THANISSARA
As we walk along the shore of the paleo-ocean, our footprints fill with water and turn luminous and blue. It’s one of the curious wonders of these caverns that never ceases to astound me.
Elder Pyara points to the massive beams that hang from the ceiling and jut up from the water. They are so black that light seems to slide off them. “The Hive. Don’t you agree?”
“That was my assessment, as well,” I reply.
The other Dog Soldiers mutter and nod. We’re all thinking about the story fragment that says in the final days the Jemen turned themselves into insects and lived in hives to hide from their enemies. Though some Dog Soldiers in the past proposed it was literally true, we have always suspected the fragment was to be taken symbolically. The Jemen lived like insects. But none of us could ever have imagined the magnitude of this hive. The gleam of the blue algae only carries so high. What we see is the bottom tips of beams that vanish into darkness high overhead, and extend across the ocean for perhaps two days’ walk into the distance.
“What other marvels do these caverns hold?” Menash whispers.
“Once we have settled this matter, perhaps we can all begin searching them. But first things first.”
The caverns quake as the Ice Giants let out a deep-throated roar, followed by several grating shrieks.
We continue onward, marching in silence around the curving shore until we hear the faint voices of Sticks and Jorgensen.
I say, “The square tunnel that leads to Quancee’s chamber is narrow. We will have to enter in single file.”
“And it’s strewn with rocks and debris,” War Leader Menash says. “Lynx tried to barricade the door. It was a fierce fight.”
“Very well,” Pyara says. “Shall I lead?”
“If you wish to, yes,” I answer.
“Apologies, elders,” Menash says, “but I think I should take the lead. Not that I believe Sticks or Jorgensen would attack you—”
“But there’s no sense in taking risks,” I say. “Thank you, War Leader. You’re right. We’ll follow you.”
Menash walks toward the voices, stops at the mouth of the tunnel to listen, and then ducks low to enter. I trail behind him. The other Dog Soldiers follow me. Someone must have stoked the fire in the chamber, for firelight wavers over the tunnel’s walls and I see faint inscriptions that I did not see last time I came here. It’s a flowing script that rises high and loops. Unfortunately, I do not understand the language of the writers.
Whispers drift down the tunnel, then fade.
My breathing sounds loud in the silence. I move up close to Menash and call out, “Sticks? Jorgensen? We are coming in.”
Menash pushes forward, steps around the door that rests on its side to the right, and sidesteps several rocks, before he enters the firelit chamber. “Put down your spear, Blessed Sticks. No one is going to harm you. The elder Dog Soldiers only wish to talk.”
When I enter behind Menash, I see the large stones that litter the chamber. In many places, blood streaks the crystal panels. A fierce fight, indeed.
“Do you feel it?” Pyara asks as he moves up behind me and a shiver goes through him. “There’s a strange feeling here.”
“Yes. I noticed it the first time I entered this chamber, but it’s more powerful now . . . as though something old and wise watches us from a vast distance.”
Sticks stands guard with his spear in front of Jorgensen, who has his arm thrust into a gap in the rectangular panels. Jorgensen appears to be feeling around for something. Many broken panels lie scattered across the floor, as though torn out in a hurry and tossed away like refuse.
I say, “War Leader Menash asked you to put down your spear, Sticks.”
“Stay back! The Blessed Jorgensen needs more time!” Sticks cries and defiantly keeps his spear aimed at my chest.
“What is he searching for?”
The other Dog Soldiers crowd into the chamber, glance at Sticks, and stare around as though awestruck.
“This is Quancee?” Pyara asks. “These crystal panels on the walls, roof, and ceiling are the evil device?”
Sticks replies, “Yes, of course, and you must stay back while we kill it!”
Menash fingers his spear. “Kill it? Looks dead to me. During the fight, I never saw it move or make a sound.”
“Doesn’t matter. I studied here in this chamber, and not even I can be sure it’s dead. Besides, the Blessed Jorgensen assures me the device is still alive.”
Sticks foolishly aims his spear at Menash, and the War Leader’s eyes narrow. Quick as lightning, Menash bats the spear from Sticks’ hands and picks it up. “Don’t mean any disrespect, Blessed Sticks, just don’t like people pointin’ spears at me.”
“You’ve seen the device, now leave,” Sticks orders.
I’m watching Jorgensen. “Vice Admiral, what are you searching for?”
Jorgensen’s face contorts as he shoves his arm deeper. “It’s right here behind the cryoperm shield, but . . .” He ferociously tugs on something behind the panel. “Why won’t it just—”
“Perhaps some part of Quancee is alive and she does not wish you to remove her heart.”
“It has a heart?” Menash gives me a curious look, then fixes his gaze on Jorgensen, awaiting his answer.
Jorgensen’s deep wrinkles slacken as he pulls his arm from the hole. “Quancee has no ability to—”
“During the Battle of the Stronghold, you didn’t think she had the ability to shut parts of herself down either, did you? She surprised her creators then, why not now at the last?”
“Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” Jorgensen draws in a halting breath. “Or are you just repeating something Lynx told you?”
“Dog Soldiers have stories about the Old Woman of the Mountain and the ancient battle for her heart.” Absently, I gesture to the hole in the panels. “Until this instant, I did not know exactly where to find it.”
Jorgensen hobbles forward like a man with a bad case of joint-stiffening disease. His labored breathing sounds loud in the small chamber. “I need that quantum processor. Menash, I order you to reach in there and pull it out. I’m . . . I’m too weak to do it.”
Menash turns to me. “Elder?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“You morons! You have no understanding—”
“Why do you need her heart?”
Jorgensen wheezes, coughs, and staggers sideways to brace his shoulder against Quancee, obviously having trouble staying on his feet. “Lynx told you to do this, didn’t he?”
