A Memory of Earth Page 22

  "This is the place," Coral whispered, eyes dampening. "The Weeping Guildhall."

  Bay grabbed the joystick and began spiraling down. The atmosphere thickened, and water drops clung to the windshield. Winged aliens flew around them, featherless and furless, wings translucent. They reminded Bay of dinosaurs, and he wished Rowan had been here to see them. He flew down toward a river below the cliff. Clouds of mist. Trees, moss, and vines grew everywhere, draping over boulders, hills, and the cliff.

  Brooklyn thumped down on a patch of dry leaves between fallen logs. After weeks aboard the tiny starship, cramped together and slowly going mad, Bay and Coral dashed outside.

  For a moment, Bay just stood, eyes closed, and breathed the air.

  Fresh, real air. It was a bit cold. His breath frosted. But it was wonderful.

  After a few breaths, he opened his eyes, then drank in the other wonder here.

  The Weeping Guildhall rose before him.

  Brooklyn had been right. This had to be the place.

  "It's beautiful," Coral whispered. She fell to her knees. "I never imagined anything so beautiful."

  Bay nodded. "It's beautiful, Coral. I wish the others could be here to see it. Rowan would have loved this place."

  A sour looked passed over Coral's face, but it quickly vanished. They gazed together upon the wonder.

  A man had been carved into the cliff. He must have been a hundred meters tall, as large as a warship. The sculpture was clearly ancient. Eras of wind and water had smoothed it, and shaggy patches of moss bedecked it. Perhaps due to its elevation, the statue's face was still clear and smooth, gazing upon the land, stoic and noble.

  The most striking feature, however, was not the statue's size.

  Two waterfalls flowed from the statue's eyes, rolling down the man's chest and feeding the pool below. The colossal statue was weeping.

  "Here stands Gadriel, the Weeping Weaver, the greatest sage of our order," Coral said. "According to legend, he weeps for the fate of the cosmos."

  "He's human," Bay said, gazing in wonder.

  Coral nodded, smiling softly. "Though the Weavers Guild has spread among the stars, the first sages were human. Weaving was humanity's gift to the cosmos. According to legend, the Weeping Weaver fled Earth after the Hydrians destroyed it. A refugee, he went on a spiritual journey. He sought a new world, a place of solitude and silence where he could meditate and study from the ancients. He was the wisest among us. He's still the only weaver who rose above the rank of master, becoming a sage. This statue, Bay, is two thousand years old, as old as our memory of Earth. Gadriel's disciples carved it only several decades after Earth's fall. Some of them, like Gadriel, might have been born on Earth."

  Bay took a few steps closer. He noticed that runes had been engraved onto the statue. Hundreds, maybe thousands of runes. Flecks of silver still clung to a few. Long ago, the runes must have shone like starlight.

  "Brooklyn." He turned toward his starship. "I see a cave behind that curtain of lichen and vines. Hide there and wait for us. Coral and I are going to investigate."

  "Dude, I want to come with you," Brooklyn said.

  He patted her. "Sorry, girl, I think you'll have to sit this one out."

  The starship grumbled, "You know, you really should buy me a robotic body, then copy my software there. You know, my AI was originally built for androids, not bloody shuttles. I want to be able to walk around with you. Hell, even just a robotic dragonfly body like Fillister would work."

  "Once we're millionaires, Brook. I promise."

  She groaned. "And buy me a finger so I can flip you off."

  Muttering, Brooklyn taxied toward the cave, wriggled past the curtain of vines, and vanished.

  Bay stepped closer toward the Weeping Weaver. He walked over moss, passed through mist, and reached the foot of the statue. The foot was huge, each toe the size of a couch. On the largest toe, Bay saw a small, bumpy shape, no larger than a dinner plate. He approached and touched the ridges.

  "A fossil," he said.

  Coral's eyes widened. She stepped toward the heel. "There's another fossil here."

  Bay climbed onto the foot and reached the statue's ankle. Here too he found fossils in the stone. They were oval and ridged, no larger than footballs.

  "They're some kind of trilobite," Bay said. "Like the earliest fossils on Earth. When the weavers carved this statue, they must have uncovered them. I wonder if life begins this way on every planet."

