The sun dipped below the horizon, melting into the dark sea. Quarrel shivered in the wind blowing off the waves, high up on the cliffs above the Forgotten Shore. Mountains made an imposing ring in the distance behind her. The sea opened up before her, receded from the craggy coast. She wanted to jump into that wind and fly off across the deep waters, race to the horizon where the sun had set. She contented herself with gathering deadwood for the campfire.
Turning away from the coast, she scrambled under gnarled trees and around boulders, searching the ground for suitable kindling. She would have to be quick to beat the coming night. A few meters away, Zinnia scratched around a thick clump of brush. The Warlock pulled up a particularly good looking piece of firewood and added it to the stack in her arms. There was still enough daylight to see her face, windburnt cheeks turning red against her blue skin. Zinnia had complained about the cold, but there was a snapping light in her green eyes and a grin on her face whenever she looked Quarrel's way. She was happy to be away from the Tower, even if camping wasn't her favorite way to spend the night.
Want me to transmat those for you? Ghost asked from Rest. Shenu had deemed it safe for them to scout for firewood without their helms on, but not for the Ghosts to roam outside of camp. Shenu being the senior Guardian on their training mission, there was little she or Zinnia could do to protest. What had surprised Quarrel was the Ghosts' compliance with his order. Ghost had grumbled about her lack of head protection, but he had stayed at Rest.
"No, thanks," she replied. "It's not heavy and the camp isn't far. Besides, Shenu has forbidden it, remember?"
Hmph. I remember, Ghost buzzed.
Zinnia tramped through the icy grass to her side.
"Do you think this is enough?" she asked. Her arms were barely wrapping around the bundle she had gathered.
"I suppose," Quarrel replied. Judging by the fires she had made with Dane's team, they had gathered plenty for the night.
Zinnia turned up the slope they stood on, heading back toward camp.
"Let's go!" she said. "The sooner we get the fire built, the sooner we can eat!"
Quarrel followed, keeping close to the little Warlock. The two stayed between the grooves of the hills as they made their way back. Giant, abandoned buildings crowned with satellite array sat on the bluffs far down the coast to her right, just visible in the dusk. That was their destination come morning. Tonight they camped well outside the boundaries of the Cosmodrome, the better to train and sleep without being hassled by the Fallen who roamed the area. Here on the coast, the snow was not so thick as where she had escaped with Ghost. The landscape was still by no means thawed.
Near the crest of the rise, Zinnia hooked around to the left, slanting into a narrow gully. When the path became a steeper drop, she pushed off the rocks and floated with ease to the next stepping stone. Quarrel leaped from rock to rock, pleased by her growing ability to control her bursts of Light.
"You've been practicing," Zinnia said when she landed next to her.
"A little," Quarrel said. They didn't need to talk about where she had come by that practice.
"You should try to glide next time. It's so much easier."
"I still have no idea how you do that," she replied.
They fell into step on the gravelly slope, crunching their way down to the semicircular rock shelter their tents stood in.
"You can't think about the down," Zinnia said, trying to explain. "The Light doesn't give you complete freedom from gravity, but it's sure close! Shenu is always telling me to think of it as stepping up into the air, like it were just another staircase. That's easy for him to say!" she sighed. "He can stay afloat forever!"
"Gelert can almost glide," Quarrel said without thinking. "Maybe I'll pick it up too," she finished lamely.
"Maybe." Zinnia looked off toward the campsite, the corners of her mouth tight.
Shenu was sitting on a small folding stool between their two tents. The Warlock would not dream of sitting on a split log. He glanced up from his datapad at their approach.
"You may make a small fire," he said. "Be ready to extinguish it should I give the word."
"Yes, Guardian," Zinnia replied dutifully. Quarrel echoed her deferentially.
