Shadowrun - Earthdawn - Lliferock (34 page)

Maybe I will get married.

The future abounded with possibilities, and when the caravan made it out of the forest and into the civilized world once again, Sarbeneck would explore those opportunities.

When this job was finally over and he was back home in Throal, he would be very happy. Ecstatic. And that was something he had not felt in a very long time.

This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected])  Chapter Forty-Two 

Pabl’s journey back to Tepuis Garen passed slowly. The group made little headway during the first few days because Pabl and Chaiel had to carry Reid’s body. The corpse hardened, growing denser as its flesh slowly turned to stone. The skin hardened and cracked, the muscles and bones solidifying into rock, smelling like a hot, dry wind.

Several days later, Celagri spotted a caravan of Dinganni nomads. As before, the tribe welcomed them, and the humans were more than willing to exchange a cart for a few gems and a promise from Jan to tell the story of their encounter at Sangolin. The itinerant people traveled north with them for five days and nights before heading east. Again, Pabl was sad to see them go.

Even with the cart, it took the four of them almost a month to make it back around the jungle and through to the tepuis from the north side. A few days after they had left the Dinganni, Jan and Celagri grew bored with the unchanging terrain and the mild weather. Soon they tried to draw Chaiel into verbal combat, goading him with comments which used to throw him into a tirade. But Chaiel ignored their taunts for 281

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the most part, staying out of the bickering; something had happened to him at Sangolin.

Pabl had tasted that something. And a tiny part of him yearned for it. Sangolin is no more. The temptation, forever gone. But he pushed those feelings out of his head. He wanted to believe that those desires had died with Sangolin. He wanted to ignore the tiny emptiness in his soul.

By the time they had reached the village of Rabneth, nestled up against the imposing cliff wall of the tepuis, Jan and Celagri had started bickering with each other again. It was almost comforting to Pabl; everything was back to normal.

At Rabneth, Chaiel and Pabl said temporary goodbyes to Jan and Celagri. The two obsidimen passed through the small village without so much as a rest; they wanted to get Reid’s body to the Deathstone, his hardened bones and flesh returned to the liferock. Pabl noticed that the shantytown which used to pollute the riflev stream had been removed.

Only a few burned shacks remained; the rest of the buildings had been cleared away.

Pabl and Chaiel carried Reid’s body directly to the cliff face and merged with the spirit of Ganwetrammus. Pabl fell into the embrace of his liferock, buoyed by the rock’s new strength. The brotherhood welcomed him — Gvint and Hagnit and Ywerk and the others. Since Jibn Sra had died during the Ritual of Protection, Bintr Aar had become the new Elder.

And despite the tragic loss of Jibn and Reid, the brotherhood pulsed jubilant through the merge. Everyone glowed; the collective roared with energy.

Pabl soaked it in, letting their enthusiasm fill his tired spirit. Gvint and Bintr sent him images and sensations of what had happened at the liferock during his absence. They showed him the construction of the orichalcum-lattice chamber and the creation of Vecrix’s spell. Pabl experienced their memories of the Ritual of Protection.

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Likewise, Pabl and Chaiel shared their journey with the others and Ganwetrammus. And after some time had passed in the Dreaming, when they were ready to emerge several days later, Hagnit and Tidre came down the cliff face to help take Reid’s body to the top.

Gvint and Bintr greeted them in the temple with instructions to lay Reid’s body next to that of Jibn Sra where they both would be prepared for final rejoining. Gvint had led the search for Jibn’s body himself, and now it lay next to the Alqarat in peaceful repose.

When the two bodies rested side by side on the tile, Bintr covered them each with a heavy black funeral cowl embroidered with gold thread, showing the rites of reclamation — a scene where the body split into its four constituent elements, each flowing towards an elemental whirlwind stitched near the corner of the fabric.

The funeral cowl suits Reid, Pabl thought. This is where his body belongs.

Pabl approached Gvint. “I return your Mynbruje pendant, Elder. It has been my salvation on more than one occasion.”

He held the small jade statuette out.