I walk over to join the other Dog Soldiers who stand around the fire. “He told me you would be looking for her heart, and I would have a choice to make.”
Jorgensen looks furious. Sweat beads his brow. “Where is Lynx? I must speak with him immediately.”
“I will find him and bring him here, Blessed Jorgensen,” Sticks says as he hurries for the doorway.
“No,” I say to Menash, and the War Leader instantly steps to block Sticks’ path.
“Why not?” Sticks whirls around to face me with his jaw clenched. “Am I a prisoner?”
“Not at all,” I say with a sigh. “It’s just pointless. By now, the Blessed Teacher is on a litter and being carried home to his people in Sky Ice Village.”
“Fools!” Jorgensen shouts, then falls into a coughing fit that doubles him over.
I study the last of the Jemen, wondering what the world will be like without his kind. Dog Soldiers will be extinct soon, as well, and so will Sealion People. What will the world be like without any of us? There are many story fragments that say we were all extinct once before, along with mammoths, mastodons, and giant lions, and Mother Earth was lonely and desolate without her ancient companions. This time, there will be no one to breathe upon the bones of our ancestors and re-create us. Perhaps that is the true way of existence—the dead should stay dead—but I pray Rust People can find a way to survive the expanding Ice Giants.
I turn to Menash. “War Leader, please escort Sticks outside while we speak with the Blessed Jorgensen. We’ll be out as soon as this is over.”
Menash glances at Jorgensen, and gives me a doubtful look. “Are you sure you want to be alone—”
“Yes. Thank you. If any part of Quancee is alive, I’m sure she will keep us safe.”
Menash gives me a worried look, glances at the curious crystal chamber, and uses his spear to gesture to Sticks. “Don’t try to run, Sticks. Understand?”
“This is ridiculous,” Sticks says through gritted teeth, throws up his hands, and strides for the door.
When they are gone, Jorgensen’s legs wobble. Slowly, he slides down the panels to sit among the broken crystals flashing with firelight, and puts a hand to his chest. “You’re working with Lynx? That’s a . . . a surprise.” He exhales and fluid bubbles at his lips. “You have no idea what . . . what you . . .”
I fold my hands before me. The chamber suddenly fills with the scent of fear sweat, and the hate in Jorgensen’s eyes fades to blind terror as he looks around.
Tilting my head to the side, I see no shred of the godlike figure who has paraded through our villages with such arrogance over the past three summers. The figure before me is just a skinny, white-haired old man with a strangely shaped skull.
I nod to the other Dog Soldiers, and they quietly walk over and form a semicircle around Jorgensen. When I join them, I kneel and stare into Jorgensen’s strange blue eyes. His deep wrinkles cast a web of shadows over his face.
Softly, I ask, “Do you know the Dog Soldiers’ prophecy about the last Jemen?”
He laughs. “Idiotic—”
“Our prophecy tells us of a time,” I say as I pull the book from my cape pocket, “when the last Dog Soldier will give the last Earthbound Jemen our most sacred book. We have protected that book for him for over one thousand summers. For you, I suppose. It is said that when we give the book to the last Jemen, he will breathe upon it and the book will come to life and sail far away beyond the Road of Light until it finds the Sky Jemen and brings them home. Then the Ice Giants will melt and the world will warm and become the paradise it once was.”
Jorgensen desperately gasps for air. “Get it through . . . your skulls. Nobody’s coming. Ever.”
The last of the Jemen coughs so hard and long, he loses his balance and topples onto his side, where he sprawls across the floor. He struggles to rise, but his shaking arms won’t support him. He rolls back against the firelit crystal panels.
Pressing my lips to the sacred book, I hand it to Jorgensen. “This is yours now.”
When he makes no move to reach for the book, I gently place it on the floor in front of his mouth where he can’t help but breathe upon the ancient pages, yellowed with age.
“Let us begin,” I instruct and rise to my feet.
Pyara lifts his voice in the sacred chant that our order has memorized for centuries, but never once spoken aloud. As each of us joins him, our deep voices reverberate from Quancee’s crystalline body until the entire chamber rings.
Hallowed be the names of the Blessed Jemen who created the universe: Hammeroff and Heel-Catcher, Penrose and Posner, Heisenberg and He-Laughs, Fisher and the White Stone . . .
The resonance in the small chamber is so unearthly, it’s stunning.
Jorgensen vents an ugly laugh and whispers, “Cl-clowns.”
As we continue our chant, his gasping grows more hoarse and desperate, until he sprawls across the floor with his mouth gaping. I watch the light go out of his strange blue eyes.
“Pyara? Please make certain?”
Pyara crouches and places two fingers on the big artery in Jorgensen’s throat, waits, then gives me a nod. “Yes. Gone.”
“Very well.”
Stepping around the Jemen’s body, I walk to the hole in the crystal panels and gently stroke Quancee’s face. “If you can hear me, I assume you know who I am, and that I mean you no harm.”
I neither hear nor feel an answer, and so fear tingles my spine as I slip my arm into the hole and pat around until I find what feels like a shield. Reaching behind it, I find a round object about the size of my fist; it’s intensely cold. When I grasp it, the object seems to slide into my hand of its own volition . . . as though giving itself to me.
I pull it out and hold it in my open palm to examine it.
“Is that her heart?” Pyara asks in awe as he moves closer to me. “It resembles a silver eyeball with a black stripe running across it.”
“It must be.” The heart is so cold the warm air around it condenses and forms wisps of cloud. “It’s freezing. I can’t hold it for long.”
“What do we do now?” Pyara asks.
Tucking the egg in my cape pocket, I look at the other Dog Soldiers. “Let’s gather these rocks and wall up this chamber forever. That way, if she wishes to return, her crystal body will be unharmed and waiting for her.”