The Seedbearing Prince: Part I (31 page)

“Rock big enough to resist the torrent’s
pull. Big enough to hide in, too,” Dayn answered at once. He knew
that easily, from
Guardian Benlor’s Third Circuit,
his
favorite book back in the Elder’s repository. “They are larger than
mountains, and there’s some strength to their ground.”

“You are not completely ignorant, good.
You’ll move faster than you’ve ever imagined, and breath will be
fleeting.”

Dayn fished in his pack for Nerlin’s leather
pouch. “I have these. Wind draughts.”

Kenit gaped at him, and Lurec's morose
expression gave way to surprise.

Nassir blinked. “Do not interrupt again,
farmer. The greatest mistake of many coursers is to pay mind only
to the very large. Small things, invisible things, hold equal
danger. Dust clouds can blind you, or overheat your sheath. They
harbor the worst sorts of creatures. Avoid space that shimmers, but
has no color. Do you understand?”

Dayn swallowed, nodding. The tunnel rumbled
around them, a whisper in comparison to the Aran rockrider's
assault. Kenit paused, listening. “Overlord Feerthul has collapsed
the storeroom. Forgive me Ringmen, but we must hurry. I don't fancy
being trapped in this tunnel should more of the mountain's ice fail
us.”

Nassir continued issuing directions as the
herald broke into a trot. “One thing you must remember, Shardian.
Speed kills in the torrent. Coursing against the natural current of
rock is certain death. Avoid oncoming debris, unless you want to
test the quality of Suralose sheath.”

Dayn nodded, silently thanking Eriya once
more. He knew so little of the Belt, but her help made him feel
less a fool, along with Nerlin's wind draughts.
They didn't
expect me to have those, did they?
He tucked the wind draughts
back into the pouch, allowing himself a grin.

Dayn wished the Preceptor would offer
something more than Nassir's terse warnings, and he brightened when
Lurec spoke up. “And if we do not find a wayfinder, Defender?” he
asked. “What then?”

Nassir said nothing. The herald risked a look
back at them, a strange mixture of awe and disbelief on his face.
Peace,
Dayn thought.
I wish Lurec had kept his silence
after all.

“We’re here. The leap point is just outside.”
Kenit pulled his furs closer about him. The tunnel dead ended
abruptly, with only a metal ladder fixed to the ice before them.
Kenit bounded to the top, then brushed his hand over a metal hatch
which immediately groaned open. Frigid air poured in. They followed
him into the blinding light.

Dayn's eyes quickly adjusted, and he took in
a bleak horizon. They stood upon a slippery area hewn from the
mountainside, but with none of the striking blue crevasses they saw
earlier. An ice crusted structure with a stone dome stood next to
plunging cliffs on their left. The size of a small inn, Dayn
guessed it held another vapor room. He looked around expectantly
for a hole like the plaza in Terabin Round as they approached.

“Where is it?” he asked.

“Not all workmanship in the Belt is...equal,”
Lurec said carefully. Nassir disappeared inside. The Preceptor
followed after heaving one last resigned sigh. Dayn lingered a
moment longer, watching his frozen breath gust away on the howling
wind.

Did I decide too rashly, following along
this way?
Dayn wondered. Lurec acted as if waiting for another
transport from the Ring was the better choice. Yet if the Arans
mounted another attack before the Ring found out, Nassir’s decision
proved wiser. The Preceptor all but accused him of being a madman,
rushing headlong into this storm...this resonance wake.
Perhaps
he’s just afraid? Maybe I should be more afraid, too.

The Lord Ascendant's charge returned to mind.
The threat of Thar'Kur must be known among the people, high or
common.
Dayn believed her more than ever, especially after how
the Overlord changed.

Hiding on Suralose while the voidwalkers ran
free...the thought made Dayn sick. His decision felt right. “I gave
her my word.”

“Shardian, I was just about to come find
you.” Kenit reappeared in the entrance. “Are you alright?”

Dayn nodded. “I didn’t think I’d get to see
the torrent so soon. Kenit, what’s a Vatdra Collar?”

“Oh.” The herald hesitated. “It’s a series of
knots made with wingline. When coursers have no proper harness,
they'll use it to pull along someone who is injured. Shall we
go?”

