Revelation (21 page)

The dark ground passed beneath. I wondered if Anna and Ashton had been right, after all. If they had been right, the xenovirus was now leading me to my doom. But if the virus wanted to kill me, this dragon could do it, right now. The fact that it didn’t meant I was being carried somewhere for a reason.

Another thought struck me. Maybe it wasn’t killing me because I was part of the xenoswarm.

And that thought didn’t scare me as much as it should have.

Chapter 18

I had fallen asleep at some point on the back of the dragon, its body keeping me warm even as the cold wind buffeted against me. I opened my eyes, forgetting for a moment where I was, what had happened. It all came back as I watched the rosy sunrise in the east, glowing on the edge of the Great Blight. Or was it the Great Blight itself that was glowing?

The dragon glided low to the ground. The Wasteland below was empty and forlorn, a dark spread of shadows, dunes, and mesas. There was no sign of the city of Vegas, either ahead or behind. We were flying straight for the Great Blight. For what purpose, I couldn’t guess. Even if I had wanted to escape, I was stuck here, for obvious reasons.

I pulled myself upright on the dragon’s back, the muscles in my back stiff and my eyes weary. The dragon beneath reacted to my stirring, heaving a long sigh as it beat its wings against the wind.

Almost there,
it seemed to say. I didn’t know if that was what it was really saying, or if it was just my imagination.

The realization of everything that had happened suddenly struck me. I was
flying
on a dragon. I was infected with the xenovirus. I was flying into the Great Blight. The events of the night seemed unreal. Still, no matter how hard I tried, the feeling of betrayal wouldn’t go away. If my friends had all had their way, I would be in Skyhome now. But I had run away, and now found myself here, flying toward the Great Blight. Maybe to my death.

I had only myself to blame. Maybe I was as insane as they thought I was. Maybe the virus
had
changed me.

We passed the pink border of the Great Blight just as the sun fully rose, obscured behind layers of luminescent, crimson cloud. The light spread its fingers, igniting the entire eastern horizon with a fiery glow that belied the cold, dry air. The light illuminated the pink, alien trees that poked through the surface of the fungus like wispy hairs. Tall, pink grass waved in the wind like fields of grain. Sticky pink pools and rivers flowed toward lower elevations, bleeding through the fungus. It was beautiful in its own surreal way.

The dragon took me even lower. In one of these pools, I could see several crawlers soaking below the surface, dormant. Was this how the monsters were birthed? A flock of birds flew like a swarm of insects from a thick stand of xenotrees, spiraling toward the sun in an organic whirlwind. The xenolife should have attacked me on sight, but they ignored my presence on the dragon. Another sign of my change, perhaps? Maybe I really was one of them, now.

We flew a while longer, the sun doing little to warm the chilled air. I wrapped my hoodie tighter. I wondered if my eyes were still white. They had to be. I wondered how long it would be until my transformation would be complete.

“Where are we going?” I asked the dragon.

I didn’t know why I asked it that. The dragon couldn’t answer, so I guess I was just trying to break the silence and loneliness. The dragon gave no reaction, merely flying on in a straight line, due east. I remembered my dream, and thought, with dread, that I might be flying to Ragnarok Crater. If
that
was where I was headed, then I could never expect to get out alive. Maybe I was being taken hostage for some reason. But that didn’t seem right. Why even bother with that when these dragons were programmed to kill? Apparently, these dragons also had a penchant for ferrying sixteen-year-old kids to who knows where.

I got the beginnings of my answer as the dragon flew upward, above a steep rise coated in alien purple and pink. Once above, I saw the ruins of the spire
Gilgamesh
had shot down. It was gray, lifeless, its many roots blasted, tangled, and disconnected from the nourishing fungus. I didn’t know if it was my natural, human feeling, or the virus within me, but I felt sad at the sight. The fungus appeared to be thicker around its base – perhaps trying to heal it? Pink goo flowed from the spire’s base like blood, down to a valley in the south, where it collected in a small lake. Maybe it wasn’t merely
like
blood. Maybe it
was
blood.

