Antrax extended itself through its sensors and detectors, through all its communicators, searching. It went everywhere at once, monitoring readouts. Its examination took a long time, but time was something of which it had plenty. It explored the skin of its walls and floors and ceilings as would a living creature, making certain it was whole and free of clinging debris and secreting, burrowing minutiae.
Nothing revealed itself.
All of its metal probes responded to its inquiries regarding their operability. None were broken or disrupted, where such would signal a foreign presence. Nor did the lasers register any problem. Even the vast complex that housed the recordings of the creators hummed steadily along in its transference of information from one storage unit to another, keeping fresh, keeping whole. No system failed to respond when checked. All was as it should be.
Yet something was out of place.
Antrax took readings on the intruder housed in Extraction Chamber Three. The expulsion of power into the cells was noticeably down, but the intruder was still strapped in place and the wires that monitored its bodily functions had not been tampered with. Heat sensors indicated normal temperature readings for the room and no other presence. His prisoner seemed to be resting, asleep perhaps, though that rarely happened with the extraction techniques used by Antrax. Antrax paused to consider the readings more closely. The expected bursts of power in response to perceived threats had diminished noticeably. But that could be a result of exhaustion or even the extraction machine's determination of the subject's need for a respite. Draining off power was a delicate process, requiring a careful monitoring of the mental and emotional condition of the victim. Antrax had learned that humans were creatures of infinite possibility if kept whole. But flesh and blood were not as durable as metal. The creators had demonstrated that.
Sometimes Antrax wished the creators would return, though less so than in the beginning. At first, it had felt they must, that the creators were essential to its ultimate survival. Later, it had discovered how well it could survive on its own. Later still, the importance of the creators had diminished to such a degree that it saw them as unnecessary.
Yet it would house and protect their recordings, awaiting their return, because that was its mandate and prime directive. Survival was assured so long as there were sources of power to draw upon and ways to gain control over them. For Antrax, that was not so difficult a task. If not one way, then another. If not by securing them here, then by tracking them there.
After all, even for an artificial intelligence of its size and capacity, there were ways to leave Castledown.
Antrax took a moment longer to consider the readouts on its prisoner, and then spun slowly back through its network of living metal threads, searching.
Cloaked in the magic of the phoenix stone, wrapped in the blanket of his thoughts, Ahren Elessedil stood close to the table on which Walker and Ryer Ord Star lay entwined. He had been waiting and watching for what seemed like an impossibly long time, and he was growing restless. Something was nudging at him, a sense of dissatisfaction with his role as observer, a feeling of opportunity slipping away. He needed to be doing something.
Yet the seer had told him to wait. To keep watch. To serve as her lifeline to the Druid.
He stared down at her, amazed anew at what he saw. Her face was so calm, her features radiant. She was curled tightly against the Druid, who continued to breathe and occasionally to twitch as before, gone somewhere inside himself to accomplish whatever tasks he had determined were necessary to get free of Antrax. Perhaps the seer had gone with him. Perhaps she was only giving him the strength she said he so desperately needed. That they were joined was obvious-a joining that favored both, but Ryer Ord Star in particular.
She had found what she had come searching for.
He mulled that over for a moment, and in doing so he was reminded of the purpose of the phoenix stone. To help those who were lost to find their way back-not just from what they could not see with their eyes, but from what they could not find with their hearts. Those were the words the King of the Silver River had spoken to Bek Rowe.
To show you the way back from dark places into which you have strayed. To show you the way forward through dark places into which you must go.
Ahren Elessedil looked up suddenly, staring at nothing. Understanding flooded through him as he realized for the first time what those words meant. Who was more lost than the seer or himself? Who had strayed farther? Not just physically, but emotionally. She had betrayed them all by agreeing to act as a spy for the Ilse Witch. He had betrayed his countrymen by abandoning them when they needed him most. She was a traitor and he a coward. Those were the dark places into which they had wandered and from which they sought to return. In their hearts, they were lost.
He had not thought on his cowardice for some time, perhaps not allowing himself, perhaps simply caught up in what was happening within Castledown. But he would not become whole again until he had found a way to make amends for what he had done.