CITY OF BRIDGES

21

Memories Undone

When Feiron received the message about the recently discovered exit, one of the human staff volunteered to lead him to the area. Given the cavern layout, they quickly found the new tunnel opening on the north bank of a grassy knoll behind a few dense, thorny bushes.

Feiron and his guide sat down to wait. He looked at the view with interest, not having seen this part of Qelay before. The hill overlooked a small but picturesque lake. A mill with a waterwheel amongst a copse of trees below.

His guide suddenly shook him.

“Sir, I regret to say, your friend has fallen… Styx and Riff were also attacked.”

Feiron completely missed the shock on the young man’s face when the last words were uttered. The moment he heard Leonie was in trouble he oozed into the dark hole to render any possible assistance.

“The protectors have been summoned,” the guide called.

Encountering the assassin in the tunnel was a complete surprise, but Feiron was in a better position to react. With the news of the slaying of his best friend, he didn’t hesitate. His method of attack was simply to smother. There was no room to do anything else. Feiron oozed around him, his viscous body filling all the air pockets, then he began constricting. He felt the assassin thrashing within the confined space.

Feiron shuddered the moment he felt the freezing energy. It was a matter of who lasted the longest; his endurance to the effects of the cold, against the lack of oxygen for the attacker. Feiron hoped the assassin’s frenzied struggles would tire before too much of his endoplasm froze. Regardless of the outcome, at least the assassin’s suffocation would in a small way pay for Leonie’s death.

*

Riff rolled to a stop a few feet away from the bloody mess.

Styx concentrated, plying all his sensors to study Riff’s form until assured his companion would recover. The tough skin was frozen solid, but deep within he sensed the life-aura strongly. He then waddled to Leonie’s crumpled form partially covered by Evlin’s body. With his telekinesis, he lifted the female assassin and tossed it aside.

Leonie…… Leonie.

Styx?

She swiftly rose, floating clear of the noxious fumes. Styx then gently propelled her forwards. Stay with me. I will get you to safety. He summoned a healer to meet in her room and tend Leonie’s wounds.

Are you dead? Am I dead?

Foolish woman. You know I cannot converse with the dead.

Somehow, she understood something was wrong. His mental contact had always seemed bright. She always thought it a shade of blue – like a cloudless, spring sky – but now it was darker, as if an autumn storm was pending.

What’s… happened to you? What’ve you done? Leonie’s thoughts drifted.

Too little, too late it would seem. I… caused a death.

Oh. An accident?

There was a pause. No.

Styx erected a mental barrier to ward off any outbursts from his peers, not wholly prepared to answer the questions and accusations that would surely be directed at him.

Leonie’s body sluggishly floated towards the cavern’s main entrance. Recovering from his recent freezing, Styx didn’t push his telekinetic ability too hard. He moved along underneath her; staying close. There was an anxious moment when he leapt the chasm stretching across his path. He didn’t make the entire distance, crashing into the opposite cliff face. He dug his claws into the rock, barely managing to regain control before Leonie fell back into the poisonous vapour. As he climbed out, her body flopped like the rag dolls the young human females played with in Reenat.

With only the steppes to go, they were both soon above the cloud layer. Styx deftly moved her body along the labyrinthine passages, then up to her room. Two rollos followed him the moment he returned to the main living area. He could understand their disquiet; hroltahgs had never been directly involved with a death. They were fearful he had gone rogue.

The chambermaid squealed when the injured half-rrell floated into the room. Styx sent her to gather hot water and cloths to clean the Leonie’s wounds while they waited for the healer.

Are you still with me? Styx nudged Leonie’s mind gently.

Uh huh.

Your death was imminent. The only thing left for me to do was to intervene… physically.

If you saved my life, what’s wrong with me?

You are in a coma. Your body has gone into shock due to the immense pain and the loss of blood. I find this the most unfortunate aspect about non-telepaths; you think because the body does not respond, everything else will not. It is the other way around; under certain circumstances your mind can survive without your body, but your body cannot survive without your mind.

If you say so. How are you, though?

I will recover.

I mean after what you did? I thought you said it was against your cultural beliefs.

Correct.

Then why? Not that I’m complaining. Why was saving me so important?

The elders recently furnished me with information from several other sources of prophecy. Singly, this information would mean little, but taken in unison, led them to conclude you may play an important part in our future.

Me?

Yes.

And you believe it?

I considered it worthy of my attention. If we are wrong, then I am the only one who may suffer, but, if we are right, you will potentially be the one to save all.

Sure.

You find it difficult to understand.

Of course. I think your elders are nuts. And what’s this stuff about saving you all? In case you didn’t notice, I got my arse kicked. She cut off my tail!

The method of how you will save us, like most events in prophecy, is unclear.

Let me ask the question in a different way. From what will you need to be saved?

