The Needs of the Many (The Kyroibi Trilogy Book 3) Page 2

  She pushed aside the thought, which was not only distracting from her original purpose for visiting the archives, but also served to reignite the near tangible feeling of emptiness that grew stronger and more painful with each passing hour of Julian’s absence. Instead she turned her focus on Rhymallian, who regarded her with curiosity and concern.

  “I’m afraid I’ve a mystery on my hands, Original Master,” she replied with a smile at the way Rhymallian’s face lit up at the possibility of real research.

  “My assistance is offered freely and with only the boundaries imposed by my tether to this realm.”

  “About that,” Ellie said, momentarily pulled from her own thoughts as a new complication suddenly occurred. “Your manifestation at Ia’na Eidyn said you’d ascended, and yet, a portion of your Abstractive Root remains tethered to the archive. And again, you’re here with me, in a replication of the archive. Are you as well no more than a replication of your manifestation on Ia’na Eidyn? And if so, can your awareness travel between temples?”

  Rhymallian’s eyebrows raised in slight amusement, taken aback not only by her rapid fire speech pattern, but most decidedly by the line of questioning Ellie had broached.

  “To answer at face value that which you ask would be near impossible and I’m afraid not likely satisfactory, but I shall try to do my best to pick from the abstract that which you’ve not voiced, but want most deeply to know,” he replied in a near perfect mimicry of her own rushed vocal pattern.

  “Fair enough, I think.” Ellie bit back an unproductive comment about Eidyssic tendencies toward riddles and eccentricities that she felt incongruous with the logical ideal she’d been led to believe motivated her people.

  Despite her restraint, Rhymallian correctly interpreted her frustrations and graced her with a sympathetic expression.

  “Your father’s tether and mine are not the same,” he said quietly. “What I have sacrificed is but a fraction of my being, left behind to see through and provide guidance to my successors in their journey. What your father risked is by far a greater sacrifice.”

  “But he said he’ll be able to go back,” Ellie noted. Worry colored her words at Rhymallian’s unspoken implications. “He said there are ways to break down the stone and allow for ascension, but that he too would leave behind a part of his abstraction for the archive.”

  “I believe your father has agreed to leave behind an impression only. His experience as the only being to survive prolonged entrapment in a grounding stone will prove to be an invaluable resource. But remember, El’iadrylline, when your father made the decision to forego ascension, he knew he was taking a great risk. He understood there was a strong possibility his root would be lost in the final destruction of his stone.”

  Rhymallian moved toward a cluster of light and held out his hand, drawing to him a single orb, which grew to the size of a grapefruit at his touch. He held it out to Ellie, who understood immediately that this was knowledge imparted by her father. Memories of his time in the temple with the manifestation of Rhymallian there. She touched the memory gently, standing still as the years passed before her in an instant.

  She understood then that her father’s time in the temple at Ia’na Eidyn had ensured that enough of his being existed to make a replication of his essence. Rhymallian had given her the answer to her question, even though the answer itself was not the one she wanted. Her father’s abstraction, once freed from the stone, would ascend fully. What was left behind was nothing more than a replicated pattern of information. Intangible. Capable of remembering, but not truly her father.

  She wondered then if the manifestation before her was a similar replication and not the same as the fragment of Rhymallian’s abstraction that remained on the home world.

  “So you can’t…” she began, but cut off, not sure she wanted to hear aloud that which she already knew. Whatever was happening with Julian, her father, and the Limitless Battalion, would remain a mystery until communication was reestablished.

  If communication was reestablished.

  She shut away the negative thoughts and worries, knowing they would do no good and tried to concentrate on the reason she’d come to the archive in the first place.

  “Do you have a way of communicating with the temple at Ia’na Eidyn?”

  “You wish to know why you’ve heard nothing from your father or Julian.”

  Ellie’s focus was immediately shattered by Rhymallian’s declaration, but she nodded her affirmation.

