Chapter 34: The Mother Returned
Dorian came through water and landed badly. One boot sank into wet earth. His knee followed. He caught himself with both hands before the rest of him joined them. Professional as ever.
Liana emerged behind him, then Toren. Both stayed upright.
Dorian wiped mud from his hands and looked up. Morning. That did not fit. He checked his watch. It disagreed with the sky. Time in the Drommala world had not passed here in the same way. Whether they had lost hours or gained them, he had no idea.
The air felt heavier too. Rain cooled the ground while steppe heat already pushed through the damp soil. The forest smelled of wet bark and leaves. After the clean air of the Drommala world, everything felt crowded again. Familiar, though. They had crossed close to the Steppe Outpost where they had left the horses. Ineya had already recognised Liana and was pulling against her tether.
Dorian turned back. A shallow puddle lay behind them, perhaps two metres across. Rainwater filled a depression in the earth and reflected the pale sky. Its edges were already shrinking.
“So that was it,” he murmured. “Rain again, as on the island. Unknown gods forbid a Wander Mirror remain somewhere reliable.”
Movement beside the Outpost shelter caught his attention. The two guards had seen them. Recognition came first. Then both stopped. Their attention fixed on Dorian’s face. One reached for his weapon.
Dorian frowned. “What?”
“Your eyes,” Liana said.
Ah. Still mirrors, then.
“He is unharmed,” she called. “The Mother spoke through him.”
The guards paused.
Then the puddle moved. A vast blue-and-copper head rose through the reflection, her long trunk lifting after it. Then the rest of the Mother Drommala followed, her enormous body emerging through water that should not possibly have held her. The puddle widened beneath her.
The guards froze. Then both dropped to their knees, gripping the mirror amulets at their chests and lowering their heads.
The Mother stepped clear. Behind her, the puddle began shrinking again.
A few seconds earlier, the men had been guarding horses. Now the oldest sacred story of their folk stood in front of them. That appeared to settle all questions.
The Mother walked only a short distance towards the open steppe before stopping. One moment she was moving. The next she was completely still. Her eyes closed.
Dorian waited. The meaning reached him through reflection.
The land has not accepted me yet.
“She will wait here,” Dorian said aloud. “The land has not accepted her yet.”
His voice sounded like his own this time. Same tone. Same polish. Waiting for the Mother’s meaning first and speaking after seemed to leave more of him intact than when she spoke through him at once.
Liana bowed her head. Toren did the same. Neither questioned it. The Mother lowered herself onto the ground.
One guard remained kneeling beside her. The other rose, moved the horses farther from the water and checked the approach to the Outpost. Then he disappeared into the shelter and returned with a hooded steppe eagle on his arm and a narrow message tube in his hand.
Liana dictated. “The Mother Drommala has returned. She rests at the Forest border.”
The guard wrote quickly, sealed the message in the tube and fastened it to the eagle’s leg. When he removed the hood, the bird spread its wings and climbed over the steppe. Dorian watched until it became a dark mark against the sky. Efficient. Much better than bureaucracy.
Liana went straight to Ineya. The mare pushed against her while Liana checked her legs, hooves and tack. Toren did the same with his horse. Both animals seemed perfectly content with having spent the journey somewhere sensible.
Liana borrowed a bow from the guard. She tested it, checked the string, then started circling the edge of the Outpost. The guard joined her after a while, watching the forest line and open steppe.
Toren had meanwhile decided that an ancient creature the size of a house required additional protection.
He began with a Steppe ward. Then came a Forest one. Herbs burned in shallow dishes around the Mother while Toren murmured spells and placed warning charms.
He kept going.
The Mother opened one eye. Dorian looked away before either of them accused him of smiling.
By early afternoon the ground had dried. Toren had also exhausted every protection he could reasonably justify. He still needed to return to the Pain Monastery. Whatever time had passed here, Aren might have learned something useful by now. Waiting beside the border would not improve the report.
Liana opened her pack and took out the folded Acalith map. “Take this too. Ask Aren about the runes.”
Toren accepted it, checked the markings and tucked the map into his bag. “Anything else?”
“Come back in one piece.”
He smiled.
Toren approached the Mother and knelt on one knee. “Mother Drommala. I ask permission to leave your presence and travel to the Pain Monastery. I will return as soon as I can.”
The Mother moved her trunk by a few inches. At the same time, her answer touched Dorian through reflection. “She agrees.”
Toren bowed his head. “Thank you.”
Dorian was already unpacking Lucky. The machine unfolded with a hiss of steam and several sharp clicks. He opened the fuel slot and inserted a compressed-fuel capsule.
Then he handed Toren a small box. “More capsules. You should not need them. If the indicator turns from yellow to orange, add one.”
Toren took the box.
Dorian brought up the navigation display. “Two destinations. First is the monastery. Second is Tavra Sol. This switches between them.”
“I know.”
“This releases manual control.”
“I know.”
Dorian pointed to another control. “This you do not touch.”
Toren suppressed a smile. “You have explained this before.”
Dorian checked the fuel display again. Then the route line. “The autopilot will take you directly to the monastery. Do not interfere unless something blocks the route.”
“I understand.”
“This is for emergency landing. If you land manually, keep the nose slightly raised.”
“I know.”
There was nothing else left for Dorian to explain. Annoying.
Liana had returned to the horses. The patrolling guard watched the forest line. The other was still kneeling near the Mother.
