Disclaimer: This story comes entirely from my imagination, but all characters and places mentioned (save for Tanya, the M'Jah and R'Kahgeh) are property of Cyan, Ubi-Soft and Presto Studios.
Child of Releeshahn
Chapter One
"Come here you," Anna giggled as she chased the squee around. "I'm through playing games. If you weren't a gift from my Uncle Atrus, I'd throw you outside to fend for yourself!" She didn't mean it of course. The squee was one of her favourite possessions, though it didn't really come from Atrus. His friend had captured it. The friend that helped to get rid of Sirrus and Achenar on Myst Island and also save the people of Riven, the fifth Age of Gehn, when it became too unstable for Atrus to fix. Riven was no more than a few sparks on the linking panel now, but everyone was safe on another Age.
Anna had never met this friend who had caught the squee years ago on the Age of J'Nanin while chasing after the insane Saavedro who had stolen an Age--this Age of Releeshahn--right from under both Atrus' and his friend's noses. She didn't even know the person's name that had helped her uncle so many times.
Giving up on her pet, Anna set a wooden bowl of berries on the floor and headed over to her bedroom window, sitting down on the window seat. She loved looking at the vast plains of Releeshahn and the distant mountains beyond, majestic under the azure sky, but what she really wanted to see was the cavern of D'ni. Atrus was always mentioning it. After all, he'd lived there for a while before writing other Ages to escape to. He wouldn't let her go there, though. He rarely even went himself.
"The D'ni have established a new home here," he said once when he came for a visit to the Ro'Jethhe residence. "There is no need to go there anymore."
"But what about all the books? The Ages, the knowledge you left behind?" she had argued.
Atrus shook his head with a chuckle. "We retrieved all the Ages we could and all the books we felt we would need. I thought your mother told you that."
Defeated, Anna looked down at her hands. Her mother, Marrim, had indeed told her of all the adventures she'd gone on with Atrus and her friends from their home Age of Averone, adventures that led them to Terahnee, an Age that housed a sister race of the D'ni people. "I want to see it, though, Atrus," she had replied quietly. "I want to see everything and learn about everything."
"One day, Anna. One day you will. But not yet."
Anna would have accepted that years ago, but now she was fourteen. She wanted real answers to questions, not excuses. Drumming her fingers on the stone windowsill, she turned back to the squee, which had come out of hiding to feed on the berries. "Just wait until Yeesha comes, Boogin," she said using the unoriginal name she'd given the little creature when she had just been old enough to talk. "Then, we'll go on a grand adventure like Mother and Father did. We'll get to finally see D'ni and all its wonders."
The squee chirruped in return, its big, dark eyes and grey chipmunk-like body completely occupied with its meal.
Raising an eyebrow and twirling a lock of her abundant brown hair between her fingers, Anna watched the animal, completely unimpressed. "Some conversationalist you are," she said half angrily and grabbed the squee and stuck it back in its cage. It immediately scurried to its food dish. With a sigh and shake of her head the girl left her room and headed for her father's study. She was bored and needed something--anything--to do.
Lord Eedrah Ro'Jethhe sat at an ornately carved wooden writing desk going over some papers from the Council. Since the foundation of Releeshahn, Eedrah had been made its governor--a job he enjoyed but carried out humbly. He looked up when Anna closed the door behind her, not at all softly.
Eedrah smiled. "Plotting not going well?" he asked her, setting his pen back in the ink jar. He glanced over the papers quickly. He never had been able to get used to the D'ni script--elegant but so much plainer than that of Terahnee. Though, since the two writing styles were so similar, it made little difference to the Council.
"Not plotting," Anna replied. "Just bored." She plopped down in a cushioned chair on the other side of the desk and snatched a book off a pile there. "When is Yeesha coming?" Yeesha was Atrus' and Catherine's daughter, Anna's cousin and best friend. The two were the same age and well-known throughout the populace for their elaborate pranks.
"She's not," the man replied, not looking up from his paperwork.
"Why not?" the girl persisted as she read through a failed Age taken from the D'ni cavern.
"She's not coming here because you're going there."
Anna's face brightened. In her whole life, she'd only been to Tomahna once, and she had only been five at the time. "Really?" she exclaimed. "That's wonderful! Can Boogin come along?"
"You'd have to ask Atrus first, but I don't think he'd mind." He neatened up the sheaf of papers and tied them together with a string. "You need something to do? Run these to the Council chamber and give them to Guildmaster Oma."
The girl took the papers with a shrug and left the study, a cheerful bounce in her step. She would soon be in Tomahna with Yeesha and Aunt Catherine and Uncle Atrus. And she would be right where the linking book to D'ni was kept. Compared to that, what did a simple chore matter?
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
Messulah held his torch high in the air as he made his way through the perfectly circular tunnels hewn from the rock. At first, he'd thought them to be lava channels, but, after he'd come upon several stone doors in spherical chambers, he had changed his mind. Man created these, he thought to himself in wonder. But how? Few of the books he'd encountered up in the homestead in the cleft said anything about these…though, there had been others. Books in a script he couldn't even begin to comprehend. Now and again, he came to a symbol on the wall that he remembered having seen in one of those books. If only he could understand….