Zinnia sighed with relief as they set their bundles down in a pile. She dusted her gauntlets together, wiping the bark and dirt off. Despite her thick vestments and the layers of ammunition belts, pouches, and leg guards bulking her up, she still looked tiny. Maybe even smaller due to all the armor. Quarrel was wearing the same armor she'd had on patrol, with the exception of a Warlock-styled helm loaned from Zinnia that had mercifully better audio sensors. She didn't look as put together as the two Warlocks, but at least she was protected. Zinnia wore drab browns and forest greens to better blend into the landscape. Shenu differed sharply from her color scheme. His vestments and armor were predominately rich black and silver. Quarrel rather thought it would make him stick out like a sore thumb against the stark landscape, but of course she kept her tongue. A senior Warlock could dress as he pleased.
The whole camp was something different than she had expected. Shenu and Zinnia had both brought far more than was necessary for a night out, requiring the Ghosts' help to transmat the luggage to the campsite rather than carrying it in themselves. That didn't stop Shenu from issuing a ban on any further transmat. He'd placed his stool and said something about the merits of manual labor for Novices before sending them off for firewood.
Quarrel squatted on her heels beside Zinnia as the Warlock began to pull out select sticks from their pile and arrange them in a precarious little square.
"Tory showed me how to make a good campfire," she said confidently. "How to set up the kindling so it catches. Except we aren't going to need matches!" She inspected her handiwork for a moment. "Watch this!" she grinned. She thrust out a gauntleted hand. Fire flared from her palm, curling about her fingers and rushing forward with a whoosh. The little stick pile she had built scattered in the force. Showers of sparks flew up into the air.
"Oops!" Zinnia squeaked. They leaped forward to grab the kindling, stamping on the embers. They turned to see if Shenu had witnessed anything. He was frowning at them both.
"Stop messing around!" he warned. "If you can't properly build a fire, then we will not have one!"
"Sorry, Guardian!" Zinnia said, a pained grimace on her face.
Quarrel helped her rebuild the kindling, adding a little ring of stone around the wood. It wouldn't do to burn the steppes down. This time, Zinnia summoned a ball of flame upon her palm. The orb glowed, a tiny sun in her hand, casting a warm light on their faces in the deep twilight. She deposited it carefully into the pile of kindling. The flaming orb caught the bits of twig and bark alight, flames quickly growing to lap at the larger sticks. Zinnia withdrew her hand, smiling at her work.
They gathered the cooking supplies and set about making dinner. A teakettle, a pot and stand, a couple of ladles — practically a whole kitchen had been brought, and they were only eating field rations! Zinnia assured her the rations would need some doctoring to be edible. The Warlock emptied the packs into the pot and dug a couple tiny jars of spice from a pouch around her waist. Leave it to Zinnia to leave room for foodstuffs in her packing! Water from canisters in their ships completed the stew mixture. Fresh water was still buried under ice in the Cosmodrome, and Shenu had warned them not to drink of any they found as it could still be contaminated with chemicals leeched from the crumbling launch towers and refineries.
Though Zinnia told her not to expect too much from their meal, a pleasant enough aroma began to waft from the pot after a while. Zinnia dutifully tended to the cooking, speaking happily of camping trips of the past. It seemed that Tory and Polaris had done much to try and show her the ropes once, and Zinnia proudly proclaimed that she had "improved" upon their suggestions to make the whole affair more comfortable.
Perdita and Ghost joined them from Rest. Stars began to wink overhead, and soon night was upon them, the only light in their camp coming from the fire and a little directional lantern Shenu had set next to his stool. The senior Warlock did not move closer to join them, nor did he give them any acknowledgment at all. He was engrossed in his reading, muttering to himself every now and then.
Ghost and Perdita engaged in lively discussion about the Cosmodrome. It seemed their earlier exploits here with the Hive had renewed interest in the site. Cayde's scouts had begun to comb through the wreckage with fervor, their objective to clear the Fallen and Hive from any skeletal remains they might encounter. Quarrel thought of the skulls and shattered bones she had seen on the crumbling highway. Would any of them one day wake to a Ghost's call?