  Coral craned her head back. She pointed. "More fossils up there."

  Bay looked up. He pulled out his minicom, aimed the camera, zoomed in, and slowly panned up. Coral stood beside him, peering over his shoulder at the view on the monitor. Fossils covered the cliff. At the lower levels, they appeared like trilobites, shells, jellyfish, worms—simple organisms. But as they looked higher up, the fossils began to develop spines, skulls, limbs. Some even showed the shapes of feathers.

  "Dinosaurs." Bay smiled. "Yes, Rowan would have loved this place. A real Dinosaur Island."

  Coral frowned. Again, it seemed like anger passed across her eyes, quickly dissipating.

  "All right, enough," the weaver said. "We need to find a way inside. This isn't just a statue. It's a guildhall. If the legends are true, there's a temple inside this cliff, and we'll find the Godblade there."

  They walked along the base of the statue. Moss, vines, and lichen covered the statue's limestone robes. Bay and Coral worked with sticks, scraping off the green coat, revealing the craggy stone beneath. They sought a doorway to the secrets within the cliff. As they worked, scraping off moss and leaves, they revealed more fossils embedded in the statue.

  As Bay scraped a stubborn patch of moss, he glanced at Coral. She was wearing her Inheritor uniform, but Bay couldn't help remembering her naked body, lithe and warm in his arms. The galaxy was burning. Humanity was dying. Any moment, more strikers might arrive. Yet he couldn't stop remembering their lovemaking. A deep need filled him to hold her, to kiss her again.

  "Bay!" She frowned. "That moss won't scrape itself off."

  He blinked, realizing that he had been daydreaming. He nodded and returned to his work.

  Foolishness, he thought. She only slept with me because the ancients demanded it. I only care about one woman. Rowan. That's it. I will focus on my mission. On getting back to Rowan. Not on the memory of Coral's warm, eager body and the joy she brought me.

  He returned to brushing the moss and vines from the cliff. Snails and beetles fled as he worked, and again Bay marveled at how evolution took similar paths on similar worlds. This fauna and flora would not seem out of place on Earth.

  "We all start the same way," he mused. "Carbon molecules in a primordial ooze, self-replicating, growing more and more complex, taking shapes to fit our environments." He plucked a snail off the wall, admiring the Fibonacci curve of its shell. "The laws of chemistry and physics, the laws that create life, are universal."

  Coral glanced at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "You grew up on a world without much technology or science," he said. "I sometimes forget."

  She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm just the ignorant desert peasant."

  "That's not what I meant," Bay said. "You know a lot more about magic than I do."

  "I told you, Bay, aether isn't magic." She groaned. "It's just as logical as your chemistry and physics."

  "All science is like magic to those who don't understand it," Bay said.

  He tugged off another vine, scattering blue beetles that glimmered like gems, and revealed a fleck of silver on the cliff. He removed more vines and moss, uncovering lines engraved into the limestone, coiling, forming sigils, filled with flecks of silver.

  "Coral, come take a look," he said. "Somebody engraved something here and filled it with silver."

  She approached and touched the engraving. She spoke in an awed voice. "This is not silver, Bay. This is aetherstone. The solid form of aether. Help me clear off all this greenery." />
  They worked quickly, scraping off moss and vines. More engraving came into view.

  A doorway.

  A doorway was engraved on the cliff, its borders filigreed, branching off into runes. Smaller runes appeared within the doorway, still filled with flecks of aetherstone. The twin waterfalls, flowing from the statue's eyes far above, framed the door.

  Bay frowned. He ran his fingers across the engravings.

  "This isn't a real door," he said. "No hinges, no knob. This is just a giant rune shaped like a door."

  Coral pressed her hand against the stone. She closed her eyes and spoke softly. "This door has no hinges or knob, but it can be opened. This is an aetherstone door. To open it we—"

  She grimaced, cried out, and pulled back.

  "Coral!" Bay reached toward her.

  She doubled over, trembling. She took deep, heavy breaths through a clenched jaw.

  "Coral, what's wrong?"

  She looked up at Bay. Her eyes filled with fear.

