Dark Quetzal: Echorium Sequence, #3

Echorium Anthem

For healing sleep of lavender dreams,

For laughter golden and gay,

For tears shed in turquoise streams,

For fear, blood and scarlet screams,

For death of deepest midnight shade.

For these the Songs,

Five in one.

Challa, Kashe, Shi, Aushan, Yehn.

The Echorium Sequence

(Song Quest ~ Crystal Mask ~ Dark Quetzal)

LONG AGO, BEFORE HUMAN history began, the world was inhabited by beautiful creatures – half human and half animal – who knew the secret of controlling their environment using the ancient power of Song. For a while these half creatures lived in harmony with their human neighbours.

But it was not long before the humans, impatient for progress, turned their backs on the old ways and made tools with which they built great towns and cities, ships to sail the seas, and wheels to travel the land. Soon they began to make war upon one another, destroying the very things they had built. The half creatures fled to the remote parts of the world, deep into the forests, to the bottom of lakes, and far beneath the waves, taking their secrets with them.

Not all humans forgot the old Songs. Those who saw how destructive their way of life had become set out across the sea to find a haven. On an island of enchanted bluestone, they built a school and taught their children the five ancient Songs of Power: Challa for healing, Kashe for laughter, Shi for sadness, Aushan for discipline, and Yehn for death.

News of the enchanted isle where people were healed by the power of Song quickly spread to the furthest corners of the world. The island became known as the Isle of Echoes, the school became the Echorium, and the people who lived there became the Singers.

The Singers made it their mission to restore harmony to the world. They dyed their hair blue to enhance the power of their Songs, and added diplomatic skills to their lessons. Any youngster whose voice could not manage the Songs was trained in weapons skills so they could help protect the Echorium. Singers negotiated treaties with the world’s leaders and made sure that those treaties were kept. When necessary, they sailed to the mainland to stop wars and put an end to cruelty. Their children could speak with half creatures and became friends with them. But as the fame and influence of the Singers grew, so did the number of their human enemies.

Eleven years after the events described in Crystal Mask, the world of the Singers faces its biggest threat yet.

Chapter 1

SINGER

THE CRAZY SINGER WHO lived in a cave on the beach had disappeared, and the whole Echorium was in turmoil. Kyarra wondered why people were so worried. It wasn’t as if they had lost any of the proper Singers who lived in the vast building of bluestone on the summit of the Isle of Echoes and taught the novices everything they knew, from basic hums to history. The woman who occasionally climbed the Five Thousand Steps to visit them no longer even dyed her hair blue, and no one had ever heard her sing on the Pentangle to cure the sick like Singers were supposed to do. But Singer Kherron wanted all the Final Year novices down on the beaches to help look for her.

The rest of that morning was a whirl of preparation for the rare outing. Orderlies ran back and forth with worried expressions. Novices laughed and shouted until the bluestone rang with Kashe, while their teachers desperately tried to calm them down. Kyarra kept quiet and avoided catching the eye of any of the Singers. Her skinny build often made people think she was younger than her years and although she had been moved up a class because her voice was so exceptional, this would be her first time outside the Echorium. She didn’t want anyone to suddenly decide she ought to be chaperoned.

Singer Renn was waiting for them in the courtyard. He wore a formal robe of flowing grey silk and must have re-dyed his hair just that morning, because it shone bright blue in the sunlight. Kyarra liked the young Singer, who was serious and quiet and blushed easily. He had amazing grey eyes that changed mood like the sea. Some of her disciplinary Songs had been due to her day-dreaming in Singer Renn’s class.

His gaze passed over the novices, counting heads. She felt her cheeks grow hot as it reached her, and quickly looked away. The gates of the Echorium stood open, showing the Five Thousand Steps that plunged down through sunlight and the blue slate roofs of Harbourtown to the sparkling, dancing sea. She caught her breath, suddenly dizzy.

