3. Patterns of Light

The malinite cave echoed with the thrumming of volcanic fissures untold thousands of meters below her. Heat and steam and noxious vapors filled her nose, assaulting her at every moment.

In the center of a series of stalactites, Gaelbhan practiced the standing meditation known as Seitei-gata iaido, and though her senses were assailed from without, her mind did not wander from the form of the meditation or the two bright spots of light in her mind. Five other lights danced around the other two, deep red and black. They were growing stronger, closer, and soon would fill her entire mind.

Her sisters had come to Amamake with uninvited guests it seemed. She twisted to the left with her upper body as the Seitei-gata iaido continued, her legs crouching as she swept upward to form the completing circle. Had it been truly one year now?

One year ago, on the headlands of the Amarr Salten Sea, she had escaped the trap set by Daison Kador.

She had escaped his compound on the Salten Sea, bypassing the guards and the slaver hounds with more success than she had in trying to escape his pistol.

He had shot her, and the wound would not stop bleeding. Only the sea’s wind smacking her face kept her conscious, and she took the time to perform the standing meditation there on the headlands despite her wound, despite the slaver hounds still on her trail.

In her mind, and along her entire bruised and bleeding body she felt strength coming to her from another Matari, keeping her alive, a Matari close by on the headlands. She had run up into the forested cliffs semi-conscious, seeking this source of energy, but her wounds clouded her mind.

Finding no one, she used the standing meditation to calm her thoughts and stabilize her body so she could locate the Matari who was sharing this energy. Slowly her mind weaved that source into a ball of light she could feel inside like warm apple ale, then immediately into a location and a name and a reason.

Airgoidh.

Airgoidh, who it so happened was her sister-by-blood.

This woman had appeared in her dreams for many years, at first nebulous in both image and emotion, but growing more intense over the years. A face became more visible, but always in a fog.

Despite the pain and exhaustion, the bright orb that was her sister demanded attention. Her legs and arms began to tighten sympathetically as the energy her sister was providing to her began to fail. She must hurry. She did not understand how her sister was doing this, and she did not believe her sister even knew what was happening to her.

She had come to Sehmy at the request of Daison, and she felt it her obligation to answer his Right of Retribution. He was Amarrian, but he still had earned that Right. She had killed his mother after all, her owner, when she was ten.

He had also added to his message that he knew the location of her sister, as added incentive for her coming to Sehmy – such tricks were an Amarrian’s typical fare. She needed no further reason other than to honor his Right of Retribution. She had dismissed his lies about her having a sister.

On the headlands, a year ago, she realized he had been telling the truth.

The standing meditation ended, and Gaelbhan came out of it’s completion. The memory of that day a year ago faded, the treachery of Daison, the rescue of her sister-of-blood from her owner, all replaced again by the stench of the malinite caves. In her mind, the seven lights were very close now.

She gripped the lance in her hands, the same lance she had taken from her sister's enslaver. Very close.

**

Airgoidh pressed against the boulder under the palest moonlight she had ever seen. The wind had faded somewhat in intensity up here in the outcroppings, and though the moons were high and bright, only the tiniest bit of light fell to ground because of the dusty air. The Amarrians continued to fire blindly in her general direction, scorching rocks and laughing.

"Come out, Matari. Save yourself a load of trouble."

"She's going to get away," another said. "Spread out and find her." It was her Amarri pilot from Osoggur.

She heard them climbing rocks now. Though she could not be seen nor could she see them, one of them was coming up to her – she had placed her palms against the boulder, feeling his progress, calculating how long it would take for him to reach her. He was very close when the rock under her palms and under her feet grew extremely warm. She lurched outward into the path of the Amarr as the rocks became burning hot.

"There you are! Don't move." His pistol leveled to her chest, barely a meter from her. She could only look at her hands, red from the intense heat. "Hey! What's the matter? Heat stroke?"

The pilot laughed, then he too looked down at his feet, yelping. A shadow jumped from a high boulder, dropping in front of the Amarr, pushing him backwards down the rocky hillside.

Pistols fired and a hand grabbed hers as they ran back into the outcropping. Deep red hair flowed behind this woman, and though Airgoidh did not recognize her, she followed. This was not Gaelbhan, but the woman was running from the Amarr and that was good enough for her.

The outcropping became a maze of miniature canyons, and they turned into endless openings until they reached the farthest side of the malinite rock pile. Airgoidh extracted her hand, and the woman turned.

"I am RageChild," she said as Airgoidh stared. "They are still following us, so we can't rest here long."

