by Mark Hodder
“Transported? By what means?”
“There is a rupture in space, one end of which opens over the Forest of Indistinct Murmurings, the other over a small island on my world. It becomes active on Ptallaya at each sunset, compressing an unimaginable distance and making travel between the worlds possible. Yissil Froon’s ally—who traversed the path so many times he gained the ability to do so even when it was dormant—planned to reposition the far end over a populated area of my world by means of this crystal.” I lifted the stone that hung around my neck. “I stopped him.”
“So the plan is defeated, Thing?”
“No, Gallokomas. Yissil Froon is inconvenienced, but I think it very likely that he’ll still send his war machines to Earth. He’ll have to start his invasion from the island, that is all. He’s lost the advantage of surprise. It’s not enough to stop him.”
The Zull floated a few inches into the air.
“He’ll begin when the suns change?”
“Yes.”
“I will share this news with the rest of my kind. We must commence our preparations at once.”
“Will you send a patrol to watch over the forest?”
He nodded. “Give me the crystal. You have already met Artellokas—he is one of our scientists. Perhaps he and his fellows can discover a way to use it against Yissil Froon.”
I hesitated, then slipped the cord over my head and handed the gem to the Zull. He took it, inflated his flight bladder, rose into the air, and zipped away.
It might appear paradoxical to claim that a sense of urgency overtook the eyrie before then observing that the equivalent of a week or so passed during which my companions and I rested, healed, and familiarised ourselves with the Zulls’ remarkable culture, but, though the red orb was setting, it was sinking at such a snail’s pace that we had plenty of time to spare while our hosts mobilised.
Thankfully, Clarissa and I were given new garments, though these were a far cry from anything that Earthly standards of decency demanded. In my case, they consisted of nothing more than a kilt and sandals that laced up to my knees, and in Clarissa’s, a short, light dress, a wide girdle, and footwear similar to my own. She wore her goggles pushed up high over her forehead to hold back her thick mane of hair.
The colonel remained unclothed and spent most of the period lazing in a bath—“Meditating! Meditating, I say! It’s the old noggin. Still somewhat befuddled, what! There’s a lot to take in! Yatsill! Mi’aata! Zull! I hardly know where or what I am any more! Harrumph!”
My companion and I left him to it, enjoyed each other’s company, and puzzled over the Zulls’ various machines, which were so mystifying they might have operated on principles of magic rather than science. Many were hidden within the walls of the buildings, and upon closer inspection—achieved through the removal of panels—were revealed to have no moving parts at all, nor any elements I could recognise or understand. One of these baffling contraptions functioned to disseminate information, which was displayed on a large surface of concentric circles affixed to a wall in the community room of each dwelling. Like the mechanism itself, the display was so arcane as to be impossible to grasp, consisting in the main of overlapping shapes, clustered points of light of various hues and intensity, and sequences of symbols that were, Gallokomas explained, numerical in meaning.
“The apparatus is called the Life of Thoomra,” he said. “It supplements our instinctive awareness of who requires what by monitoring the production and availability of resources.”
The Life of Thoomra also transmitted the spoken word across distances, like the newly invented telephone device I’d read so much about prior to my departure from Theaston Vale—the Zull could only communicate telepathically when in close proximity.
Shortly after I’d assured Gallokomas that Clarissa, the colonel, and I were all in a fit state of health, the device was employed in this manner to relay to the rest of the community a meeting between us and a small group of Zull. The gathering was somewhat akin to a council of war. Clarissa had already been questioned about the machines she and Lord Hufferton had designed, and had redrawn many of her blueprints from memory. The contraptions all required coal to power their engines, but as this was an unknown resource on Ptallaya, Artellokas speculated that Yissil Froon would find a way to use Phenadoor’s own technology. He held up Iriputiz’s crystal and said, “In theory, the frequencies that characterise stones like this could be amplified and adjusted to cause water to boil. The engines would thus be rather less cumbersome than those you have devised, Miss Stark.”