A boy called Caell, who was the closest she had to a friend in her new class, squeezed her hand and said in a pallet-whisper, Don’t worry, Ky. I expect the Crazy Singer’s gone off swimming again with those half creature friends of hers. She’ll grow a fish tail herself, if she’s not careful! She’ll be back safe in her cave by the time we get down the Steps, you’ll see. Old Kherron’s just being paranoid again.

Shh! Kyarra stiffened as the Singer he’d named emerged from a door in the wall and strode across to Singer Renn. The whispers and giggles fell silent as he passed. Eyes followed him, but quickly looked away when he turned to address the assembly.

Pay attention, novices! he said in his cracked, rough voice. This isn’t a holiday outing, as some of you seem to think. Singer Rialle is missing. She’s been gone more than two weeks, and that’s longer than she’s ever stayed away before. We need to contact the merlee to find out if she’s all right, and that means one of you will have to sing to the creatures. So get down those Steps and keep your eyes and ears open! Any novice caught messing around down there, rather than looking for merlee as they should be, will answer directly to me. Understand?

They understood. The whole Echorium knew the story of how Singer Kherron had lost his voice on his last overseas mission, and how many Songs he’d been given over the years in an attempt to cure him. His temper grew worse with each failure. To be sent to Singer Kherron for a lecture was a punishment worse than Yehn. But even the bitter old Singer’s presence couldn’t subdue so many excited novices for long.

Kyarra and Caell found themselves jostled towards the gates, where the two Singers were checking people through. Kyarra pushed to the other side, hoping to avoid being noticed, but Kherron’s shadowed green eyes missed nothing. He held up a hand and the whole line stopped. The twisted lips pressed together as he drew Renn aside. The two Singers, young and old, held a swift discussion using pallet-whispers. They kept glancing at Kyarra as they spoke.

Caell frowned. Singer Kherron seems awfully interested in you. What have you done?

Nothing.

But her stomach was jumping. Lianne and some of the other girls in her class were grinning at her. Had they said something to get her into trouble?

Singer Renn beckoned her across. She looked desperately at Caell, who gave her hand another encouraging squeeze. The girls nudged one another and winked.

Kyarra raised her chin, but couldn’t help a shiver as the old Singer’s green eyes bored into hers. He didn’t speak, though. It was Singer Renn who smiled at her and said gently with an undercurrent of calming Challa, Kyarra, I know how excited you must be about going down to the beach to see the merlee, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay in the Echorium this afternoon. You can use the time to practise your breathing exercises. I’m sorry. Someone should have told you earlier.

Kyarra stared at him in disbelief. "Stay in the Echorium? But... why? What have I done?" She looked longingly through the open gates at the blue steps leading down to the sunlit beach.

Singer Renn glanced at Singer Kherron. You’re not being punished, Kyarra, if that’s what you think. You’ve worked very hard, as usual, and your teachers are pleased with you. But being moved up a year means you’ve still got a bit of catching up to do. We thought you might welcome the chance for some uninterrupted Song practice. He smiled. After all, you’ll be singing on the Pentangle soon, and—

No! The protest burst from her before she could think. It’s not fair!

The rest of the class had gone quiet. They shuffled their feet and tried very hard to look as if they weren’t listening, though of course everyone was hanging on to every word.

Singer Renn frowned, his grey eyes avoiding hers. Singer Kherron grasped her arm and gave it a little shake. "You’re going exactly the right way about getting sent to the Pentangle for Aushan, my girl! Until you’ve sung on the points yourself, you will address all your teachers as ‘Singer’ and do what they tell you without question. In my day, a novice who spoke to the next Second Singer of the Echorium like that would have been taken straight to the cells. Renn blushed, but Kherron didn’t seem to notice. We haven’t time for this now! Go and do what Singer Renn instructed. I’ll speak to you later."

