The Needs of the Many (The Kyroibi Trilogy Book 3) Read online

  Ag’iazza smiled at Ellie and shook her head.

  “Your thinking is sound, I’m sure, but you have yet to understand, let alone embrace, the concept that artistry has its place, even among those who ascribe to the belief that form follows function. A purpose does not need to be obvious to exist.”

  “Exactly,” Ellie said as she stood. “If you’ll excuse me, Temple Keeper, I think I’d still like to do some exploring.”

  “By all means.”

  With a nod goodbye, Ellie made her way to the center of the sky garden, where tall shrubbery created a quiet pathway that was half Victorian hedge maze and half Zen garden, but much larger and filled with vivid colors not found naturally on Earth. She stepped lightly, circling through, and relying on diodal-like blooms to point her way to the center garden. The further in, the more swift her steps became, moving as fast as she could without disturbing the other residents using the secluded pathway for their own contemplations. At the very center was a stand of tall, thin, and reedy trees, planted in a perfect circle.

  There was no path to the trees, nor was there a whole lot of room between the slender trunks, but from her vantage point on the circular pathway that ringed the stand, Ellie could clearly see a doorway. Most curiously, it didn’t matter where on the path she stood, the door remained partially visible and always facing her. Interestingly, it seemed she was the only one who could see it or it was of no consequence to the other Eidyssic who sat, heads down, in deep thought. Perhaps, she mused, her father’s people were so used to physics defying phenomena that a doorway hiding in plain sight did little to impress.

  Regardless, Ellie was certain there was a reason for the doorway and a reason it seemed to be calling out to her as soon as she acknowledged its existence. And she was even more certain that stepping through that doorway would provide the answers she sought. However, the problem seemed how to get to the door in the first place.

  A crystalline mote circled the trees. Not that it was terribly wide or difficult to cross, but the depth was indeterminable, as was the identity of the liquid it contained. As such, Ellie was more than a little hesitant to simply try a long jump. Instead, she sat down on one of the low stone benches that lined the path and stared through the trees at the door, determined to solve what she now knew had to be a riddle of sorts.

  Focusing her mind on the task proved difficult. Not surprising, as Ellie was discovering patience—which had never been one of her strong suits—was something she was running out of lately. She was ready to give up and try a different approach when something stopped her in her tracks.

  A thin line emerged out of the corner of her eye, but as she looked in that direction, it disappeared. She dismissed this as a trick of the light or wishful thinking, but there was a familiarity in the pattern it created. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the disk she’d been puzzling over and held it up. The lines that crisscrossed the oval, when held at arm’s length, aligned perfectly with the thin trunks of the trees in the stand.

  Once again, a new line emerged out of the corner of her eye, lining up perfectly with what she’d thought was a seam on the disk. She kept her eyes focused on the disk this time, only allowing herself to see in her peripheral vision. This time not only did she see the thin line extending out from the disk, but it lead across the mote, breaking the tree line to create a clear path to the doorway in the woods.

  Automatically, her eyes strayed to the pathway, which promptly disappeared. She focused again on the disk and the scene around her changed. She tried this several more times and each time she looked away, it seemed as if the path solidified in her mind.

  On a whim, she stood and moved to another bench. As expected, the door inside the trees stayed directly in front of her. She aligned the disk and focused her gaze. Sure enough, within moments, the pathway, including the invisible walkway over the mote, stretched out in front of her. Just to be certain, she moved into other positions around the ring of trees. Each time, the path lined up perfectly with her feet. All that was left to do was to work up the courage to take the first step.

  Which was much easier said than done.

  As soon as she stood, her eyes automatically tried to focus on the path she was to take, which caused it to again vanish. Keeping the disk aligned while walking forward also proved to be a near impossibility and Ellie worried she would drown for sure if she were to take such unsteady steps. Finally, she simply closed her eyes and focused on keeping her feet pointed directly ahead. It took several tries to build up her courage, but soon she heard the soft tap of her feet on the crystal floor below and didn’t dare look down.

