Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Mother Speaks (15 page)

The bright yellow light glinted off the shiny dark wood, which the trolls had carved with intricate patterns.

I suddenly realized that I had seen very little in the way of artistic endeavor among the trolls—a few large rings made of blue or green crystal, some carefully crafted cooking ware, also of colorful crystal. But everything else the trolls owned—tapestries hung on cave walls (all decaying quickly from lack of care), goblets, silver and gold rings (which the trolls wore as earrings after reshaping them a bit), statues of wood and stone—were prizes taken from the victims of their raids of the lowlands.

The ship revealed where their concerns rested. Unlike the Theran vessels, which were smooth and featureless, the wood of the drakkar was so covered with carvings it seemed to writhe. Swirls and knobs and pictures of the sun and clouds and mountains all flowed in and out of each other, so it was impossible to discern where one representation or pattern ended and another began. One might look at a piece of the pattern and think it showed the sun rising over Twilight Peaks, but they shift perspective only slightly and the Peaks were lost as they transformed into clouds hanging over a rising sun.

The thick mast rested between the two rows of benches on either side of the ship, waiting to be set into a well braced slot at the ship's center. Approximately thirty benches lined the vessel, fifteen to a side. Oars rested on the benches, and two trolls sitting on each bench would use one row. It seemed odd to me that the trolls would require more oars to crew a much lighter vessel than our Theran ship, which was much larger and made of stone. But of course the Therans' magic let them build much more efficient ships. The Theran ships also drained the life essence out of their rowers for more power—a magical feat the trolls did not utilize.

Several of the troll sailors—that is, adepts with talents that allowed them to manipulate the vessels climbed on board. One of them yelled at me to get to the back of the cave and untie lines that connected the drakkar to great metal hooks driven into the wall. The gruff voice of the troll, loud and harsh, did not frighten me. I heard in his voice impatience—an impatience to be airbound—and his impatience swept me up in its momentum. At no time during my tenure at the troll camp had I ever felt any particular connection to the work at hand. I worked hard it was only so my people and I would have food and shelter while stranded on the top of a mountain. But this new task created a sensation that l have never experienced since.

We live in an age of magical thought. Certain records suggest that this magical thought has not always been with us, and scholars theorize that it may all someday vanish again.

But it is ours now, and I do not think we always appreciate these wonders we possess.

Sometimes it seems that if the world were encrusted with jewels instead of earth, we would search frantically for dirt. So, the idea of flying ships was not in itself spectacular—hadn't I already traveled on one? It was confusing to feel such excitement gripping my muscles as I undid the cord that would free the ship from the metal hooks.

My shoulders tightened. The thick, coarse rope in my hand felt amazingly rich in textures as my flesh became more alive.

I pondered this as I coiled the rope, and realized that wonders in themselves do not produce wonderment. There was no wonder on the Theran ship—the vessels were smooth and stone gray and dull. The sailors had moved around on them as if they had stepped out from their huts onto some dry, empty field that held no interest. For the crystal raiders, however, the passions evoked by preparation for the launch of their fleet transformed the air itself. Their love of their vessels—of the splendor of flying through the air—filled the chamber and took hold of me, too.

We define wonder. We create it. Without us, the world would exist, but robbed of all beauty and splendor. To say that the stars would be just as beautiful without our eyes to see them is to miss the essential point of the exercise. There would be no one to see the stars. They would be only what they are, objects without the investment of our meaning.

That is why the Universe created we name-givers. To name splendor and create the true magic.

I placed one coiled rope, and then another, and then a third over the edge of the drakkar.

The trolls on board the ship had unfurled the ship's sail, which had been neatly tucked under a section of benches. While they were busy, I touched the wood of the vessel when I was sure none of the trolls was looking. The smooth, polished wood rolled away under my fingertips, and it seemed that the hard wood would be comfortable to sleep on.

One of the trolls spotted me and shouted, "You done?”

