and dwarfs who live in those bamboo shacks are nearly destitute,” Jan told Pabl. “They are unsanitary and many of them have animals which pollute the water down-stream. The townspeople are afraid to do anything because Pontin Nemish is the leader of the village assembly and no one dares to oppose him.”

“We will persuade him,” Pabl had said. “When we get back.”

He said this last which such finality that Jan quieted, and neither of the spoke further of the matter. Pabl’s mind was on Reid Quo and Ohin Yeenar, and he did not feel much like conversation. Jan knew Pabl’s moods and had remained unusually quiet for the rest of the journey.

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Two days later, their guide informed them that they had arrived. She led them carefully down into a river valley. Peeking through the thick undergrowth, Pabl caught sight of a rundown temple made of quartz and brown glass, sitting high on the rocky bank of a slow moving river.

Here in the heart of the jungle, the temple had succumbed to the encroaching vegetation. Cloudy white pillars of pitted quartz held a domed roof in their precarious grasp. Cracked and dirty flagstones, engraved with pictures of the Othellium brotherhood, made up the floor of the place. Everything was covered with jungle; thick vines crawled over the temple, burying it in foliage.

The bank dropped off to the left of the temple, a good fifty-foot slide down into the slow moving brown water. Pabl caught sight of a large crocodile slipping into the water on the far bank, and he smelled a whiff of rotting vegetation coming from the river.

“Are you sure he lives here?” It was Jan’s voice, from behind him.

Pabl glanced at the Cathan guide, her camouflage-painted body barely visible against the undergrowth. “This is where we will find Ohin Yeenar?”

She nodded. “The one you look for is here,” she said. “Rock man like you, but all white.”

Bintr handed the human another arrowhead which she tucked into a pouch on her waist. “Pabl,” he said, “we should be quiet; I am sure he knows we’re here. Last time, he stopped me just as I stepped on the flagstones. When I asked him about Reid Quo, he said he would not speak with me because I held conversations with the dead. Then he disappeared.

Maybe he will talk to you.”

“Maybe,” Pabl said, “But look there.” He pointed across the flagstones to a small brackish pool with a windling-sized statue of Dis next to it. The statuette had been placed there This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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purposely, its emaciated body staring at them with hollow eyes as shackles looped around and through its flesh. Grime smeared the tiles around the pool, and the water had been left stagnant to grow algae and fester. The arrangement was a clear signal, part of a language that the non-obsidiman of the group would not understand.

It was doubtful that Ohin Yeenar followed the teachings of Dis or in any way respected the Passion of confusion and slavery, but he did not want visitors, and the pool arrangement was a clear warning to any obsidiman that he wanted to be left alone.

Bintr shuddered.

Chaiel was watching also. “We can’t just leave.”

“We will not leave without trying to talk to him,” Pabl said.

“I will go.”

“I come with you,” Chaiel said.

“Maybe we should think this through first,” said Bintr.

“All right,” Pabl said. “Besides, I want to look at the temple’s astral image.”

“I have already seen it,” Bintr said. “It’s sad.”

Pabl focused, feeling a slight strain as he nudged his sight into the astral plane. The shimmering radiance of the astral grew in front of his eyes as the magic took hold. Pabl could see the astral imprint of the Othellium temple, glowing bright white, still very majestic and strong despite its physical appearance. Then he saw part of the temple’s pattern, following the structure of the rock itself — an arch of white atop stri-ated pillars. But the temple’s connection to the liferock looked tenuous.

The great quartz deposit beneath the flagstones held a pattern reminiscent of Pabl’s own liferock, though much smaller. Pabl could almost fathom the entire pattern — something that would never have been possible with Ganwetrammus, which was massive beyond his comprehension. In places This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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the white pattern of the temple dimmed to gray wisps, fragile and withering.

Dead. This liferock is dead.

A profound sadness took Pabl’s breath away. He let the magic falter, focusing on the physical world. “I didn’t see a lot, except that the liferock is dead. Gvint said as much, but I don’t see how that could happen?”

Bintr answered him. “It’s not supposed to.”

Chaiel said nothing.

“Bintr, you stay here,” Pabl said. “We already know he won’t speak with you. Jan and the Cathan can also stay.”

Jan nodded at that.

“Chaiel,” Pabl said. “You ready?”

Chaiel nodded, his jaw clenched tight. He pulled his troll-sized sword from its sheath and held it ready.

“Let’s go then.” Pabl stepped out into the clearing and Chaiel came close behind. They made their way onto the flagstones, giving the Dis statuette and the stagnant pool a wide berth as they headed for the temple’s entrance.

The flagstones felt cold through the soft cloth of Pabl’s boots. After three steps the cold grew, becoming a seeping chill which crept into his feet and legs. He could see that Chaiel was affected the same way. A few more steps and the cold had penetrated into the bones of Pabl’s legs, making his joints lock up.

Chaiel fell behind him, his sword clanging on the rock.

“It’s a trap,” he said.

Pabl stopped moving, kneeling against the icy stone. He pushed the shivers from his mind and wove the thread for a spell. The thread completed the pattern and the spell went off, trying to annul the cold magic.

Nothing. Just the ever increasing chill.

“Stop!” The voice ground the air like pebbles in a bird’s craw.

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Does it look like we’re moving? Pabl thought. Then he felt a tightening grip of magic, unrelated to the cold, try to hold him motionless. He resisted it, despite his frozen bones and the magical grip slipped off.

