The Far Dawn (9 page)

Much longer life was possible when the world was in harmony with me
, the Terra informs me.

Alara leans close to the three. “I need to go down and make my appearance,” she says, “and play my part. You have what you need?”

“We do, Mother,” says Rana, and I see her eyes have welled up.

“Don't,” says Alara, shaking her head, and yet I recognize her face and know that Rana is right to fear. Not long from now, Alara will stand across from them when their throats are slit, though neither she nor the rest of them know this.

She pulls Rana to her, rubbing her shoulder. “The Terra may find worth in our lives yet.” Alara closes her eyes for a moment, breathing deep, her nose in Rana's hair, then pulls away and brushes her robe. She lifts her hood over her head, shadowing her tear-streaked face. “I will see you after.”

“Good luck,” says Kael.

Alara sweeps out, and the three move to their seats. There are two rows in this balcony, and three seats in the front have been left open. The rest are taken by students of similar ages, but none of them speak to the three, only in hushed tones to one another. Lük catches a few wary glances, some leering, and I can feel him bristle at this, but he also thinks to himself,
They don't understand. They've chosen to remain blind to what is really happening.

The coliseum is almost full, the circle of masters on the stage nearly complete. From Lük's mind I understand that there are twelve masters, one for each realm of Atlantis. I can see the map, the Polarians in Greenland, the Vira Cocha in the Andes, Olmecia on the Yucatán, the Sumer in the Middle East, Jiahu in the Far East, and more in cities around the globe.

We are in Atlante, the capital city, on the edge of Antarctica, its ice-covered mountains nearby. The Atlanteans consider this the center of the world, with the magnetic South Pole as the navel of the planet, and from here all trade and influence flow out over the globe. This location is also important to the masters' plans, to the energy of the Terra and of the planet, though Lük does not know quite the mechanism that the Paintbrush will use to, as the masters say,
maintain the Atlantean way
.

Another low chime sounds. I feel it in Lük's teeth. All the globe lights in the hallways and staircases dim, and for a moment there is a dark like night with only the stars glittering in the black above.

Then light explodes on the masters' circle. They stand, faces shrouded beneath their hoods. The light comes from a ring of crystal spheres on pedestals, one in front of each figure. A voice speaks, deep and gravelly.

“The world is changing.”

“Watch out,” quips Kael, “Master Solan is using his scary voice.”

“Alara says he always wanted to be a stage actor,” adds Rana.

I hear Lük chuckle, but his heart is racing. I feel him wishing more than anything else that the world could have stayed how it was, that he could have lived during the height of Atlantean glory, instead of now, during its fall.

“Qi and An spin away from each other,” Master Solan continues, “as they are known to do, and all shall suffer until the next cycle of balance . . .”

He stands in the circle with the others but the light grows brighter on him. Everyone listens expectantly.

“Unless,” he adds, “we choose to fight.”

The crowd murmurs supportively, but also with a note of fear.

“We are born of the nexus of Qi and An,” says Master Solan, “our consciousness the note of its song, realized. And so we ask: How then is our will not also the will of the Terra? Why should we stand by, as some suggest, and watch our world fail, watch our cities die because of the planet's whim? Because of molecules and orbits? Must we just
accept
this? I say no.”

Shouts of agreement echo here and there.

“Because even if we consider our own role in the rising seas and the darkening skies, should we be ashamed, should we feel guilty that our advancements, our
triumph
, has consequences? Or should we correct as we see fit?”

The crowd begins to show its support in a unison hum. It sounds like a hive, and so much like in Desenna, these hundred thousand people creating a terrifyingly powerful note.

“How can we be wrong to do what it takes to defend ourselves, the Terra's greatest achievement?” Solan calls. “Are we not the work of this earth?”

The crowd responds. “
Mmmmmmmm-QiiiSan!
”

“Are we not the reason? Are we not the purpose?”

The roar of voices grows. Deafening. They stomp their feet, the entire coliseum shaking.