Kherron might have lost his Songs, but his tone was dark enough without them to make Kyarra’s legs wobble. Novices didn’t get the fear-Song unless they had done something really terrible. It was supposed to harm their development. Even the information he’d let slip, that Renn would be next Second Singer, made her miserable. That meant Singer Renn would have to give up teaching and spend most of his time overseas. She caught Caell’s sympathetic look, though Lianne and her friends and some of the boys whose voices were cracking looked rather pleased. They’d love to see Kyarra put back down a class.

She straightened her shoulders and held her hair off her face so she could look Singer Kherron in the eye. The wind coming through the open gates straight off the sea tugged at the long, blue strands and blew them around her head, wild as her thoughts.

Thank you, Singer, she said as coolly as she could manage. I really appreciate the extra time to practise. I’m sure it’ll do me a lot more good than messing around on the beach looking for half creatures.

Singer Kherron’s expression darkened. Singer Renn bit his lip. For a moment, Kyarra thought she’d gone too far. Then she saw the glint in the young Singer’s eye and realized he was trying not to laugh.

Hurry on back inside then, Kyarra, he said. Tell the orderlies I said you’re to have the East Chamber to yourself for two sunsteps.

It was quite an honour, she supposed.

Yes, Singer, she said. As an afterthought, she added, Thank you.

She let the wind take her hair and pushed past the others, head high and back straight, meeting no one’s eye. They watched her go in silence. But as the blue corridors enclosed her, she heard Lianne mutter, Good, perhaps now we won’t have to baby-sit her all afternoon! And Caell’s swift reply: "Perhaps you should ask to go back with her? Ky doesn’t need the extra practice."

Eyes still stinging with the unfairness of it all, Kyarra deposited her cloak in the girls’ dormitory, climbed a spiral stair, and walked with Singer’s poise along the wide, curving corridor to the East Chamber. She passed on Singer Renn’s message to the duty orderly and quietly shut the door.

Alone at last, she let it all out.

"I hate him!" She thumped the wall either side of the window and thrust her face to the narrow opening. But from here it was impossible to see the Five Thousand Steps or the West Beach. She could only imagine the others laughing, chasing one another through the shallows, putting handfuls of sand down their friends’ necks, exploring the caves together, seeing the merlee... She glared at the clouds massing on the eastern horizon.

"I hate, hate, hate him."

She didn’t shout. The Echorium was supposed to be capable of transmitting Songs halfway across the world, and the West Beach was only five thousand steps away. Also, no one seemed able to agree whether Singer Kherron had lost his skills of farlistening and truth-listening along with his ability to sing. But she did her best to saturate the words with Yehn, imagined them pouring down the Steps and drowning the old Singer under a dark wave. Yehn makes you die. If a Singer was going to disappear from the Isle, why couldn’t it have been Kherron? What could anyone possibly want with the crazy, silver-haired Singer who lived in a cave?

FAR ACROSS THE WESTERN Sea, deep in the Quetzal Forest, a volcano thrust through the leaf-canopy like a steaming wound. A warm river gushed out of a hole near the crater and flowed in two streams down its wooded slopes. One stream fed a string of lakes, each smaller than the last; the other twisted and tumbled through the trees until it disappeared into the mist that shrouded the forest. In the lakes, naga and merlee half creatures were busy tending their underwater breeding grounds. Steam from the surface of the water drifted through the trees.

Beside the largest lake, rainbow quetzal eggs lay in a nest of warm black crystal. The half-human, half-bird mothers, their tails spread over the fragile eggs, exchanged soft hoots as they cut arrows and fitted them with flights plucked from their own wings. From time to time, one of them would break off from her task to whistle at the young fledglings, whose shrieks filled the clearing as they chased one another in a game of pretend take-off and landing. The older fledglings, who had recently learnt to fly, were just as excited as they prepared their bows and pouches for the day’s Yellow Flower harvest.