The dragon drew closer to the spire. With a high-pitched cry that shook my bones, it extended its claws, alighting on the ground. It folded its wings, and knelt. We had come to the end of our journey.

I hesitated only a moment before hopping off, the xenofungus beneath my feet padding my fall. As I stepped onto the eerie fungus, it glowed beneath my weight, fading over time to its normal color.
That
hadn’t happened before. I couldn’t help but feel that it was its way of registering that I was connected to its network.

I tried not to be freaked out by that. I walked forward, to the spire. I gazed at it for a moment, its dead, twisting mass bewildering. What was I doing here? Was I to be punished for being part of the team that destroyed it? I turned back to the dragon, but its white, featureless eyes gazed back at me empty, answerless. The large beast gave a slight shiver, grieved at the sight of the spire. Could these monsters feel? I had always thoughts of them as unthinking beasts, caring only about killing. Maybe they were more than that.

I turned back to the spire, noticing a change taking place at its base. The roots began to twist. I took a step back as they unraveled, revealing a dark opening that led deep into the thick mound of xenofungus that supported the spire. It was just wide enough for me to enter.

I hesitated. I waited, for a moment, for something to come out. The dragon gave a low growl, urging me onward.

“Easy,” I said, beginning to step forward.

I felt fear grip me as I moved toward the opening. I had bad memories of going underground, so I was more than a bit hesitant. It was completely dark within, but it was clear that it led down. I realized, upon entering, that those very same roots could close in on me, trapping me beneath the surface. But I saw no other option at this point, so forward I went.

I walked down the slope, into darkness. As I had guessed, the roots curled shut behind me. As soon as they did, the walls of the tunnel began glowing pink, offering just enough light to move onward. The tunnel sloped, spiraling toward the right.

I began walking. There was a creepy deadening of all sound. Immediately upon each new step, the sound of any squish was absorbed by the walls. The air was cool to begin with, but as I walked on, spiraling lower, it became hot and stuffy. I was crawling into a living thing, and that thought made me shudder.

I walked for about five minutes in this way, wondering when, or if, the spiral would ever end. When at last it did, I gasped at the sight before me.

I had entered a cavernous chamber, covered on all sides by xenofungus. Before me was a wide, pink pool, strangely clear and pure. Stalactites of xenofungus hung above, dripping yet more pink slime, filling the pool. The pool could probably be more accurately described as a small lake – it stretched far, and various inlets jutted out of my sight, deeper into the space, everything glowing pink from the fungus itself. Strange as it might sound, it was beautiful in its own alien way. The surface of the fungus gleamed, like crystals.

I noticed a small island out in the middle of that lake. One person sat on it now, back to me, under the branches of a silvery tree, the roots of which traveled down the sides of the island, burying themselves deep within the lake. I called out, but the surrounding xenofungus and pool shimmered, absorbing my words long before they could make it to the island.

I would have to go there myself.

I stepped to the pink shoreline, my boots just inches from the strange liquid. It looked viscous, like water, only it didn’t move. The entire surface was still as glass. I bent down, and reached my hand toward the surface. I touched it. It was warm, and the liquid wrapped itself around my fingers. When I raised my hand, the liquid slid right off, back into the pool, joining the still surface of the pink lake. It might have been even
more
fluid than water. Each molecule of the stuff was obeying its own command, knowing when to stick together, and when to dissipate. Maybe, at its basic level, the liquid’s smallest components were
alive
.

I didn’t really want to swim through something that was alive, but I saw little choice. I believed I was meant to talk with that man on the island, and to do that, I had to step into the pool and swim to that island. I did so now, the organic goo surrounding and compressing my body. I panicked for a moment as the pool constricted around my chest, pushing the air out of my lungs. Then the pressure was released, and I could breathe again. This stuff could very well kill me, if it wanted.

