Anthology - SHADOWRUN - Spells and Chrome

Dear God, it's like discovering Gan Eden. His fingers toyed with Rachel's mezuzah, its metal too warm, its energies awakened to the mana infusing the valley. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he heard the whisper of a voice that he recognized as Rachel's: Because, my love, this is what it would be like to be free…

His breath hitched in his throat. Rachel? Are you…?

"Daniel?" Startled, he tore his astral gaze from the trees-and there she was, right beside him, the fiery sunburst of her aura like a beacon in the long night of his soul…

Alana touched his arm, shattering the illusion. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine," he said, drawing in a long shuddering breath. He banished his astral sense and the mundane sprang up around him again. "I'm just tired. How much longer?"

"We're here." She stabbed her light at a hummock of red and brown rock. "There was a huge tsunami in 1946. Steamrolled everything in the valley. Before then, this place was a major breadbasket. Taro fields, guava, mango, you name it. After the tsunami pulverized everything, the people just never rebuilt. The major temples were reduced to the functional equivalent of anthills. You want to see anything approaching what they were, you have to go further south to the Kohala Coast. But the tsunami also uncovered this heiau-at least, that's what I think. It's not in any of the historical or academic literature, and the Menehune know nothing about it."

He stepped carefully, playing his light over rough-hewn rock walls that rose twelve meters at their highest point. The structure was roughly rectangular at its base but sloped inward as it climbed. More like a crude representation of a volcano than a pyramid, he thought, which made sense.

Nimble as a goat, Alana led the way up a scramble of boulders. He followed, negotiating a three-meter drop at the summit to what he saw was an open expanse marked by more rock mounds.

She pointed her light at the rock below their feet. "That's coral, which is kind of weird this far inland. The way these things were built, slaves would've passed the rocks and coral in one continuous line from the ocean. If a rock were dropped or touched the ground, the slave would be sacrificed and the rock dropped far out to sea."

He calculated they were maybe six klicks inland and whistled. "That's a lot of slaves."

"Several thousand. We're on the west side, and so this-" her light picked out a rock tumble that rose to chest height, "-is probably the tele, the altar. But that's not what's so weird. Look at the rocks."

He did, and realized that what he'd thought were marks weathered into the rock by time and the elements were something else entirely. He touched a divot with tentative fingers, tracing a design of a vertical gash crisscrossed by two horizontals and surmounted by a small round divot. Head, arms and legs… "It's a man. Rock carvings."

"Petroglyphs, yeah, but here's the truly weird thing. The stones were supposed to be pristine. Yet every stone-and I mean, every single visible stone-is marked. This temple is one of a kind. And look here." She swung her light at a tall pillar standing east of the altar. The gleam playing over its etched surface was weird and smoky.

"What is that?"

"This," she said, running a reverent hand over the pillar's surface, "is an oracle tower, an anu'u and no, I don't know any like this and especially none made out of a single piece of pure obsidian, solid volcanic glass. And look at these carvings. They're so delicate. Can you imagine how long it took, how much care was involved?"

Years, he thought, but he felt no special power emanating from this stone, saw nothing to indicate this was a focus, or that there might be something else hidden in its crystalline matrix. (He'd heard of such things: legends of skilled adepts able to detect the aura of the tiniest of insects entombed in amber. The theory went that since, by definition, DNA was organic and all organically-based organisms channeled mana, not only an aura but the flush of a metagenome ought to be present.) But there was nothing here. On the other hand, his talents didn't run that way.

He said, "Okay, so what does all this have to do with you?"

"Here." She circled around the pillar then angled her light halfway up the glassy surface to pick out a faint, egg-shaped blotch riddled with small pits. "That's the sign for the Big Island and this big one with that sketchy pyramid is Maui with Haleakala, which would be visible from the western rim of the valley."

Frowning, he pointed to a scatter of distinctive triangular wedges arrayed like the numerals on a clock. "What are these things between the islands?"

"That is a location. Those wedges are the signs of the shark."

"Like your tattoo."

"You got it. Each island has its own shark-god. For example, the Big Island's is Ukanipo. But I've never seen petroglyphs arranged quite like this and these." She indicated two concentric circles as wide as Daniel's hand just below the shark petroglyphs. "Look at what's chiseled in the center."

He did-and his jaw fell open. "Oh my God."

"Uh-huh. The Hawaiians carved a lot of weird shit," she said. "But never, ever a dragon." • • •

"You went looking for a rift in a seamount." They sat in a bed of hapuu at the base of the ruined temple. He studied her profile in the dim light of the crescent moon, but a fan of her hair hid her face. "You said you didn't remember what happened."

"I don't, not everything. But no one ever asked me where."

"Split hairs often?"

"Look, I'm an academic. This is huge. The only dragon we know of to come through a rift is Ghostwalker. But if I can prove other dragons came through other rifts… It's the discovery of a lifetime."

"And it cost a man his, someone you said you loved."

"Don't you fucking judge me. I don't need a guilty conscience; I've got one, thanks." She blew out an angry breath. "I've kept my end of the bargain. Now you keep yours. Why the fuck are you here?"

So he told her-some of it. She listened without interrupting until he fell silent, and then said, "Your people want to close it?"

"That's right. I told you: We repair the world. Tikkun olam. Yeah, okay, Ghostwalker came through, but so do shedim. If it's there, even if the rift's intermittent, it's my job to seal it. I guess we use what you'd call magic, but for the Rebbe, it's a gift, a channeling of energy from someone, something else."

"God?"

"Call it whatever you want. Mana, life force… When we invoke that kind of power, it has to be for the right purpose."

"Read: godly, right? Great, a religious nut."

"And what you did wasn't a little nutty?"

"That was my job."

"This is mine."

"But don't you see? You're no different from the guys who want all the metahumans to crawl back under a rock. Who are you to decide what should be in this world, and what shouldn't? How do you know this isn't the way the world is supposed to be? Hell, didn't angels talk to people all the time? Weren't there miracles and giants and demons?"

"And the First Born of Man gave to him the names of the djinns and lilin and the shedim gave them iron to bind spirits and their letters for protection, so the remnant concealed themselves in the remotest mountains and in the depths of the ocean," he said. "That's from an old Hebrew legend, a Midrash."

"Meaning?"

"That evil is all around and contained, but that sometimes it breaks free. It's my job to bind it again."

"Don't dodge the question. What gives you the right?"

"We have a code."

"So do hired assassins." She snorted. "Who is this rabbi of yours?"

"He's… Well, he saved my life. Or maybe he helped me see that we're all broken in one way or another, just like the world."

"Take a good look around. Does this valley look broken to you?"