Messulah Darianus had been a nomadic desert trader up until he came upon the cleft homestead in the side of the dormant volcano. He remembered trading with the woman who had lived there alone for years, but it had been over two decades since anyone had seen her. Some said that she died. Others claimed she went down into the volcano, there being rumors of cave systems she and her father discovered years ago.
When Messulah heard of this, he went back to the homestead for a look around to see if he could find out what really happened. As soon as he reached the cleft, he knew it had been abandoned for some time. Everything looked as if someone was still there, but when he went inside and saw the garden around the spring he knew that no one was around. The garden was overgrown with weeds and ivy clung in a tangled mass to the cool, damp walls.
Continuing his exploration, the trader found a closet full of goods that were still in near perfect condition: cloths that would make anyone else in his business drool with envy, herbs of all kinds, trinkets carved of stone and various other materials…enough books to fill a rich man's library. The ones in the odd, elegant script would bring in a hefty sum indeed if sold to the correct parties.
Rushing back out to the cart that Messulah himself pulled around, having lost his camel while gambling, he grabbed all his belongings and moved into the cleft house then and there. Great wealth could be gained from all this, he thought greedily. And if the rumour about those cave systems is true…there could be gold, precious metals, gems. He licked his lips with the thought as he began cleaning up what appeared to have served as the kitchen.
For two years, the man lived in the cleft, leaving only once in a while to trade for things he needed--now and then selling some of the fine cloths and herbs. Now, as he wandered through the caves and tunnels, we wondered at what exactly he would come upon. He was following a journal the woman had apparently kept that contained a map to the tunnels--a map that was very vague as to what awaited him at the other end. Once, he came upon great machines--machines that looked like great beasts that would tear a man to shreds as if he were a frail leaf. Messulah had been so afraid that he dared not continue through the cavern for quite a long time.
"They must be asleep," he said quietly when the beasts did not move. He built up his courage and went up to the smaller of the two. "Great Allah!" he exclaimed. "It's made of stone!" Indeed it was. He flipped through the journal until he came upon a sketch. There, on the page, was a drawing of the two creatures.
"Drilling machines?" He screwed up his face in confusion. "Man has done this? They look like no drilling machines that I have seen." He touched the stone mechanism again. He then held his torch up higher and wandered over to the second machine, comparing it with the sketch in the journal. Then, with a sound of slight satisfaction, he continued on.
That had been hours ago. Now, as he made his way through the tunnels, he could hear the sound of water. Not the cascade of a waterfall or the roar of the ocean, but the slight lapping sound of a lake on a windy day. As he walked, the sound magnified until he came to a spot in the tunnel where he thought he saw a yellow glow up ahead. He ran towards it and gasped at what he saw. It was a massive cavern filled at the bottom by a glowing lake. What made the lake glow, he had no idea, but surrounding the water was the largest city he'd ever seen. A whirring sound could be heard from up above, but when Messulah looked up, his torchlight was consumed by the darkness up there. Must be some sort of ventilation, he thought. The air is too fresh for a cavern this deep in the ground.
Looking around him, he saw a small wooden boat tied to a jetty. He climbed in, loosed the ropes and rowed his way across the lake to the largest and most complete house he saw. Turning to the journal again, he discovered its name: K'Veer. What an odd name for a mansion. What an odd name period. This must have been the home of a great civilization once, he thought. Now, though, it looks abandoned. Earthquake, no doubt. He was judging this by the damage done to the buildings. Many had large cracks running along their stone foundations and walls. Some had been almost completely flattened, though there were some that seemed, for the most part, unscathed. K'Veer was one of those places.
He continued to read the journal as he rowed. According to the woman's entries, this place was called D'ni, home to a people of the same name. They spoke a language alien to any other on Earth. Their writing was different as well. That must be what the other books are written in. On following pages, sketches were found of various people with long faces, strange eyes and very fine-boned features. They seemed as elegant as their method of writing.
The woman went on to explain the D'ni's habit of writing Ages--links to other worlds where they got their food and other necessities that could not be found in a cavern such as this. Some Ages were written purely for pleasure, however, and it was to these places that Messulah wanted to go.
"These people were as gods," he murmured. "Able to create and destroy on a whim. I must learn how this is all accomplished!" He looked up when his boat bumped into the base of the island K'Veer was situated on, a sly grin on his sun-browned face. "I will find these so-called Ages and make them mine. Then, all will bow down before me, Messulah Darianus, and will not dare to mock me." He received that so much from the other traders because of his bad luck at gambling, but the other traders were not here. They did not know about the great realm of D'ni. They didn't know of the immense power that Messulah now had. He cackled with glee as he climbed the long flight of steps that wound their way up the pillar-like island to the main entrance of the mansion.
All would be his as soon as he mastered this Art the journal spoke of…and there was no one who could stop him. Everyone that knew of all this was dead--that was obvious. Messulah threw his head back and shouted as loudly as he could. "All is mine!" His maniacal laughter echoed through the empty cavern.