“Making the machines lighter and more manoeuvrable,” my friend muttered.
“Oh yes, very much so. They could even travel underwater and in the air. However, while the crystals are a great advantage, they are also the machines’ most serious weakness.”
“Why so?”
“Because by interfering with their transmissions, we can cripple the engines.”
“You have a method?”
“We think so. We are creating weapons that will project a narrow beam of sound. The frequency will automatically adjust until it resonates with whatever crystal it’s aimed at. When that resonance is achieved, the sound will intensify until the gem cracks. This will render it useless.”
“Like an opera singer breaking a glass,” I mused. “It’s going to be a noisy battle.”
“I don’t know what you are referring to, but no, the sound will be well beyond the range of hearing.”
Artellokas informed us that Thoomra’s manufacturers—who were more artisans than industrialists—were already producing prototypes.
After the scientist had finished his report, a Zull who’d been keeping watch over the forest joined us and revealed that underconveyances had been landing a large number of Mi’aata at the mouth of the river. “But they are unarmed and appear sick. They go into the trees and become still among the branches.”
“The Discontinued,” I said. “They are not a threat. In fact, they will become Zull.”
The meeting finished after it was decided to send a party to New Yatsillat to recover any surviving Koluwaians. Due to the likelihood that, like Gallokomas, the Zull would find it difficult to enter the remains of the city, the responsibility fell to Clarissa and me. We’d be landed at the lip of the bay and would then make a foray into the ruins while our escorts circled overhead.
Before we set off, my two companions and I were carried to a particularly broad-topped eyrie, crowded with workshops, and were ushered into the presence of a Zull who proved to be a medic, scientist, and tattooist. Without causing me the slightest pain, he etched onto my inner right wrist a small spiralled design. He then did the same to Clarissa before adding the odd little symbol to one of Colonel Spearjab’s limbs. When the procedure was finished, Artellokas, who’d accompanied us, said, “Apply pressure to the centre of the symbol and speak Miss Stark’s name into it.”
Mystified, I raised my hand, pressed the middle of the spiral with my thumb, and said, “Clarissa Stark.”
Clarissa gave a squeal and jumped about a foot in the air. My voice had sounded from her wrist!
“It will enable you to speak across a distance with anyone you know who also carries the device,” Artellokas said. “Just press the symbol and say their name to contact them. There is no limit in range, but the tattoo will wear off in time. Most of us have them renewed each cycle.”
Her eyes wide, Clarissa put her wrist to her mouth, pressed the tattoo, and said, “Aiden Fleischer. Can you hear me?”
Despite myself, I gave a yelp and jerked sideways as her words issued from my arm. “Unbelievable!” I cried out. “This is simply astonishing! How can it possibly work?”
“It is a difficult process to explain,” Artellokas answered.
Clarissa asked, “Will you teach us the principles of Zull science once we’ve dealt with Yissil Froon?”
“I will. Come. We have more to give you.”
We were next taken to a studio, on the same eyrie,
where Artellokas presented us with beautifully crafted and ornate pistol-like contrivances fashioned from wood and a brass-coloured metal. Their barrels flared out like that of a blunderbuss. “They discharge a burst of sound that will render any opponent unconscious,” he explained. “The Zull do not kill.”
I slipped my “sound gun” into its holster and belted it around my waist. Clarissa and Colonel Spearjab followed suit.
Artellokas crossed to a bench, picked up a long, heavy object wound with material, then returned and handed it to me. I unwrapped it to reveal a beautifully crafted scabbard in which a perfectly balanced sword was sheathed.
“This Zull awareness of the needs of others, and willingness to provide for them, will never cease to amaze me,” I exclaimed, for I’d been feeling strangely naked without a blade at my hip.
Next, Artellokas produced three objects consisting of tangled belts and skins. He led us outside and asked me to extend my “forelimbs.” I held my arms out sideways. Artellokas slipped the belts around me and affixed them until I was tightly harnessed. The skin drooped down my back like a cape. He directed my attention to a large metal disk at the point where the straps crossed my chest.
