Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Lliferock (19 page)

Jak Koke

“No.”

Gvint felt a surge of anger. “I am your Elder, Jibn Sra. In the name of Ganwetrammus I command you to enter the Dreaming with me.” His hand lashed out at Jibn, open palm becoming fluid as he grabbed Jibn’s forearm, feeling the bumpy studs of his inlaid emerald tattoo. Gvint’s other hand did the same, touching Jibn’s chest.

Jibn’s skin melted under Gvint’s touch.

“Do not resist, brother. I must do this to show you that you need exile yourself no longer.”

“I . . . I will not resist, Elder.”

They merged. Jibn gave into the union, melding with Gvint, sharing body and mind. It had been a long time since Gvint had merged with another obsidiman without a liferock, and he found the effort draining.

Jibn’s mind filled Gvint with smells and sounds. Jibn’s years had gone by in loneliness, his time occupied with reading and long periods of self-induced hibernation. He had learned much about the nature of Horrors from his research into his own condition.

Jibn suspected that he was marked by one or more Horrors, and he lived out his life in perpetual paranoia because of it. Even though no Horror had ever manifested itself to him.

No Horror except the first one.

Gvint forced their merged minds to remember that time, just two decades before they had planned to seal off the liferock for the Long Dreaming which other Name-givers called the Scourge. The tepuis had looked much the same as it did now; the jungle had offered some protection from the scath-ing destructive forces unleashed by Horrors during the Scourge.

Many of the Garen Brotherhood had known of the coming apocalypse and had returned to the liferock to spend the last years with Ganwetrammus. Gvint remembered how he This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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had made the journey from Travar with Ywerk Fri. The Elders, Garen Dne and Tylon Giv, had welcomed them at the temple above the riflev pool, and they had passed the last years near the liferock. It had been a twilight time, sad to see everyone around them preparing for the coming of the Horrors. Some of the brotherhood arrived close to the end, having stayed with other Name-givers until the very last moment so as to help them build their underground kaers.

Jibn Sra was one such brother.

Gvint saw now through the distorted lens of Jibn’s memory into a time when Jibn had served as a rune-carver. He had learned the symbols of warding and protection from the Therans. Traveling from village to village in those last days, Jibn had carved and enchanted those runes into the gates of kaers in exchange for food, lodging, and any magical knowledge they might have that he did not.

Jibn encountered a Horror on his way home to the tepuis.

In his memory, the event held great significance, built up from years of analysis, trying to figure out where he had made a mistake. Searching for the fault, the blame in what he had done.

But Gvint knew the event from the memory of the liferock who knew the event from Jibn’s point of view as well, but a younger Jibn, one who had just encountered the Horror days earlier. One who remembered the encounter as nothing special at all.

Jibn had been hiking the roads from the Twilight Peaks to the edge of the Servos jungle, a vast blanket of thick vegetation, much larger than it was now. Suddenly, music filled the space around him, a crystal clean cacophony of sounds. The sun disappeared behind a fissure in the fabric of the sky, and through the rift came light. Wisps of brilliant blue and ten-drils of perfect red swirled out into the jungle air.

Then a creature appeared, half in and half out of the rift.

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In the physical, it looked like a giant black mole with huge, sightless milk-white eyes. But in the astral it had no real form, only a pattern of colored threads stretching off into the distance.

Jibn knew it was a Horror and turned to escape. And yet, for a fraction of a second its eyes stared into his. Then he was running down the path, and it had been sucked back into the realm of the astral.

Days later, when Jibn had finally reached Tepuis Garen, he merged with Ganwetrammus. He had no idea that the Horror had marked him — attached a hidden magical tether to Jibn’s astral pattern which let the creature track the obsidiman.

Thus, when Jibn fused with the liferock, the Horror materialized, entering his mind and body. The creature merged with Ganwetrammus along with Jibn. Infecting the liferock and the entire brotherhood.

Ganwetrammus fought the creature in astral space where both were much more powerful. The battle went on for years, and it seemed that Ganwetrammus was winning. But the Horror was patient and cunning. It would lie dormant for months or years, only to return with sudden vengeance, tormenting members of the brotherhood who were merged at the time.

Slowly, it insinuated itself into the pattern of the liferock to such a degree that it would have killed parts of Ganwetrammus. The time of the Long Dreaming approached rapidly and the members of the brotherhood became afraid that they would have no liferock with which to merge. Without the protection of Ganwetrammus, the entire brotherhood would perish.

Garen came up with the answer. The Ritual of Protection would help strengthen the pattern of the liferock. It could force the Horror out. But there was a problem; the Horror was so well integrated that one of the brotherhood would have to act as a receptacle for the Horror. The magic of the Ritual of This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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Protection could help Ganwetrammus cleanse itself of the creature, but the Horror had to be killed. It knew too much of Ganwetrammus’s pattern; if it were merely banished from the rock, it could easily return during the Long Dreaming and re-infect the rock.

Garen volunteered himself.

He was the eldest and no one could dissuade him. The entire brotherhood merged as Tylon and Garen performed the Ritual of Protection. Beginning as a dance among the rocks atop the tepuis, the two of them weaved threads of magical power from the astral plane to Ganwetrammus. Then the dance continued inside the rock as they traced the massive and complex pattern of the liferock with their spirits, filtering clean mana into Ganwetrammus through their matrix of astral threads. The Elders’ ultimate objective was to reestablish the original, unblemished pattern of the liferock.

The Horror shrank away from the two Elders as they danced Ganwetrammus’s pattern. They corralled it with their magic until it had no choice but to enter Garen’s mind. It tried to torment him, but he was confident and strong from the residual magic of the ritual. Then Garen emerged into the world as the ritual was completed, locking his spirit with that of the Horror. Neither Garen nor the Horror could escape the union.