  “There exists a link, finer than a silken thread, but just as impossibly strong.”

  “So…” Ellie again faltered, unable to put to words everything she wanted to ask. She was giving in to a desperation unbecoming of a so-called master. After all, perhaps Julian and her father had nothing yet to report.

  “It is natural that you would wish to know what transpires at the Temple Kyri,” Rhymallian supplied. “Do not feel shame for your feelings. I’m afraid, however, that I have nothing yet to report. Your father has yet to access the archive. Yes, Eidyn Master, I would for certain sense such a disruption of peace through the tether.”

  A disruption of peace. Ellie frowned at the use of a term she felt inappropriate for the sharing of her father’s knowledge with the entirety of all future masters of the Kyroibi. Though a disruption of peace was indeed appropriate in describing the awakening of the most powerful war machine in the universe.

  “The Limitless Battalion,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you feel them too?”

  “I’m afraid that tether is between the true master, the one commander, and the battalion itself,” Rhymallian replied with an apologetic frown. “I am, of course, aware of the awakening, but I hold no attachment to that which I made my sacrifice to protect.”

  “So they remain awake.”

  “Only you can answer that.”

  “Can I?” Ellie looked up in confusion. Yes, her eyes still bore the silver rings meant to control those under her command, but she felt nothing, no connection and certainly no such tether that Rhymallian spoke of and told him as much.

  “Certainly any disconnect is your own doing, El’iadrylline. You are the true master. The Limitless Battalion are yours to command. The one commander is an extension of your will. Can you not use your dominance to see as he sees?”

  And there it was. The simplest of explanations. Julian’s will was his own. She saw to that herself, against all odds.

  “Perhaps I’m simply distracted,” she dismissed. Rhymallian created Julian to be a soulless, unfeeling assassin, capable of giving the order to destroy civilizations if need be. Admitting to his creator that she’d managed to unravel his legacy by giving Julian a measure of self-worth was not something she intended to do just yet, if at all. “Actually, I know I’m distracted as I originally came here for a different reason altogether.”

  “The message, yes,” Rhymallian said, eyes landing on the disk that she still held in her upturned palm. “Have you made a breakthrough in deciphering Master Yellenoae’s intentions?”

  “Not exactly,” Ellie replied, coloring slightly. Rhymallian had given her access to all he knew of the elusive former master, but it was unfortunately not much more than she’d discovered in the archive on her own. The only information he had been able to add to what she already knew was to show her the witnessing of the passing of the Kyroibi from Yellenoae to his successor, Master Neldoean, the first of Ellie’s bloodline to have the honor of true master bestowed upon her. She reviewed the information yet again, expecting nothing, but this time, she did notice something.

  In the memory, she could sense the thrum of life that had been absent when she was at the temple, but that had become a familiar backdrop since awakening the battalion in her own time. She watched as Neldoean made her promise to uphold the law of Kyri, should Yellenoae fail in his own mission. Had that always been there? She moved to the next memory Rhymallian had access to: Neldoean passing the Kyroibi to her adult child. In this time, the b
attalion again stood silently by, unassuming as a series of statues.

  “Master Rhymallian,” she asked, suddenly curious about the observation. “Are there records of earlier times when the battalion had awakened?”

  “There are no records of the battalion awakening prior to current events,” Rhymallian replied with an apologetic smile.

  “But I just… Hang on then…” Ellie trailed off as she got up and accessed the archive once again, noting something she knew for certain was new because there was no way she would overlook such a major discrepancy.

  “What is this?” she asked, showing Rhymallian two conflicting records. In one, the timeline of peace and stability remained unwavering as Neldoean took up the Kyroibi, but in the other, she again felt the thrum of power as Master Yellenoae stood in the temple, looking out over all that was his to command, silver ringed eyes wild as he realized the enormity of what he had awakened. Ellie turned a scrutinizing eye to Rhymallian.