An unusually dark quetzal named Night Plume was in charge of the flock. As ever after a night grounded on the nest, he couldn’t wait to lead the others above the forest canopy. He stretched his strong, young wings and playfully pecked his friend Sky Swooper, whose glowing green and blue plumage made her the most beautiful of all the young female quetzal. The mist under the trees sparkled with bronze sunlight, and birds filled the forest with music. It was going to be a glorious day, perfect for flying.

But just as the young quetzal were about to take off, two black-robed humans emerged from a tunnel in the side of the volcano. These were two of the priests who served the Starmaker in his underground temple and looked after the half creatures who lived nearby. They walked quickly round the lake to the hatching ground. The fledglings stopped their game to giggle at the little triangles of hair on the priests’ chins, while the quetzal mothers hooted for them to come back to the nest. Night Plume’s flock stopped stretching their wings and shifted their talons uneasily in the crystal.

The Memoryplace, which contained all quetzal memories since the beginning of time, showed these same two priests yesterday when they had been dragging a silver-haired human female into their temple. In the Memoryplace, the prisoner was bound and gagged so she couldn’t make a sound.

One of the priests pointed to Night Plume. There he is. Looks quiet enough. Do you think he’s going to behave?

Why don’t you ask him? said the other, fingering the black crystal star that all the priests wore on chains around their necks. They speak, you know. He smiled at Night Plume. Are you ready to come with us, dark quetzal boy?

Night Plume looked hopefully at his bow and quiver lying on top of his neatly-folded pouch. I fly now, lead flock, find Yellow Flowers for Starmaker.

The priests exchanged a glance. The one who had spoken directly to Night Plume gave him a sympathetic look. Sorry, boy. Someone else will have to lead the flock today. Leave your bow. Starmaker wants us to bring you inside. His large fingers closed around Night Plume’s wrist.

Night Plume shivered. Inside? he repeated, his plumage prickling in alarm.

Rarely did the priests lay hands on any of the Starmaker’s half creatures. Night Plume had once seen a merlee carried from a boat on the Warm River to the Salty Lake, but she had been carried in a net, not touched as the priest was touching him.

The other priest picked up Night Plume’s tail, wrapped it around the young quetzal’s wings, and held the end of it in his hand. I don’t think this one’s been inside the temple before, he muttered. I hope he’s not going to panic.

He should be all right, said the one holding Night Plume’s wrist. He’s just spent a night in the nest, remember? It takes time for the effect of the crystal to wear off. He tugged Night Plume gently towards the tunnel. Don’t try to fly, he advised. You’ll be fine.

As the priests took Night Plume away, the rest of the flock took off in a flurry of bright wings, led by a scarlet-and-gold quetzal boy called Sun Glimmer. Some of them waved to Night Plume as they went. Sky Swooper hung back, but she couldn’t do anything except hoot in sympathy. Night Plume experienced a moment of wild panic as the rock closed around him. The priests paused, as if they’d anticipated this reaction, and the hand on his wrist tightened.

Careful, muttered the one holding his tail. Their bones are hollow, remember? We’ll be in trouble if we break his arm.

Night Plume was too busy studying the inside of the Starmaker’s temple to worry about his fragile bones. Despite the horror stories the quetzal mothers told to get the little ones to behave, no fledgling had ever been further inside than the crater. Gradually, as the priests gave him time to adjust, curiosity replaced his panic, and he stored the new information in the Memoryplace for other quetzal to see.

The tunnel had rough walls lit by torches set in brackets of black crystal. More tunnels led off into echoing, unseen chambers, and through an archway he glimpsed a network of glittering tubes like a giant spider’s web. Priests crawled like insects in its midst, collecting a steaming yellow liquid in little flasks. A soft hoot of surprise escaped him.

The priest holding his wrist chuckled. Never seen anything like that before, huh? he said. Bet you always wondered what the Starmaker did with your Yellow Flowers, didn’t you?