I swam outward, toward the island. After a few moments, the liquid of the pool only just began to soak my clothing. It was easy to stay above the surface – the liquid pushed me upward, obviously much denser than water. Its current pushed me along, so much so that I could probably have ceased all motion and it would have carried me straight to the island. Ripples rather than waves emanated from my position, bouncing off cave walls, advancing ahead toward the island. When I was halfway there, the first of my ripples made it to the island’s shoreline. The man’s form stiffened, but he gave no other reaction.

I knew who it was, long before I arrived. It was the Wanderer. I increased my speed in order to meet him.
He
was the one who would give me answers to all the questions that had been haunting me. The glittering walls of xenofungus were strangely peaceful as I swam along, nearing the island.

I gasped as something grabbed my foot. A cold, fearful sweat poured from my body, but subsided when I realized what it was. My foot had merely touched the lake bottom. I placed both of my feet on the ground, surprised to find that it was much shallower than I had anticipated. I stood, the slime trailing off me in waves, rushing back to join its larger part in the pool. Within moments, the entire upper half of my body was completely dry. I stepped the rest of the way out, and the rest of the slime flowed off me, crawling down my skin and clothing to be absorbed into the xenofungus. It tickled a bit, making my skin tingle. I rubbed my arms, trying to remind myself what
normal
felt like.

Thankfully, the sensation was soon gone. The goo was now gone, and I realized that
everything
in here was alive. It was a startling realization. I wondered if even the air I breathed – warm and pungent with a spicy, alien scent – was filled with xenolife. It was truly like being on another world.

The Wanderer still had not turned. He was garbed in the same brown robe and hood I had seen him wearing over two months ago – the very same I had seen in my dream. I climbed up the incline of the small island and stood just a few feet behind him. The silver tree’s limbs hung above me, a blending of Earth and non-Earth. It was like no tree I had seen before. Its bark was pure, glittering silver, and its delicate trunk rose from the xenofungus gracefully. Spindly limbs protruded outward, beginning perhaps twenty feet high, from which more limbs grew, sprouting thin, pink leaves that had glowing silver spots. It gave a sweet, natural aroma – something I could not place, but that was familiar. Whatever it was, it was a familiar smell, full of a sad, ancient reminiscence I didn’t understand, something buried primordially deep, something so true as not to have words. It was like remembering the happiness of childhood from the perspective of an adult – bittersweet longing, smelling a dream, or reality as it was meant to be.

It was hard to describe, but I could see why the Wanderer had chosen this spot for his meditation. I thought about trying to get his attention somehow, but I merely stood, trusting that he would sense my presence. I had a feeling he knew I was there. I could only speculate as to why he summoned me.

The Wanderer finally stood, turning to face me. His eyes, like mine, had gone completely white, set in his wrinkled, ancient face. Long, white hair was obscured by the hood of his robe, and his long white beard gave him a sagelike, and perhaps even a wizardly, appearance. The beginning of a smile was on his lips.

“I was worried you would not come,” he said.

I said nothing in reply. I was overwhelmed by so many questions that I did not know what to ask first. I did not know if it was even
okay
to ask.

“I had nowhere else to go.”

The Wanderer nodded, indicating the ground. We both sat across from each other, legs folded. He looked at me, waiting for me to go on.

“So, I’m one of you guys now, right?”

My voice had no problem carrying, now. The fungus and the air did nothing to impede its progress. I realized then that speech is a peculiarly human form of communication. These creatures had no need of it. They had the xenovirus and the xenofungus to communicate with each other in their own language – if it could even be
called
language. Sound might be involved in their communication, but it was nothing like what we called “speech.”

“I told you this long ago, Alex. That it all hinged on you. Do you still believe that?”

I wasn’t sure, anymore. Now that I was infected, I probably wouldn’t be fighting alongside my friends anymore.

“I don’t know if I believe that,” I said. “That’s why I’m here. I want answers. I want more than what I saw in that dream.”

The Wanderer nodded, expecting me to say that. So he had dreamed it, too. It was a reaffirming sign that I was not crazy.

“You will get your answers, Alex. Though they might be a bit...overwhelming. It is the nature of truth to be overwhelming.” He paused a moment, looking into me with those eerie, white orbs. “You are
Elekai
, now.”