?:?:?:? SIXFLAME ?:?:?:?

  The proper way out of the Hub was through a large gate that framed the wild beyond. That's where we gathered as dawn's first rays seeped through the atmosphere, painting everything in a hazy yellow glow. Vanguard Starcarver was silent before us, haloed by the rising light. The four Kabus-born novices clustered near him, their expressions expectant.

  Two men, two women, looking like thoroughly normal people.

  Honestly, though, what had I been expecting? Holes for hearts? Tendril limbs?

  Ootu, standing slightly apart from us Torchers with his bag slung over his back, shared my interest. His mismatched eyes watched the novices closely.

  "Sixflame." Sister Gemheart's hand landed on my arm. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” Readiness was a subjective thing. I had no idea where we were going and carried nothing but Ootu’s axe, half-concealed beneath my short, dark-grey Torcher cloak.

  "Good." She stretched her lips in a smile that didn't touch her eyes. "I don't think anyone has told you yet, but as our most junior Torcher, you have a specific duty." She reached into a fold of her robe. "You must carry our sacred bell."

  “Oh?” Bell? It'd better not be for my neck.

  She handed me a small dull grey bell. Its handle was smooth with age and use. “You must ring it at intervals.”

  “Okay. What sort of intervals?”

  “Those our new world tells you,” she said, already turning to join Sister Pathsong and Brother Dawnchaser on Starcarver's right. The other senior Torchers, Brother Stellaroak and Sisters Rainshadow and Coralweft, were on his left.

  I gave the bell a test peal. It had a good sound, a happy clang that attracted the attention of the small gathering of Hub personnel at the perimeter gate. The mix of curious onlookers and cautious security officers quietened.

  "Quite the audience," Sister Pathsong murmured.

  "Our fame precedes us," said Brother Dawnchaser.

  A mechanical whine cut through the crowd's chatter. I looked up, squinting against the morning light and saw the dark outline of a sleek craft rising from the center of the Hub.

  "Ah, that will be our illustrious Hub Chief in her strataglider," Ootu said cheerfully. "On her monthly painting excursion, if I'm not mistaken. How nice of her to see us off."

  The strataglider circled our group, then dipped its wings in salute before banking sharply. I could make out only the silhouette of a pilot through the glare on the transparent canopy. Then with a surge of power, it set off towards the horizon, becoming a dwindling speck above the canopy.

  Starcarver watched its trajectory. "The meaning she seeks through artificial distance," he said, "we shall find through proximity and pain."

  Yes, the craft had artificially skimmed across a distance that would cost us days of painful trudging. One button press versus a footfull of blisters.

  "Friends," said the Vanguard. "Today we begin our Passage on Kabus. Like all worlds, it has a lesson to teach, a voice to hear." He raised his hands toward the curve of the gas giant hanging just above the canopy. "We walk to learn. We suffer to understand. We experience to become."

  The Torchers and recruits bowed their heads. I followed suit. Ootu nodded and patted the strap of his bag.

  "May our feet be our guides," Starcarver continued. "And our bodies our instruments. Let us walk."

  Then he stepped through the gate, and our Passage began.

  ?

  The jungle's ground underfoot felt oddly resilient, almost springy. With each step, I sensed a subtle give and rebound. The air grew thicker as we moved deeper into the scrub, becoming humid enough that breathing felt like sipping soup. We walked through clouds of strange scents, some sweet and floral, others earthy and fungal, following a narrow path that wound through increasingly bizarre vegetation.

  I should have been focusing on this unfamiliar and frankly dangerous environment. I should have been paying attention to my fellows on the Passage to mimic their behaviour and blend in. I should have been watching Starcarver to see if I could glean some knowledge that would help. I should have at least been listening to Ootu’s mutterings about flora.

  I did none of this as I was fussing with the damn bell and its intervals.

  Was I supposed to ring when someone tripped? When Starcarver paused to glance at us with meaning? When one of the Kabus-born novices pointed at something and explained what it was?

  Who knew? Not me.

  “Ring it when the world tells you," Sister Pathsong had said over her shoulder as we passed a thicket of red brambly things.

  But worlds didn't speak, did they? Enclave II certainly never had. Or if it had, I hadn't been listening. Maybe it had been whispering its secrets of water pipes and dying fusion engines all along.

  After a while, we passed a cluster of flat, yellow cushion-like growths. They looked interesting enough to warrant an interval, I decided, so I gave the bell a shake. Its clear tone rang out, halting our procession. Everyone turned toward me, expressions ranging from Brother Dawnchaser's disgust to Ootu's delighted curiosity.

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  "Excuse me," I said into the terrible silence. "The world spoke."

  Sister Pathsong's mouth twitched. "Indeed," she said. "And what did it say?"

  I shrugged and offered a smile. "To ring the bell, of course."

  A brief ripple of amusement passed through the group. I decided to wait longer before the next ring. Much longer. Let the world scream at me first.

  “He is right to make us pause,” said one of the Kabus novices, a tall woman with copper-coloured hair. She pointed to the yellow growths. “Those are stepper pads. They a safe places to rest.”

  "The older ones are solid as stone," explained another novice, his oddly pale eyes scanning the undergrowth. "We may sit on them, which is far preferable to the treacherous ground."

  Starcarver smiled broadly. “Come,” he said. “Brothers and Sisters, let us take this opportunity to rest. Perhaps our novices will be kind enough to show us the bounty of this world.”

  And so I sat on this organically squishy seat, I watched the Kabus natives do their work. The smallest of them, a wiry man with close-cropped hair, knelt beside one of the smaller stepper pads. He pressed his palm against its surface, and the pad responded by splitting open along invisible seams, revealing a cavity filled with a milky, jelly-like mass. He scooped it into a container.