“Slide a digit upward across it.”
I did so. The skin instantly inflated and, with a yell of surprise, I began to float into the air.
Clarissa laughed as I kicked wildly, struggling to regain my balance.
“What ho! What ho!” Colonel Spearjab bellowed. “Hup-hup!”
Artellokas floated up to me. “Slowly slide a digit down the control.”
I did so and gradually lost altitude.
“Cover it with your hand,” he said.
The action brought me to a halt about six feet from the ground.
“Slide up to go higher. Slide down to sink lower. Tap to go fast. Press to slow down. Cover to stop. Touch the top edge to go forward, the bottom edge to go backward, the right edge to go right, the left edge to go left.”
I experimented as directed and was soon shooting about, unable to resist the temptation to holler in delight. In no time at all, I felt I’d mastered the contraption, though when I tried to land, I found myself stumbling to my knees and skidding to an undignified halt in front of Clarissa.
“Splendid!” I cried as she assisted me to my feet. “Simply marvellous, Artellokas!”
“You feel the need to engage with the enemy,” he said. “This will allow you to fight alongside us.”
Clarissa and the colonel eagerly donned their harnesses and were soon flitting about overhead with many an exhilarated scream and bawled, “What! What!”
We practised until we considered ourselves proficient, then left Artellokas and raced each other home, where we were met by Gallokomas and a large flock of Zull. Without further ado, we all set out for New Yatsillat.
It was now that I—like my companions—discovered how clumsy a flier I was, for the Zull appeared incapable of maintaining a straight line, instead swooping and darting around and about one another in such a dizzying fashion that I began to lose track of up and down. Whatever instinct allowed them to avoid collisions was sadly lacking in me, and my attempts to emulate it caused nothing but trouble. Had I maintained a steady course, all would have been well, but every time a Zull swept close to me, I couldn’t help but try to steer clear, and in doing so inevitably bumped into another, losing my balance and becoming thoroughly upended. For the initial part of the flight, I tumbled and spun through the air like a leaf in a tempest. Had I been stable enough to look for Clarissa and Colonel Spearjab, I’d have seen them in similar straits.
I was becoming thoroughly queasy when a couple of Zull came to my assistance and, by grasping my legs and holding me steady—refusing to let me dodge this way and that as was my wont—soon had me convinced that no one was going to collide with me. Finally, I was able to fly smoothly and unaided, and saw that my friends had benefitted from similar attention.
The flock proceeded in a westerly direction, and the sun, now swollen to even more gigantic dimensions, glared directly into our eyes. We first passed over the hilly and forested land that stretched between the eyries and the Shrouded Mountains. The shadowed valleys below were cut through with streams and rivers, which, reflecting the crimson sky, reminded me of the rivulets of blood I’d seen trickling between the cobbles of Buck’s Row, causing me to wonder whether Jack the Ripper was still at his grisly work in London.
The climate had by now settled. There were no more rains or strong winds. Instead, a stifling humidity closed around us, which, in collusion with the sun’s awful illumination, seemed to compact the wide-open spaces, as if the sky was pressing down. Even when we reached the mountains and soared high over them, there was no sense of increasing distance between the ground and the heavens.
“A lid has been placed over Ptallaya,” I shouted across to Clarissa, who was at that point flying alongside me, “and we are cooking beneath it!”
We swooped through the clouds of steam that bubbled up from the peaks, emerged from them, and saw the Valley of Reflections below us. I recalled my horrible vision and thought again of the Whitechapel killer. The notion that I was Jack the Ripper appeared totally absurd now, but had been such a potent impression at the time that Yissil Froon had been able to take it, exaggerate it out of all proportion, and use it to cripple my ability to properly assert myself.
I gritted my teeth. I had a score to settle!
The rocky terrain flattened into broad savannah. Herds of animals moved far below us—most, it appeared, fleeing from predators. Off to our left, I saw eight Yarkeen drifting slowly over a patch of forest, their tendril-like appendages ripping at the foliage.
