The Bird and The Dragon
The Daughter of the Forest: Part 1

11-344 The Pit

A single sock forgotten in the bottom of a saddlebag was the only clue of Khiandri’s presence. The sock was dirty and dried wrinkly, but it was of her size and knitted in the ainadu style. No one had seen a woman like her entering the complex commonly called the Pit. There was no estimate on when the saddlebags had appeared, which was unusual for the security measures were tight.

“She is already in,” Ikanji said. They were sitting in a waiting room on the first level, waiting for Esrau to return from visiting his commander. The room was not locked, but the corridor was guarded.

“She’ll be caught,” Kvenrei said. Talking about Khiandri with Ikanji felt uncomfortable.

“I’ll go and replace her. I have always wanted to see this place,” Ikanji said.

“That would be an extremely stupid move,” Patrik pointed out.

Ikanji smiled devilishly. “Sharp analysis of the situation, youngster. However, I am the one who already died stupidly, so forecasting my future actions to fall in the spectrum of idiocy is a viable option.”

“On the personal level I have no opinion, but don’t risk our visit,” Jenet said smiling thinly.

Patrik shook his head and Bladewater set down the notebook she had been studying. “We will wait here. Khiandri is capable of taking care of herself,” Bladewater said.

“Too capable. I fear she will cause trouble.” Ikanji rose to his feet. He was unarmed and wearing clothes that resembled nothing the southerners used to wear; an ice-blue jacket reaching his thighs, tight dark blue trousers, and the black shoes, now cleaned from the mud of the travel.

“In that case, I’ll join you,” Jenet said.

Kvenrei stood and held his father’s arm. “No, sit down. We are visitors in a place full of the nocturna.”

“But Khiandri is not a legal visitor, and she only thinks about Marci.” Ikanji walked to the door.

“We’ll have a little chat outside,” Kvenrei said reaching for a light tone, but his mood darkened when Jenet followed them. He didn’t want to leave Khiandri to be found by Ikanji, but Jenet’s presence was even worse. Bladewater sighed and continued her reading.

”I’ll try to trust their common sense, but I have more faith in my soldiers’ capability to prevent them from trespassing into places they are not allowed,” Esrau said dryly. He had returned to pick up Bladewater, for his commander Wratski wanted to talk with the navigator.

“But we are allowed in the area?” Patrik ensured.

“On a limited area and those three will replace it out. The commander specifically wanted Bladewater, she is interested to hear your ideas about the dragon. Strategej, follow us. You will speak only if you are spoken to.”

Patrik agreed and Esrau walked them out and to a stone building with practical architecture.

The complex had been constructed in the ruins of an ancient building, utilizing its structures. The outcome was a combination of the straight street lines sloping downwards in the middle of the organic shapes of the buildings. The ancient arches sunk into the ground and most living spaces were underground. The security was well organized and they had passed two checkpoints upon arrival. Esrau wore his black uniform and the soldiers he passed saluted him.

Patrik saw the nocturna as a well-trained military unit, but the complex also housed ordinary humans, all civilians, and children were among them. The commander occupied the corner room in the stone building. Its square paneling was inlaid with different wood species. The dark desk and a few chairs were accompanied by two cupboards. There was a table in front of the windows, laden with various potted plants, some flowering.

Kvenrei pressed himself flat against the uneven wall between Ikanji and Jenet. The steps they had heard faded and somewhere a door closed. The old strategej got along with Jenet, even if he had killed him. It was like both recognized and accepted a common set of rules. Together the two remains of the past world, a memory and another, which Kvenrei still couldn’t classify, had proceeded across the area, found a doorway leading underground, and entered like it all was but a game.

The corridor floor was dusty, and their steps marked the first meters with wet tracks. Anytime earlier Kvenrei would have been overjoyed to jump into this kind of adventure, even with his father, but now he felt like the only responsible adult available.

“You have now seen this place. We really should return.”

“Let’s explore a little further,” Ikanji said walking into the darkness. They had no illumination and the strategej walked with his dragon sight. Kvenrei took Jenet’s arm and kept another hand on the wall navigating the dark.

The corridor was uneven, the sloping floor had cracks and fallen material. Kvenrei counted them passing two closed doors and a shaggy metal bridge. The sounds had a distorted echo and sometimes there were distant steps, words, and the noises of flowing water. Jenet stopped Kvenrei. “Stairs. Downwards.”

Kvenrei’s feet found the steps and his hand hit a slot on the wall, a fixing point for a rail rotten away. The slot had oily dust rolling under his fingers like peeling skin.

The air turned more humid and eventually, there was a faint light. Kvenrei had already lost his sense of direction and depth, but Ikanji seemed confident.

“Let’s see where that light comes from and then we’ll leave,” Kvenrei whispered looking at Jenet for support.

“But this is what you have always wanted,” Ikanji said, his blue eyes serene. “To travel with me, as an equal. I am glad you are here.”

Kvenrei hadn’t looked for his father’s approval since his teenage years. It had taken both years and witnessing the growth of his children to accept that he resembled his father in many aspects. Kvenrei knew he had his father’s nose and eyes, but they also shared the same hedonism and the same weak conscience, even the same taste in women. Kvenrei watched the man, whom the dragon had built along Ikanji’s memories. The pale light colored his hair almost white.

