by A. R. Knight
She knows these things.
“How far away was the second arch?” She asks Gray as they move down the tunnel. “How far did you travel with Bronze?”
“Far enough for him to make me angry,” Gray hisses. “It wasn’t even a whole day. They pushed me out in the night, and after I crashed through the canopy, Bronze found me. Told me we had to move.”
“You went with him?”
“I didn’t know what was going on, like you. I knew enough to realize being alone was a risk.”
That certainly seems to be true.
“So when you found me, what were you fighting over?” She says. “That he killed his protector to get that bracelet?”
“I wanted to lead,” he replies, and there’s not a hint of regret in his voice. No shame or chagrin. “Thought I’d be better than him. Bronze disagreed.”
“You nearly killed each other over that?”
Gray pauses, there in the tight tunnel, looks over at her. “I trusted my instincts. They told me that Bronze would get me killed. He almost has, twice.”
She can’t argue with that one.
The tunnel broadens and then shifts from circle to square. The dirt stops being, well, dirt and switches over to the sleek steel of an artificial shelter. Immediately in front of them is what looks like a door, but it’s been broken ajar, with one of the two sides hanging askew. She can see part of a word, scratched and faded, and it says One.
“Those things down below, they said they were the last trial?” She says. “This could be the first?”
“If it is, it’s not in good shape,” Gray says as he ducks beneath the door slab.
She follows him inside a single room, no, a ruin. Broken parts of many things cluster together. Slashed white tubing snakes through clusters of broken and smashed debris. Glass, metal, and things she doesn’t know litter everywhere. Pools of strange liquids occupy divots in the floor where something large fell.
The only light comes from a pair of flickering globes, themselves unstable and hanging off the walls they once called home. Her vents burn as they inhale the fumes, and her eyes water at the same. The only exit she can see through the blur is at the back. A large closed door. The word Two emblazoned on it in bright yellow.
“I think we’re not the first ones here,” she says.
Gray, though, seems more perturbed. He’s inspecting the tubing, brushing aside piles of scrap with his tail. “What happened here?”
She picks up a thing on the ground near the entrance, it’s long and thin like the barrel the of weapon used further down the Mountain. Jagged edges show where it was cut. “I don’t think this trial is working.”
“If we don’t pass the trials, then we don’t earn our name,” Gray replies. “This isn’t the deal.”
He picks up a piece of scrap, throws it at the far door. It clings off, leaves a dent and a scratch but nothing more.
“You still think that’s true? That If we make it to the top, will get our names?” she says. “After all this, I think the only thing we’ll find is dust.”
Gray glances back at her from the refuse. “Do you know what my guide, the one who greeted me when I hatched, told me?”
Obviously she doesn’t.
“He told me that our names are everything. If we don’t get them, if we don’t earn them, then we are nothing.”
She hasn’t seen Gray this angry since that first fight with Bronze. He turns and whips another chunk of metal at the door. It bounces off, leaving a shiny scar on its surface.
The dead moment gives her a chance to reflect. She’s done plenty; killed, saved, seen the stars. Proven herself, at least in her own eyes. That only leads to the bigger question - who was she?
She’ll have to answer that one herself.
“We can’t control what happened here,” she says to Gray. “But we can keep moving. Bronze has to be up ahead somewhere. We can make the peak, name or no name.”
She goes by Gray to the door he’s been whacking with debris. Unlike the first one, this door seems put together. It’s tightly shut; a thick pair of steel walls pressed close together. No sign of a forced opening. If Bronze came through here, then he did it nicely.
“See anything?” Gray still sounds a little miffed, but she thinks he’ll come around if she can find a way forward.
If.
“Nothing,” she says, inspecting. “It’s just the door. Shut tight.”
Gray ambles up beside her. They both stare, trace the letters Two with their eyes.
She leans in closer. Looks at the line where the two slabs bind together. A black coating covers the gap; a seal. She sticks her foreclaw against it, presses. The material gives way, with her claws sinking as though sinking into fruit. And, she realizes, it gives her grip.
