Chill

Chapter 14

Maena could not recall the first time she had seen Tam Sorrell. Her life before moving to Troy was one of short stays on various well settled geotype worlds among the First Great Expansion zones. The only parent she had ever known was her grandfather, and Falma her surrogate mother. The fate of her true mother was like a faery tale of old and she had enshrined the memory as part of the family lore. Her father was a shadowy entity who disappeared with his grief and yet had left a legacy behind that ultimately led to the birthing of Maena. He was kept alive in her thoughts solely by the cryptic whispers of her cube.

Thus the young years of Maena Madrullian had been something of a blur as she never settled in any one place long enough to establish friendships or familiarity. Her grandfather explained it was solely owing to the nature of his research that they were obliged to shift locations unexpectedly. She decided in romantic vein that they were galactic criminals on the run from some organisation.

The sudden move to a world deep among the barbaric Mineral Stars, to a place full of the memories of her mother's sacrifice, filled her with so much wonder and excitement that those first few days on Troy passed in enthusiastic confusion.

They had stayed at Ithak's luxurious Enclave mansion for a few weeks, visiting parks and acclimatising themselves to the new environment. Falma had been sick from the start but once her metabolism adjusted to the mineral-rich waters and air of the place it was agreed to move away from the bustling city to somewhere quieter where the professor could work undisturbed.

The abandoned mansion house in Upper Maeven was deemed an ideal retreat but his granddaughter then became next in line to fall sickly. She was kept at home most of the winter in the Wilds of Maeven, prone to headaches, so she saw little of those her own age at first. Stuck indoors she could only watch as teenagers passed the Madrullian mansion to and from school or on their way up to the High Peaks. Among that number was a tall, well built lad with bronze close-cut hair and a dreamy faraway look to his curious eyes. Maena had become enchanted by the sight as the boy passed with his friends or with the pretty blonde whom she later found out was called Sara Manderby. Of course, knowing the boy was popular with girls made him all the more fascinating to her lonely, yearning heart.

Days of discomfort for her became fewer and it was Maena who pleaded with her grandfather to let her attend the Maeven School in the regular course of things. Being a late arrival she ended up at the front of the class in a corner with pretty much everyone behind her, staring at her back. Still, she was where she wanted to be. Befriending the Manderby girl gave her insights into who and what Tam Sorrell might be and she quickly realised in her naturally intelligent way that Sara and Tam would never be an item. Using her offworld allure she was able to draw a circle of girls around her who were eager to learn first hand what life was like on exotic planets in far away star clouds. The whisper cube was of course a big hit, but also the sad knowledge she had lost her mother in tragic, mysterious circumstances cast an aura of appealing romance around her. Maena thus effortlessly became a significant fixture in school society.

Only it was not enough. Her feelings for Tam intensified as she learned more about him, from those who knew him and from Kyoobee's cryptic mutterings. She felt she knew the yearnings of his soul, the heartfelt desire to escape Troy forever, no matter the cost. The boy seemed almost suicidal in his desperate need to escape. She realised all too quickly she was in danger of losing him before they had so much as kissed. Thus she grabbed his wrist that fateful night at the Proctor Bridge warehouse in an act of desperation. Everything changed from that moment. It was as if by what she had done she not only saved him but bound him irrevocably to her. They were meant to be.

Until the Ice Maiden appeared and upset everything.

There was nothing that could have prepared her for this sudden change in the boy. He had lost his chance with Sara Manderby, passed herself by without so much as a glance although she was right there before him, and fastened his affections upon an imaginary being conjured up in the heat of terror by a delirious man on the point of death.

Why was the boy always obsessing over girls he could never have? First Sara Manderby. Totally unobtainable for obvious reasons. And now this Ice b***h. Not even a real person for goodness sakes!

Maena was real. Flesh and blood. Was she not good enough for him? She pondered her own qualities, being careful not to compare her physical attributes with the curvy Sara or statuesque Tessanna. That boisterous man in the drinking hall thought she was attractive. She remembered the feel of his hand upon her. She had never been touched that way before. It was wrong. She knew that, for he had taken advantage of her. Yet, the memory of it thrilled her deep inside, creating an ache that would not go away.

She remembered the words she had uttered spitefully to Tam regarding this Ice Maiden creature. The Frost Witch she called her. A creature with malicious intentions not just for Maeven but perhaps the whole of Troy. Dorstal Pamistoe's comments about the curse of this creature rang very true in the eyes of many. If she was real she could only be a malevolent apparition. So how could the foolish boy see her as anything else but evil? Upper Maeven was divided on the issue. Parthan Fallow headed the Ice Maiden camp, those who thought her a misguided creature lost and confused among the High Peaks, in need of assuaging so that she could find peace and restore the Wilds to its former glory. Effectively speaking to bring spring back.