The stew began to bubble, and Zinnia started water boiling in the little teakettle. Quarrel retrieved their chow kits from the tent and the little Warlock slipped away to serve her Mentor. She hastened back to the fire and eagerly accepted the bowl Quarrel ladled out for her. They sat on a couple of good sized rocks they had found for the purpose and blew on their spoons. Quarrel had to admit that, while impractical, Zinnia's spices had made the field rations much more palatable. Though Zinnia sighed over the taste still, she wolfed her serving down as though Ella herself had prepared it.
Perdita and Ghost's discussion began to grow heated.
Even if the Fallen have extracted all the AI cores from the colony ships, there might still be backups somewhere in one of these facilities, Perdita said.
Which I'm sure the Fallen have already retrieved as well, Ghost buzzed. You know they will pick up and horde anything they can find.
So we shouldn't even bother looking for them? Perdita asked, her tone cool.
I didn't say that. I suppose the cores might be of some interest to us. Personally, I wouldn't go out of my way for them.
What if the Fallen manage to restart the programs? Perdita said. Those were sophisticated Golden Age AI. Imagine Fallen ketches being operated by them!
Their servitors already serve that purpose! Ghost scoffed. Next to them, I think the Fallen don't care for ancient AI one bit! They're much too simple.
Oh? You're an expert on Golden Age technology now, are you? Perdita challenged. I wasn't aware.
Ghost's fins drew down.
I know some things about it! he muttered. But I think we can both admit that the servitors are unlike any design we've seen on Earth. Right now, they far outclass any AI of the City!
But this is Golden Age AI!
Well, maybe the servitors are still better than Golden Age work! Think about it: wouldn't we already be seeing evidence of those cores on their ships?
Perhaps they've just missed finding them, Perdita clicked. It's easy enough to do, even if you know what you're looking for.
Hmph! They'd have to be pretty dull not to find an AI core!
As I recall, Perdita chirped mildly, it took you several passes through this place to find your Guardian.
Ghost dissolved into a series of terse clicks and stutters. Perdita answered sharply in kind. Their fins snapped and spun in the firelight as they argued with each other, like a couple of angry, chattering birds.
Zinnia giggled behind her hand.
"They must really be going at it if they've gone to the Ghost language!"
Quarrel shook her head helplessly at Ghost.
"That's enough!" Shenu called. He was walking toward them with his lantern in hand. The two Ghosts turned to face him, looked at each other, then zipped off to their respective Guardians. Perdita went to Rest. Ghost hovered over Quarrel's shoulder. She gave him a look. He gazed into the campfire, fins twitching ever so slightly.
Shenu came close enough that the firelight glowed off of his armor buckles and ammunition belts. His black vestments shone like onyx. His curious Bond was visible only by its utter refusal to reflect any of the flames. It circled his arm in an absence of light darker than the night sky.
"Finish your meals and grab your armor. We leave in five minutes."
It was not a suggestion. They nodded and asked no questions of him. Shenu left them to go into his tent. She and Zinnia hurriedly scraped at their bowls, gobbling up the last few bites of dinner and taking a quick drink from their canteens before packing up the cookware. Shenu's ban on non-emergency transmat meant they were left with dirty dishes to attend to. The spoons and bowls could be licked clean, but the cookpot was still hot. They didn't want to leave it out for animals to be attracted into the camp, so they did a quick wash with the remaining teakettle water while Zinnia held the pot in her gauntlets, protected from the heat. Quarrel stashed the kitchenware in the tent and grabbed their helms.
Ghost hovered at the campfire, watching her and occasionally turning his eye up toward the distant coastline. She felt her skin prickle every time he did that. What was out there?
