Lodestone Book One: The Sea of Storms (8 page)

He leaned forward. “Shann, do you
know what lodestones are?”

“No.”

“Actually, you
do. I gave you one in Corte, so that you could be
recognised.”
The disc
. Alondo had returned it to her that morning, and she pulled
it from her pocket. She noted again a slight resistance as she did
so. She placed it on the table in front of her. “To be totally
accurate, what you have there is what we call
refined
lodestone. Just as iron is
smelted from ore, so this is what you get from lodestone
ore.”

“Lodestone ore?”

“Yes, it falls from the sky. You
have seen the meteor storms?” She nodded. Scores of fireballs
streaking across the heavens and winking out. They were visible
most nights.

“Refined lodestone has powerful
properties. What you have there is one kind–a kind that is used to
power their flying cloaks and some of their other devices. But
there is nothing mysterious about it. The Keltar have been taught
by the Prophet how to use it, nothing more.”

Shann frowned. “So what you are
saying is that anyone can use their power, even me?”

“That’s right.”

“How does it work?” Her voice was
eager.

Lyall took another disc out of
his pocket. It looked exactly like hers; black but with an oddly
undefined surface that seemed to shift as she viewed it from
different angles.

“Originally, lodestones were the
name given to a type of rock that would naturally attract iron.
They can be used to impart a force to the iron that makes it point
in only one direction.” Shann had heard of such devices used by
travellers to help find their way. “The same word came to be used
to describe the stones that fell from the sky, but they are in fact
quite different. You have two discs there; try to push them
together.”

Shann picked them up and did so.
There was a strong repulsive force between them, getting stronger
the closer she brought them together. She frowned again. “I can’t
do it.”

“That’s right. Now try this.” He
reached in his pocket again and brought out another disc, but this
one was white. “This is an ordinary metal. It’s coloured white just
to distinguish it from the lodestone. Try bringing it and the
lodestone together.”

This time, the lodestone felt
pulled towards the white disc, but the white disc seemed to be
pushed away.

“Lodestones repel everything,
including ordinary stones or metal. So they can be used to push
things; objects, people, anything really.”

“They sound like the Kal
stones.”

“You mean the account of the
flying stone, the one in the sacred texts?”

“Yes. How is that
possible?”

Lyall reached into his pocket
once more. He brought out two more lodestones, one a disc, the
other a small sphere like a marble. She watched intently as he
carefully arranged the three discs on the table in the shape of a
triangle. Then he carefully placed the marble in mid-air over the
three stones. It floated, seemingly without support, subtle shades
of darkness playing furtively over its smooth surface.

Shann`s eyes were wide. “So it
really did happen.”

“Possibly. I’ve never seen a Kal
stone myself and I don’t know anyone who has. No doubt that’s
because the system is inherently–” He knocked the marble with his
finger, and it fell to the table and rolled onto the floor.
“–unstable.”

She bent down to retrieve the
marble from the floor and handed it back to Lyall. “Thanks.” He
placed it back in his pocket and gathered up two of the discs,
leaving one on the table. “Let’s try something else, shall we? Have
you noticed that lodestone feels a bit funny when you handle
it?”

“It seems to pull against you a
little,” she noted.

“Right. Try to give it a little
push with your finger. Shann did so, but to her utter surprise,
instead of moving away, it moved towards her. Lyall registered her
puzzled look. “Now pull it towards you slightly.”

She reached out and pulled it
back sharply with two of her fingers. It shot forward across the
table, hitting Lyall in the midriff and landing in his lap. She put
her hand to her mouth.

“I said ‘slightly,’” he
chided.

He put the disc back on the
table. “They move in the opposite direction to whatever force is
applied to them. When you understand how they operate, you can use
lodestones in various different ways. The Keltar`s flying cloak is
just one example.”

“The flying cloak–tell me how it
works.” Her voice was insistent.

“Is he trying to get you up in
one of those things?” It was Alondo, cap and all, smiling as ever.
He was standing at the kitchen door.

“I gave you the
chance.”

“The chance to break my neck.
Thanks for that.” He turned towards Shann and covered his mouth
conspiratorially, “If I were you, I wouldn’t go near one of those
things.”

“Don’t you have anything pressing
to do?”

Alondo looked at the backs of his
hands, pulled up a spare stool and sat down next to Shann, grinning
from ear to ear. “Not right now.”

Lyall raised his eyes heavenward.
Then he addressed Shann, doing his best to ignore his friend. “The
power of the Keltar, the power of the Prophet himself–it derives
from the lodestones. I intend to take that power away.”

Her expression was rapt.
“How?”

“Do you know the fortress of
Gort?”

Gort. Death and despair. The very
name was enough to send a shiver down her spine, even though she
had never set eyes on it. Raising itself up like a ravenous beast
from the desolate sands of the Southern Desert, it devoured those
who passed through its cavernous maw. Travellers spoke of it as
being built from the bleached bones of those who had expired from
heat and exhaustion.

“I know that most of the
‘tributes’ are sent there.”

“Do you know why?”

Shann shook her head.

“Lodestones.” Registering her
look of incomprehension, he continued. “The stones fall all over
the world, but how do you find them? If a stone were to fall in the
mountains, or even here in the valley, how would you distinguish it
from other stones? However, suppose you had a smooth, featureless
landscape. Any stone that fell from above would easily show up as a
dark shape on the surface.”

“Like in the desert.”