"You are . . . I’ve seen your face." Airgoidh reached slowly toward the woman, reached upward past the dark somber clothing to touch this Matari woman’s face. "I have seen your image in my mind. I have dreamed about you, yes, I'm sure of it."

The woman calling herself RageChild chuckled, but seeing Airgoigh scowl she waved her hand dismissively. "Do not be angry at me. I laugh only because you have a very strong Amarrian accent.” Then, “You are not the first person I know who has talked of dreams in that way.”

Airgoidh looked back along the canyon they had just exited. Pistol fire in the distance, maybe 200 meters. "What happened back there? I felt intense heat . . . I . . . I remember! Amarr lance!"

RageChild nodded. "Yes, a lance and a well aimed one. Someone else is here with us in these rocks." She looked up along the canyon walls. "I hadn't really intended on jumping down on the Amarr. I was about to fire on him when my feet became very hot, so I had to jump."

Looking at Airgoidh, "Your enslaver punished you with the lance. That is how you know of it."

She did not answer in the affirmative, and for what reason?

Instead she stepped out into the sands. The moons were closer to their horizons now, and the light was fading, but it would be morning in a few hours. She pointed along the wall of the outcropping, and the two continued their journey. "My sister is over there now."

RageChild nodded. "Yes, I know."

"You are also seeking my sister? Why?"

"Old business made anew. I am late of the Sect of the Ra."

Dawn broke as the two hurried toward the single multi-hued light that grew in their minds. These lights had always been with them, as children, as slaves and as adults.

Airgoidh had come to treaure the lights, for they always gave her a sense of location, of place and distance, but this other Matari woman had the same ability. Who was she? She had said she was Paratwa.

“You were with my sister in Sect of the Ra?”

“Yes, we joined the Sect at roughly the same time. We both discovered quickly over the few weeks that we were part of the Sect that what we wanted was not there.”

They were on the leeward side of the outcropping when the dawn broke for them as a pale pink light out to the horizon. Airgoidh felt a sandstorm coming, but perhaps not for another day.

“What were you seeking that you did not find with those ghosts?”

“Union.” RageChild answered. “But I am surprised you call them ghosts. You are Paratwa as well. I can sense it, very clearly.”

A desert bird skittered out from rocks above them, and they ducked into a narrow fissure just as pistol fire scorched the soil where they had just stood in the dawn's light.

Airgoidh pulled RageChild through the fissure, the malinite rock tearing at their clothing as they squeezed through tight spaces. More pistol fire, then heavy breathing of at least one Amarr who followed them.

Airgoidh felt the cool air hit her before she fell through a tight opening between two boulders, RageChild stumbling in behind her. The circular canyon, barely twenty meters wide, opened straight into the sky. Several other paths led into this roundabout, but all of them were covered by the Amarr, waiting, pistols raised.

**

Zayard and about a dozen others made their way out the malinite network, affectionately called the Screaming Blades. He had hoped the other settlers wouldn't have been so interested, but any salvage was good salvage out here in the wastes of Amamake VI. He carried the lead though, by about ten minutes. The five Amarr punishers sat idle near the wreckage of a Matari vessel, the sand scorched black from the old girl's landfall.

He moved in a circular path around the punishers, keeping them between him and the malinite network. He could see up into the outcropping, but anyone looking back toward him would see only the lights of the ships glaring back at them. The moons weren’t bright, but the sand in the air was still pretty thick - little of the light made its way down to them.

The first to reach the battered Matari vessel, Zayard headed straight into the cockpit area.

Even used gel-pack was valuable, making great insulation from the heat. The others came up behind him, and were starting to drop choice items into their packs when pistol shots caught their attention.

"Always like Amarri to shoot up the place," one of the others said, drawing laughter.

"That's a good one, Joz," another replied, slapping the big Brutor on the back. "When was it that you didn't bring along your pistol, heh?"

The Brutor smiled, and slapped the other one back, knocking the Matari on his butt. "I've never gone without it. Or my sense of humor either."

Zayard knew that to be truth of his age. Time was when Brutors would just blow up untended Amarri ships, or at least do some awful deed to the cockpit to the surprise of the returning pilot. Matar’s Hell, he had done the same in his day.

More pistol shots caused the others to wander back to the settlement, but Zayard watched with little interest in joining them. The Amarr were hunting a Matari in those malinite rocks, and he wanted to know why. He reached down into his boot, and extracted a pistol. Joz wasn't the only one who never left home without one.

The wind was beginning to pick up, and perhaps tomorrow another sandstorm.

cont...