The Python of Caspia

by Michael Green

  “Yes—sir!” Andy climbed, and huffed the words as he went.

  He reached for the ledge and felt like his strength would give out. “Thirtieth floor!”

  “Off! Off you go!” Titus helped the Dextra bustle off and onto the cliffside.

  With the mice streaming away, Andy felt them tickling his arms. He gritted his teeth against the urge to laugh.

  They raced off him, but he felt his grip slipping. When he felt like he couldn’t hold still for any longer he heard Titus shout, “We’re free, pull yourself up!”

  Unencumbered, Andy had little trouble hoisting himself onto the cliff, though his clothes were now both muddied and torn in places from the rocks.

  Titus looked down over the cliff side. “We’ll have to get the pioneers out here to rebuild the switchbacks. You did a number on them.”

  Andy wanted to argue, but looked down and saw it was the truth.

  “Nothing for it. Now let’s get moving!”

  “With that attitude, Titus, you can walk the rest of the way,” Andy said, trying to brush the gunk off his clothes.

  Titus belted out a hearty scoff as he organized his mice into thinner columns, to better navigate the tighter path. “The foliage is overgrown in some places. It might slow us down, but thanks to the lift we’re well ahead of schedule.”

  “I’ll lead,” Andy said.

  Andy had to push the shrubs aside as he went. Titus didn’t argue as he headed to the front of the column. Andy listened as they followed, their tiny arms clinking softly as they marched. He snapped away the dead branches that choked out the path and tossed them further into the foliage.

  “How far, Titus?”

  Titus grabbed his pant-leg and tugged. “May I?” The mouse pointed to his shoulder.

  Andy sighed. “Sure.”

  Titus leaped up in a few bounds but hid behind Andy’s neck to avoid the branches. “Not far now. The road curves lanticward—eh, to the right. Could I ask you to hunch a bit, please? You might give us away.” Andy hunched and continued advancing. “There’s the tenth acre marker on the road ahead. See it?”

  Andy saw the stone with the painted X poking out from a shrub. “Yes. Does that mean we’re almost there?” Andy whispered. The mice behind him also bent low and held their weapons carefully, to keep quiet.

  Why would they hunch? I’m still twenty times larger.

  “Yes, Cair Fromage is near. Stop and listen.”

  Andy slowed to a stop, the mice halted behind him. They were silent.

  He heard a sound like ringing, or chains being rattled.

  “Hear that, Titus?”

  Titus nodded as he listened with one ear raised towards the curve in the road. “It’s up ahead. I’ve heard the sound before—move, swiftly but silently—don’t break any branches.”

  Andy nodded, squinting as the branches slapped him across the face. The stretch of thick shrubs suddenly gave way to worked fields, many filled with countless plump, green insects that milled about in their enclosures. Andy didn’t have time to give them much attention, because in the distance sat the city.

  “They’re under attack!” Titus moaned.

  Andy saw the floating mountains the mice carved from cyclostones. A dozen were floating fifty feet from the ground. They were chained and lashed to each other. A central, far more solid mountain was held to the ground by three heavy chains.

  Lithe and bony shapes darted here and there across the spaces inside the city walls. They were waving their rickety weapons wildly and looked to be celebrating as a muscled beast chopped away at the chains with a heavy blackened axe. The beast looked colossal next to the mouse structures in the city. Andy realized that it was likely his size.

  “I think it’s trying to cut them loose,” Andy whispered.

  “And with no propellers they will float helplessly to their deaths,” Titus said, his eyes flashing to the figures in the city.

  Andy got down onto his hands and knees to crawl up the roadway as Titus called his second in command up to the nape of Andy’s neck.

  “We will split the cohort. Take the Third and Fourth centuries with you to the far side of the city; attack when you hear the gates are breached.”

  “Yes sir!” The mouse leaped from Andy and led his centuries away and to the far side of the city.