  "I sensed something," she whispered. "When I touched the aether. Danger. Evil." A tear rolled down her cheek. "Great evil."

  Bay stiffened. "Then let's get the hell out of here. I ain't opening no portal to hell."

  "Not in there," Coral said. "Danger above." She glanced up to the sky and bit her lip.

  Bay took a deep breath and reached for Lawless, his rifle. "Scorpions."

  "I think so," Coral said. "Many of them. Filled with such anger. Such cruelty. Such evil." She shuddered. "We must act quickly."

  She brushed more moss off the center of the door, revealing words engraved in the stone.

  She frowned. "It's a poem. I can't read this. I think it's an old human tongue."

  Bay's eyes widened.

  "That's an ancient dialect," he said. "From two thousand years ago."

  Coral looked at him, frowning. "You can read this?"

  He nodded. "Yeah, of course. I used to watch old movies on the Earthstone all the time. I grew up with this language. It's what Rowan speaks too. Hell, just a while back, Rowan made me watch all three Lord of the Rings movies in this dialect."

  For an instant, anger flashed across Coral's eyes. "Well, read it!"

  Bay nodded and read the poem, translating it into their modern dialect.

  Welcome, traveler

  And rest your weary feet

  For your road has been long

  And filled with tears

  Born in fire and tempered in water

  You have crawled and climbed

  Through mud and rain and shadow

  To reach my door

  Speak the reason you're here

  And enter my hall

  As Bay read the words aloud, three runes began to glow under the poem. Each was shaped like a keyhole.

  He looked at Coral.

  "Is that it?" he said. "We just need to tell the door why we're here, and it'll let us in?"

  Coral bit her lip, considering. She spoke carefully. "It seems so. The ancients bestow runes upon those they deem worthy. Every rune on my body—I earned it by proving both my worth and need. Gadriel, the Weeping Weaver, was closest among all weavers to the ancients. He too wants to judge the worth and need of everyone who enters his guildhall."

  Bay cleared his throat. He began to tap on the cliff. "There's gotta be some electronic device in here. A microphone to hear a password spoken. We might be able to hack it."

  "You'll find none of your science here, Bay," Coral said. "This passageway was built of aether. Same as the wormholes. We must prove our worth and need. As the poem says, we must tell the Weeping Weaver why we're here. Only then can we enter."

  "Well, we both know why we're here," Bay said. "But you better tell our weeping friend." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "It'll sound better coming from a fellow weaver and all."

  Coral nodded. "I hope this works."

  "Of course it'll work," Bay said. "And if it doesn't, Brooklyn will blast the door open with her cannons."

  Coral rolled her eyes. She took a deep breath, then took a few steps back. She faced the door and craned her head back, gazing up at the statue's head high above.

  "Wise sage!" she cried out, loud enough to send animals scurrying away from the trees. "I am Coral Amber, Journeywoman of the Weavers Guild. I have traveled through many dangers to come here. I come seeking the Godblade! Will you welcome me into your hall?"

  They stared at the wall, waiting.

  One of the three keyhole runes dimmed.

  Bay frowned. He shoved against the door, instantly feeling silly. Nothing but a cliff.

  "What went wrong?" he asked Coral.

  She cringed. "I'm not sure." She pointed at the two keyholes that still shone. "It seems like we have two more tries."

  Bay frowned. "But we told the truth, didn't we?"

  Coral sighed. "Yes. But maybe I didn't present my case convincingly enough."

  "Try again," Bay said. "And put some drama into it this time! Some emotion, some tears. Make it Shakespearean. Showmanship, baby!"

  She placed her fists on her hips. "The wisest weaver of the ages, the sage who forged the Godblade and founded this guildhall, would not appreciate some dog and pony show."

  Bay looked at the door, then back at Coral. "Maybe we need to have sex again."

  She rolled her eyes. "You wish."

  "Hey!" He bristled. "It was your idea last time."

  She took a deep breath. "I need time to think. To meditate. To reflect. I—"

  Thunderclaps sounded above.

  Shrieks tore through the sky.

  Bay and Coral looked up.

  "Muck," Bay muttered.

  He unslung his rifle from across his back. He stared up, inhaling sharply.