  A moment later, there was nothing. Quite suddenly, Ellie became aware that what she thought was silence in the garden had been a cacophony of constant ambient noise because in a heartbeat, all had gone silent. Opening her eyes, she found herself now standing within the ring of trees and the door stood just inches away. Despite the nervous fluttering in her stomach, Ellie reached out and grasped the knob. After all, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she came this far just to be stopped down by the unknown.

  A feeling settled over her. A squeezing that was not painful, nor pleasant, nor comfortable, yet wholly familiar. It was the exact same feeling she’d had while phase pulsing across the Fhasmyrric wilderness on the back of Pouns. For a moment, Ellie was again suspended in a void. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as she moved through the shifting doorway on legs she could not feel. In fact, all of her being had again gone into that paradoxical state of existing, yet insubstantial.

  After many eternal seconds, she was reunited with mass and form. She stood, arms out in a balancing posture, allowing herself a moment to get used to the feeling while taking the opportunity to survey her surroundings. The room was cavernous and dimly lit. Despite previously being at the top of the temple, a stairway now climbed into the distance above her, though logically, she realized the top of the inverse temple was in fact the bottom turned upside down.

  So this is the inverse of the inverse temple? Ellie gave a small snort as she tried to wrap her mind around where exactly she was and why. There were windows, but through them she saw nothing to indicate what might lie beyond the walls of this version of the temple.

  Her gut said to climb the stairs, so she did, slowly and carefully. The narrow staircase had no twists or turns that she could see, nor was there any sort of railing. She didn’t know if she was still technically on T’al Eidyn or if the gravity here worked the same way, but she certainly wasn’t about to test it to find out.

  There was no sound. Nor was there much to see. As she climbed, the stairs ahead were her only view. The burning in her calves told her she’d been climbing for a while, even though it only felt like she’d been there for a few minutes. Eventually, however, she wondered if the stairway would ever end. She’d not yet passed a single floor and she was beginning to think that she’d climbed the length of two temples at least.

  But before she could give up all hope, a literal light at the end of the tunnel emerged. A soft glow in the distance became bigger and brighter as she ascended until finally, an archway signified the end of her climb. A soft glow issued from somewhere just beyond, but from where she stood, Ellie could see nothing more.

  Much to her surprise, this caused no worry. Ever since stepping foot through the door, she felt as if she was in some sort of sensory deprivation chamber. Under any other circumstances, Ellie knew she would have been freaking out. That she felt no panic was odd, but welcome.

  Instead, she walked through the archway with a head clouded only by curiosity. Instantly, the cocooning fog lifted, both in the physical world and in her mind. She stood in a room not unlike the library archive of the Temple Kyri. Brilliant pinpricks of light hovered everywhere, though in far smaller numbers than she was used to seeing. This was but a fraction of the knowledge kept by her people.

  Ellie turned completely, taking in everything and noticing the furnishings reminded her of her own small chamber in the lower temple corridor. A no frills bed and nightstand sat against one wall. Along the other was a bookshelf and a desk. With a startled intake of breath, Ellie realized she was not alone. A man sat at the desk, head bent over a screen that emitted a soft light.

  At the sound of her gasp, he looked up, piercing her with marbled black eyes. Though they’d never met, she knew him instantly. Suddenly, Ellie realized she had a lot more questions than she’d thought.

  Chapter 4

  An alert blinked to life on the flagship’s console, breaking several hours of monotonous and unchanging informational displays. Julian reached for the optical controls, focusing in on their bearing and immediately, a small, grayish white orb appeared in the distance. The Star of Eidyn loomed ever closer and soon they would be in orbit around its single cold planet.

  “Home again, home again, jiggity jig.”