Now Master Solan strides to the center of the circle. “Today we will show that we are not the Terra's playthings! We will not fall because of some antiquated fear of nature! Tonight we will show that we . . . are . . . nature!”

The crowd explodes. The phrase is so similar, for a moment I expect to see Paul down there, leading these people like he leads the Edens, but when Master Solan throws back his hood, arms up in exultation, I see that he is bald with a talon-like nose.

He is showered with adoring cries and screams.

“So dramatic,” Kael whispers sarcastically.

“He's a tyrant and a fool,” Rana spits.

Lük nods in agreement and squeezes her leg.

Solan waits for the crowd to quiet. Then he hisses, “Let the ceremony begin.”

9

“WE WILL NOW CHANGE THE COURSE OF HISTORY!” Master Solan intones. “Tonight, we will take the power into our own hands!”

“Some people doubt this will even work,” says Kael, just loud enough that a disapproving student nearby shushes him.

“If it's not going to work,” says Rana, “why do I feel like I'm going to vomit?”

Solan returns to his spot in the circle, and puts both hands on the luminous globe in front of him. The other masters do the same. The globes explode with pulsing light, a regular rhythm in unison, a strobe effect that makes the crowd seem to sway in slow motion.

Deep drums begin to thunder. A large door grinds open on the far side of the coliseum. Silhouettes appear, moving out toward the masters' circle. As they get closer, frame by frame in the stop-motion flicker of the lights, I can see that it is a group of shirtless men, two in front and two behind, and in between them is an astonishing animal, a gigantic cat wearing an iron muzzle. The muzzle has spaces for the creature's two giant saber teeth. Its shoulders rise above the tallest of the men, its head massive, its legs like thick trees. Its eyes flick back and forth above the muzzle, and its great ribs expand heavily with each giant breath.

Sinassa,
the Terra says sadly.
The great queen of Eurasia.

Each of the men holds a colossal chain attached to one of the cat's enormous legs. They lumber with a clanking sound toward the stage, where there is a flurry of activity.

More people have appeared in the masters' circle. Smaller hooded figures. Lük knows they are apprentices. They make circles with a dark powder on the white floor, overlapping rings of various sizes. One figure creates a solid disk a meter wide in the very center, then bends over. There is a lick of sparks and the powder alights in purple flame.

Sinassa sees this and begins to struggle, head lurching, and it is clear that she could toss these men aside, tear their limbs off, but there are too many soldiers in the wings, too many spears.

Be calm, Sinassa,
the Terra says sadly.

Sinassa lowers her head again, docile as they lead her up the steps. The purple plume has died down to lavender embers. They bring her to the center so that her head is directly above these. One of the men produces an obsidian blade. Like Desenna . . .

Sinassa raises her head and offers a last, defiant roar that for a moment silences the drums and the murmurs and even the breathing of all in the coliseum.

The blade slices through her throat. Blood pours into the embers.

The Terra weeps.

Rana squeezes Lük's leg. “Such a beautiful animal,” she says thickly.

Steam rises from the embers. Sinassa slumps and the blood slows to a trickle. She collapses to her side and her giant ribs expand in one last gasp before she falls still. As the men drag her away, the steam increases, becoming a vortex of spiraling black smoke that grows, reaching up and out of the top of the coliseum.

“We call you to us!” Solan shouts over the roar of the smoke.

It is time,
says the Terra.

Though I can still sense her image beside me, a bright light begins to glow throughout the coliseum, illuminating everyone. I assume that it is coming from above, that the Terra is being summoned from somewhere far away, but then I see that the light is coming
from
every single member of the audience. Rana, Kael, and Lük, too. They all glow from within, just like Lilly did when she flew. And then the light begins to move out of them, right out of their chests, the light becoming streams leaving every single body and flowing toward the spiraling smoke column. There is a little tug of pain inside Lük as the tail of the light snaps free, and he slumps back, all of them slump back, and the streams coalesce, creating a vortex of light that reaches as high as I can see.