Toren stepped closer and kissed Dorian. Quick. Warm. Gone almost immediately. The familiar scent of herbs and skin stayed after he stepped back. Dorian went hard almost at once. Appalling timing.
“Safe road.” Dorian’s voice dropped.
Privately, he informed Lucky that if anything happened to Toren, he would burn the brass bastard to the ground.
“Thalen ven, sael var,” Toren said in Old Forest. Then he added in the common tongue, “Walk the path. Return safely.”
Toren secured his bags, climbed onto Lucky and started the engine. The machine lifted from the drying earth, turned towards the forest and accelerated. Dorian watched until the brass shape disappeared between the trees. He kept watching.
The Mother noticed.
You fear for the healer.
“I fear for my machine.”
Before he had quite finished speaking, he felt the answer leave him through reflection. Dorian went still. That was new. He had spoken from habit, but he had not needed to. Her thought had come through reflection. His answer had gone back the same way. No borrowed voice. No pressure in his skull.
The Mother’s amusement touched the connection.
Machine?
“My ugly flying bird.”
No living warmth from it.
“Correct. It is not alive.”
It moves. Sorcery?
“In my world we call it science.”
The Mother slowly moved her tail.
Liana checked the horses, the horizon, the forest, then the Mother. A few minutes later she repeated the entire sequence.
The Mother spoke to Dorian again.
The hunter believes danger waits until she looks away.
Dorian glanced at Liana. “She says you are exhausting.”
Liana stopped. “Did she actually say that?”
“Not exactly.”
Her eyes narrowed. Then she looked at the Mother and back at Dorian. “Do you speak to her now?”
“Apparently.”
The usual irritation disappeared. Liana looked at him more carefully. Then she went back towards the forest line.
A gentle pull reached Dorian through the reflection.
Come closer.
Dorian approached the Mother’s flank.
Rest.
He placed one hand against a warm scale and sat down. After a moment, he leaned back against her. The kneeling guard noticed. So did Liana. Both stared longer than Dorian found comfortable. He sincerely hoped nobody intended to start worshipping him by association.
Still, he stayed where he was. For once, properly still. Absurdly, an ancient creature large enough to crush him felt safer than most places he had slept recently.
The Mother remained silent for a while. Then she asked him to tell her about his world.
“Steamhollow?”
Is that what you call it?
“Yes. Steam runs the machines. Smoke everywhere. People everywhere.”
Curiosity passed through the connection.
“You want to see?”
Yes.
Dorian opened a small piece of his memory. Brassville. Chimneys in brown sky. Steam between buildings. Crowded streets. Factory roofs. Lucky flying through the smog.
The Mother lingered over the machines.
Dead creatures that breathe steam.
“They’ve never been alive.”
Dorian let the memory close. “My turn.”
The Mother waited.
“There was another reflective pull. In Auralis. In the river.”
Their connection sharpened.
“At first I thought it was you. I know now it was not. The pull was as strong as yours, but less gentle. Do you know what it might be?”
The Mother paused.
Old. Yes.
“Older than you?”
The answer took longer.
Older. He was old before my line began.
Dorian waited.
The First Reflection. Now people call him the Wise One.
Amusement touched Dorian’s thoughts. “I think he saved us.”
He follows his own path.
Nothing else came. Dorian understood the matter was closed.
After a while, the Mother’s thought reached him again.
Your worlds are loud.
Dorian looked across the nearly empty steppe. “There is hardly anyone here.”
Exactly.
He understood. Not sound. Prayer. Fear. Expectation. People wanting things from her. One guard had remained kneeling beside her all this time, occasionally shifting from one knee to the other.
They kneel too often.
“You object to reverence?”
I object to damaged knees.
Dorian laughed. The kneeling guard glanced up nervously.
“You know, most sacred beings would probably enjoy it.”
The Mother ignored that. Then another thought came.
You stood.
“I was busy bleeding.”
Still. You stood.
Dorian rested his head against the scale. The connection deepened.
You walk where others cannot.
The Mother opened one eye.
Reflection knows you.
Dorian waited for an explanation. None came. He should have expected that by now.
The change came later that afternoon. Dorian felt it through the scale against his back. The Mother opened her eyes.
The land has accepted me.
Dorian straightened. “The land has accepted her.”
Liana was already approaching. She bowed her head. The patrolling guard did the same. The other finally shifted from his knees and rose carefully.
The Mother stood. Dorian expected her to begin the journey towards Tavra Sol. Instead she lifted her trunk towards the sky. A cold drop struck his cheek. Then another. Clouds gathered over the Outpost.
Oh.
Rain fell. Steady and deliberate. It cooled the steppe and darkened the earth. Water gathered around the Mother’s feet. Small pools joined until a broad reflective sheet spread over the ground.
The Mirror Call touched Dorian almost immediately. The Wander Mirror. Again.
Liana understood. She untied Ineya and took the mare by the reins, then passed Toren’s horse to Dorian.
The Mother stepped into the water. Its surface darkened beneath her feet, then lost the sky entirely. The Mother crossed first. Liana followed with Ineya.
Toren’s horse stopped at the edge and stared at the dark reflection. A perfectly reasonable objection.
Dorian tightened his grip on the reins and stepped forward. The horse did not. Dorian touched its neck. “Your objection has been noted and overruled.”
One reluctant step. Then another. The horse followed him into the water. The reflection closed around them.
The Outpost disappeared.