  Julian raised an eyebrow and slid a sidelong glance at his traveling companion while they worked together to bring the ship into a safe landing pattern. He understood El’iadryov’s words were meant only as a bit of dark humor, but in a way, this was more his final homecoming than the former master’s. El’iadryov might be making his final ascension, but Julian was truly the last of the children of Ia’na Eidyn. A relic, left behind by a people who were never to return. And yet, somehow, much like the world that rushed up to meet them, he was a perfectly preserved relic. This reminder only served to make what he had to do that much harder.

  In the short time he’d spent in the Ghowrn system and on Earth, Julian was fascinated by measures taken in the preservation of fragile organic matter, and awed by the care with which each civilization ensured that their history was not lost in the sands of time. His was a world where erosion and decomposition were nearly unheard of. The City of Scholars stood as something of a time capsule, nearly the same as it had billions of years before, without so much as a layer of dust to spoil the glimpse into the past.

  It was an archaeologist’s dream, but a dream no scholar or fortune seeker would ever get the chance to explore. His would be the last eyes to ever look out upon the birthplace of the galaxy’s oldest civilization. That this would bring about a sharp, painful, and wholly uncharacteristic—especially for an Eidyssic—sense of sentimentality was proof he’d allowed himself the indulgence of feeling for far too long.

  All was not lost. He knew this, and with one last mental admonishment, he pushed aside the frivolous emotions. The Eidyn were a unique people in that their replication of the temple and temple city housed nearly all of the knowledge of the ancients. What was left behind was done so intentionally. The Limitless Battalion could not be moved by any other than the sitting master in a time of awakening. And that, Julian reminded himself, was the true reason he needed to accomplish what he came here to do.

  The draw, however, was something he did not expect. The flagship had barely touched ground in the abandoned city square when the enormity of the battalion under his control threatened to buckle Julian’s knees. His plans, his reason, and even his will seemed to diminish under the pull to take his rightful place as commander. He turned to El’iadryov, who sat motionless in the seat beside him, eyes fixed on the console as the security diagnostic ran through its routine.

  The former master was hiding something.

  Vigilant monitoring of the landing protocol might have been a good practice anywhere else. It might simply have been that El’iadryov watched the process out of pure habit, but knowing as they both did that the surface of Ia’na Eidyn was devoid of life rendered the act pointless. Still, there was a careful and deliberateness to the former master’s movements that Julian could not dismiss.

  “Do you feel the draw?” he asked, curiosity overtaking him.

  “This body is affected, yes,” El’iadryov replied. “I, however, feel nothing. My connection to the Kyroibi is most assuredly severed. Regardless, I think it would be best to return this shell before we discover whether or not the will of the master can further complicate matters.”

  “Do you wish to disengage now?” Julian asked.

  “There is no sense in carrying dead weight while I can walk.” El’iadryov glanced over at Julian and gave him the shadow of a smile. “Should I suddenly feel the urge to engage in galaxy destroying war, I will alert you in time to release me from this vessel.” Though the words were light, neither could ignore the heavy truth.

  Julian said nothing, grateful when the diagnostic finished and the hatch opened. Both men got up and walked out into the cold, desolate atmosphere. The temple loomed only a few steps away. For Julian, the sight was both a familiar comfort and a physical representation of all he feared. As he reached the steep climb to the ceremonial doorway, he heard a soft chuckle behind him and turned to see El’iadryov standing several feet away.

  “I know the inscription has been impressed upon us all, especially those of us meant to bear the burden of knowledge, but I’ve had years to explore the temple throughout. There’s a ground floor entrance just around this corner.”

  “Very well. No sense in delaying the inevitable,” Julian said, following the former master. In truth, a delay would have given him a moment to gather himself, perhaps even make peace with what he needed to do, even if he could not change his fate.

  El’iadryov slipped between two large walls of smoothed silicate and to Julian, it looked as if he’d vanished into thin air. The alcove that housed the doorway was hidden by a perfect illusion. It made sense, of course. The ceremonial walk was meant only to remind students of the temple that life was not a series of shortcuts, but a long path filled with as much hardship as joy.

