The Shaktra (25 page)

“I always saw Kabrosh as a villain,” Cindy said.

Ms. Smith sipped her wine. “Nonsense. He’s the hero of the game.”

“But it’s possible to win the game by killing him,” Steve said.

Ms. Smith stared at him with her green eyes. Physically, it was true, they were identical to Ali’s, but the feeling that came off them bore no relationship to Ali’s warmth. Ms. Smith was a smart woman with some pretty weird ideas floating around in her head.

“You think so, huh? You have only mastered one level of the game. If you keep playing and explore all its levels, you’ll find Kabrosh returns and starts to take over the world. He actually returns in an altered form, as a cyborg, and he wields great power.”

“It sounds like you admire him,” Cindy said.

Ms. Smith chuckled. “I designed him, of course I have to admire him.”

They ate for a while in silence before Steve asked how she knew they were from Breakwater. He thought the question bold, perhaps risky, but felt they had to take a few chances if they were to find out what Ali needed to know. Ms. Smith did not appear put off by the question. Nor did she answer it clearly.

“I’m always curious about those who are curious about my daughter,” she said.

“We felt close to her is all,” Cindy said. “When we first met her in town, we didn’t know if she had family, or if she was an orphan. I mean, it’s not that she was dressed like an orphan, she just seemed all alone.”

“In a sense Nira is all alone. She can’t communicate with the outside world.”

“Are you sure about that?” Steve asked. “She seems to recognize us when she sees us, and we’ve seen her use simple hand gestures and a variety of expressions to try to communicate with us.”

Ms. Smith shook her head. “She’s my daughter and I can assure you that’s just your imagination. I love Nira, I’ll always take care of her, but there’s no one inside her.”

Cindy was aghast. “You think she’s a vegetable?”

“Why act so surprised? She is what she is. It does not help to make her into something she is not.”

“But you’re her mother. Surely you must hope for her eventual improvement,” Steve said.

“I don’t,” Ms Smith said flatly.

“That’s not fair to her,” Cindy complained, getting agitated.

Ms. Smith sharpened her tone. “I’ll tell you what’s not fair—to
not
accept her condition. You’re right, I’m her mother, and it took me a long time to believe what I have just told you. Nira is a lovely child to look upon, but Nira does not exist, not the way you and I exist. That’s the way it is and nothing is going to change it.”

Her harsh remarks led to another long silence. Steve ate his turkey and his mashed potatoes. Yet Ms. Smith did not appear distressed by the topic, although she did suddenly change it—in a manner Steve found distressing.

“A red-haired girl about your age came into my offices two afternoons ago,” Ms. Smith said casually. “She said her name was Lisa Morgan, and she spoke with Mike at some length. Do you know who I’m speaking of?”

“No,” Steve said.

“Never heard of a Lisa Morgan before,” Cindy added.

“I thought you might have known her, since she seems to have arrived in town at the same time as you two did.”

“How do you know when we arrived?” Steve asked uneasily.

“Rose told me when you met her. It sounded like the same time this Lisa Morgan walked through my door.” Ms. Smith added, “I found it odd, if you know what I mean?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Steve replied, losing interest in his food.

Ms. Smith smiled briefly. “I’m sure it was just a coincidence. I
regret that I did not get a chance to meet this girl. The way Mike described her, she sounded dynamic.”

Steve and Cindy looked at each other, sat silent. Ms. Smith continued in a casual tone. “Rose told me you two have an interest in the tragedy that struck this town thirteen years ago. I’m talking about the power plant explosion. Rose said you drilled her about it.”

“We just asked a few questions,” Cindy said.

Ms. Smith grinned. It looked forced. “She told me you were curious about my
involvement
that night. Where I was exactly, and how I managed to survive the blast. You can ask me about it, I don’t mind. Don’t be shy, the subject no longer haunts me.”

Steve took a moment to gather his thoughts. “We questioned Rose about that night because we were confused to hear you were there. According to the records we studied at the library, we didn’t see your name mentioned anywhere.”

Ms. Smith’s grin did not waver. “Isn’t it possible that I was there, but that I’ve since changed my name?”