“But why is it called that?” Dayn
persisted.

“Well,” Kenit said reluctantly. “Vatdra was a
renowned Jendini courser with an unfaithful husband. As the stories
go, whenever she learned of some new mistress, she would string the
dull fellow through the torrent until he begged for his life.”
Kenit shrugged. “But she always brought him back. You see, a Vatdra
collar will never break, but the courser who holds it had better
like you.” He shrugged. “I don't know, Shardian. Coursing humor is
rather...rough.”

Dayn frowned unhappily. “I don't think the
Defender likes me at all.”

“At least he didn't call the collar a birth
cord,” Kenit offered. “That's what they say when you don't belong
in the torrent at all. Please, Shardian. The Belt turns.”

The herald led Dayn into a rounded room with
dozens of dark vertical scores on the white stone walls. Nassir
already sat in the center, with the flustered Preceptor attempting
to retain some measure of dignity.

The herald fought to hold back laughter, and
Dayn hid a smile with his hand. The Ringmen sat back to back, and
with Lurec’s oversize armor, they looked like two turtles fighting
to squeeze into the same shell. The Defender spoke calmly as he
wound his wingline around them, back and forth, securing Lurec to
his back.

“Sit, Shardian, so the herald can be free of
us.” Dayn plucked Nerlin's old face guard from his pack and snapped
it in place upon his brow. “Follow my lead and all will go well.”
He tied the wingline off. Lurec gave a loud squawk.

The room began to hum. Kenit bowed deeply
before backing away. “Peace protect you, Ringmen. Peace protect
you, Seedbearer!” He all but ran out of the room. Slowly the domed
roof above them split into seven sections, like the petals of a
starwatcher lily, exposing the featureless white sky.

“The countdown has started. Come here. Your
armor, and sheath, quickly!” Under the Defender's watchful eye,
Dayn awkwardly donned the rest of the unfamiliar armor that Kenit
had found for him, arm braces and jambeaus that covered his calves
to the knee. They matched the leather chestpiece, which portrayed
two rearing stallions etched in silver.

The Preceptor's eyes held a sad look as Dayn
tightened the straps. “You look less a farmer every moment you’re
with us, young Shardian,” he said quietly.

“No world will escape the days that face the
Belt,” Nassir said in a somber tone. “Not even Shard.”

Lurec harrumphed but said nothing. The
Defender nimbly tied several coils of wingline to Dayn's waist, so
that three individual lengths connected them, one knotted at the
belly and two at each hip.

“That staff is a wasted hand,” Nassir grunted
as Dayn settled on the platform. “The torrent cares nothing for
sentiment, Shardian.”

“You have your sword,” Dayn said defensively.
He set his silverpine across his knees, he did not want to lose it.
The wind would pull it from his hands, he remembered that from
Terabin Round. Some sheath remained, so he smeared that along the
grain. “I'll manage. I can drop it if I need to.”

Nassir shrugged dismissively, then held up
three small cream-colored wafers, each just bigger than a
fingernail. Ignoring Dayn's questioning look, he pressed them to
Dayn's chest for a few seconds, then to his forehead.

“In your mouth.” Nassir demonstrated, sliding
a wafer between his teeth and cheek. Dayn complied as the Defender
handed the last one to Lurec. The wafer immediately began to bubble
unpleasantly on Dayn's tongue. The Defender spoke louder to be
heard above the increasing hum in the room.

“Speechcasters. These will allow us to speak
and be heard over great distances in the torrent. If the sound
grows faint, let it foam until you can hear clearly.” Dayn worked
his tongue around uneasily. Nassir's voice echoed faintly from
inside his mouth! “Cover your mouth if you’re facing a high wind so
that your words are not lost.”

Lurec craned his neck around awkwardly. “Do
not manage to swallow one without chewing it completely first, or
you’ll get the most imaginative sort of bellyache.”

“Take a wind draught,” Nassir commanded. “We
will pass through several hundred leagues of void before we reach
the torrent.” Dayn did so. The blue pellet felt cool in his mouth,
and oddly refreshing.

The humming reached an intense pitch, and
Nassir looked upward expectantly. He donned his mask. The Preceptor
fiddled with his hood until a clear face plate clicked into place.
He hastily smeared it with sheath.