The Pamistoes headed the other camp, those who deemed her the Frost Witch, a demonic being hell bent on destroying the world. The imagery was even more fantastic than Fallow's mythical story yet underlying it was a possible sinister truth. The vision was just that, an artificially created warning beacon to those who would stray among the Peaks, for there was something else up there no one was meant to see. Only one organisation had that kind of power, the Crystal Lumos Agency. This concluding idea suggested no end of danger for her grandfather, his connections with the Lumos being public knowledge and Tam's sudden warnings to stay away from the Sorrell Wayfarer Inn just at the time she had found a way to be there more often, to be closer to him.

So, all was over now. No more visits to the inn. The Frost Witch had her claws in the boy she loved and the people of Upper Maeven increasingly looked to blame the professor her grandfather for the chill that was destroying their very existence. With teenage passion wrought to the highest, Maena cried bitterly over the cruelty of a world that saw such young love thwarted at every turn. Matters could not get any worse surely? With cold-hearted indifference to the sufferings of the young girl, her grandfather ensured they did.

He just stood there, on the threshold of her bedroom door, making the deadly pronouncement as if it were a casual matter of business.

"I have been summoned to Ithak," he muttered into his beard, "on a matter of some urgency. Do not worry," reacting to Maena's wide-eyed glare. "In spite of the fact the Crystal Lumos are the main instigators of the meeting it is to be presided over by the Troy Totalis chief councillor himself. I shall be the star performer," he added beaming with the idea of it. "Although it will be a closed session it is a matter which I have chosen to raise that will be the chief business under discussion. Proctor Sumisoe will be going with me so you need not worry regarding fetching me back." He adjusted his shimmering robe proudly. "Very soon my child, I hope, I truly hope to achieve the greatest discovery since the founding of Troy itself, and you will thank me with tears of joy."

"What is it grandfather, what have you found?" Maena panted at this revelation. "Is it to do with the chill, the Frost... Maiden?" She still felt herself torn between the two camps in spite of Tam's ridiculous attitude. The man held up his hands defensively.

"Sadly I am not at liberty to say as other interests are at stake here. Hence the closed session in the debating chambers. Child I shall be away for several days and you and Falma will be alone here for there is no one else I feel at this moment in time I could trust with free access to the mansion. Please do not under any circumstances let any one in while I am gone."

"Not even Tam?" Maena asked bitterly. The professor thought about this a moment and then smiled.

"Well, if the two of you kiss and make up, then perhaps yes, so long as Falma is there to ensure that is all you do."

Maena blushed at this but said nothing.

Before the day was out the bustlingly officious Proctor Sumisoe called to pay his respects, quiz Maena on her knowledge of history for he had half-heartedly attempted to keep some semblance of remote schooling going in Upper Maeven, and then arm in arm with the professor as if they were close friends he departed, leaving the womenfolk of the Madrullian mansion to fend for themselves.

As soon as the great outer door closed with an ominous boom Falma was checking all the bars and bolts.

"I must look to the other entrances around the perimeter," she said with suppressed alarm, already in a state of nerves not five minutes having passed since being abandoned.

"I'll check the windows Falma," Maena said, smiling inwardly at the security conscious housekeeper.

"You're a good girl," was all she replied before disappearing into the bowels of the great labyrinthine structure.

Maena sauntered up the various stairways to the higher levels of the building, pursued by the distant rumble of howling winds, picturing to herself the unpleasant journey her grandfather had to make past the Devil Made Scar, into the scary tunnel drilled by laser through the heart of the Terrific Ridge and across the great lake, to Ithak. She wondered if snow flurries had reached that far yet.

She quickly felt a prisoner in her own home and began planning what she was going to do with her period of enforced isolation, locked up within a building, trapped on a mountainside in a remote district of a world distant from the hives of humanity nearer the populous galactic centre. Could anything be more stifling?

There was no instanet to enable her to message friends and find out what others were up to. The whisper cube was being totally clueless for once, muttering about Forsa's pyramid covered in eyes as if the device had become a source of annoyance to Kyoobee. It mentioned Karanie Fornoe once, cryptically expressing surprise at her frustrations. Maena smiled at this, thinking Sumira was doing a good job as shepherdess, keeping the flirty girl from her husband. It never once mentioned Tam, although she said his name several times while clutching a pillow tightly in her bedroom after Falma had gone to bed. Her charmlet was more helpful in this matter.

Tam did not visit of course. Why should he after their angry exchange? He was far away. The charmlet suggested he was sometimes out hunting. Several solitary days passed without any visitor and Maena went onto her balcony to gaze up towards the inn and the escarpment beyond, in the twilight looking like a great glowing wall with the crazy building shapes silhouetted darkly against it. Tam's light was not visible but she knew he was up there somewhere. Thinking of the Frost Witch creature no doubt. The cube remained silent on such matters so Maena in her boredom and loneliness began exploring the mansion's multitude of less frequented rooms.

