Artemis Awakening (6 page)

“I was born with it, yes,” Adara said, trying to soften her voice. “There was no surgery, but neither did the difference show right away. I was beginning to stagger about on two feet when my parents noticed that I moved confidently in darkness. A year or so later, they were certain why. The full change took years to shape.”

Griffin still looked interested, so Adara decided she might as well get the worst over with.

“The eyes are not my only adaptation,” she said. “Look.”

She extended her hand, concentrating, willing bones to shift, nails to harden and extend so that each finger held a miniature dagger, pointed and slightly curved. The claw on the thumb was shorter, thicker, meant to hold and rip where the others would slice and impale.

“My feet,” Adara went on, forcing herself to look at Griffin, “are spared this disfigurement, for, as Sand Shadow says, given how a human’s foot is shaped, what use would there be in granting it claws? Still, who knows? These hands did not full-form until I was already a woman grown. Bruin speculates that while night vision would be helpful to a child, claws would not be.”

“Why not?” Griffin asked. His matter-of-fact curiosity eased her.

Adara laughed. “Perhaps because what parent would carry a child who could wound them at a whim? Perhaps because a child does not have the strength or concentration to use claws effectively. Even now, I am still learning. It is not easy to make the claws come quickly.”

“Concentration?” Griffin was fascinated. “I thought your claws were retractable, like a cat’s.”

“They are and they are not,” Adara said, studying her hand with detachment. “A cat’s claw curves into a sheath. A human’s finger is not shaped to hold such a sheath. Instead, when I will it to do so, the hand itself changes.”

She anticipated his next question.

“I do not know why this happens nor how it was done. Here on Artemis, the seegnur worked their changes on humans and animals alike. That did not mean they explained what they were doing any more than a man who bridles a horse explains the various snaps and buckles to his steed.”

Adara heard the tension in her voice, waited for Griffin to chide her—as Bruin so often had, reminding her that she should be grateful for such advantages—but his response was mildness itself.

“How long does the change last?”

“It should last as long as I desire,” Adara said, “but I will admit, sometimes it does not. That is the reason Sand Shadow and I came to these high reaches, so we could train away from most humans—and most animals.”

“Lucky for me that you did,” Griffin said. “Was it very odd for you—when you learned you could see in the dark and grow claws?”

“Very odd.”

Adara swallowed a sigh, wishing she could explain, but how to explain something she understood so little herself?

Adara had been a middle child, between an older sister and a younger brother. Even when she’d been quite small, without realizing it, she’d been trying to figure out why she existed. Nikole was the big girl. Orion the coveted boy—and the baby. Adara had felt like an extra, not able to do tasks Nikole carried out so effortlessly, no longer the special baby.

She had prayed without knowing she was praying that someday, somehow, she would be special. But when those prayers were answered, they were answered with a curse. Adara’s adapted nature set her apart. Later, it got her kicked out of her family. At age five, Adara was sent off to Bruin. For a few years, Bruin took Adara back to spend a month or so with her family. Before she was ten, the visits ended. By then there were two more siblings: Hektor and Elektra. Adara had guessed there wasn’t room for her anymore.

Adara shook as if memories were physical things she could shrug off, saw Griffin looking at her with concern.

“You’re still soaked,” he said. “Let me dry you off. I didn’t get the towel terribly wet.”

“Better,” Adara said, forcing a grin. “Give me the towel. You should see what I put you into such danger to show you. Step over to that gap through the trees, look up along the slope, in the general area where the avalanche began. What do you see?”

Griffin’s next words were in a language Adara didn’t understand, but she understood the shock and surprise in his tone all too well.

“That’s a burn scar from a heat weapon! It looks as if it took off half the mountainside.”

“It did, or so I’ve been told. The seegnur had something hidden there. Bruin suspects defenses or perhaps weapons.”

“And the attackers destroyed what was there,” Griffin said, “just in case their nanoviruses didn’t disable everything or countermeasures were available. You’d think I’d be used to it by now … The power the Imperials had at their command was incredible.”