I jerked my hand away, suddenly a child caught in the act of stealing some rice candy out of the bowl before dinner. I nodded quickly.

The trolls seemed not to notice my fondling of the hull, and two of them jumped out of the ship and grabbed it by the edge. "Help push it out," one of them said. She looked me in the eyes, then smiled at me, her massive gray green face filling in the cheeks, the large teeth in her mouth sticking out as her lips stretched taut. She had seen my fascination with the ship and approved.

We all began to push.

I put my weight against stern, expecting the ship to move forward easily. It was made of wood. It floated in the air. A troll stood on either side of the ship, also pushing. But the ship moved only a few inches. In my surprise, I lost my grip and fell forward into the stern, slamming my shoulder against the hard wood (not nearly as comfortable as I had fantasized moments before), and cried out.

Four sets of large troll eyes turned slowly back toward me to see what the ruckus was about. I offered no explanation— not even a shrug—and they seemed content to let the matter drop. The two trolls on the outside of the ship gripped the edge of the vessel once more and I placed my hands flat against the hull, ready this tune for the slow progress.

So we forced the ship forward, and as we moved closer to the opening of the cave the sun's light caught me full in the eyes, dazzling me with its brilliance. In that blinded moment I lost all track of my previous life—my children, my husband, the quests I'd undertaken. It seemed that all that I'd ever done was work among the trolls of Twilight Peaks, and that I was quite content in my life. The sunlight glinted off the dark wood, and the vessel's strange, carved textures sparkled like silver jewelry on a lady's fine boned wrist. I had never seen anything so beautiful, and I smiled from sheer joy.

I wanted desperately to climb into the boat, slip under one of the benches and hide myself if necessary so that I might go sailing with it off into the sky. Away from J'role and his confused pain. Away from my concerns about the other slaves who I'd helped free. Away from the concerns about rescuing you two. I feel ashamed writing the words, but that is how I felt just then, and if l am to be honest about J'role, I must also be honest about myself. My only explanation is this—I did not want to leave everyone forever, just for a little while. I only wanted a rest from having to care so much about everyone else.

14

Have you two ever had such feelings? Have you ever loved someone so much, yet yearned to escape, if only for a brief while? I once believed love would not be capable of such a contradiction. While growing up I used to think of finding someone to spend the rest of my life with, and that I would do so happily with complete contentment. And though I would wish such a dream for every child, I do not think it can come to pass. It's true that in a way I did find J'role and spent the rest of my life with him, in my thoughts at least, for no one ever possessed my imagination as he did. I have been with many men since the end of the Theran War, for I tried to forget your father in the strong arms and gentle kisses of others. But none served well enough. They were all, by definition, not J'role.

Was your father worth such odd devotion? Certainly, when I think back on what I have written thus far, no. Yet how can we measure worth when it has to do with an intimate relation between two people? For whatever reason, I have always longed to be with him.

But now I realize something. All this time I have resented your father for his senseless wandering. Yet, did I not appreciate his absence as well? Was there not something perverse in my own behavior? Not just the fact that I always waited for him, but in the relief I found when he was gone. Your father was difficult to take—his passion and pain drove strange energy into my thoughts—like the embrace of a corrupted elf of Blood Wood.

Perhaps I enjoyed the spaces between our meetings as much as he did. Or at least needed them in a way I did not appreciate until just now.

Is it possible that the marriage we had was exactly the marriage we wanted? Or rather—

for I doubt either of us wanted such a marriage—the only one either of us could have? I think now of Krattack's statements about passions and our lack of control over our actions. I have been bitter toward your father for so long, for I always believed him responsible for taking away our happiness. Yet, in my heart I stayed with him. Whatever happened belongs to me as well. How can I place sole blame on him for what happened in a relationship where my own behavior was so complicit?