“Exactly. However, the Prophet
needs people to scour the desert and collect the stones. That’s
what the ‘tributes’ are there for. The fortress has a compound
attached to it, where they are kept and sent out, sometimes to die.
But the Prophet maintains his supply of the stones. I intend to go
there and free the ‘tributes.’ We will need others who are prepared
to join us. We will also be cutting off the Prophet’s source of
supply, so it will be a double victory.”

“I want to go
with you, to help free them. I want to make it stop–the Keltar, the
Prophet–” Lyall and Alondo were looking at each other with amused
expressions.
“You’re
making fun of me
.”

Lyall’s face straightened. “No,
no, we’re not. Look, Shann, what we are proposing to do is highly
dangerous. There’s a good chance we won’t succeed.”

“Shann, think about this.” It was
Alondo. “We can arrange to look after you, and return you home
after the hue and cry has died down. You shouldn’t risk your life
any further.”

Her slight
frame and delicate face were resolute. “No. I’ve decided;
I’m coming with
you.”

Lyall’s blue eyes were looking
directly into hers, as if locked in a battle of wills. After a
moment, his shoulders slumped. “Well…we’ll talk about
it.”

That night she dreamed of flying,
soaring above Gort. The desert fortress reared up towards her,
soaked in Ail-Mazzoth`s crimson light. Far below her parents stood
with their backs to her. She cried out and her father turned, but
it was no longer her father. It was a tall man with sandy hair and
diamond blue eyes. She heard him speak.

“I can make it stop,
Shann.”

Chapter
5

Alondo regarded the morgren in
its pen with a dubious expression. Morgren were without doubt the
ugliest creatures he knew. Of course, one could almost deal with
that–if it were not for the smell. Fudoro, who was in charge of the
stables here in Lind, insisted that you got used to it after a
while, but Alondo seriously doubted that.

The morgren stamped its splayed
feet and snorted from its single hairy nostril as if affronted. A
few specks of slobber hit Alondo`s coat, causing him to step back
out of range. The creature appraised him with its rheumy eyes and
apparently satisfied, resumed munching on a bale of
kalash.

Morgren were considerably slower
than graylesh and had none of the latter’s grace of movement. They
were stubborn and ill-tempered. But they could survive in arid
conditions long after a graylesh`s bones would have been picked
clean. Morgren had been known to go fifteen days in the desert
without water. So there really was no option. He was purchasing
this malodorous beast whether either of them liked it or
not.

“How much?” he heard himself
ask.

Fudoro ran a hand through his
thinning hair. “One fourth…each.”

Alondo’s eyes widened. “One
fourth of an astria? That seems a lot.”

The stableman shrugged. “Times
are hard, friend. Everything is in short supply. The Prophet’s
servants cut the fat and leave nothing but bone…Tell you what; I’ll
throw in a pack saddle, bells if you need ’em and a full load of
kalash for each animal, at no extra cost.”

Alondo nodded agreement
grudgingly and doled out payment.

Fudoro`s palm closed around the
coins. “Will you wait while I outfit them for you or will you
return?”

“We’ll wait.”

Fudoro turned and headed towards
the back, casting a glance at the hooded figure in the corner.
Shann looked as if she were trying to appear unobtrusive. Still,
Alondo was starting to feel glad that she had agreed to come along.
He had set out with five silver astrias this morning, and it was
going down fast. At least she would be able to testify that he
hadn’t frittered it away swigging horge at every inn along the
way.

Although he had known her for
less than three days, Alondo found himself growing profoundly
concerned for the slender, frail looking girl. Driven from her
home; pursued by soldiers; taken in by strangers; and now on top of
everything else, Lyall claiming they could solve the problems of
the entire world, when the poor waif scarcely knew how to cope with
her own.

Last night she
had once again avowed her determination to join them on their
fool’s mission.
A mission that will most
likely end in all our deaths. What was Lyall thinking?
Alondo almost wished he had left her there at the
bottom of that crate of stinking moba root. She would likely have
lived longer.

Fudoro had returned. The morgren
were out of their pens and the stableman was making final
adjustments to saddle packs. Alondo thanked him and took the reins
of one animal, motioning for Shann to take the other.

Outside, he turned to her. “I
have to meet with someone briefly. Would you mind looking after the
morgren and the rest of our things for a bit? I won’t be
long.”

Shann threw her hood back. Her
eyes narrowed. “You’re going to find an inn, aren’t
you?”

Alondo smiled enigmatically. “Not
this time.”

~

The eastern
canton. Home to the poor and destitute of the town of Lind. A place
of worn out rags and broken dreams, where squat wooden shacks sat
cowering like frightened children. Alondo, maker of music, bringer
of joy, felt totally out of place in this blighted neighbourhood.
Old and young alike watched his passing from hollow doorways and
through hollow eyes.
This is what must
change. No-one should be forced to live like
this.

He came to a ramshackle hut and
ducked at the low entranceway. An old man with white bones jutting
out beneath desiccated skin sat on a stool next to an unlit
fireplace. His eyes were bright but unfocused.

Alondo walked up and placed a
hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Hello, Ennas.”

The man raised his own hand, and
placed it over the hand of his visitor. His voice shook slightly.
“Alondo. It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s me. How are you
keeping?”

“I am just fine. Malan is not
back from the fields yet. How is Hedda?”

“Oh, mother is still her cheery
self.” Alondo pulled up a crudely fashioned stool. The wooden floor
of the shack was swept clean. There was an old chest in one corner
and two rough pallets in the back, but it was otherwise
bare.

“
It’s kind of you to
visit an old blind man. Malan will be sad to have missed you. He
often speaks of you and Lyall. Are you two still
together?”