And there is more energy arriving, streaming into the coliseum from the sky. Lük twists in his seat and we can see that the light is coming from all directions of the night, as if being drawn from the entire planet.

The wind whips everyone's faces. Some turn away. A girl near us weeps, clutching her chest. Lük feels so sad and empty. Even just breathing feels like a burden.

Now there is a deep rumble and the center of the stage begins to grind open, revealing a great blue swirl of light. It looks like a vortex engine, only hundreds of times bigger. It increases speed and whines in a deep vibrating tone. The energy rattles Lük's bones.

The light above, the energy of the Terra, begins to be drawn down into the blue vortex. As it does, the sky suddenly ignites with lightning. Clouds boil and thunder crashes, as if the heavens are furious at this betrayal. Hail falls, dashing against us. People shield their heads. The wind becomes so strong Lük can barely open his eyes.

The column of light is sucked in faster, and as it blurs there is a sound like screaming, like the cry of a star in pain, something white-hot and luminous. Rana doubles over. Lük throws his hands over his ears. It is the worst sound he has ever heard. . . .

The last of the Terra's light reaches the vortex. The scream dies as if its throat were slit. The hail ceases, the thunder rolls away, and the vortex slows, its whine cycling down, its blue glow darkening to silver. Everyone breathes again, cautiously lifting their heads and pulling off their hoods.

The vortex stops spinning. The silver liquid becomes still. The masters' globes reassert their light.

The crowd is stunned. Stunned by the power but also by fear.

“What have we done?” whispers Rana. I feel that Lük agrees. Even though they knew that this was wrong, that this should not have been done, the truth of what has happened, of what they've lost, overwhelms them still. The Terra is gone. Its light gone from them all.

And Lük feels empty inside in a way that he does not even want to recognize. Something has been taken from him, something that I have never even known. The music of the Terra, of Earth, and the harmony of life itself has been wrenched from him and everyone in this coliseum. Perhaps, judging by the light show, from the entire planet. There is something hollow inside each and every living thing now, a cold absence and a lack of connection, like a whisper of doubt making everyone fear that they are actually alone in the universe.

A new crunch of stone sounds, a new grinding of gears, and the silver pool of mercury begins to roil.

“Behold!” shouts Solan. “The Heart of the Terra!” The masters' globes grow brighter.

An object breaks the surface of the silver pool, something smooth and square. It rises, and we can see that it is a large cube, perched atop a stone pedestal. The mercury drips off and the sides of the cube are revealed to be pure crystal with copper edges, transparent except for a slight rainbow shimmer of refracted light.

And when everyone can see inside, there is a collective gasp of thousands.

Inside the cube, sitting cross-legged, is a girl.

A girl I have known since I drowned in Lake Eden, who swam to me through the dark, her long hair flowing behind her. Who appeared to me in the tunnels beneath the lake, her heart glowing blue, and across the world since. She is dressed now as she would be when she came to me: the crimson dress, copper belt, hair back, wearing the necklace with a carving of what I now know was Sinassa.

The Terra, imprisoned in her crystal cage.

She sits serenely, her face relaxed and unflinching. Her hands rest palm up on her knees. Only her eyes move. She looks slowly around the entire coliseum, and as her gaze falls on the spectators, they weep, throw their arms over their faces, cry out in anguish.

Her lavender eyes sweep up even to our heights.

Rana gasps, squeezing Lük's leg. Lük clutches her arm and feels in the Terra's gaze that sense of loss, of aloneness, and worse, the sense that he knew of another way, a better way to feel, not moments before, but he cannot find it now, and he fights the urge to cry.

“We have betrayed her,” says Lük.

“Not for long,” Kael mutters grimly.

I see that Master Solan is noticing this reaction in the crowd, that other masters are murmuring to one another with concern. Maybe they did not expect this. Maybe they didn't realize the true scope of what they were doing. Solan leans toward his neighbor and speaks something urgently. One by one, but with less conviction, the masters' hands return to the control globes.

“Citizens!” Solan calls, his voice booming over the sorrowful whispers. “Fear not! For now begins our salvation!”