She helped Zinnia adjust her armor beside the fire. It was getting easier to put her own gear on now, and she only had to hesitate a little at the unfamiliar helm Zinnia had loaned her. It smelled faintly of vanilla, courtesy of Perdita's zealous cleaning. The Warlock had argued it wasn't dirty, but Perdita had quickly reminded her of all the interesting things that went on in a Guardian's helm. Sweat, tears, mucus, blood, brain matter…the little Ghost had rattled off a list until Zinnia quieted her. Quarrel remembered her own accidents and was decidedly grateful for Perdita's care. Zinnia had assured her there was nothing to worry about — as well as telling her that the nanoprobes had been disabled. She wasn't sure she wanted to know how those worked.
Immediately she could tell that the helm was far more comfortable than the sweaty, screeching monstrosity she'd bought. The visor was smooth and almost completely unscathed. Perhaps it hadn't even seen battle yet. She breathed in and out a few times, testing the respirators. The comforting scent was nice, but it was masking her ability to smell the air. That displeased her. How could Zinnia stand to have any of her senses dulled?
They checked their weapons. Zinnia had her hand cannon strapped to her side. A small scout rifle hung from a harness on her back. Quarrel patted the hand cannon at her own thigh. Dane had helped her choose a good weapon. One she would be paying off for quite some time. If she hadn't already committed to this Guardian business, the pricetag on the hand cannon would have done it for her.
"All set?" Zinnia asked.
"Ready," she said.
They stood by, anxiously adjusting straps and glancing around the shadowy camp until Shenu emerged from his tent. He was armed and helmed, a shining scout rifle slung over his shoulder and a sleek fusion rifle harnessed on his back. His helm looked carved of black marble, a smooth planed thing whose grooves pinched the visor into a narrow V.
"Are you prepared?" he asked, his stern voice coming through clear on their helm comms, already tuned to each other's signals.
"Yes, Guardian."
He nodded once, then stretched out a hand to the fire. An odd, low hum began. Quarrel felt a pull in her guts, as though her Light were waking up, and then a flash of blinding ultraviolet ejected from his palm into the flames. The hum grew into a shrill whine. The ultraviolet flash coalesced into a ball that the fire was immediately sucked into. The strange Light winked out, leaving spots in her vision. She blinked them away. The ashes in the fire ring were not even smoking.
"Let's go," Shenu commanded.
Shenu paused just below the crest of a hill. He cocked his head and stared off into the night where the shallow sea murmured against the shore.
There must have been something wrong with the nanoprobes in his helm. It wasn't the aural cluster — the audio sensors were performing beautifully, his ears picking up sounds for at least a kilometer around, easily distinguishing the shush of water on rock and the soft padding of a night prowler walking across the beach below. The visual cluster was also to his satisfaction. The helm's night vision aide was impeccable, though it was turned low. He liked to let his intuition guide him as they walked across the wintry sea cliffs.
What was it that was disorienting him, then? His armor and weapons were all familiar standards that didn't encumber his travel. Ushabti was quiet. And yet…
Something was pulling his attention around like a lodestone, sending a vertiginous sensation all over his body. He turned to look back over his shoulder. In the deep night, even with the brilliant canopy of stars overhead, he could not make out the object he knew was hidden behind distant cliffs. With the aid of the latest scouting reports, he had known a Hive Seeder was there before they ever arrived in the Cosmodrome. Was it the source of his discomfort? Why would it suddenly be giving him trouble now?
Zinnia and the newly Reborn waited several steps behind him. They had the sense to keep silent on their trek, even if they didn't move as quietly as he liked. Well, Zinnia didn't. She was getting better, he could grudgingly admit, but she had a long way to go. Quarrel — ridiculous name! — was surprisingly lightfooted when she remembered herself. He could almost think she had learned a lesson from her Rebirth into enemy territory, were it not for the way she let her wonder keep her exposed in the open for far too long. Fortunately for all of them, Luna was hiding her face tonight, letting them move in darkness. Ushabti's thorough scans still showed no Fallen nearby. Still, they would be complete imbeciles to let their guards down.