Gvint smiled, reaching his hands toward Pabl. “I am glad,”

he said, “that it kept thoughts of us in you.” He touched Pabl’s hand, then closed Pabl’s fingers over the pendant. “But it no longer belongs to me, young one. It is yours now.”

Pabl felt a rush of love for his Elder, and a deep resounding sadness for the memory of the other owner of the pendant, Reid Quo. “You honor me,” he said.

“It is the least you deserve, brother.” Then, turning to Chaiel, Gvint said, “Welcome home, my brothers.” He touched palms with Chaiel. “We have missed you.”

Chaiel nodded. “You don’t know how good it feels, Elder.”

Bintr, the new Elder, lifted the funeral blanket to look at Reid’s head. “You found no horkla?” he asked.

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“None of the Sangolin obsidimen wore them, Elder,” Pabl said. “Nor any items of a personal nature.”

Chaiel gave a sad sigh. “The horklas were burned,” he said.

“Vecrix revealed it to me in a fit of hubris. About fifty years ago, they made a huge bonfire and destroyed them.”

Gvint lowered his eyes. “A dire loss,” he said.

Bintr shuddered. “Indeed,” he said, releasing the funeral cowl to fall back over Reid’s head.

Later, after they had moved the two bodies to the Deathstone, they held a short ceremony. The entire brotherhood in the long ceremonial robes of indigo and magenta formed a wide circle around the Deathstone. It was a fitting showing for the saviors of their liferock.

Jibn and Reid were placed in the center of the scarred rock, and their bodies slowly disintegrated over the days and days of chanting. The brotherhood sang rejoice at their return to Ganwetrammus. Celebrating each moment of their lives in the universe.

The rains came and went as they sang, washing away the remains of Jibn Sra and Reid Quo. The mud of their flesh channeled down the deeply etched chasms in the surface of the Deathstone until nothing remained, and the two elders existed only in memory.

Pabl spent the days after the funeral merged with Ganwetrammus. Sangolin was all but a distant memory, incon-sequential now. His life was here for a while. He only wished he could see Jan and Celagri more. Soon he would go down to Rabneth to visit.

About a week later, Gvint approached Pabl in the temple. “Bathe now, young one,” he said. “For tonight you shall be Named.”

Pabl looked up at Gvint’s sharply peaked head, his black eyes. “I’m in no hurry,” he said.

“That is good. Nevertheless, your Fire Bath will be tonight.

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Bintr and I have agreed.”

Pabl smiled. “May my friends join us?”

“The elf and the dwarf?”

“Yes, I —”

“Chaiel has taken it upon himself to make sure they come.

He professes that he was wrong about them, that they have proven themselves loyal to us.”

“More than a few times,” Pabl said.

“They will be quite welcome. Now go, prepare yourself.”

Pabl turned and walked outside into the gentle rain. He made his way down the erosion steps to the riflev pool. He stripped off his cloak, folding it into his pack, and walked into the water. Cold and clean, it tightened his skin as he sat on the last step and washed the dirt and the grime from his body.

It was evening by the time he was finished. The rain had stopped, and the high clouds had dissipated. The sky was a pale, pale blue, darkening to a deep violet in the east. Cold air dried the water from him as he climbed the steps to the temple, refreshed and new.

The entire brotherhood had gathered inside by the time he entered, each dressed vividly in the fancy robes and horklas of the sacred ceremonies. He stood at the entrance to the temple, naked and shivering with excitement.

It wasn’t until his brothers sat cross-legged on the tile floor that he noticed the presence of Jan and Celagri, standing near the Alqarat next to Gvint and Bintr. The dwarf had cleaned his patched magician’s robe for the occasion, and his beard was combed. And Celagri wore her usual black leather, but over the top was a brilliant red cape which Pabl had never seen before. They smiled at Pabl briefly before sitting.

Bintr and Gvint did not sit. They stood on either side of the Alqarat. “Come, young one,” Gvint said. “Ganwetrammus awaits you.”