Her grandfather's increasingly public involvement with the Crystal Lumos made her feel uneasy. The memory of her mother, a victim she deemed of Lumos greed and mismanagement, made this connection with her grandfather all the more perplexing. Perhaps that was why he felt the need to shield her from the level of involvement with the unsavoury agents, to minimise the hurt she would be expected to feel at the seeming betrayal. It made her all the more determined to find out what was truly going on. She would not wait for the mysterious success the man had suggested was so close. She needed to know now.

The enforced idleness was the ideal opportunity to do her own investigations. Falma was no companion at times like this so she sneaked around the winding corridors alone and peered into dusty old rooms full of sheet-covered furniture and mysterious cabinets that were locked and robust enough to resist her attempts to open them.

The library had no hidden files at the bottom of drawers and there were no digital information outlets which she could access without passwords. A thought occurred to her.

Maena went up to her room after ensuring Falma was comfortably ensconced in a soft chair by the fire in her beloved kitchen engrossed in a Lilac Love Romance novel. She went straight to the shelf where her whisper cube nestled on its cushion. It glowed in anticipation of her approach for the device was sophisticated enough to read intention as well as emotion.

"Kyoobee," Maena said softly, "I have a problem. I need a secret word from you. Do you think you can find that for me?" She said this coaxingly as if the cube could be persuaded to do her bidding with kindness. It muttered in a noncommittal way a moment and then hummed thoughtfully.

"Sparkle," it said and then fell silent.

"What?"

"Seven oh, seven oh, nine two."

"Thanks Kyoobee, that's great," Maena sighed and plumped herself down on the bed. Three long days still to go and she was getting nowhere.

"Sparkle, that's a secret word, quite a secret," the cube teased and the girl sat up straight, all ears.

"Password!" she gasped. "Is that the password for the digi-outlet?" Then she paused in her excitement. The outlet would not be activated by anything so simple. The cube mentioned some numbers afterwards. Was that part of the access code?

Maena raced down the stairs to the library, forgetting Falma in the eagerness to check her theory so that the latter interrupted her as she was about to seat herself at the console.

"Finished your book?" she said with an innocent smirk.

"It was good, yes," the housekeeper replied. "Why is it you are running like a mad thing through this big old, empty house?" she then added, spooking herself in the process for her words reminded her they were alone in the cavernous old mansion. She went to a shelf and fussed over some titles a moment as she awaited Maena's explanation for her behaviour.

"I'm a bit bored," Maena confessed truthfully. "Thought there might be some puzzle games on grandfather's screen."

"Games?" Falma said with a questioning squeak. "Why would the Professor Madrullian have such things on his screen? He researches, all day long, and all night too, muttering about Gates and molecules and meta-minerals and such like. That is his game," and she paused as a particular title caught her eye. "Ah!" she said eagerly, pulling the volume down. "I been looking for this one. Is the sequel you know, to the other."

Maena nodded, not knowing what was the sequel to what but curious about what the housekeeper had said regarding her grandfather's research.

"Is he researching Ghost Gates?" she asked breathlessly. "Is that why the Lumos Agents are friendly with him? He is helping them find my mother." She sat rigidly in the great chair her grandfather normally sat when poring over data from streamed sources, seized by this exciting thought. Perhaps they were trying to help locate her mother? Then she remembered what the whisper cube had oft repeated to her. Her mother did not love her. She was dead, long gone, and could no longer love anyone. Yet the professor seemed genuinely thrilled at what he was doing, emphasising how pleased Maena would be if he succeeded. How could that involve anything else but a search for the missing woman. Ghost Gates were timeless it was said.

"Those are bad men," Falma spat back, clutching her book. "Professor would have nothing to do with them. What he find he keep very secret. No Ghost Gates, never Ghost Gates."

"Okay," Maena responded, intrigued at this. Whatever he was doing that the Lumos were involved in had nothing to do with Ghost Gates. Her heartbeat slowed sadly at the revelation and she felt herself back at square one. The bustling housekeeper clearly knew things, things not even her surrogate daughter had a right to know about. "Well, anyway, grandfather needs recreation now and again, just like everybody. I'm sure he has games on here to play and relax, you know, between the times he's not researching Ghost Gates and stuff."

"You make fun, but is deadly serious," the good woman responded with gruff sadness, mixed not a little with compassion. She was a creature that embodied sympathy for others and above all for the lonely teenage girl sat on the great chair before her. She knew all that the professor was doing in secret was for her ultimate benefit, although she did not know the fine details.

"Well, seriously then. You don't know his word for the console do you? I did know, but I've forgotten a bit." She simpered expectantly.

The housekeeper frowned.

"Seven oh, seven oh, nine two?" Maena offered.

