“You left
me behind!”
How could
she have been so careless? L’lorne had
spent so much time thinking of ways to get into the Asylum, she hadn't thought
to check up on Deborah and make sure she was still sleeping. If she had seen her awaken, at least she
could have intercepted her before she got inside, and now they both stood
there, face to face, right in the heart of the Asylum. “Yes, I did.”
“How could
you? This is my mother we're talking
about.” The girl was near hysteric in
her anger, and L’lorne had to quickly squelch the sonic detectors in the room
as well as set up a sound deadening field to keep Deborah's voice from alerting
everyone and their uncle.
“I wanted
to do some reconnaissance. See where the
weak points were and. . .”
“BY COMING
INSIDE!”
L’lorne
grumbled silently. This wasn't going to
go well. How had she gotten in
anyway? The ventilation ducts was good,
but how did she get into them? Didn't
matter, really, she was here now, and L’lorne would have to deal with the
situation. “Yes, by coming inside. I wanted to make sure your mother was
actually here before we both tried to get inside. I'm a touch more agile than you, so I
figured. . .”
“You didn't
tell me.” Deborah was starting to
recompose herself, but was still visibly angry, crossing her arms in a very
scolding manner. L’lorne considered
flooding her system with something to calm her down, but it seemed she was
doing it herself. Good, L’lorne wasn't
completely sure it would have worked anyway.
Deborah was obviously starting to resist the less overt influences L’lorne
had been working on her. She shouldn't
have woken up until morning. Still no
excuse for not watching her more closely.
“I decided
to do it after you fell asleep. I
figured you wouldn't notice.”
“Would you have told me in the
morning then?”
Good
question. “I suppose it would depend on
what I figured was the best way for us to get in. But seeing as you found your own way in, I
guess it's a moot point. How did you get
in, by the way?”
“Oh, I
asked the ghost. He told me of a secret
way in he had developed, right before he moved on.”
“He moved
on then? That's good.”
“Why didn't
you try to help him move on?”
Not a good
question. Not because she hadn't thought
about the answer, but strictly because Deborah was unlikely to enjoy the
answer: Because L’lorne didn't consider
it important. The ghost would have moved
on, eventually, but helping him? That
wasn't even a remote thought in her mind.
Deborah likely would disagree with that sentiment, probably figuring
that helping others, even the otherworldly, should be a priority. Have to break her of that eventually. In the mean time, she would need to
answer. “I figured he might know
something more that could help us.
Apparently I was right. Good
work.”
Deborah
smiled at the compliment, half hearted as it truly was, and released the
remains of her more heated anger. She
would still be upset for a while, but at least she wasn't screaming any
more. “Well, now that we're here, let's
find my mom.” She turned to the large
cylinders. Their dark forms, highlighted
by only displays and indicator lights, dominated even the massive room. “What's in these things.”
“I haven't
had the chance to look yet,” L’lorne started, already accessing the data files
remotely. Lots of genetic information,
familiar information. Oh no.
“I'll
look,” Deborah announced, her hand digging into her pockets for the glasses
before she had even finished her statement.
L’lorne
looked very quickly, just as the glasses slid over Deborah's ears. The first cylinder, what were the odds? “No don't!” L’lorne cried out, but it was too
late.
Deborah
screamed.
---------
“Mother!” L’lorne pushed past the people who crowded
into the small hut. Her brother's both looked at her, one with disgust the
other with surprise, as she stumbled into a kneeling position next to her
mother.
Denofors looked far older than L’lorne could
remember, and she gently grabbed her wrinkled hand, afraid that too much
pressure would shatter it. The old woman
opened her eyes and smiled. “You came
back.” Her voice was weak and old, but still
had that loving tone that L’lorne had grown to love. With her free hand, Denofors stroked L’lorne's
face. “You've grown to be a beautiful
woman.”
“Oh mother,
I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner, I was just so busy and. . .” L’lorne stopped her explanation and buried
her head into her mother's shoulder. “I
got here as soon as I could.”
“It's
alright,” Denofors said as she patted her daughter's head. “Most believed you were dead, though I'm sure
they're more than surprised right now.”
She eyed her sons, the youngest of which turned his head away. The other continued to glare at Lloren. “I knew better. Though you did cut it rather close.” L’lorne said nothing as she raised her
head. The tears trickling down her
cheeks was all the response she really needed.
“Now then,” Denofors said as she wiped a few of the tears away. “Tell me what you learned about the stars.”
“The
stars,” L’lorne smiled, remembering her promise. “They're just like the sun, only so far away
they look like points of light instead of disks. Like the sun, they're really huge, many times
bigger than the biggest thing you can imagine, made of a gas that is hotter
than the hottest fire ever. There are
arcs of fire that fling out every once in a while, and they even have spots.”
“More
amazing than I ever believed,” Denofors said quietly.
L’lorne
thought to continue, but it was obvious that her mother was starting to fade
even as she spoke. “Mother, you can't
die now, there's more to tell you.”
“And there is much I must tell
you, but there is no more time. I'm sure
I will learn all I need soon enough, but you, you will have to learn everything
on your own. I'm sorry.”
“Don't be,
please don't be.”
“I am. But I know you Lcorn L’lorne, you will figure
it out.” Denofors' eyes closed for a moment, opening only slightly. She moved her hand on top of her daughter's
hand and held it for a moment. “I love
you.”
“I love you too.”