“Do the opposite of me,” she says and doesn’t wait for Gray to acknowledge.
She takes both of her foreclaws, digs them in the central seal. Then turns to the right, digs her talons into the floor, and gets ready to push. Gray stares at her. Adopts the opposite stance and sinks his own claws in.
“Ready?” She says, staring directly into Gray’s face,so close to hers.
“Of course.”
As soon as she feels Gray start to pull, she pushes, digs her talons in with all the strength she. Presses her tail back against the edge of the wall beyond the door, pushing even while Gray, in front of her, backs his talons against the ground and pulls hard with his foreclaws, and then he digs his midclaws in to the center of the door and pulls with those two. First there’s nothing, and she hears a creak and a crack as the seal begins to rip away.
It’s fast then; the door shoots into its slot alongside the exit. Gray stumbles back, hits the wall and she flies forward into him, and both of them wind up on the floor in a tangle of scales and claws. But the door’s open.
After extricating themselves, they move on.
What greets them is a long shaft leading up. A cylinder of rock and metal with a long blue glow coming from a distant top. There’s no elevator, there’s no ladder. Not that they need one.
“I’ll go first,” Gray says, and he leaps up, catches the rock with his claws and talons and begins to ascend. She jumps to the opposite side, and clamors up to meet him. Together they begin to scale up the shaft towards the blue light.
“For the second trial, this isn’t hard,” Gray says.
“You mean I don’t even get a thank you?”
“For what?”
“For getting us out of the room,” she’s goading him, but Gray’s too serious for his own good. He needs to relax. She’s afraid he’ll fly into one of his rages again, or lose himself in some serious mania.
She doesn’t believe this is the whole trial, and she’ll need Gray cool and calm when the real challenge comes.
“We got out of there together,” Gray says. “Though I suppose you did find the door seal. Thank you.”
She doesn’t bother hiding her teeth when she returns the grin.
The climb is long, and they can’t move fast because sections of the tunnel are made up of those metal plates, which are too hard to dig in while supporting their weight. So they scuttle around, occasionally making small jumps taller parts of the cylinder to get around them. Until, gradually, they reach a section where entire shaft is metal. Up above, she can see the rock returning, talon and claw holds. Too far away to reach. To jump to.
Alone, anyway.
“I’ll throw you,” Gray says even as she says she’ll throw him.
“No,” Gray argues. “I have the better grip. You’ll go.”
She’s about to protest, when she realizes he’s right about his position. He’s got the most rock, and his four claws and two talons are biting into it. She’s only got her talons, with her midclaws making what they can of a spiky section of hard brown rock.
“And when I get up there? What will you do?” She replies.
“Hope you find a way,” Gray says.
There’s not an ounce of doubt
in his voice. He believes her. Just like, she realizes, she believes him.
“Ready?” She asks.
He lets go with his foreclaws, crouches on his talons, and waits for her.
She jumps, presses off of the rock and her talons land, just so, in his foreclaws. Then he pushes, sends her flying up. As she goes, she reaches towards the rock, passes the metal band, and strikes. Claws bite in, but as she scrambles up she feels a sharp yank on her tail. Her claws slide down the rock, gouging up pieces, and she makes a quick glance downward, sees Gray hanging from her tail. Careful not to let his own claws dig in too far, though she’s feeling those points pierce her scales.
“I lost the hold,” Gray says. “When I pushed you.”
She looks back towards her foreclaws. They’re already numb, hurting. The only thing that’s keeping her up is that her claws have lodged themselves in the rock. In a moment, they’re going to tear away. Which means there’s only one option.
“Climb me,” she hisses to Gray.
“What?”
“Climb me,” she hisses again. “I’m going to fall.”
Now Gray registers what she wants. He doesn’t waste a second. Every one of his claws digs into her as he clambers up her tail, her back and then over her head and, standing on her shoulders, he easily grips the rock and pulls himself off of her. A thousand stings shout, and she feels little cuts from him bleeding down her back, but she’s escaped death. She’s not going to fall now, especially as Gray offers his tail for her to help pull her up past the metal band. They stay there for a moment, resting on the sides of the tunnel.