The woman shook her head as if the figures had no meaning for her.

"It was something to do with Cimmeron, I'm sure," she added, as if the whole matter was known but had just escaped her for a moment.

"The Spark?" Falma said thoughtfully and riffled the pages of her book. She looked at the shelf from where she had taken the volume and then fixed the girl with a confused stare. "No. It is nothing," and she shuffled out without farther ceremony, leaving Maena as perplexed as ever.

Yet there was something. The way the housekeeper acted, like she was playing out an action subconsciously as her mind went over the secret matter, not realising she was role-playing the hidden information. This made Maena stand where the woman had been, looking at the shelves, noting the vacancy where the volume had been withdrawn. Nothing seemed amiss or suggestive of answers. Then it hit her. The shelves were numbered.

Seven oh, science section.

Seven oh, sub-section, planetology.

Nine two, subject section, the Mineral Stars.

Sparkle, a code word for Cimmeron. This latter part she had figured out herself.

"Thank you Kyoobee. Thank you Falma," and she skipped over to the section where books on the Myscenna System were held, all of three books. One on general matters, one on Troy and one on the great meta-mineral world that had so fascinated so many people for a hundred years or more. She took the book down with trembling hands and like Falma she riffled its pages, expecting some slip of paper to fall out. She repeated the action and then tried this on all the adjacent books, without result. There appeared to be nothing hidden between the pages.

In frustration Maena slammed the heavy volume back into its slot and in doing so a strange click could be heard. She pulled the book out again and looked behind it. A shiny disc glinted in the dark confines of a partly opened recess. It took but a few seconds to retrieve the disc and slot it into the digi-outlet. The screen flashed colours and then requested a navigation subject. The disc was a cold booter with its own independent operating system she realised. So she just typed in the word "Sparkle." The result was all she could have wished for.

Diagrams and reams of text fluttered onto the screen, overlaying each other and shuffling into anticipated order for viewing like a dealer distributing cards. With the tip of her finger she slid the uppermost sheet to the foreground viewer and read the title. It was a journal of phenomena with timelines and observations, weather data and linked animated maps. Most of the jargon was beyond her and some of the mathematical strings were like a foreign language.

"Science Tongue," she muttered to herself. The colourful maps were more instructive. She could identify locations and schematics of weather conditions for each area. The images were dominated by shades of intense blue, a perfectly readable representation of the chill in all its biting coldness. These maps were very much like the ones the professor had shown Tam that time he had come to warn them about impending danger following the hair clasp incident. Her grandfather had secreted the jewelled item without any explanation at the time but she had had growing doubts as to its true origin for she realised later it definitely was more elaborate than the one she had lost. A surreptitious examination of her own box of trinkets confirmed her suspicions as the surviving matching clip bore little resemblance to the extraordinary elaborateness of the meta gold encrusted device. Similar in size, there was no comparison regarding richness and value. Truly a world's ransom. Yet she never had a chance to question the professor on the matter as other issues reared up for insistent attention.

She was about to dismiss the maps when she noted there was something different about them. Right there in the middle of each layered diagram, at the point where the cold was deemed the most extreme there was an orange dot.

Maena expanded a view to magnify the dot but it remained just that, a small point of heat right in the middle of the great swathe of freezing air. A hot spot. With a trembling finger she reached out and touched the screen, as if expecting the point to burn her on contact. It was a hyperlink.

Images expanded and swirled and a series of file sheets marched in orderly fashion across the screen. She could see charts of movements, scales of temperature and the date the phenomenon first appeared in the High Peaks. Its exact location as of yesterday was at the entrance to a cave network. Words floated next to the location point, input by her grandfather, observations, conclusions and theories.

"The power source has moved twenty yards only since first appearing on the sensors," the man had noted. "Cyclic radiation levels remained steady throughout the transit and the intensity is remarkably stable. An artificial device of human manufacture. Energy signature consistent with portable micro-climates used in the last ten decades. Now obsolete." And then, as an after thought a cryptic postscript was added. "Could it really be?"

Maena sat back and gasped. The colourful maps danced before her eyes. She swiped the screen clean, removed the tiny disc no bigger than her thumb nail and replaced it in its hidden recess behind the Cimmeron volume.

"No game then," she said to herself. Falma had been true to her word. The professor was not researching Ghost Gates at all it seemed. His thoughts were totally absorbed by the chill. "Human manufacture. Micro-climate." She repeated these words to herself, trying to grasp the significance of what her grandfather was implying.

The chill was artificial, man-made. Someone had deliberately instigated a devastatingly intense micro-climate high among the Peaks for some reason. The professor knew it. Did the Lumos know? Or perhaps more importantly, were they responsible?

Maena sat quietly in her room mulling over all the questions which jostled for answers in her confused brain. They coalesced into the simplest of queries. Why?

To be continued...