“I am proud that you were my dad.” It was difficult to say, but the past years of continually showing love and tenderness to little Meina had made such actions easier. “I wanted to be a better son.”

“You were yourself. Thanks for introducing the kids to me.” Ikanji squeezed his son’s wrist and turned to follow Jenet, who had wandered forward. The doorway was nailed shut with loosely fitted planks. Behind them was a corridor with a high roof, almost like a natural crevice, its rough walls covered with roots guided by metal pipes.

Some of the roots grew wildly, spreading along the pipes and the other roots, branching into smaller roots until they disappeared. Other roots were guided to grow downwards and cut to a set length. These ends were capped, and the caps had valves attached. Some of the roots had overgrown their clamps and the valves protruded among the growth like metal tumors. The light came from the uneven spots hidden behind the roots.

Commander Wratski was an old nocturna, whose age showed in the lightning-shaped patterns in her dark skin. In nocturna, these signed the age, not a spore infection. Her hair was bluish grey like the frozen steel and in the darkness of her eyes swam blue shapes, like the shadows of veins. The commander stood by the windows, plucking dead leaves from the plants while listening to Bladewater’s report on meeting the dragon.

“Which implies a phased hit was enough to suppress it to a defensive state.” Wratski’s voice was like her movements; purposeful, controlled, and confident.

“I think so, madam commander,” Bladewater was unsure of the title.

“Indicating our weaponry will penetrate its defenses. This is excellent information, thank you navigator Bladewater.” Wratski rolled the leaves into a ball in her palm.

“Only navigator, commander. I am navigator Thomms and Bladewater anh Abyss, please don’t mix these two.”

“My apologies, Navigator. Anh Abyss, you are from the dark seas?”

“Affirmative. That honorary is given to all the navigators who have passed the rituals.”

“Fascinating. And the ainadu believe the dragon body will not leave the orbit?”

“So I have understood. But madam commander, please don’t try to destroy the dragon,” Bladewater said. Esrau stood motionless.

“An interesting proposition, Navigator. What makes you to say so?”

“It is the only reliable access to the orbit. The lifts can’t be operated from the ground level.”

Wratski walked to her table and dropped the dead plant parts into the rubbish bin. “We don’t fraternize with the enemy. The alien artificial will not be trusted. The only action is to destroy it.”

“But what happens after? We are stuck in Watergate surface,” Esrau said.

“The answer is simple, captain. We will stay, we will wait, and we will be ready if they return.”

The corridor showed marks of regular use; there were two sturdy tables with glassware and scattered measurement devices. The furniture and the floor were tarnished by chemicals and a hook pushed in a root supported an apron, few gloves, and goggles with blue lenses.

Jenet turned in a random direction when the corridor branched. The root-covered walls made the shapes irregular and difficult to figure. Some of the corridors were only short dead-ends, others were filled by the roots.

“What is that?” Jenet suddenly asked gesturing towards Kvenrei. They stood in the dim light, where the roots were dark and covered in fine, silvery hairs like a shroud wrapped around them. The roots had grown around the pipes in the wall hugging them tightly and only a few areas showed visible metal.

Kvenrei saw nothing, but Ikanji’s eyes narrowed. “Take cover,” he said throwing himself to a smaller corridor. Jenet was already on the move diving into a pit behind the roots. Kvenrei followed his father.

“Someone marked you,” Ikanji said watching around warily, showing a set of old hand signals towards Jenet. Kvenrei interpreted them as proceeding or circling.

“What does it mean?”

“The last time I saw those was when we fought in a cave system below the hot segment. There is a mark in you, a tracer to guide tiny missiles that will explode your head.” Ikanji spoke with a forced calm.

“Take it away!”

”That’s the trick. If I mess up the signal they will immediately fly here.”

“Wasn’t it best to leave then?” Khiandri said from somewhere up.

“Khi, dear, don’t do this to Kvenrei,” Ikanji asked.

“Leave the Pit. Leave my and my daughter’s life, and your son will live.” Khiandri’s tone was freezing.

“She is my daughter too. Is Marci here? I’d like to see her,” Ikanji continued softly.

“You would have locked me and her in your estate to drive your agenda.”

“I did wrong, Khiandri. I had lost my mind as you know. For me, it was decades ago, and I have changed. I would only like to see my daughter.”

“I vowed not to allow you to steal her,” Khiandri chuckled bitterly.

“I have nothing to do with this and I am willing to retreat,” Kvenrei said. He couldn’t see the woman.

“Sorry, I had to use you. Your father is a calculative bastard, but he has a soft spot in…” The words were cut short by a grunt, a bump, and the noises of splitting wood. Ikanji stepped back to the main corridor. There was movement on the wall, where Jenet and Khiandri were falling from a root-covered cliff locked in a fight.

The four-meter drop was a quick slide between the roots, along the wall. During this time the pair hit the roots, rolled over, and crashed into the floor, Khiandri was on the bottom, but Jenet was facing away from her, the woman’s fingers pulling his collar into a suffocating hold, a fine example of a wardrobe malfunction, but the collar ripped and Jenet rushed away. Khiandri tried to follow, but her leg was stuck between the roots.

Ikanji picked a matte black piece of plastic from the floor and pushed the buttons on both sides. Khiandri cursed and tried in vain to free her leg and Jenet stood, a knife in his left hand. The right one was limp.

“Enough, Khi,” Ikanji said calmly.