  Certainly, this lesson was not necessary for the faculty and staff who it seemed, based on the offices and storerooms they passed, would have used this corner of the temple. El’iadryov led them down a wide corridor that paralleled the atrium level parade ground.

  As they moved closer, Julian could not ignore the growing disturbance in his mind. Each step was labored as the war between his ultimate purpose and his determination to stop what was started waged within him. But more surprising, and perhaps most disturbing of all, was the sudden rush of memories.

  Whether repressed or simply forgotten in his dormancy, the images that now flickered in Julian’s mind—like the carefully reconstructed fragments of lost film footage—could not be ignored. Memories of the past, events repeated over and over with a clockwork methodology, triggered a sense of dread in the darkest reaches of his heart. And yet, what he saw, what he remembered, as horrific as it was, only strengthened the resolve that what he’d come to do was not just right, but the only option that would bring about true peace in the galaxy.

  “You are distressed.”

  Despite his best efforts to maintain an outward calm, El’iadryov had noticed Julian’s hesitation.

  “I did not expect to feel this overwhelmed,” he admitted, but kept walking. On the other side of the door, the battalion awaited.

  “Perhaps it would be best for you to leave here,” El’iadryov suggested. “Return to T’al Eidyn and assist my daughter in brokering peace for the people of Ghowrn.”

  “Were it as simple as that, I would, but El’iadryov, I do not think you understand what I am here to prevent. Should I leave, the reprieve would be only temporary. Either my master would command me to return or she would risk all to come herself. I’ll not be responsible for the total destruction of life in the known galaxy, but neither will I be the reason my master, your daughter, becomes the sacrificial lamb.”

  “You instead believe she’ll be able to live a full and happy life knowing what you did?”

  “In time, yes,” Julian replied, unable to look El’iadryov in the eye as he spoke. “I would rather know I’ve caused her a temporary sadness than allow her to do what she believes is best.”

  “I’m sorry,” El’iadryov said, eyes downcast. “I simply find it difficult to believe that our only option is the sacrifice of life. I know what I’ve been told, but I can’t help wondering if there isn’t something everyone may have missed. I can’t accept that the ancients felt the only path to peace was through destruction.”

  But even as he spoke, the power of the Kyroibi’s influence over his artificial body strengthened.

  “You can deny it no more than I can,” Julian said as he pushed open the double doors that led into the temple’s main atrium. Thousands of soldiers stood like statues, just as they had for millennia prior.

  Only now, instead of the quiet peace that had been El’iadryov’s company during his stay at the temple, a cacophony of tightly wound coils of energy overwhelmed them. The usually dim space blazed with the light of several thousand diodes, each displaying the same message of service to the true master. Every single artificial lifeform awaited the command to destroy life in the galaxy without the concept of conscience or regret.

  “No,” El’iadryov said with a sigh. “Apparently, I cannot. But neither will I be a part of it.” He walked with purpose down the row of soldiers until he came to the one empty space. The appearance of El’iadryov vanished, leaving behind a cold grayish metal body that was indistinguishable from all the others, save for the slight glow emanating from a hollow at the base of the neck.

  Julian reached for the grounding stone, but hesitated as what appeared to be a ghost instead emerged, solidifying into a solid replication of El’iadryov as it moved out of the space occupied by the automaton soldier. He met Julian’s astonished expression with a smile of satisfaction.

  “I wasn’t sure if that would work, but apparently there is enough energy yet in our dying star to manifest as hard light. Forgive me for the surprise, but there is a stubbornness inside me that could not bear the thought of being escorted helplessly to my final rest.”

  “There is no need to apologize. I would feel the same in your situation,” Julian said as he led them away from the battalion and up the wide staircase. The draw to take his rightful place as commander was strong and made each step heavy and labored, but he fought through. Though he would be responsible for a good number of atrocities, the destruction of El’iadryov’s Abstractive Root would not be among his sins.