Extinction. Our race has not been able to reproduce offspring for the last couple of centuries – I am one of the last. We need to be returned to our own environment to do this. If this does not happen, we will eventually die out. The longer we are away from our true home, the harder it will become. White Cliffs was an attempt to simulate our world; to see if it would revive our ability to reproduce. It has failed. Styx paused.

I’m not sure I like the sound of me helping your race reproduce.

There was a knock at the door.

Here is the healer. We will converse more on this another time.

*

True to his word, the guide had summoned help, but with the illios wedged in the tunnel, there was little anyone could do. As soon as possible his unconscious and ice-cold form, frozen in the shape of the tunnel section they found him, was extricated and moved to his heated room where a large bathtub had been installed.

Hoping a warm and humid environment would be beneficial, the healer monitored his condition. It was the best the he could do since he had little experience with illios. With the insistence of the rollos, he even poured a fresh brew of warm tea twice a day into the tub. “What a waste of good, Redleaf!” he muttered.

Feiron thawed out slowly, revealing the body of one of the assassins. Once examined, the assassin was cremated like the others had been several days earlier. Styx regularly visited in the shapechanger’s rooms to see how he fared.

Two days later, Feiron had recovered sufficiently to communicate. He was shocked by the lethal looking spikes, and his new colouring.

By using chalk and slate, Styx updated him on Leonie’s condition. In turn, Feiron slowly recounted his encounter with the assassin. Though the use of the wand had caused inconvenience to the shapechanger, it turned out his pain threshold was much higher than the assassin’s.

“I have to admit while I can admire the skeletal form of the other races, we illios also have advantages. Withstanding extreme cold temperatures is one of them. It was certainly better than melting.”

The chalk danced across the dark slate. ‘The assassin suffocated.’

“Good. That was my intent.” Feiron nodded in satisfaction.

‘I confess to venting anger myself recently. It has left me… confused.’

“And you convinced us you were all pacifists.”

‘For the last ten thousand years, it was so. We thought we had eradicated violence from our race. We have always regarded it a base emotion, something for beasts and less-developed races. Too bad we had not erased arrogance as well.’

“I didn’t think you could eradicate either of them.”

The previous writing disappeared from the board before being replaced. ‘Then it seems you are far wiser than all of us.’

“If that’s what you really think, perhaps I am.”

‘I sense frustration?’

“Stop blaming yourself. If you are a moral, sentient race, then the most appropriate thing to do, the right thing to do, is protect those that are—”

‘Weaker?’

“I was going to say unable to defend themselves,” Feiron finished.

‘I see.’

“Do you? No matter what the cost?”

‘This is acceptable to me, now. This is logical, otherwise given enough time, only the most violent race would dominate, and all other would be subjugated by that violence; controlled by it.’

“And self-defence is not violence or aggression.”

‘I find solace with your reasoning.’

“Will your peers see it that way? What do they think?”

‘That is their decision to make. Suspecting I am rogue, they have erected barriers to block me from their thoughts, so I am unaware of their views; and they mine…’ Reaching the bottom of the slate, he erased his previous words and continued.

‘I recall, when dealing with the assassins, I was overwhelmed by the injuries to Riff and Leonie, and at their total lack of compassion. This sort of mentality should never be allowed to become the norm. I will go and contemplate before I contact the elders again. I will return afterwards, once my fate has been determined.’

“Styx,” Feiron asked gently. “Do they hurt?” Referring to the spikes.

‘Only on the inside.’ With recent experience of what rolling spikes did to carpet and wooden flooring, Styx waddled out of the room, leaving the slate and chalk behind. The two rollo guards positioned themselves behind him and followed.

Feiron ordered a strong pot of tea and some balm before pouring himself back into his tub to recuperate. He wanted desperately to see Leonie for himself, but his cell structure was severely damaged and would take a lot of energy to repair. The effects of the regeneration process were swift, but tiring.

Propped up on pillows, Leonie drifted in and out of sleep. Her eyelids fluttered open when she became aware of a familiar aroma, but it was a rollo in the doorway.

“Are you awake, Leonie?”

She smiled. “Hi Feiron,” Leonie’s voice rasped.

“Damn!”

“What are you up to?”

“I am attempting to be a rollo as it’s such an easy shape to mimic. Did my smell give me away again?” Feiron rolled to the bedside.

“Perhaps.” She smiled feebly. “But how many rollos can speak?”

“Oh.” He slumped.

“It’s good you are trying new shapes,” Leonie murmured, her voice still weak.

“With only staff to converse with, I needed to do something to stop from being bored. Talking to you is much better.”

“Um, thanks. I don’t think your new shape will work out though. You move too lightly. Remember, they’re very heavy.”

“But how do I look?”

She cast a critical eye over him. He certainly had the right skin tone. Even the texture was accurate. “Can you stand up like they do?”

Feiron unfolded. She had to admit his resemblance was excellent. He was now a rotund triangle with stubby legs and arms. His full height measured to the top of the mattress.

“If I can imitate the sound of their roll, perhaps that will suffice.”

“And the ground shaking.”