15

The drakkar floated into the air, drifting out from the mouth of the cave, rocking gently against the splash of water not present. The two trolls who had been pushing the ship along with me jumped in just as it left the cave. They paid me no further attention, and I was left standing alone at the edge of the steep slope, watching the trolls lift the mast and slot it to its home. Other ships now floated around the mountain face. It seemed a wonderful way to live—floating along the insubstantial streams of the sky, with nothing to sustain you but the desire to get someplace new. My heart ached for the glory of it.

As some of the trolls worked on the sails, other sailors took hold of the tiller and brought the ships down to the village below. I still do not fully understand how the air sailor adept controlled the altitude of the vessels. But then, I never will unless I become an adept at the discipline of air sailing. To understand a discipline, you must live that discipline, moment to moment. The trolls, heavy and bulky though they might be, understood the odd magic of controlling ships of the air.

One at a time each ship moved in a wide spiral, like a bird languidly coming to roost on the large ledge below. Dozens and dozens of troll warriors waited. Some wore thick layers of fur and hide that would serve as armor. Others had stitched together scraps of leather armor taken from victims of their raids. And a few had breastplates and bracers made of metal. Most spectacular of all, though, were the furs and leathers and metals with crystals incorporated into them. Over the last few weeks I'd seen the clan work on enchanting crystals of all sizes and colors with spells I did not understand.

The crystals were red and blue and green and violet and orange. Some the size of pebbles, others as large as several fists. Many of the stones stood in clusters, while others stood alone. More still were sprinkled across the armor like glistening seeds in a field. Many of the crystals were long and seemed to have grown from the armor over years and years.

In their belts the trolls held swords and maces, also made of crystals, reinforced by magic and enchanted to stroke terrible blows against their opponents. These were more spectacular than the crystals scattered across the armor; thick and jagged, they retained their crystalline features, but could kill if used properly. Each was large and obviously heavier than a metal weapon of the same type. Only a people as strong as trolls could successfully use the weapons.

As the trolls moved about and finished the preparations for their ships, the crystals refracted the sun's light and turned the area below me ablaze with colors; like a broken rainbow in motion, but glittering with more colors than I'd ever seen at once in a single sky.

I sat down at the edge of the cave, for I feared that I would actually try to sneak on board if I got close enough. Against the rough splendor of the clan existence, my life seemed tawdry and dull. I'd had adventures, but not for some time. My latest quest had been trying to raise the two of you safely to adulthood.

Krattack appeared beside me. "I'm not here," he said. "So don't try to figure out how I sneaked up on you." He pointed down toward the village, and I saw him sitting beside a large fire set some distance from the ships. He looked up at me. I waved, amused by the deception, and he returned my wave.

"Do you want me to come down to speak with you?" I asked the illusion.

"No need. Anyway, I need the practice," the illusion said. The image was a bit younger than Krattack, and moved with more energy. It was either a mistaken ideal Krattack had about himself, or a well thought out ideal. "I noticed you looking with longing down at the preparations."

"It's beautiful."

"Yes. Astounding people."

"You speak as if you really don't belong here."

"Part of me does. But part of me doesn't. You never forget where you're from. You rarely forgive the murderers of someone you love."

"I don't think I could do that—forgive someone for killing my parents. Have you forgiven them?"

"To tell you the truth, I really don't know."

The illusion and I sat in silence for a while. I looked out over the trolls. Looked once more at the real Krattack, who was sipping broth from a stone bowl.

"You want to go with them?" the illusion said.

I nodded, embarrassed.

"You will. Soon. But not now. This expedition is headed for death. Not all. But enough that it would be prudent for you to wait."

His calmly spoken words so startled me that I turned quickly to look the illusion in the face.

It was gone.

I looked down at the real Krattack.

Then he vanished.

My chest tightened. I scanned the clan village for the real Krattack, suddenly afraid that the troll did not exist at all. I looked at the busy scene below for some minutes. When I finally found him again he was walking casually through the village to speak to Vrograth.