We flew at a terrific speed. The air, which now held the odour of burned toast, whistled past my ears. As far as I was able to estimate—though I must admit that by now my sense of time was almost entirely lost—it took us less than two Earth days to cover the same distance that the Ptall’kor had required perhaps months to traverse.
We landed just once. Clarissa, the colonel, and I stretched and worked the kinks out of our shoulders, ate a light meal, then rested for a short period before Gallokomas ordered the flock back into the air.
More savannah, then the Mountains That Gaze Upon Phenadoor rose over the horizon, silhouetted black against the harsh purple sunset. The terrain became increasingly familiar to me. The Yatsill farms slid into view.
“Let’s set down in the fields,” I shouted to Gallokomas. “We should take a look at the nurseries.”
While the rest of the flock circled overhead, my companions and I spiralled down and came to rest beside one of the papery structures. The Zull and Mi’aata both hastily backed away from it.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Gallokomas moaned.
“Dashed uncomfortable, what!” Spearjab agreed. “Familiar, though, I must say. Harrumph!”
“You’re repulsed by the nursery,” I noted. “Excellent!”
Gallokomas twitched his mandibles. “Excellent, Thing? Why excellent?”
“Because if you’re made uneasy, then the nursery must be occupied.”
“Ah, I see. It is very queer, this aversion.”
I gripped a fold that served as the structure’s door and eased it open. Moist heat was expelled from within. Squinting into the darkness, I saw a crowd of Yatsill squatting motionlessly, apparently asleep, though their fingers were moving incessantly.
“The children are safe,” I told the others. “This is very good news. When the yellow suns rise, they’ll make their migration to the Cavern of Immersion. Some will be made Aristocrats. They’ll transmit a degree of intelligence to the rest, and in generations to come, as the Mi’aata and Zull populations are slowly restored, so too there’ll be more seed parasites, until, at some point in the future, all the Yatsill young will play host to them, and the life cycle will be healthy again.”
“Which means we must never again return to this area,” Clarissa commented. “When this lot are made Aristocrats,
I don’t want them delving into my mind and overreaching themselves like their forebears did. This new generation will be free of Pretty Wahine and must also be free of me.”
After we’d checked on two more nurseries and found them similarly well stocked, Gallokomas and Colonel Spearjab rejoined the circling flock while Clarissa and I flew out over the devastated city.
The campfires were still burning on the fifth level. We made our way down to them, gliding above the awful rubble and mud until we reached the flat space where the Koluwaians and surviving Yatsill had gathered. They greeted us as we landed, and Baron Hammer Thewflex—sans mask—and Kata pushed their way to the front of the crowd.
“Hallo! Hallo!” the baron exclaimed. “You’re back, hey! Indeed you are!”
“Hello, Baron,” I said. “I’m glad to see you.” I addressed the Koluwaian. “Kata, we’ve come to take you and your fellow Servants away. We can’t allow you to remain here as food for the Blood Gods.”
She nodded wordlessly.
“Good show!” the baron exclaimed. “I think the bally invasion is over, old chap, but of course the fiends will return after the Saviour’s Eyes have looked upon us once more. Take the Servants, by all means. The poor things have been very unhappy since the city was destroyed.”
“And you, sir? What will you and your fellows do?”
Thewflex removed his top hat—careful not to catch it on his curling horns—and brushed dust from it. He waved it at the ruins. “We cannot rebuild here. No indeed! Even if we cleared away the debris, the land itself has slipped. I have it in mind to settle at the edge of the jungle on the other side of the farms. It’s not too far from the sea, and there are still a few Quee’tan in the trees. Perhaps we could capture the jolly old things and breed them. What do you think about that, hey?”
Clarissa said, “It sounds like a very good idea, Baron.”
Thewflex looked down toward the sea, where many of the Working Class were still frolicking in the water near the shore. “Perhaps if enough of the children are made Aristocrats, we’ll be able to restore some wits to that confounded rabble.”