He slumped again. “Well, it’s a start.”

“And it’s a great one too.” She tried to cheer him up. “I’m sure your mentor will be impressed. How long have I been out?”

“Almost four days.” Feiron changed into his native form. “I can’t let you out alone can I? How are you feeling?”

“Other than that assassin bitch taking my tail?” Leonie shrugged. “Not too bad I guess.”

“So, you’re better than you look?” he asked casually, reverting to his natural form. She was covered in bandages and her arm was in a sling. “You look pretty bad.”

Leonie look at him steadily for a moment. “Is there anyone else out there to ‘cheer me up’?” Now that he was in himself, she noticed his discoloured complexion. Within his translucent grey darker blotches could be seen. “You don’t look so great either.”

“Yes, well. I had a bit of excitement too.” Feiron related his view of the events. “The bodies of the assassins, what was left of them, were cremated. I understand none of the rollos have communicated more than a couple of words since Styx went rogue.”

“Speaking of whom, where is he?”

“He’s around. I should warn you though… he has changed.”

“How so?”

“He’s now multicoloured and covered in spikes. Apparently, it’s a regressive trait, reminiscent of their violent origins. One they thought they had eradicated.”

“Looks like no one got out of this ruckus unscathed, even the untouchable hroltahgs.”

*

The door opened soundlessly as Styx ambled in. A pair of rollo sentinels waited beyond the door.

“Oooh, this looks serious.” Leonie sat up, noting the spikes Feiron mentioned. Whereas before he was a dark grey, now his tone hinted a deep red patterning. If you watched carefully, they swirled randomly. “That colour suits you.”

I have communicated with the elders in Reenat. They have left some decisions for me.

“About what in particular?”

You. There is a recess in your mind you should know about. It concerns your ‘origins’; how you came to be.

“You mean my childhood? Who my parents are?”

If you prefer… yes, but origins would be more accurate. You wonder why you are so different from all others, and uncomfortable about your unique abilities. He waddled to the side of the bed. Your immunity to poisons, high pain threshold, the capacity to heal quickly, far superior reflexes than your counterparts and your ability to the use of power, and telepathy.

Leonie considered. “Can’t anyone else do these things?”

Some are able to do one or two. I know of no other rrell – pureblood or half-caste – with the capability to do as you do. I would be hard-pressed to come up with any other entity that can do all. Potentially, you can do much more. Anyone with all these abilities could be virtually unstoppable. You are far more than human and far more than rrell.

In silence, Leonie sat unmoving, staring out the window. The stub of her tail twitched in agitation. She fought the urge to scratch it.

I now know how it all came to be. I have also worked out a few of the answers from the codex.

“And you’re here to tell me this?” she murmured.

Correct, if you are strong enough.

“I recall we’ve had a similar discussion.”

I cannot determine how this news will affect you.

She took a deep breath. “Bring it on, then we’ll soon both know.”

The door swung closed with a resounding thud, shutting out the sentinel rollos.

Then let us begin.

Leonie woke to silence. She eased herself up and reached for the glass of water by the bed, draining it in one gulp. There was a bell there too. She rang it to see who would appear. She felt extremely depleted after Styx’s last visit and her head throbbed incessantly.

In a few moments her chambermaid arrived.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Any chance of getting food?” she croaked. “I’m starving.”

“Certainly ma’am. Have you any preference?”

“Anything as long as it’s meat, preferably raw.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” The maid curtsied as she left, almost bumping into Feiron as he flowed through the open doorway.

“Is Styx with you?” Leonie croaked in greeting, holding her head between her paws.

“Hello to you too, and yes, I’m fine thanks. No doubt he’ll turn up. Have you heard the good news?”

“I doubt it, considering I’ve been stuck in this bed all week.”

“We’re heroes, but dead ones.”

“That’s good, is it?”

“Well… not the dead part.”

“I’m bored, and for me that’s almost dead…” Leonie tried to get up but slumped back with a groan.

“But we are heroes!” he repeated joyfully.

“You get excited over the strangest things.” She smiled wanly. “What’s happening with the book?”

“The codex is well-protected and soon to be on its way to Reenat with fifty soldiers from the Royal Athglenese Guards and two rollos. Hopefully that’ll be the last of it. If I see another book on prophecy in the next decade it will be ten years too soon. I need a long holiday.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? This doesn’t sound like the Feiron I once knew.”

“The Feiron you knew wasn’t about to become a block of ice,” he continued. “The rollos have five of those helmets to study and will conduct extensive searches to try to locate the origins. And, although you don’t believe in coincidences – it seems the illios we chased were sent by the local Woorin Temple, not decoys after all. The rollos have ordered all priests from the Brotherhood to leave, and refused any replacements for the time being.”

“I’m surprised Delta listened.”

“At first there was reluctance, but they are nervous – it’s rare for a group of Jart’lekk to be wiped out along with their powershaper.”

“Second time for me; don’t forget why I left Delta in the first place.”

* * *