Lcorn
Denofors, she who bathes in the light of the stars, died. L’lorne wept for a moment, holding the still
hand of her mother. The hand of one of
the priests pressed itself against her shoulder and pulled slightly. The hut began to empty as the rituals of
passing were beginning.
Tears
welled up in her eyes as she moved outside, followed by the crowd of family and
friends. L’lorne leaned up against a
nearby pole and let her tears come. She
didn't break down into hysterics, but she cried anyway, weeping long and
hard. It was only when her eldest
brother, Mcorn Gunah, approached her that she pulled back on the tears to try
to greet him with a smile as best she could.
“Damn you,”
Gunah growled back at her, and grabbed her wrist with such a tight grip that
she almost instantly lost circulation in her hand. For a moment she was surprised, but the next
instant was nearly pure instinct. L’lorne
spun her hand around and grabbed his wrist back, then twisted it up and over,
braking his grip and forcing his arm behind his back. He squealed for a moment in pain as she
pushed him down to his knees.
“Don't ever
do that again,” L’lorne responded with a sudden flood of anger.
“I'll kill
you traitor!”
“Gunah, L’lorne!” The familiar, if older, voice of her younger
brother was enough to convince L’lorne to break her hold and Gunah snapped back
up into a fighting stance. “I said
enough!”
“She's a
traitor Phulan,” Gunah started to argue.
“Go home
Gunah,” Mcorn Phulan ordered. “I will
come get you when it's time for the burial.”
“But. . .”
“Go home
now.”
Gunah
turned from his brother and glared at L’lorne.
“I will kill you for what you did to father, I swear it.” With that he stormed off, heading for the far
end of the village.
L’lorne
watched with wary eyes, then took a deep breath. “I knew neither of you would be happy to see
me, but I didn't think. . .”
“Father,”
Phulan said without looking at L’lorne.
“Gunah blames you for what happened to father.”
L’lorne studied her brother's
form, far older than she last remembered him, but still younger than
herself. She saw her father's stern
frame and face, and her mother's eyes and nose, and most of all she saw the
markings that once was her father alone.
“You took his position.”
Phulan
still didn't look at L’lorne, instead he focused on the people selling things
in the nearby market. “I had to. Father was so angry when you left, he and
Gunah went off to look for you. Someone
had to fill his role, and with mother's help I did.” He finally looked up at L’lorne, directly
into her eyes. “I wanted to go looking
for you too. I was young, but I
understood enough to know that you shouldn't have just left like that. I wanted you back.”
“I had to,
he promised to teach me. . .”
“All about
the stars, I know,” Phulan finished.
“Mother told me, explained it to me as best she could. Father refused to accept it.” Suddenly his face grew very sad. “He died while looking for you, three winters
after you left. An accident, but Gunah
blamed you. He still does.”
“I'm
sorry.”
“For
what? Father was a hot headed fool. If he had just let you go, he'd still be alive. He couldn't let his pride go though, and kept
at it.” Phulan shifted his weight from
one foot to the other. “Gunah will kill
you if you stay too long. He is a
warrior now, in charge of one of the stronger groups. They will come for you as soon as the burial
is over and there is nothing I can do to stop them.”
“Yes, I understand.” L’lorne reached out for her brother, but he
stepped back.
“Good bye L’lorne.” Phulan turned and left without another word.
L’lorne
stood there and felt the tears coming again.
They were flowing when his hand landed gently on her shoulder. “Not the welcoming you were expecting?”
“He didn't
even want to touch me. Gunah I
understand that, but Phulan, we were so close.”
“Perhaps
that's why, and maybe he'll change his mind before we leave.”
L’lorne
shook her head as she wiped the tears away.
“I don't think so.” She began to
look around the small section of the village they were in, trying to find
something, anything, that could distract her from the pain. The small market stand seemed busy as usual,
and she watched with waning interest as the farmer bartered for tools and
clothing. All this seemed completely
normal, but with a sniff, L’lorne looked closer. “Something is wrong.”
“Oh?”
The baskets
of grain looked alright, but the grain was strange, not quite right. Her eyes moved down to the next stand, and
found something similar. She then looked
up at the mounds that dominated the village, and looked at the various temples
and buildings. All seemed normal, looked
normal, but something was definitely wrong.
“I can see that there's something wrong.
But I can't figure out what.”
“I wouldn't
expect you to see that yet. In a few
more years, maybe, but not now.”
“What is
it? Tell me, please.”
“Very
well.” He took a breath, then let his
smile fade away. “This place is dying.”
The phrase
was enough to put all the pieces together and she began weeping again. “No, it can't die. I can't let this happen.”
“Stopping
it would be hard, especially with the way they feel about you right now.”
“I have to,
this is my home, these are my people, I have to help them.”
“Then I
will help you, however,” he raised his hand to make his point. “There will be another problem in the
future. Remember chess?” L’lorne nodded, her hand instinctively going
to the T sharped piece of twisted metal that hung from her neck. “The people who invented that game are coming
here. They will play to win, but I don't
think anyone else on this continent will be able to stand up to them.”
“My people
can.”
“Perhaps,
perhaps.”
---------
Questions
1. What kind of person is Lcorn Llorne? What does she look like (in your mind)?
2. What kind of person is the Deborah Ignigus? What does she look like (in your mind)?
3. Does the setting seem fitting? Would you like to know more?
4. It's obvious, but I'm not sure I can move the second section and still have the story flow right, but if moving it might be best, say so.