"Is everything all right?" Zinnia broke the contemplative quiet. Of course she did. The girl was always impatient with silence. He fixed her with a look that he knew she could not see through his visor but whose meaning was still conveyed. She hunkered down a little in her high vestment collar. Quarrel was staring up at the blanket of stars, almost tipping over backward down the slope. Oh, how exasperating Novices could be! They got worse with each new generation. It was a wonder there were any Guardians left at all!
"Come," he said, and started back up the slope. He tried to ignore another wave of dizziness that washed over him. It was more a tingle, really. Like a reaction to a strong cup of coffee, or letting the Radiance bud toward the crown of the head in preparation for the Angel. Perhaps he was just tired, anticipating a sleepless night. Camping out never agreed with him.
They reached the top of the hill. He had selected the spot from visual as his jumpship had descended, a good point for tonight's training. He wouldn't want to sleep up here, but it would be all right for a few hours of lessons. Even with that thing of Darkness, that Seeder, pulsing across the land. It was pulsing, he realized. Faintly. Some kind of substrate thrum that wriggled underneath his skin. It was not a response from his Light. He felt no sympathetic surge rising to meet it — just more dizziness.
The hill flattened on top to a little grassy knoll. From here they could look out across the sea to the horizon, look up and down the coast in either direction from Skywatch to the terminus of the great mountain chain. It was too dark to see those mountains now, but he could feel them out there, giant, ancient, and wild. He resisted that inexplicable urge to look to his right toward the hidden Hive monstrosity. It was probably glowing with that vile not-Light. The disgusting creatures that crawled out of it would be staring into the night much like they were now. Could the Hive feel the presence of their Light?
He willed these thoughts away. They would not help. They were irrelevant to the task at hand. Ushabti would be able to pick up any Hive signatures headed their way in plenty of time to react. Even Quarrel's Ghost ought to be able to recognize Hive by now. Wasn't it said that she'd killed a Wizard? One would never be able to tell just by looking at her. She was still gazing up at the stars, awestruck. Not at all concerned by the night and what it might conceal. She had no idea how lucky she had been.
Shenu set the course for the night's lesson by adjusting the sling of his scout rifle and assuming the meditation posture. It was unpleasant without the zafu, with bulky armor impeding his crossed legs and the coldness of the frozen ground seeping through layers of fieldweave. Zinnia followed suit, shuffling around her satchels and weapons to accommodate her pose. Quarrel sat and haltingly tried to arrange her long limbs to mimic what she saw Zinnia doing. The little triangle they made pleased Shenu. Not just for the powerful geometry, but for the practicality: each one of them faced a different direction and would be able to catch sight of any unwelcome visitors. Ushabti appeared from Rest at his shoulder, assuming its own posture with slightly downcast eye. Perdita arrived at Zinnia's shoulder a moment later. Quarrel's unnamed Ghost winked into being at hers.
"The night aids the search for the Void," Shenu began. He would not bother to try and catch Quarrel up on what he had been teaching his Novice. She would either understand or she wouldn't. "The night allows a Guardian to remember that the Light has many expressions, all emanating from the same source, even if they do not appear to do so. After all, Luna's glow is very different from Sol. And yet, she shines from Sol's brilliance." Perhaps it was not the most fitting analogy on a night when Luna was New. He would not waste time fretting about it.
"Radiance and the Void are two expressions of the Light. It is a mistake to think that the Void is the absence of Light, just as it would be a mistake to think that moonlight is its own phenomena, independent of the sun." He raised a hand to the stars, drawing their gazes upward. Even the Ghosts watched. The great band of the Milky Way coiled from horizon to horizon. "The night aids the search for the Void because the night is a time for introspection. You may think of the Void as an internal art. There is no space the Light does not touch — even between these bright points of stars, though there be light-year upon light-year of distance. You are a brilliant thing of the Traveler, and inside of you are dimensions of space equal to the points between those stars. The Void draws from those spaces. To summon the Void is to listen intently. In Radiance, we shout with fire: I am. In the Void, we whisper: Who am I? The question opens the Void and draws it into mutable possibility. The question is the Void."