The spread tips of the roof glowed in a
familiar blue. A sudden wind pressed down on them, whipping Dayn’s
cloak about. Blue light shot down the scored walls, shifting from
violet to red as it neared the floor.

Dayn wondered if the platform was broken, for
it did not budge. He turned to shout the question and received
another surprise. The very air was thick as jelly around him!

Lurec gave a miserable groan as a brilliant
scarlet shone from the walls and platform. The air squeezed as
though it meant to crush them. Dayn thought it might if not for the
sheath.

A hollow boom filled his ears, and the
Suralose sky rushed into his vision with a roar. His staff pushed
against his waist. The wind swirled around him, but the sheath made
it feel like a distant sensation. He risked a look down. Mount
Patel pulled away beneath them at an alarming rate.
We must be
moving ten times faster than my first leap!

“Steady yourself, Shardian.” The Defender's
gravelly voice echoed strangely from Dayn’s mouth. The Ringmen
sailed forward just ahead of him, the Vatdra collar joining them
together. The white sky soon faded into an eternal night as they
escaped the pull of Suralose's heart. They were being pushed by the
leap point, through the nothingness between the worlds. “Soon we
will face the torrent.”

The Torrent

As I feared, the anchors are failing, and I’m
convinced the worldhearts will soon follow. From the rate of decay
I have witnessed, in a hundred years there will be more torrent in
the Belt than there are worlds.

-field notes from the Preceptor Lurec

L
urec Obeth watched
Suralose shrink away beneath his feet until he could look no more.
Raw terror filled his heart.
I am a Preceptor of the First
Order, discoverer of the first known Seed in three thousand years!
I should be in my study, not lashed to the back of a deranged Force
General!

The last blue tinges of Suralose’s air faded
rapidly to the void between worlds. Lurec had hoped the leap point
would be damaged―indeed, he would have dismantled the vapor array
himself if given the opportunity―but it aimed true.

He would never understand the Shardian's
fixation on coursing. He himself had cataloged the torrent with
great interest during his early studies, to help complete the
Ring's bestiary. He found it fascinating how so many creatures had
adapted over the millennia, building tolerance to unfiltered
sunlight, and establishing migration patterns that followed the
scant air pockets. Lensfinders made that work rather enjoyable, but
from a suitably safe distance.

He had brought his finest handheld lensfinder
and the best of his other tools, but they were now scattered across
Mount Patel’s ice in the transport’s wreckage. His overcoat and an
old notebook were all that remained of his most prized
possessions.

A shadowed boulder shot soundlessly past
them. “Peace take you, Defender! Be careful!” He craned his head
around, but could still see nothing of their path. Tied to the
man's back like...like an infant!

“Shardian, are you alright?” Nassir asked,
ignoring Lurec completely. “We’ll pass through the void soon
enough. The emptiness can be unsettling to some. The darkness.”

His tone left no doubt to whom he referred.
Lurec pressed his lips tight, just barely holding his tongue. He
had never met a more infuriating man.

“I'm fine. Peace, I can see the torrent
ahead!” Dayn's voice crackled excitedly back through the
speechcaster. “There’s so much color, more than I expected. I feel
like a flea about to swim through the middle of an hourglass!”

The whites of Dayn's eyes were visible,
although he trailed Nassir by nearly three spans of wingline, too
distant in Lurec's opinion. His breath came jagged and anxious.
Much like my own,
Lurec thought. Sudden guilt assailed him
as he watched Dayn clutch the wingline and his staff.
He
wouldn’t be in this predicament if not for my actions. I must do my
part to keep him whole. He deserves no less for bringing the Seed
so selflessly. I’m a Preceptor, I must exude confidence even when I
feel none.

He spied some fragile boulders of the
outermost layer of the torrent whisking by him now, what coursers
called spinners, along with a few plodders covered in dead vines.
These were smaller pieces, calved away from larger masses, or
pulverized from impacts.

“We’re passing through the outer rind,”
Nassir said for Dayn's benefit. There were a thousand descriptions
for the variegated rock and detritus stream that made up the
torrent, most of them fairly intuitive. “We’ll have little time for
words once we reach the pulp. Remember everything around you,
Shardian. Do you see the half dozen pale rocks about to cross our
path? Moving away from our sunward side?”