Steve stared at her and, for an instant, he had trouble focusing on her. “Did you?” he asked.

Ms. Smith chuckled. “It’s possible. You have to admit, Smith is such a boring last name, so many people have it. Why, just the other day I read that it’s the most common last name in America. What do you think of that?”

“Were you there that night?” Cindy asked.

“Yes. I just told you I was there. Don’t you believe me?”

“So you went to school around here?” Steve asked.

“Toule is my hometown. I was born and raised here. Didn’t you know?”

“No,” Steve said, remembering what Hector had told them. Clearly one of them was lying, and Hector had struck Steve as an honest man.

“What was your name in high school?” Cindy asked.

Ms. Smith shrugged. “What difference does it make? I moved away, started a new life, became hugely successful, returned home. Sounds like a soap opera, doesn’t it?”

“We’re not sure what you mean,” Steve said quietly.

“That plant blew up thirteen years ago. All those people who died that night have been buried for thirteen years. It’s all ancient history. What matters is the now, today, this moment.” Ms. Smith paused, somehow caused the air to turn cold, then casually added, “Why are you
three
spying on me?”

“Excuse me?” Steve mumbled.

“You and your friend, Lisa Morgan. Or is her real name Ali Warner? Friends of mine in Breakwater say that’s her name. Such a distinctive child, they say, with her long red hair and brilliant green eyes. She’s not the sort of person people might confuse with someone else. Don’t you think?”

Steve pulled back from the table, stood. “I think it’s time we left.”

Cindy also got to her feet. “We have another appointment we have to keep.”

Ms. Smith stood with them, and this time her smile was not forced—it was pure gloat. “You really have to go? In the middle of lunch? That’s kind of rude on your part. Yes, that’s very rude—your parents should have raised you better. It’s not the kind of behavior I would allow with my own daughter.”

Steve glanced at Ms. Smith, then reached for Cindy’s hand. “Let’s go,” he said.

Steve half expected Ms. Smith to grab a carving knife and bar their way, but the pretty blond woman did nothing, just continued to stand and grin as they hurried from the dining room. They made it as far as the front door, even opened it, before they realized that Ms. Smith had set her designs in motion long before
they had decided to come for lunch. For there was someone standing on the front porch, holding a sharp switchblade. Someone they had been trying to find for a month.

“Hello guys,” Karl Tanner said.

It was afternoon before they reached the mighty river, Lestre. Along the way they ran into only two scaliis, although the second one had been created from a troll larger than Farble, and it took four of Ra’s arrows to bring it down. Ra was beginning to run out of arrows, and he took the time to pull them out of both scaliis.

Of course, had she ordered Drash to attack, the creatures could have been dispensed with easily enough. But Ali was handling Drash carefully this day. He had just sprouted legs and a tail—much to the amazement of the others—and he appeared in a serious mood. It was possible he was contemplating the next test—the one she had promised him during the night. But he had not asked her about it.

Drash seemed hesitant when they reached the edge of the river. The water was a deep blue-green, topped with flashes of white foam, and roaring with the sound of distant thunder, a quarter of a mile across, and surrounded by thick trees and heavy brush. The others were confused what she wanted with it. She had already told them it was not her intention to try to cross the river.

“I’m searching for a harbor, it’s around here,” she said. She watched Drash hold back from the river shore—a narrow strip of yellow sand and loose gravel.

“How do you know it’s here?” Ra asked.

“I remembered it, last night, while I was sleeping.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“I am sure.”

Ra shook his head. “What does this harbor have? Boats? You don’t know if the dragons haven’t already crushed them with their ice. I’d think the Shaktra would’ve seen a harbor as a prime target. And even if there are boats there, this river is running opposite the direction we’re trying to go.”

The way he said the last sentence, it was as if he was casting doubt on their course in general. Ali could not blame him. She had told him she was here to rescue her mother, but she had admitted she had no idea where her mom was and that she had only a sense that if she reached Uleestar, she would find out what she needed to know. It was time she gave him concrete information, so that he could have faith in their quest. Hanging over all their heads was the fear they would run into an army of scaliis that even Drash would be unable to fight off.