  “Lysander, I have to ask you to do something dangerous. I need you to use your giant’s strength to kick down the gate facing us, that will allow my mice a way in. You must then run through the enemy, yell and scream to shock them, and then kick down the gate on the far side of the city to let in my second and his centuries. We will surround them.”

  Andy nodded, poking his head up to see the gates, but his eyes stuck to the hulking frame of the beast, trying to split the anchoring chains. He noticed too that something lit the center of the city. A tall pillar of white flame burned so brightly that the beast and the smaller fiends were avoiding it.

  “The slithers are nothing to you, not one on one at least. Whatever you do, don’t get cornered by that brutox! The beast is your size, but dense, and a born killer. Its axehead is forged from rare nightsteel, they need it to cut our chains, but a wound from that weapon will be impossible to heal, even with minoe.”

  Andy’s breath quickened and his muscles tensed. He lifted his body into a running stance.

  “Hold on my boy, let me down. I need to lead.”

  Andy paused for Titus to leap to the ground. He saw an adjutant run up with a helmet and sword for Titus.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Lysander.”

  It was up to him. Andy felt the earth under his hands. He was shaking. The beast made him want to turn and run home.

  Brutox? Nightsteel? Don’t get hit, Andy. Let the mice take care of business; they have weapons and training.

  He felt his mind reaching for reasons to turn around. His heart trembled at the flexing muscle running down the beast’s trunk as it struck the chains.

  A chain snapped and a ripple went up through the floating mountains. A few mice fell the distance to the ground. The slithers, their lithe forms poised for violence, pushed and tore at each other to get at the mice.

  A squeal of pain reached his ears.

  I can’t let them be killed!

  His mind went blank as he kicked off the ground. The earth blurred past as he raced. He kicked open the gate and vaulted over the wall, which came up to his waist. He hardly noticed the siege engines parked against the wall, and the signs of battle.

  Andy screamed. “Here! Come here!”

  Every moving shape in the city stopped to look up at him.

  The flames from the towering pillar shot higher into the cavern.

  The brutox, momentarily startled by the surprise attack, raised a heavy arm and pointed at him. Reluctantly at first, but then with more speed, the slithers broke away from their victims and ran toward Andy from every direction.

  He felt a slight stab in his leg. Andy reached down and grabbed the small beast before hurling it like a discus out of the city.

  “Break the rear gate!” Andy heard Titus yelling at him as the mice charged in from behind.

  Right, the other gate!

  Andy kicked his way through the mass of slithers, ignoring the stabbing as he went. The brutox clicked at him curiously as it leveled its axe and made to approach.

  Andy grabbed a slither that had climbed up to his waist and hefted it at the brutox, who cleaved it from the air without pause.

  Titus and his troops formed up and advanced towards the city center. Crossbow volleys and leveled halberds cut an inky path through the mass of confused slithers.

  Andy weaved left, but the brutox followed. He ducked to the right and narrowly avoided a felling stroke from the heavy axe. Andy heard it ring through the air, just inches from his face.

  He felt the skin on his back tingle, as if the axe was still flying toward him. He raced to the rear gate.

  “Clear the gate!” he yelled, barreling into it and tearing th
e gatehouse clear off the wall as he plowed through. Andy kicked the debris aside so the centuries could enter the city unhindered.

  The fighting mice wasted no time pouring around Andy and through the wreckage of the gatehouse.

  He stood back as the mice formed up and loosed a volley of bolts into the wavering mass of slithers. He watched as the bolts struck one of the rickety creatures. It fell to the ground and melted away into a tarry puddle.

  The mice were gaining the upper hand. The slithers were almost routed. The few that remained swung wildly at the lines of halberds before getting tangled in the blades and melting into viscous purple liquid.

  The brutox wasn’t impressed. Andy finally had a good look at the thing in the light of the pillar. It was something like a beetle crossed with the frame of a tall chimp. The mandibles and face were insect-like, but the body was plated and thick. It looked built for hard work, or violence.

  Andy stepped forward.

  “Stay back, boy! Leave him to us!” Titus’s second ordered forcefully.