Adara nodded. “We have a legend about how that burn was made. I don’t know if it’s true.”

“Tell me?”

“The story is that one person did that. A person in armor. A person who could fly. She—the story always says ‘she,’ though I don’t know how they could tell if she wore armor—flew in, using the river as a guide, then came up here. Light flashed from her hands when she held them in front of her and the mountain exploded. After, when the seegnur were either dead or gone, some came to look and found traces of the facility that had been there.”

Griffin took a step forward, as if he would climb the mountain and look for himself.

“There’s nothing left,” Adara said gently. “Bruin likes to send his senior students there as a test of climbing skill and—I think—to remind us how dangerous the seegnur could be.”

“Nothing?” Griffin said.

“Nothing. I have been there myself. Only certain lines where structure met rock show that there was ever anything to be destroyed.”

*   *   *

They slept that night in the promised greener regions, dining on scanty provisions from Adara’s pack before collapsing to sleep. In the morning, Sand Shadow proved she was feeling stronger by providing them with breakfast in the form of a furry round-bodied creature Griffin couldn’t identify, but which tasted just fine when cooked over the fire.

At Adara’s direction, Griffin dug some tubers from the edge of a stream, a task that not only provided additional food, but which loosened his stiffened muscles. As soon as they had eaten and packed their gear, they started hiking down the mountain once more.

When the trail widened out, Adara dropped back so she could walk next to Griffin.

“We have a problem.”

Griffin was taken aback. “Only one?”

“Our problem,” she replied, “is how do we explain you?”

Griffin frowned. “I hadn’t really considered it.”

Adara looked puzzled. “What did you plan to do before your shuttle crashed? I mean, how did you plan to explain yourself?”

“I didn’t,” Griffin said, then realized how stupid this sounded. “I mean, not at first. My shuttle had camouflage coating and sound deadening on the engines. I intended to cruise over population centers so I could study whatever cultures I found. Only after careful study would I have attempted contact. My first choice would have been a university or something similar—if I could have figured out where one was.”

“And your second choice?”

“My second … Well, that would have depended. Governments can be touchy but—if I could have found someone reliable in charge, I suppose I would have sought that person out. However, I would have delayed speaking to anyone at all until I understood more about Artemis. My initial investigation might have taken months, even longer.”

Adara tilted her head and looked puzzled. “How could you have found a government from orbit?”

Griffin shrugged. “Well, usually the people in charge live or work in a palace or some other structure that is conspicuous. I would have looked for someplace like that. Even so, I would have needed to figure out whom I should contact.”

Adara looked thoughtful. “That’s interesting. I’ll admit, there’s some truth in what you say. However, in this region, at least, you’d have to look very carefully to find a significant structure. Most of the towns and villages rule themselves. There might be a town hall, but I doubt it would stand out for you.”

“So the towns are completely independent?”

“More or less. Trade is the link.” Adara shrugged. “The lore tells us that the seegnur wanted Artemis to be ‘unspoiled,’ so no large population centers were created. Shepherd’s Call, where I live, is on the small side, I admit. However, from things you have said, even Spirit Bay—the biggest town I’ve ever been to—would seem small to you.”

Griffin nodded. “I think you’re right. One of the reasons I came down in the shuttle was that my orbital survey wasn’t telling me much. I found some towns by tightening my focus to places where humans usually settle—near river junctions or good natural harbors. I was a bit surprised. I’d thought that populations might have consolidated once the seegnur were no longer present—for convenience, if for no other reason.”

Adara shook her head. “You overlook the importance of the lore. What the seegnur wanted we still do, even if the meaning for the specific task is no longer known.”

“But I’ve taken us off topic again,” Griffin said apologetically. “You wanted to know how I planned to explain myself. The answer is, I planned to adapt my explanation according to what I found.”

“Still, at least you do understand the problem you present,” Adara replied. “When I first found you, I focused on taking you to Bruin and letting him figure out what to do with you. That still seems wise, but even Bruin will need help explaining you.”