  “Why does the archive show no record that the battalion has ever awakened, and yet you have confirmed Master Yellenoae’s words with archived proof that he spoke the truth? What am I missing here?”

  Frowning, Rhymallian held out his hands, allowing both sets of unmatched memories of the same moment to play out, comparing the differences as he did.

  “I cannot be certain, as I have explained that I am but a fragment of what was Master Rhymallian’s life, but I would hazard a guess that the archive itself has been altered.”

  “But is that possible?” Ellie asked, baffled. “I mean, I would understand if someone gave a false testimony to keep as record, but what this suggests is that someone had means of altering the course of events in the recorded memory. I’m simply baffled that this could be possible.”

  “You misunderstand me,” Rhymallian clarified. “I would expect what has been stored here is the altered transcription of events as corroborated by Masters Yellenoae and Neldoean. I do believe it was their intention to keep hidden the awakening forever.”

  “Then why the disk?” Ellie frowned.

  “The message is undoubtedly the key to revealing that which had previously been hidden. Perhaps it is your own will that allowed for the remembrance to occur.”

  “That all seems rather convenient.”

  “Does it?” Rhymallian cocked his head and gave her a slight frown. “Forgive me, Eidyn Master, but I would make an argument to the contrary.”

  “How so?”

  “The Kyroibi is the sum of all of our knowledge, from the awakening of our collective conscience to each individual master’s daily experience, is it not?”

  “That’s what I’ve been told,” Ellie replied with a small measure of sarcasm.

  “Exactly,” Rhymallian replied with a knowing smile. “You and others who have come before you have remarked upon the deliberate exclusion of certain items, such as exactly how I had created the Kyroibi and what I’d done to sacrifice a measure of my ascension for the archive.”

  “I’ve heard a solid theory as to why that is,” Ellie replied, remembering Bethany’s words and how Ka’griannas seemed to confirm her theory. “But you don’t know either, do you? That part of your memory was deliberately left out of the archive. Likely by you, right?”

  “Left out, yes, but not forgotten entirely to time.”

  At that Ellie straightened. “Oh?”

  Rhymallian shook his head and chuckled. “I’m afraid I’m not going to suddenly impart the mysteries of the universe. I only meant to say that I believe the truth has been deliberately hidden, but not forgotten, because there may come a time when that knowledge is needed. I feel much the same in regards to Master Yellenoae’s message. I believe he intentionally created something of a puzzle so as to keep the knowledge of the battalion’s awakening silent until peace among the stars was again compromised.”

  “A puzzle…” Ellie studied the disk in her hand, noting the small grooves and fine lines that marred the seemingly smooth surface. She’d seen them as nothing more than decorative wreathing or perhaps a worn down ornamental design, but now she had to wonder if there wasn’t something else.

  “Eidyn Master?”

  “Sorry,” Ellie smiled sheepishly as her mind raced. “It’s just that what you said triggered something. I think I’ve been going about this all wrong. I think the information I’ve been looking for is here, but I’ve been expecting it to simply be hidden. I think it needs to be deciphered.”

  Chapter 3

  If it wasn’t for the meditative hours mandated for all temple residents, Ellie was certain she’d never know true rest. Since her arrival, her search for information had kept her up well into the late hours of early morning. After her talk with Master Rhymallian—specifically, her discovery of potential archive manipulation—she wondered if she would even remember what true rest felt like.

  The longer she studied the patterns on the disk, the more Ellie was convinced that what she was looking at was indeed a puzzle of some sort. The problem was, no amount of manipulation made any changes. The seams did not slide away or twist to create a new shape. If anything, the more she worried the disk, the more it seemed to give off a repellant vibe, as if trying to warn that she was in danger of damaging that which she wished to find. With a great sigh, she set it aside, noting the faint light from the Star of Eidyn was already creeping through her window. She crawled into bed, hoping to catch a small nap before the temple’s usual daytime activity made rest impossible. Perhaps her dreams might reveal what her awakened mind could not.