  The brutox cackled a clicking laugh as the bolts bounced off its plated flesh. It buried the axe into one of the smaller freestanding buildings, tearing the bottom floor loose from its foundation, it chopped again, and split the building free from the ground. Dropping the axe, it lifted the severed structure over its head.

  “Scatter!” Titus roared.

  The building went sailing through the air, straight for Titus’s line of mice, who ran as quickly as they could, but many were caught under the falling wreckage.

  Andy bolted forward and reached out for the axe. The brutox turned and saw him coming, but did nothing.

  For a moment, Andy thought that strange, but he grasped the axe. His hand grazed the dull end of the axehead as he raised the weapon.

  He cried out and fell to the ground. The axe seemed frozen, and stuck in his grip. It felt like electricity was shooting through his body.

  A cold, hard hand grasped his throat. He felt himself lifting off the ground. The brutox took the axe from him, and the jolting ceased.

  Multifaceted white eyes mirrored Andy’s bloodied reflection. The brutox choked the breath out of him as it looked on, calm and uncaring.

  Suddenly, the world was shrinking, everything felt like it was getting further away and he struggled to breathe.

  The world blurred as his vision darkened. The planes of the brutox’s carapace seemed to bend and twist into a nightmare of starless nights. That night was suddenly pierced by falling bolts of light, like a burst from a firework.

  This is it.

  Another shower of silver sparks came flying down from the floating mountains above. Andy’s mind was at the point of giving in, but something about the image forced him to hold for a moment longer.

  He felt the air rushing through his hair from behind.

  I think I’m falling.

  The feeling dragged out longer and longer. It stopped suddenly and he felt the warm ground.

  A tower of silver flames shot out of his chest and filled his eyes. He had landed on the pillar of flame, and considered it one more piece of poor luck.

  He knew he had to roll over.

  Andy reached out with his arm and pushed, forcing his body to roll. With difficulty he looked over and saw he had indeed been lying on the pillar of flame. The brutox had dropped him onto it, but he was neither impaled nor burned.

  He focused on the source of the flame. Looking closer, his eyes tensed. Deep in the column was a single floating orb, about the size of a large marble. He reached out and grasped it.

  A pulse of light shot out into the cavern. Andy felt the ringing in his ears clear. The world refocused, and his breath came back.

  Andy rolled to his feet, suddenly furious. He felt freshly fed and just wakened from a full night’s sleep.

  What’s happening to me?

  The mice were shielding their eyes. The brutox too bowed his head and stepped back.

  Andy was compelled by something within. He walked towards the brutox and clenched his fist around the marble. The brutox raised his axe and swung. Andy tightened his fist to the point of pain and a flaming, silver blade exploded outward from his clenched palm. The blade blocked the axe, and the brutox leaped away in surprise.

  “God damn! Where did that come from?”

  The pillar of flame had been erupting from the marble, but now, with the marble tight in his grasp, the pillar changed into a flaming silver blade that ignited outward from his clenched fist. As he raised his hand, it felt like lifting nothing.

  “Kill him, boy!” Titus cheered from behind.

  But Andy didn’t hear. Instead, he turned the weapon over in his hand, feeling it respond like a pencil or paint brush.

  The brutox saw that Andy was distracted and lunged to strike again.

  Andy countered the blow, almost without effort.

  On a whim he swung at the brutox, who parried. The nightsteel axehead deflected the blow, but when Andy attacked again his blade struck the axe’s haft, which split apart at the touch, leaving the brutox standing with a chunk of rounded wood in his hands.

  Andy swiped with the blade.

  Despite its fleshy armor, the brutox split into halves. The pieces crumbled into smaller and smaller chunks that grayed as they eroded. After a moment Andy would have sworn that he only saw a small pile of sand, noteworthy only because of its slight tinge of purple.

  “There’s a lad!” Titus led a cheer. “Pull them in!”

  Andy opened his palm; the blade vanished. He saw the marble resting there.

  No one will ever believe the first thing about any of this.