  Another, the woman with coppery hair, peeled back fibres of a stem to extract thin, pale filaments that glistened with moisture. The third novice gathered purple sphere-like growths that clung to the undersides of broad leaves, while the pale-eyed fourth scraped something moss-like from the base of a rock formation.

  Within minutes, they had a meal.

  Sister Gemheart nodded approvingly. "This is why we need those born to a world," she said. "They understand its offerings in ways we outsiders never could.”

  I took a portion of the mix of gelatinous liquid, fibrous strands, and crushed purple bits. It smelled like engine grease, but with undertones of something sweeter. I shrugged, then tasted. The flavor was complex. Bitter at first, then surprisingly disgusting.

  I ate anyway. Everyone else tucked in happily, though I noticed Ootu discreetly sprinkling something on his portion.

  One of the Kabus novices approached and sat on a stepper pad beside me.

  "Those are crown lamps," she said, pointing to dome-shaped growths on slender stalks hanging high above us. "They're harmless by day, but at night they secrete a sticky resin."

  Good thing it wasn't night, I thought.

  "I'm Aysa," she said, her eyes lingering on mine a moment longer than necessary. "How long have you been a Torcher?"

  "Since...I left my home world." I shifted the bell in my lap, still uncertain when I should next ring it.

  She nodded, leaning slightly closer. "And which world was that?"

  "Enclave II."

  "I've never heard of it," she said. The canopy-filtered light caught her copper hair as she tucked a strand behind her ear. "Was it as beautiful as Kabus?"

  "No." The answer came automatically. "It was barely functional."

  She studied me with interest, her fingers briefly touching my arm. "And yet it taught you something, didn't it? That's how it works for Torchers...every world leaves its mark."

  I shrugged, uncomfortable with where this was going. "If Enclave II taught me anything, it was how to leave."

  She laughed, a sound surprisingly delicate for someone so tall. "Well, that's a lesson worth learning." Her smile held promise as she glanced toward a dense cluster of blue-tinged foliage. "Excuse me for a moment. Nature calls. Don't go anywhere."

  I watched her disappear behind the wall of vegrtation, struck by the casual way she navigated this alien landscape. She was born here, I reminded myself. This chaos must be normal for her.

  I turned to watch the others. The Torchers, still snacking on their meals, were speaking with the other novices in hushed tones. Ootu saw me looking and came to settle down beside me with a satisfied sigh.

  "Quite the adventure we're on, eh?" he said. "That was an interesting meal."

  "Yes." Although so far, the most adventurous thing had been pollen settling on my eyelashes. "Are you sure those plants they gathered are even safe?"

  "Absolutely! And I should know because I literally wrote the monograph on edible Kabus flora." He sniffed. "Self-published of course. The Institute rejected it on 'methodological grounds'." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I wonder if our Kabus-born friends have read it. It's curious that they seem to know exactly which—"

  He was interrupted by Starcarver, his tall frame casting a shadow over us.

  "Doctor Ootu," he said warmly. "May I say again what a pleasure it is to have your company on our humble Passage. Your expertise is sure to prove invaluable as we dive deeper into this world."

  "Why, yes…I mean…" Ootu stammered. Was he blushing? Yes, although only the right side of his face.

  "Might I have a word in private?" Starcarver continued. "I believe you have questions about our journey and I would be happy to answer them."

  "Ah questions," Ootu replied cheerfully, bouncing to his feet. "They are certainly the scientist's burden."

  They moved away, heads bent in conversation, leaving me alone with my thoughts and that blasted bell. I turned it over in my hands, examining the dull metal. It felt wrong somehow, like it wasn't meant for me but for someone who actually believed in this Passage business. Like Aysa.

  I looked toward the blue-tinged foliage where she had disappeared. She'd been gone a while now. My own bladder was starting to protest. I should probably follow her example...but where exactly had she gone? I didn't want to stumble into any dangerous plants or accidentally destroy something the others might need to eat later.

  I got to my feet and moved cautiously toward the spot where she'd disappeared into the jungle.

  "Aysa?" I called softly, not wanting to draw attention from the others. "Are you there?"

  No response.

  I pushed gently through the foliage, wincing as something damp brushed against my face. The vegetation opened to a small clearing, barely two meters across.

  There she was on the ground. Not sitting. Not squatting. Sprawled.

  My brain stuttered, trying to process what my eyes were seeing. Aysa's face, still and wrong. Eyes staring upward but seeing nothing. Dark fluid leaking from her nose, from her ears, soaking into the spongy ground beneath her. Her copper hair splayed out like wires, already tangled with tiny searching tendrils rising from the soil.

  My perception fractured like broken glass, reality spurting through in uneven bursts. I couldn't look away from her face yet couldn't focus on it either. The clearing seemed both impossibly bright and too dark. The sounds of the others barely meters away became distant, underwater.

  Death wasn't new to me, but this was wrong. Too fast. Too quiet. Too meaningless. Minutes ago she'd been eating, talking, laughing. Now she was...this.

  I stood frozen, bell dangling forgotten from my grip, an absurd thought surfacing: Was this a ringable interval?

  My hand reached out towards her, then pulled back. Check her? Report it? Run? The options crowded my mind without sequence or priority. I was suddenly and inexplicably aware of the weight of Ootu's axe under my cloak. Of the sweat trickling down my back. Of the strange silence of this jungle.

  The ground. It had her. It was taking her.

  Something in my chest contracted. Not grief for I barely knew her but animal instinct, the recognition of danger. This world had killed her. Just reached up and took her.

  I stumbled backward, crashed through the foliage. The distance back to the others stretched and compressed. The wetness of leaves struck my face, my arms. The bell fell from my hand with a cheerful, mocking chime.

  I burst into the clearing where the others waited, words tumbling out before I'd organized them.

  "Help," I gasped. "Aysa."