Night Plume fluffed his feathers, suddenly uneasy. As the priest spoke, a strange vibration came through the rock and a sudden draught brought warm, bitter air from the depths of the temple. It made Night Plume open his beak and pant.

The priests guided him along a side tunnel and deeper into the mountain until they reached a barrier of black crystal with a little round hole set at human eye-height. One of his escorts peered through the hole, then rapped on the barrier. It swung open, and all the sadness in the world seemed to flood the tunnel.

Night Plume staggered backwards, dragging the priests with him, every feather standing on end. Beyond the door, he caught a glimpse of wide grey eyes... a glimmer of silver hair threaded with pink seashells... several dark-robed humans packed into the tiny space... and, dominating the centre of the cell on his throne of dark crystal, the Starmaker himself.

The Starmaker had balanced his spear of dark crystal across his knees and was studying the prisoner in silence through the eye holes of a darkly-glittering mask. The hem of his plumed cloak fell down over the edges of his throne to brush the floor in imitation of a quetzal’s folded wings. Beneath it, he wore a black robe sewn with lozenges of crystal that hid his arms and concealed the fact his legs were mutilated and useless for walking. The mask had been fashioned to look like a quetzal’s face, complete with crystal beak, crest, and tufted ears. Its chin and cheeks had been threaded with tiny fluffy feathers collected by the fledglings from the hatching ground. The little ones who hadn’t yet learnt to use the Memoryplace very well thought the Starmaker pushed the feathers into his skin and grew them by enchantment. They said he’d be really handsome one day – like a quetzal. Night Plume blushed to think that, not so long ago, he’d believed the very same thing.

It’ll all come out in the end, Singer, the Starmaker was saying in his rasping voice. You can sing your little heart out, but your Songs will get no further than these crystal walls, and I’ll have everything out of that head of yours before we’re finished. The Quetzal Forest has secrets you wouldn’t believe. Moss that glows with the light of the stars, water that steams hot enough to cook leaves, flowers that loosen tongues and open thoughts. You can feel the Yellow Flowers working already, can’t you? Dissolving your soul, baring your deepest hopes and fears? I don’t need Echorium Songs to control you, Rialle. I’ve always been able to control you. You remember the Karch, don’t you? How young you were! You thought you could destroy me. But it didn’t work, did it? I escaped, yet you remained a prisoner – oh yes, I know! You remembered me so well, you couldn’t even bear to close a door after yourself once you were free. How are you feeling now? Can you feel the rock pressing in all around you?

The prisoner’s Song grew louder and changed, growing deeper and darker in a way that made Night Plume shiver to the roots of his tail feathers.

But the Starmaker only chuckled. "And don’t make the mistake of thinking your voice will work on my priests! They’re protected by khiz-crystals, as you can see. And this part of my temple is lined with khiz-crystal, too. You won’t find this place as easy to crack as my beautiful crystal palace, which your half creature friends so short-sightedly destroyed eleven years ago! You’re powerless in here, Rialle. No one knows where you are. You’ll never see your little Isle of Echoes, or your friends, again. Make her drink some more."

There was a scuffle inside the cell and the rattle of metal. The human female choked, spluttered, and let out another hum that filled Night Plume’s head with turquoise and tears. He couldn’t resist mimicking her. It was quetzal instinct and, like all quetzal, Night Plume had perfect recall. His beak opened of its own accord and the human’s Song flooded back out.

The Starmaker looked round. Ah, my favourite young quetzal! he said. Maybe now we can make some progress. He motioned Night Plume’s escort to release him, and touched him lightly between the eyes with his glittering spear.

Dark stars fizzed deep inside Night Plume’s head, driving out the Singer’s voice. Although the touch of the Starmaker’s spear interfered with his connection to the Memoryplace, it was a relief to stop singing. When the pain cleared and he could think again, he gathered his tail about his wings and stood straighter. He made an effort not to appear afraid of the small, enclosed space, and must have succeeded because the Starmaker nodded approval.

"Curious about