  Andy looked up and saw the mountains lowering, there were teams of cowled and cloaked mice with longbows holding onto the chains.

  “They were the ones—the shower of silver sparks I saw. They saved me.”

  “That’s right!” Titus called.

  The mountains were decoupled from one another and led back to their places. The cheering drowned everything out. Andy was applauded, but he could only stare in disbelief at the marble in his palm. The cavern felt far darker now that the blade had extinguished, but the multi-colored vinlight from above maintained a constant, pulsing glow.

  “You can wield the Argument,” Titus said.

  “Is that what this is called?” Andy asked, hefting the marble.

  “You raised the blade almost out of instinct! And you fought brilliantly—well, you’ll want practice. Your form isn’t right, and you need to learn how to hone the blade. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen it done. You would need to train with the Praetor himself to learn a fuller use of the Argument,” Titus rambled excitedly. “But this guarantees it! They must accept you!”

  In all the commotion, Andy didn’t notice a cowled mouse trying to get his attention. The mouse yelled, tugged at his pant-leg, and finally climbed up and onto his shoulder before grabbing his ear and calling out, “Seer!”

  Andy jumped. “Yes—yes, what is it?”

  “I’ve heard you’re hunting a twin. I’ve found this!” The mouse held up a rolled piece of paper.

  “That’s a scroll—wait, twin? What do you mean?”

  Titus also climbed up and stood beside the cloaked mouse, who had his bow slung over his shoulder. “Andy, this is Taptalles, veteransus of the Wisps.”

  Taptalles nodded at the introduction, but rushed to speak. “Enemy correspondence; we found it by a fallen slither.” He opened the small scroll and read, “Confirmed, limited strike from Norbrok - target: mouse outpost, CF, on schedule. The mice will be distracted, and the girl will be spent at P without interference. Do not question the Master again.” It was signed, “Zava, campaign schedule intermediary.”

  “The girl will be spent at P?” Andy repeated.

  Titus leaned in. “The strike at CF, that’s Cair Fromage—the siege we just broke, but the rest.”

  Andy stared at Titus desperately. “You have to know, what does it mean by P? It has to stand for something
. That’s Letty! They’re talking about Letty!”

  The cowled mouse pulled back his hood to reveal solid black fur and three furless red scars running across his face. “I think I know where she is.”

  “What? Where? Speak up!” Titus said, distraught at the downcast look on the black mouse’s face.

  “We saw brutox near the Python’s Howe.”

  Titus took a sharp breath. “The other two! The Cyburns mentioned three brutox with the girl, we only slew one.”

  But Andy was stuck on the word, Python. His mind jumped back to the Twister and what it had showed him.

  Those giant yellow eyes.

  Chapter 9

  To Python’s Howe

  Oblivious to the cheers and noise of Cair Fromage coming back to life, Andy considered running. He had already fled once today. Titus and Taptalles glared at him, as if perfectly aware of what he was thinking. Titus was the sterner of the two, while Taptalles wore a sarcastic smirk.

  “We can’t go off directive, Andy. Under any other circumstances, I’d be on your shoulder—charging out to do the right thing, but this is your future. Coriolus is waiting for you to run off; he’ll use it as evidence that you are not loyal, and the praetor will have to exile you, or worse! You must realize that Coriolus will use his influence to insist on the most severe punishment!”

  “Most severe punishment?” Andy repeated.

  “My friend is trying to say that they will be forced to execute you. Those mice in purple cloaks, they will have to—by writ of law—end your life, because you have seen too much, and are demonstratively disloyal.”

  It changes nothing, Andy thought. I can march around with the mice, after I find Letty. He took a heavy breath. And I’d like to see them try to execute me—now that I have this. He gripped the small marble and a glowing silver light appeared around his hand.

  Andy thought back to the maniples in marching order, with their crossbow-mice protected by a wall of halberdiers. Hmmm. He remembered watching Titus lead the Dextra against the enemy a few minutes ago. Even if I fight with the marble, they’re probably too much for me, but I can’t go back now.