He drew his gaze back down to Zinnia at his left knee.
"Breathe deep of the night. Look into yourself. Coax the Void into your hand."
Zinnia's shoulders dipped as she exhaled slowly. Her hands were upturned on her knees, fingers gently curled, assuming the waiting cup. Quarrel watched too, her own hands tense in the unfamiliar pose. Perhaps she was going to give it a try. He would be interested to know whether she could beat Zinnia to finding the Void. Maybe a little competition would spur that girl on.
Minutes passed. Shenu glanced at Zinnia's palms and held his tongue. He could not feel the barest surge of Light in her. What did he need to do to get her to understand? Was she so oblivious to herself that she could not hear the echoes within her? Was her Light truly so one-sided? He decided to alter tack.
"Look into the stars above. Let the vastness of the cosmos release you from your thoughts."
Zinnia's helm tilted toward the sky. Shenu looked up too. Pinpricks of pain stabbed his arm under his Bond. He flinched, taken aback. Fortunately, the other two did not notice, nor did their Ghosts. Ushabti's fins spun once. It had noticed, but had the sense to remain quiet. The pain came in waves with that eerie pulsating from afar before dying out. It had only lasted seconds, but those seconds had made his spine prickle. The pain and pulsing hadn't been together, had they? He took a long, calming breath through his nose. It was just coincidence. It had to be.
A small glow started on Zinnia's palms. His eyes snapped to it, his heart rising. A small tongue of flame licked the air above her hand. Sol's Light again. Zinnia felt the shift and looked. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. Quarrel continued to watch the sky, her Ghost as caught up as she was.
"Why can't I do it?" Zinnia asked, voice colored with frustration.
"That question is irrelevant!" Shenu snapped. She was prone to these bouts of self-doubt. The Cryptarchy was fine with letting her indulge in these childish moods, but he would not tolerate it. Doubt was a colossal waste of time. "You have defined an answer for yourself," he said, studying her carefully in the faint starlight. "You are convinced that Sol's Radiance is all you are. Why?"
"I…" Zinnia began, and stopped. She seemed surprised that he had asked her to speak. He felt a flash of irritation. It was not often he invited her to speak her mind, but she should snap to it when he did!
"It's just easy," she said quietly. "It's as natural as turning my face to the sunlight. It's not something I have decided for myself."
"Yes, it is!" he said. "You are convinced that the first Light that comes to you is the most natural, while all others are foreign and difficult. You are biased. What is it about the flame that draws you so?"
Zinnia shifted uncomfortably. Beside her, Quarrel was watching them both, her attention finally drawn from the sky.
"It…it feels so alive," Zinnia said, struggling to find the words. "I feel so alive in Radiance. When I stand near Boone and he says he can feel strength returning to him, it's the best feeling. When I throw the flame into our enemies, I know I am purifying." Her voice faltered, as though she were afraid he would find her foolish. Well, he did find her foolish. But not for those reasons.
"The flame cleanses. It nurtures. It supports. I…I like that," she finished quietly.
"Ah," Shenu sighed, thinking he might finally understand her block at last. "You do not wish to put out the fire. You do not wish to be a weapon."
Zinnia was at a loss for words.
"The Titans have called the Void with their Wards," Shenu said, cutting through her spineless indecision. "The Void comes to them as a defense, a shield that says this is mine. Yet they can also hurl the Void as destruction, closed in their fists or flung into the face of danger. The Void can protect, but it is also a weapon. You are also a weapon. Do not fight this. It is your nature. It is why you are. To deny it is to deny the Light itself, who made you. Would you deny your purpose?"
"No, Guardian," she said. He ought to reprimand her for such mousy replies. The Bond was stinging again, making it hard to concentrate on the lesson at hand.
"We will sit," he said, wrenching his thoughts away from the burn in his arm. "We will meditate."