“I suppose,” Griffin said, “people from off-planet have not routinely shown up on Artemis?”

“I have never heard of another from off-planet coming here—not since the slaughter of the seegnur and death of machines. Perhaps there have been landings elsewhere. The world is large and I know only a small part of it. But ‘routinely’? No. Not that. I think we would have heard. Bruin takes interest in such things.”

Griffin realized he was relieved—a completely stupid reaction, given that he was stranded on this planet—but rooted in his desire to be the first one to rediscover Artemis. There had been times in the course of his research that he’d thought someone else might be following the same line of approach, that he’d get to Artemis only to find another ship in orbit.

Though he’d like to be able to go back to Sierra, he’d also like to have something to show for his efforts—something other than a wrecked shuttle and a tale of woe.

“No other? Then I am an oddity indeed. I don’t suppose your village is near an ocean or even a large bay? If so, we could say I was shipwrecked and you found me. That wouldn’t be so far from the truth.”

Adara shook her head regretfully. “No. My home is far from the ocean. We are in the foothills of mountains that are far from any ocean. Even Spirit Bay is many days’ travel, and in the wrong direction entirely to provide waters on which you might have been wrecked.”

“So, is there any reason you shouldn’t still take me to your Bruin? I mean, you didn’t seem to think he would need an explanation.”

Adara shrugged. “No reason. I could sneak you in when most of the village would be asleep. However, this would not solve the reality that at some point an explanation must be found for you. Bruin can be a solitary old bear, but he does not shun companionship.”

“How about this,” Griffin offered. “You found me … We won’t mention the exact circumstances.”

“I want to tell Bruin,” Adara interrupted. “He is not only my teacher, he has been my greatest friend.”

“Then we will tell Bruin the truth. For the rest … You were training and you came upon a stranger. The stranger was lost and incompetent. Therefore, you interrupted your training and brought him down where he wouldn’t starve or freeze.”

Adara giggled. “I like that. Truth to a point. Your shuttle is well buried. Another hunter might find the place where the rocks and earth cover it, but would they dig? I think not.”

“Do you think the people in Shepherd’s Call will have seen my shuttle coming down? You said it looked like a falling star.”

Adara shrugged. “It’s possible. It also made a tremendous noise when it hit. Still, you and it need not be connected. Things do fall from the skies—sometimes quite large things.”

She grew grave. “Actually, there are old legends—not part of the lore, for the lore is what we know to be true, though some say these legends are lore nonetheless—of sleepers left when the seegnur departed. Someone is certain to remember those tales. Perhaps someone will offer that as a possible explanation.”

“Are these sleepers thought to be dangerous?”

Adara shrugged.

“Well, I hope the folklore says they’re just sleepy,” Griffin said. “I’d hate for anyone to see me as a threat before I have a chance to prove myself.”

Adara grinned at him. “I’ll make certain everyone knows how unthreatening you are. Honestly, though, you have proven stronger than I thought possible when first we met. I will never forget how you reacted after the avalanche. I could not have asked for a better traveling companion.”

“Just returning the favor,” Griffin said, pleased beyond measure. “You got me out of a landslide, I got Sand Shadow out of a snowbank. I just hope Sand Shadow isn’t the next one digging someone out of a hole.”

Interlude: Blood of Clouds

Sharing salt kisses with ocean depths,

     frost caresses with mountain peaks.

Shapeshifter supreme. Bodiless,

     possessing power to split rock.

Do you know what you carry? Where shall you leave it?

4

Shepherd’s Call

Adara’s canoe was a surprise. When the huntress had mentioned she had one cached, what Griffin had envisioned was a small, light craft, such as had been made on many worlds by many different peoples.

Even on Griffin’s home world, where personal flyers had made almost every other form of transportation obsolete, canoes existed. Hundreds of years after anyone but fanatical hobbyists had made these small boats from natural materials, often the plastics and metals would be colored in browns and tans, patterned with wood grain or a black upon white dappling called “birch bark.”