Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [158]
Exhausted, Nira wanted to sink into the oblivion of sleep and hide there until the gale was over, but she dared not, for fear that she would lose her grip. Drowning in a deep lake far from any forest would be a terrible end for a green priest. She longed to set foot onshore again, to find trees and plants—and a way back to Theroc.
She told herself again, I can endure this…
Morning came with the murky darkness of lingering rain clouds in the sky, but the worst of the storm had passed and the choppy waves calmed. She was delighted to see a smear of brown land, cast into relief by the light of the rising sun on the horizon. At first she was afraid the currents and the wind had hurled her back to her isolated island, but the shoreline extended too straight and too far. This must be a main continent.
She began to paddle furiously. Helpful winds gusted now, so she adjusted her sail and rode the breezes toward the ever-growing line of solid land. It took her most of the day to reach shore, and as she approached she surveyed the brown and rocky landscape with dismay. A bleak nothingness stretched as far as she could see.
With a knot in her stomach, Nira thought briefly that she might have been better off remaining a prisoner on her lush island, but then she chided herself. She had made a choice to fight back and disrupt the Designate’s plans in any way possible, even if she had to die to do so.
When her raft finally reached the brown, sandy slope, she stumbled off the wet logs and fell to her knees on the beach, just appreciating the firmness of earth beneath her again. Her legs were wobbly, but she drew a deep breath and felt the energy cycling through her skin.
Straining and panting, she dragged her raft high up onto dry ground and anchored it, though she didn’t know why. She never intended to use the raft again—certainly not to go back to her island, even if she could have navigated her way there.
Finally she shaded her eyes to look into the distance as far as she could see. Behind her lay the open water, and ahead—no matter how barren and daunting the landscape appeared—was her path. She would find her destination out there somewhere.
Leaving the shore behind, Nira began to walk forward.
Chapter 80 — ANTON COLICOS
When the sudden, suffocating blackness engulfed Maratha Prime, panic and disbelief set in simultaneously. The thirty-seven Ildiran workers drew a collective breath, as if anticipating the fall of an executioner’s axe. Anton heard a skitter of wavering footsteps and the clatter of dishes as groping, frightened hands searched for something to hold on to. The lens kithman, Ilure’l, cried out, as if hoping to call back the last glimmers of escaping photons that ricocheted off the crystalline walls and then passed through, vanishing into the gulf of darkness.
“What are we going to do?” cried someone else. Mhas’k? Anton couldn’t identify the speaker.
Though startled and disoriented, Anton pushed away from the table, willing himself to maintain his composure. “I guess a fuse must have blown.” His voice sounded eerie and disembodied. “Calm down, everyone.”
“Where is my engineer?” the voice of the Designate shrilled, then cracked with anxiety. “What is his name again?”
“Nur’of, Designate.” The thin voice of Bhali’v.
Finally, Vik’k, one of the diggers, ignited a handheld emergency blazer he kept with him for work in the tunnels. A gasp of relief rippled through the clustered Ildirans. They crowded close to the somber digger, inadvertently blocking the glow from the others.
“What happened? Who did this?” Designate Avi’h demanded.
“It’s the Shana Rei! They’ve descended upon us.” It was Ilure’l again; Anton thought the well-educated lens kithman should have known better.
“Come on now, don’t be silly.” He turned to Vao’sh, who sat in shock. “I guess maybe we shouldn’t tell any more frightening stories today.”
“Yes, Rememberer Anton, that would be wise.”
Another broad-shouldered digger fumbled out a second emergency blazer from his pack, doubling the