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from the Alqarat seared the air with a steady crackle, and the obsidimen began a low droning harmony. Pabl walked towards the Elders, noticing the changes which had come over the Alqarat. The spur-shaped stone seemed to be moving; its sharp tip glowed a deeper red. Ripples passed along it as Pabl approached.

Bintr raised his rich, brown eyes to look into Pabl’s. He spoke, “The time of your Awakening has come to an end.

Now you join the collective. Your experiences during your wanderings outside will determine the name Ganwetrammus chooses for you.” He touched Pabl in the sternum.

Pabl felt a slight pain, then noticed a spot of blood there.

The droning grew in volume and a chanting melody emerged. The chant filled the space of the temple around Pabl until he lost focus of everything except the Elders and the Alqarat. Gvint plunged his hands into the molten tip, scooping out a palm-full of the liferock, whispering under his breath. Pabl felt a palpable rush of magical energy flow around him.

Gvint shaped and stretched the lava, lengthened and rolled it into a conduit. Bintr attached at one end to Pabl’s bloody chest, and Gvint put the other into the tip of the Alqarat. His blood mixed with the core of the rock, and Pabl felt his grasp on the here and now dissipate in a wash of fire and pain. A mosaic of red flares filled his vision as the lava seeped into his veins, burning his insides, searing his flesh.

He tried to cry out from the agony, but time slowed down, the single moment stretching longer and longer. His scream never came.

Memories flashed into his mind, vivid and tangible. Real.

He emerged from the rock, famished and thirsty, guzzling water from the riflev while his brothers gathered around him.

The flesh under his skin glowed bright red with lava. Pain crept outward to his limbs as Ganwetrammus mingled with This Book Belongs to: Andrew Tobin (black _ [email protected]) Liferock 

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his flesh outside the merge. This didn’t feel like Dreaming at all.

The smell of ozone and singeing fabric hit him as he flashed into another memory . . . After months of searching, he found the hidden library of Yon Fuiras destroyed. All that history and magic lore, carelessly burned. The memory hit him now as though he was discovering it for the first time.

The chanting continued in the temple. Pabl’s flesh burned with lava now, the pain had become unbearable. The connection between him and the Alqarat shortened, drawing him closer to the spur of rock. His heart pumped blood through the connection to bubble and burn over the glowing tip. The liferock forced molten stone through his arteries. And all the while, Gvint’s harsh whisper maintained the power of the Fire Bath.

The flow of memories increased. He re-experienced his journey to Kratas and the first meeting of Celagri. He relived his merging with Ohin Yeenar, his journey to the Valley of the Elders.

All these memories pulsed through him in a brief moment.

He relived everything up to the present until he and the Alqarat merged into one. He thought he would lose himself to the rock as happened each time during the Dreaming. But he did not.

Finally, the searing pain dissipated, replaced by a keen warmth. Floating in a wash of heat and red, Pabl saw a part of the incomprehensibly huge pattern of Ganwetrammus stretching down into the rock. He saw himself in that pattern, part of it, shaping it.

From that pattern, his name took shape. He felt the name rather than heard it. In the language of his people, his name was Erthastrion Therr Hom — restorer of nature, student of the universal pattern and friend to other races.

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him as they merged through the floor of the temple. He sensed Gvint first, then Bintr, soon followed by Ywerk, then down the line from eldest to youngest until Chaiel had merged. Pabl could feel the chanting through the merge. When the new pattern of Ganwetrammus was stable, they withdrew from the liferock.

Pabl was held in the rock until the last of his brethren emerged. Then his body grew from the Alqarat. His skin had become dark from exposure to the fire, but it was smooth and supple. His muscles ached, but his flesh felt stronger, harder.

Gvint had placed a horkla atop the Alqarat, and it now covered Pabl’s head.

“This horkla belonged to Yonik Bne, our last Elder, and to Garen Dne before him, and to Hodda Zin of the first order. It is woven of metal and fiber, magic and hemp. Wear it with rever-ence and pride, and it will last your entire life.

“Ganwetrammus has experienced your Awakening and has Named you accordingly. This name is between you and Ganwetrammus. It is both a description of what you are and a prediction of what you will become.”