Chaiel had not fared so well, Pabl saw when he glanced around. His brother was frozen in mid rise, one knee and hand on the ground, his head looking up, startled.

“Wait!” Pabl cried. “We come only to talk with you. And share —”

“Leave my rock.”

How do you propose we do that? Pabl thought. The chill coming from the flagstones seemed to be slowing, but he still found it hard to move. Behind him, Chaiel was as still as a statue.

The gravel voice spoke again. “What did you say? Speak again!”

“We come in search of knowledge. To share our water with you and ask questions. You may be the only one who can help.”

There was a long silence.

“You would share water with me? Who are you?”

“I am Pabl Evr of Tepuis Garen. Our next Elder has not returned to the rock, and you may be the only one to have seen him since the Long Dreaming.”

“If you are sincere, Pabl Evr, and your water is pure, I will answer your questions. Your brother must go.”

Chaiel suddenly lurched forward, falling face first on the ground. He picked himself up and looked at Pabl. “I heard him.

What do you want me to do?”

“Join the others,” Pabl said. “I will find out what he knows about Reid.” Chaiel started to protest, but Pabl jerked his head back toward Jan and Bintr. “Despite the rumors, we need to know what he knows,” Pabl said. “And this is the only way.”

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the chill in Pabl’s bones began to sink slowly back down into the stones. He raised himself to his full height, stretching his back and cracking his neck.

“Now come, Pabl Evr, before my mind changes itself.”

Pabl took a slow breath, suddenly feeling stifled by the close humidity of the jungle. He remembered the story of how Jibn’s Horror had nearly destroyed Tepuis Garen. What if the same thing had happened here? What if Ohin Yeenar made a pact with a Horror to stay alive?

But he had come too far to allow such doubts to stop him.

“I come,” he said, then stepped through the arched entryway into the temple.

The last vestiges of the chill left Pabl as he passed through the high archway, bracketed by giant quartz columns. Ohin Yeenar stood at the far side of the temple, next to a window which gave a view of the muddy river beyond. The room was crowded with stone chairs and relics, chipped statues and huge, broken frescos of a time gone by. Pabl was sure it had been an impressive sight long ago.

Ohin’s skin was frosty white, and he stooped, his back bent at an odd angle. He looked feeble to Pabl, as though he could die at any moment. “Come here,” he said. “I can’t see you.”

Pabl stared at Ohin as he approached, walking carefully around the chairs and old ceramics which littered the temple floor. Ohin reminded Pabl of an old human or dwarf which had lived passed his usefulness, but who was still alive, burdening others because the horror of dying was worse than the idea of wasting away. Ohin was unnaturally old for an obsidiman. Elders and liferocks always joined in the Final Merging before the Elder grew senile or decrepit. That was how it should be; Ohin Yeenar was an aberration.

“Let me see you,” Ohin said, reaching in Pabl’s direction.

Pabl wondered what he meant by that. There was plenty of This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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light in here. Then, looking more closely, Pabl became aware of an anomaly. Wrinkled and severely cracked skin shadowed thick eyes the color of milk. Ohin’s eyes had clouded over with time.

“You are blind,” Pabl said, suppressing a frisson. “How can you see me?”

“I can see your astral pattern,” he said. “And from that I can tell much. You have some skill with magic. You are eager and brave.”

“How —”

“I have been blind longer than you have lived. I have learned to hone my other senses. I see that you are not yet Named. It is primarily because of this that I have allowed you to approach.”

“Because I’m not Named?”

Ohin nodded. “It is unlikely I can destroy your identity, because yours is not fully developed.”

Pabl felt a chill. “What do you mean?”

“Perhaps it is a curse, but I tend to have a profound effect on those who meet me.”

Pabl didn’t doubt that. “Will you answer a few questions for me?”

Ohin grimaced. “Let me taste your water, then we shall share the Dreaming together.”

Pabl drew back suddenly. “Self-Dreaming with you?”

Ohin lurched away from the window, coming toward him in a swaying stagger. “I am close to dying,” he said. “The pain of my loss, Othellium . . .” He stumbled to his knees then, cry-ing out in pain and putting his head in his hands.

Pabl stood a few feet away, unsure what to do.

Ohin looked up at him, his hideously unnatural cataracts swimming in a paste of loose skin. “I am sorry. Forgive me.

Will you share your water with me? I would offer mine in exchange, but it has gone foul, I’m afraid.”

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Pabl unclasped his backpack and set it on the floor. He opened it and removed a large silver flagon of riflev water. “I hope this container is suitable for I have no other.”

Ohin took the water from him. “Please sit, Pabl Evr of Tepuis Garen. I do not bite.” He drank from the flagon.

Pabl sat hesitantly next to his backpack and waited for Ohin to finish.

The ancient one savored the water, taking a long, slow draught. He drew it out and gave a great gasp of satisfaction when he was finished. “Ahh, that was magnificent,” he said and handed the silver flagon back to Pabl.

Pabl drank, enjoying the taste of home, then offered the rest to Ohin.

“Thank you,” Ohin said, taking the water. “You don’t know how lucky you are. You have everything — youth, clean water, a liferock.” He tilted his head back to drain the flagon.

“It is because of my liferock that I come,” Pabl said. “One of our Elders is missing. No births or Namings can happen without him.”

A frown crossed Ohin’s face. “What is his name?”

“Reid Quo.”

“I don’t know that name.”