And in that instant, the Weave-whale appeared.
It burst out of nothingness, filling the black abyss, overwhelming them with its sheer scale. The impact of its arrival blasted across the Weave like a detonation, scattering Fahrekh's shoal, buffeting them with a shockwave. Fahrekh managed to hold his coherence, but Kakre tattered away, losing his grip on the Weave, dissipating back into his physical body again.
It was sheer insane fury that saved him. There was no confusion as he was wrenched back to the world of human senses, no hesitation, and no conscious thought involved. Riding a wave of rage, a scream ripping from his throat, he lunged at Fahrekh, drawing his skinning knife from his belt. Fahrekh, stunned by the Weave-whale, was not fast enough to react. Kakre drove the blade beneath his metal Mask, ramming it deep into the soft flesh under his chin, through his palate and up into the front of his brain. The force of it took Fahrekh off his feet, and he collapsed to the floor in a billow of dust with Kakre on top of him. Still screaming, Kakre plunged the knife into Fahrekh's throat and chest again and again, drawing spurts of blood into the air, hacking flesh to moist ribbons. Finally, in one last, disgusted motion, he tore off Fahrekh's Mask and buried the knife up to the hilt in his eye; and after that, he was done.
He slid off the corpse of his enemy, his patchwork robe wet with blood, and lay there for some time, the only sound the laboured wheeze of his breath, slowing and slowing until he fell asleep.
SEVENTEEN
There was a village inside the Forest of Xu.
At least, when they had first laid eyes on it, they had assumed it was a village. They still were not entirely certain even now, as dusk approached on their second day in the forest. It was something so utterly alien to their experience that they had no adequate parallels to draw.
It was built around the existing trees with no apparent boundaries, sprawling up the trunks into the canopy and spreading along the ground in a curiously organic fashion. The constructions were formed of a glistening substance, hard as rock and smooth to the touch, predominantly an icy blue-white, but sometimes shaded brown or green. It had a subtle iridescence and a maddening quality that was not quite translucence but more a chameleon-like mimicry of colour: it seemed to change its hue to whatever lay behind it, depending on where the viewer stood. When Kaiku laid her hand on it, she left a hazy pink imprint which faded after a time.
Tsata, particularly, had been fascinated by how this strange village had been built, and it was he that found the key, and uncovered the secret at least partially. The substance was sap, bled from the trees and hardened through some unknown art into a multitude of shapes. Every construction, no matter how remote, was eventually linked to a tree bole at some point, though no evidence of cutting could be found. And now that they had established this, it was possible to see a certain flow to the architecture, a kind of glacial creep around which offshoots had been moulded with exquisite artistry. Kaiku had the uncomfortable sensation that the village was still growing; indeed, she found evidence of channels in which glistening sap still lay, oozing with excruciating torpidity towards the tips and edges of the existing constructions, which were wet with the stuff. She guessed that this would be moulded and hardened too, in time, to form another offshoot.
The village was an exhibition of dizzying variety. Wide discs buried in the bark of the trees were set in irregular patterns, sometimes growing in size as they ascended, sometimes diminishing. Spiky sprays erupted into the air. Gossamer threads were stitched through the branches, or formed twisting, unsupported bridges that defied physics. Some of the dwellings were like uneven pagodas, others smooth semicircular domes, still others jagged starbursts of colourful sap. Many of them had no visible means of entry. Some were up in the trees: inverted cones of three-quarter circumference growing out from the trunks. Venous tubes like tunnels ran between them, sometimes fracturing into smaller capillaries that tapered away to nothingness as they ran like shatter-cracks along the bark.
Different building styles were evident in different parts of the village, one graduating into another as the eye followed the lines of the dwellings. Some had been sculpted like coral, hulking accretions of sap that branched and overlapped in a dozen different formations and colours; others were thin and needle-like, white clusters of stalagmites rising high overhead; still others were cloudlike and billowing, rounded shapes heaped together like a pile of snowballs.
Kaiku, Asara and Tsata were the first to see it, and it was only afterwards that Tsata pointed out they were probably the first humans ever to have done so. The impact of that had made Kaiku lightheaded, and she had to sit down for a short while.
They had to assume that it was built by the emyrynn, but their only basis for that was the way the creatures had led them here. Once Kaiku and her companions had arrived, the emyrynn disappeared entirely. Upon exploration, there was no sign of life here, nor any indication that anyone or anything had ever occupied these bizarre abodes. Either that, or the inhabitants had deserted this place on their approach, taking everything with them, leaving it preternaturally spotless.
Tsata returned and led the rest of the party to the village. Lucia seemed to believe the spirit-beasts were trustworthy, and they had little alternative but to take her word for it. If that was the case, then had they been provided this place for shelter, somewhere to rest their wounded? Was it possible that these creatures were benevolent rather than hostile? Though many of them suspected a trap, for spirits were notoriously tricky, they settled themselves for the night. The disconcertingly alien surroundings were made more ominous by the eerie quiet and failing light. Doja insisted that they camp in the open and not sleep inside any of the sap-buildings. His men were only too glad to comply.
Neryn was waxing tonight, casting a soothing green light through the interknit branches overhead. Aurus was low in the northern sky, visible only by her glow on the edges of the leaves. Kaiku wandered through the camp amid the restless murmur of the troops, distracted by the architecture. The troops cast unfriendly glances at her. She was alone, and content to be so. Lucia was asleep; Phaeca had also retired, complaining that she felt ill; Tsata and Heth were tending their fallen comrade and would not leave her side.
Kaiku had spotted Asara earlier that evening, leaning against the side of one of the emyrynn dwellings, watching her while she absentmindedly cleaned her rifle. Kaiku, suddenly tired of her manner, had strode over to her to have this out; but she had picked up her rifle and gone before Kaiku got there. Obviously she did not want to talk then.
But now, suddenly, she appeared at Kaiku's side. 'I wish to speak with you,' she murmured.
'And I with you,' Kaiku replied.
'Not here,' said Asara. 'Come with me,'
Kaiku followed as Asara led them away from the camp. The village spread and towered around them, the silent edifice of an unknown species, aloof and impenetrable. They went some way from the camp, until they were sure there was nobody around, and there Asara stopped. For a moment, she did not turn; her shoulders were tight with suppressed emotion. Then she seemed to make a decision, and she faced Kaiku.
Kaiku studied her expectantly. The almond-shaped eyes painted in soft green, the dark skin, the achingly exotic beauty of her all belonged to a stranger, but under that she was still Asara; wonderful, treacherous Asara, whom she loved and hated in equal measure. The woman who had given her life, and taken for it a piece of Kaiku's essence and left a piece of her own, little splinters of desire that had lodged in their hearts and never quite worked free. Each wanted what the other had: that sliver of themselves that had been lost in the transaction.