“I remember this harbor clearly,” she said. “It was unlike anything we have on Earth, because a person could ride a boat all the way south to it from Uleestar, and then turn around and take another version of the river back north.”

Ra frowned. “Another version?”

“Yes. Lestre has a parallel river directly underneath it, deep underground, that flows north, into the heart of Uleestar. The river is called Tiena, and it is less than half the width of Lestre.

But the two rivers are connected—one feeds the other.”

Ra considered. “How far is this harbor from here?”

“Two miles north of here.”

“What if it has already been destroyed?”

Ali nodded. “The upper portion of the harbor could have been destroyed. But Tiena is deeply buried, I can’t imagine that any falling ice, no matter how huge, could have penetrated to it.”

“I have heard of Tiena,” Paddy said suddenly.

Ra looked at him with disgust. “How come you never mentioned it before?”

The leprechaun shrugged his shoulders. “No one asked Paddy about it.”

Ali laughed. “Get used to it, Ra. It is easier to pry a scab off a leprechaun than to get information out of one.”

Paddy’s face darkened, and he rubbed his left arm. “Let us not bring that up again, Missy.”

They started north once again, hiking along the narrow shore, all of them except Drash, who obviously preferred to romp through the woods. Because the trees were tightly packed, and the koul was big, Drash made more noise than Ali would have liked. It did not matter how many times she begged him to join them on the shore of the river, he ignored her. Of course, from her memory of last night of the trials kouls went through to become dragons, she understood exactly what was going on.

Drash was terrified of water.

They reached the harbor less than an hour later, and Ali’s heart immediately sunk. The place was in shambles, every single wooden boat had been reduced to splinters. Ra had been right—the Shaktra had chosen the harbor as a prime target for the dragons’ ice. Even the surrounding forest had been crushed flat. What an insidious weapon the Shaktra had dreamed up, she realized. When the icebergs melted, they didn’t even leave behind a sign of what had caused the damage.

Yet there were no bodies, and Ali was beginning to understand why.

The scaliis were the worst kind of scavengers. They ate whoever fell.

“You probably don’t remember it this way,” Ra said gently, standing behind her. Ali felt her eyes burn, but wiped at them quickly, not wanting to show weakness in front of the others.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “We are here for Tiena.”

“Do you remember the way down?”

She pointed to an outcrop of broken stone on the far side of the harbor.

“There’s a cave over there, and stone steps,” she said.

Ra was doubtful. “It could take us a week to clear that mess out of the way.”

“You forget we have a koul with us, who is changing into a dragon. He can do the work of a dozen trolls.”

Drash was agreeable to clearing away the cave entrance. Simply by pressing the side of his massive body on the strewn trees and the cracked rock walls, he was able to clear enough space for them to enter the tunnel that led under the ground. Yet it was at that point Drash backed off, saying they would have to go on without him.

“It does not matter what type of boat you find underground,” he said. “You will not find one large enough to hold Drash.”

Ali spoke to him. “Let’s make that decision when we reach Tiena.”

He shook his head. “Drash cannot go with you.”

Ali came closer. “So what is Drash going to do next? You’re not going to join your father and fight alongside the Shaktra. You despise that monster, and they couldn’t use you anyway. Remember, you’re just a koul. Tell me, honestly, where can you go if you don’t stay with us? This entire land has been overrun with war.”

He pulled back. “Drash can take care of himself.”

Ali nodded. “I’m sure you can keep alive in this place. You’re plenty strong. But what do you have to look forward to?”

“Drash does not need anyone or anything.”

Ali came close, leaned beside his ear, and whispered so that the others could not hear. “You have to come with us, my friend. We all need someone. I haven’t forgotten what you said last night, about wanting to end your life. I still don’t believe that is true, but I know you carry a lot of pain in your heart. I can help you with that, and you can help us. I told you last night that I need you to fly me to the kloudar.”

Drash sighed. “Only a dragon can reach the kloudar.”

“This time tomorrow, you will be a dragon.”