Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [75]
“Wait, Ruk,” a voice said. “Wait and watch and be patient. Patience is your gift.” The implication, Ruk now understood, was that he had no other gifts. This, at least, had penetrated his dim understanding in the intervening … centuries? Millennia? Ruk began to calculate, but then realized that he should not let himself be distracted from the memory.
Who had spoken? he wondered. Watch and wait for what? And where did they all go, those others?
Something new rose up out of the veiling mists, cloaked as if enclosed in a bubble, and then it burst on the surface of his memory: a name. Qoz.
It was Qoz who had spoken. With a flash of insight, Ruk realized that Qoz was angry, angrier even than Ruk. Ruk admired that about Qoz. But Qoz could also think, he could plan. He could do everything except … What?
Ruk sensed that this was important. It meant something. The pieces were coming together. Something was about to happen… . Not everything fades, Ruk thought as the image coalesced. I do not fade.
And then Ruk heard a sound.
This was a rare occurrence, but not unknown. This world he lived on was dying, but it was not yet dead. There were no animals, no plants, nothing sentient, but there was an atmosphere of sorts, there was some water (though not much) and, of course, there was time. A great weight of time. Time took its toll on everything, even rock and steel. Even minds.
But he could not be distracted from … what? The sound. What was the sound?
Something was … moving. Purposefully. It was … it was …
Walking.
Someone was walking toward him.
Ruk recognized the sound of rustling cloth and respiration, the soft whoosh-swoosh of breath. Ruk opened his eyes and suddenly realized he had made a mistake. He had allowed himself to become distracted. The memory—the name—had fled.
It was the fault of walker, this intruder. Ruk decided that he disliked the sound of respiration, that he had always disliked it. It was the sound of the Old Ones.
He wanted to stand up (he was standing up) and glide forward (he could move very silently if he wished) and reach out (small bits of crushed stone that had been stuck to his skin dropped to the ground) and crush …
He stopped.
No. He had been waiting for something. Perhaps this is what he had been waiting for.
Ruk walked slowly, careful not to make any noise. He knew every crack, every pebble on this path. They were encoded in his memory banks. At this level, this close to the surface, all the paths wound through narrow tunnels that periodically branched off to the left or right into chambers or more tunnels. Farther down, the paths were gouged into the cliff face, some of them perilously narrow. If Ruk was inclined to think about such things, he might have wondered why these avenues existed and where they led, but he was not. He never delved down past a certain level, never passed through a particular door, and never asked himself why. Someday it might become important, but not yet.
The darkness was complete, but that was irrelevant; Ruk navigated by memory.
“Hello?” a voice called. “Is someone there?” It was pitched too high, this voice. Ruk clenched his fists and the few small bits of rock that still clung there bit into his skin.
“I … I’m hurt,” the voice continued. “I need help. And the others … I think they’re …” The voice cracked, then resumed. “Please, our ship crashed. Is someone there?” There came a flash of light and Ruk winced. It had been a long time since he had seen light. Ruk listened carefully and decided that the intruder was not lying. He was dragging one of his legs behind him and his breath was coming in ragged gasps.
Another flash of light. Ruk turned his head away and closed his eyes tightly. He recalled from memory the layout of this section of the city ( City? some distant voice asked) and decided that the intruder had found his way into one of the secondary tunnels that branched off the main thoroughfare from the surface tunnel. How had he gotten through the main airlock? Hadn’t it been sealed? Or, wait, no … Hadn’t Ruk left it open intentionally? Hadn’t he