  Hundreds of ships flew above, still distant, mere specks from here. But when Bay zoomed in with his minicom, his suspicions were confirmed.

  "Strikers," he said. "A goddamn battalion of them. The shield should hold them back, but—"

  Above, the strikers opened fire.

  Their rounds slammed into the invisible shield enclosing the planet. Flames spread across the shield, blanketing the sky. The earth shook. Trees cracked. Stones cascaded down the cliff. The roaring fire was deafening. The sky sounded like cracking bones and avalanches.

  Coral reached out and grabbed Bay's hand. The bombardment continued, a firestorm that rocked Elysium.

  "The shield is holding!" Coral said.

  "It might not hold much longer!" Bay shouted over the storm. "We gotta find this Godblade and get the hell out of here. Try to open the door again!"

  "I don't know how!" Coral said.

  "Improvise!"

  Bay stood by her, rifle raised, ready for a swarm of scorpions to descend—not that a single rifle would be much use. Coral took a deep breath, faced the towering statue, and tried again, shouting over the raging assault above.

  "Sage Gadriel! I am Coral Amber, a weaver. The galaxy is in danger. The cruel Hierarchy invades world after world, conquering, butchering, destroying civilizations. You see their wrath above us now! They've murdered millions of humans already, and if we cannot stop them, they will murder the rest, and the galaxy will fall into darkness. I am a servant of the ancients, a wielder of the light! I fight for truth and peace! I've come seeking the Godblade—not for power, not for vainglory, but to defeat this evil that even now assaults Elysium. Will you let me enter?"

  Above, the scorpions detonated a massive explosive.

  White light blazed, searing across the sky, blinding.

  A nuke, Bay thought. They lobbed a Ra damn nuke.

  The ground shook. Coral fell to her knees. Bay wavered, nearly falling too.

  Above them, the shield cracked.

  Bay and Coral stared at the door.

  The second keyhole dimmed. The door remained closed.

  "Damn it!" Bay shouted. "What the hell?"

  Coral rose to her feet. She stared at him, eyes wide. "I thought it would work. I thought I'm worthy, that—" />
  Another nuclear explosion rocked the sky.

  The sound was deafening. Bay and Coral screamed and covered their ears. A shock wave slammed into them, knocking them down. Trees fell. Brooklyn screamed in the distance. Cracks raced across the cliff.

  But the door remained shut.

  Bay looked to the sky, and he saw fire spreading across the shield, curling it open.

  Another explosion blazed.

  The shield trembled, flickered, and vanished.

  And the strikers began swooping.

  Coral winced. She grabbed Bay's hand.

  "We'll have to flee!" she said. "We failed. Let's get into Brooklyn—and out of here!"

  Bay stared at the swooping strikers. They were shrieking across the sky. Within minutes, maybe only seconds, they would be here.

  He stared back at the cliff.

  "Bay!" Coral cried, tugging his hand.

  "Wait," he said.

  "We're unworthy! We—"

  "Wait!" he said.

  He stared at the door. He stared at the fossils in the cliff—trilobites at the bottom, rising to dinosaurs, finally to mammals near the cliff top. He looked back down and reread the poem engraved onto the door.

  "Your road has been long," he said softly. "Born in fire, tempered in water. Crawled through mud and shadow." He gasped. "Speak the reason you're here." He spun toward Coral. "That's it, Coral! We have to tell the door the reason we're here!"

  The strikers stormed downward.

  They were instants away now.

  Their cannons were blazing hot.

  "I did!" Coral said.

  He shook his head. "No you didn't. Not like the poem means." He walked toward the door. As plasma began to rain, he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Evolution!"

  Plasma bathed the treetops.

  Flame and smoke spread across the land.

  The door in the cliff shone bright and slid open.

  Bay and Coral ran inside. The door closed behind them and melted into the stone, sealing itself shut, leaving them in shadows.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Outside, Elysium thundered as the strikers bombarded the land. Inside the Weeping Guildhall, cold shadows rolled like a calm midnight sea.

  Bay stood in the darkness, his heart thundering. He had dodged the plasma by seconds. It took a moment for him to realize: I'm still alive.