  Much like on Earth, the Eidyssic believed dreams to be the mind’s way of working through waking problems without distraction. The difference was that the Eidyn had discovered a number of ways to guide their dreaming with precision. Ellie’s mind, however, remained firmly set in its Terran ways. The only time her dreams had ever been significant was during the awakening of the Kyroibi, and even that was nothing more than her father’s memories spilling into her subconscious. If she dreamed at all—she remembered nothing—she was certain her dreams were still just as full of illogical nonsense as they’d always been.

  Which meant she was no closer to uncovering any secrets than she was the day before. Worse, she now had proof that perhaps there was even more at stake, and as the day wore on with no communication from Julian, her head began to cloud with worry. The only thing keeping her from hijacking the nearest ship and setting a course for Ia’na Eidyn was the bond they shared. Though faint, she could still sense his presence across the galaxy. He was alive, and although she could sense his agitated emotional state and that he was on alert, he did not seem to be in danger.

  At least, he didn’t feel himself to be in danger. The realization that everything she felt was filtered through Julian’s own perceptions had come during one of her more distracted morning meditations, prompting an internal struggle with whether or not she should reach out to him. Ultimately, she decided to trust Julian’s feelings, but each day, the urge to check in on him grew stronger than the last, compounding the stress that threatened her focus.

  “Are there bodies of water here on T’al Eidyn?”

  Ellie and Ag’iazza again sat in the sky gardens, taking in the serenity of their surroundings as they enjoyed a midday meal. Though no celestial event lit up the deep indigo sky, there was still plenty to capture her attention with the miles of landscape spread out below.

  “We have many,” Agi confirmed. “I’ve been told our marine life is rather unique and something of a rarity in the known galaxy, which is why we do little to disturb the undersea habitats.”

  “I take it that means you’ve no undersea cities,” Ellie said, her sudden hope for clarity deflating almost as fast as it came.

  “I’m afraid not, but I am quite curious about the undersea world of the Merata,” the keeper replied.

  “It’s quite beautiful, but terrifying.” Ellie gave a small, nervous chuckle as she looked out over the edge of the garden. “I suppose though there are those who would say the same
about this place. I’m guessing most Eidyssic are not afraid of heights.”

  Ag’iazza chuckled and looked down at the city stretched out below them. “It is not a concept I can rightly imagine, though I do believe I understand your distress in regards to the undersea city. I imagine Master Yellenoae used temple glass to create the impenetrable walls. Though I am confident enough to stand above the world on that which I cannot see, I do not think I’d like to be housed within.”

  Until that moment, Ellie had only been half listening to what she considered the keeper’s idea of small talk. Her mind was still puzzling over the disk. She look down, noting the clear glass floor below her that was obscured in some parts by tufts of plant matter. While it was somewhat unnerving, she took solace in the fact that she could not, in fact, see all the way through the transparent structure. This was not something she had previously questioned, but suddenly, she became quite aware that what she was seeing defied logic.

  From the ground—or the top floor of the temple proper—the inverse temple was transparent all the way through. Aside from the ghostly shadows of stairs running up, alongside, and within, everything below the sky gardens could be seen through the glass walls. If she looked all the way up, she would see the sky in the spaces not covered by plant matter and stone. However, when standing in the garden and looking down, Ellie saw nothing but a void beneath the thick glass. No hint of the structure below.

  “Temple Keeper, what is within the inverse temple?”

  “Why, nothing, of course. The inverse temple is the inverse of the true temple in every way. The outside houses functionality and the inside aesthetics only.”

  “But there are doors.”

  “To match the aesthetics of the temple proper,” the keeper dismissed.

  “So then, what is the purpose of the inverse temple?” Ellie asked, not at all convinced that Ag’iazza’s reasoning was absolute. “Surely such a monumentally complex installation doesn’t exist simply as an art piece topped with an intricate garden for contemplation. A simple platform could have easily been affixed to the summit of the temple, don’t you think?”