Garen wandered off into the apocalypse and was never heard from again. The liferock and the brotherhood had borne his name ever since.

Yonik Bne became the next Elder, after which he and Tylon sealed the brotherhood deep inside Ganwetrammus where they weathered the Scourge in a state of hibernation for 500

years. When the brotherhood emerged to the new and sad world of post-Scourge Barsaive, Jibn was in a state of panic.

He blamed himself for Garen’s death and for the near destruction of the liferock and all of his brothers. He separated himself from the rock, and though he decided not to wander away This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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from the tepuis, he had refused to ever enter the Dreaming with Ganwetrammus again.

Do you see now, Jibn? Do you see that none of it could have been your fault.

Gvint, that was not how it happened. I let the Horror mark me by not getting away fast enough. Deep down, I knew that I was marked, and I merged anyway.

Not true. A fabrication of your paranoia, Jibn. Gvint forced the memory of Jibn’s merging to resurface. It was clear in the liferock’s recollection of the event that Jibn knew nothing about having been Horror-marked. You were naive about Horrors then, my brother. You should not condemn yourself and your brotherhood now because of past ignorance.

Gvint let Jibn emerge from the self-Dreaming, the warm sensation of relief filling him as Jibn’s confused mind left him alone. Jibn sank to the floor, curling into a sitting position with his arms clasped around his knees.

Gvint put his hands on Jibn’s shoulders. “Everyone has forgiven you,” he said. “Except you.”

Jibn said nothing.

They sat there together for a while, Gvint worrying about Jibn’s state of mind. He knew he had done the right thing to force Jibn to remember. It had shocked Jibn, but maybe, just maybe it would be enough to provoke him into action.

“We need your help, brother. Ganwetrammus is in pain.”

Jibn didn’t answer. He merely sat on the floor and stared into at the flicker of the fire basket.

Gvint slumped into the chair.

Nearly a half hour passed before Jibn spoke. “I am s-s-sorry brother, but . . .”

Gvint tried to contain his anger and let Jibn finish.

“I can’t,” Jibn said. “I just can’t.”

“You have been wallowing in self-pity for too long. Jibn, your liferock needs you now. Your brotherhood needs you.”

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“You don’t understand, Gvint. What if my Horror is still out there? It is possible, even likely. In fact, I’m convinced of it.”

“Spare me the pathetic excuses,” Gvint said, pushing to his feet and crossing the room. His anger was rising again. He felt more helpless than he had ever felt. “I merged with you and saw no evidence of any Horrors. I am not possessed or marked or hurt in any way by the experience.”

Jibn watched as Gvint donned his cloak and opened the door. “You are the one who doesn’t understand,” Gvint said.

“Our existence is under siege and we are losing the war. If you change your mind and decide to join us in our fight, come to the temple and see me.” Then he was out the door and running through the cold mist of rain.

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

 Chapter Twenty 

Pabl emerged from his communion with the Council of Four refreshed and invigorated. He had never felt healthier. The clean air of the valley cleansed his lungs as he took deep breath after deep breath. The sun shone bright just over the edge of the valley, sending rays of rainbow colors across the flagstones. The white stone obelisk gleamed sharp in the center.

The last words of the council echoed in his mind as he began the walk back toward the column of elemental air, swirling with rocks and sand at the edge of the valley. We have left your pattern unchanged, unnamed one. You are still discovering yourself.

Remember one thing; your eagerness to be Named is base-less; your name is who you are, not a gift from Ganwetrammus.

You will know your name when you have realized who you are.

Don’t let your desire to be Named cause you to put your self-interests above those of your liferock.

The sound of the huge tornado of sand became deafening as Pabl climbed out of the forest and onto the plateau.

Wind whipped around him as he approached the column.

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Pabl turned then and looked back down into the valley one final time.

The view in the daylight was magnificent. He could see the entire valley; the jagged rim was covered sporadically with snow and formed the near-circle which marked the edge of the valley. Lush forest filled the basin, bringing a pine-scented breeze up the sides of mountains. Pabl looked across to the other columns, stretching huge and menacing up into the sky.

He felt a sudden urge to stay, and regretted having to rush away. When would he ever get the chance to return? He wanted to get a closer look at the other swirling columns, explore the rest of the valley, avail himself of the vast history and knowledge held by the Council of Four. But all that would have to wait; he could not delay his journey to Sangolin.

Pabl turned to face the column of elemental air. Stepping toward it, he pressed his hands over his ears to dampen the grinding roar. Stones and debris whipped up into the air around him as he approached, feeling the loose ends of his tunic and pants flap and flutter in the wind. One more step and he was airborne, swept up into the column.

“Domorpen,” he said, following the instructions that the council had given him. In his head he pictured the return journey — the flowing torrent of rock and the constellation of colors.

A rush of wind surrounded him as tiny, sharp stones cut into his flesh. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sting-ing slivers. Then, a concussion of sound echoed in the space around him, and the roar of the elemental column was gone, leaving his ears ringing with dull white noise.

Pabl took a breath, his lungs burning with sulfurous steam. He pitched forward and landed face down on the wet stone surface of the Domorpen cave. He took another careful breath and opened his eyes to near blackness.

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Pabl searched on his hands and knees, locating a trickle of spring water by feel. He splashed his face before standing.

When his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he could see the fine red lines of lava flowing over the boulder of black glass behind him. I made it, he thought, reaching into his backpack for his lantern. I know where Reid Quo can be found. Now, I just need to rejoin my companions.

Outside, a cold, moonless night greeted Pabl. A light snow was falling, prompting Pabl to don his heavy cloak as he made his way down the rocky slope toward the boulder shelter where the group had camped while searching for the cave.