“I’m sorry,” Gray starts.
“Don’t,” she replies. “We needed to survive. You can’t apologize for that.”
Gray nods at her. He understands. There are places for compassion, for apologies. This is not one of them.
Once her muscles are stable and the twinges in her foreclaws die away, she gives a slight hiss and Gray takes a signal. They climb to the top of the shaft and the broad blue lamp lighting it, get over a small ledge and then crouch through a tighter tunnel. It leads out to an opening, with the series of steps leading away around the outer bend of the Mountain.
The daylight’s slanted to orange purple twilight now, and she stops for a moment to breathe in the fresh air. To look out over the plains and the jungle and those three black arches in the middle of the vast, tree-filled canyon. Somewhere down there are more Mossox, more flowers and bugs, the leather-winged things. She’s so far above them that, for the first time, she feels a real taste of accomplishment. Her first real achievement.
“Beautiful,” she says.
Gray, beside her, doesn’t say anything at all.
Eventually, they move on. There’s no sense in climbing the Mountain after dark, even if there is a trail. They don’t have to go long. The peak’s not far above them, and when they get up there, amid the ridges and the cold wind blowing, there’s a simple flat circle of rock. In the middle of it, to neither of their surprise, stands Bronze.
10 Together
All four of Bronze’s claws are crossed in front of his vents as he stares at them. There’s no sign of the cowardice, the uncertainty that Bronze so often cast upon his face before. Instead, there’s purpose. A rigid poise in his straight-backed stance, his tail pooling around his feet. This is a different Oratus than she knows.
It shakes her. Is this a race? Did Bronze, beating them here, earn his name while both she and Gray failed somehow?
She hears a hiss from her left. Gray, who’s clearly not following her line of thought. He steps forward, claws out and ready.
“Coward,” Gray says, more spitting the words than speaking them. “You left us.”
Bronze doesn’t reply except to narrow his eyes towards Gray, ever so slightly. He lets Gray come another two steps before he opens his own claws and drops into a wide stance, and the two face-off.
She knows she should help Gray. It should be two against one. But there’s an emptiness here on the peak, a void where she expects a grand parade to be. A shower of success. A name and a new purpose delivered. But there’s only the rocks, the wind and the cloudless night descending with starlight. The sheer emptiness of it pulls over her.
What’s the point in fighting if there’s nothing to gain and nothing to lose?
“What do you believe?” Bronze says to Gray. “Do you think I left you there? Do you think I guided you all this way just to ditch you the moment of our triumph?”
As Bronze speaks, they circle one another, and she stays on the outside. Watching.
“Seems just like you,” Gray replies. “Always quick to take advantage, always quick to remove yourself from danger.”
“Why?” Bronze shoots back.
They complete a full circle, keeping their distance from one another, waiting for their moment. Bronze’s words strike her as odd. Why doesn’t the Bronze attack when he could overpower Gray, especially here in this tight spot where the smaller Oratus has no room to move? Why is Bronze playing word games when he never has before?
“Because you’re a coward,” Gray says. “You’ve always been. You are no warrior.”
With that insult, Gray’s negotiations are over. Gray feints a sidestep, then lunges forward, closing the gap to Bronze in a microsecond. Yet even that is enough time for Bronze to spin and sweep his tail at mid height, smashing into Gray. The impact flings Gray off to the side of the circle, where he bashes into rock and bounces back onto the floor. Gray rolls with the impact and gets up on his talons, looking at Bronze and hunting for weakness.
“Predictable,” Bronze says. Even his tone is different now; no longer the curious, wondering leader but a dispassionate teacher. “If you want to claim your name, you’ll need to think. You need to do more than be your instinct.”
Bronze has his back turned to her. She feels she could try a quick swipe, maybe catch him off guard. But then, what if she succeeds? What if she brings Bronze down? Then she’ll never learn what he means.
Gray’s not interested in waiting. He lunges again, and this time Bronze meets Gray straight up. Their claws link and they push and strain at each other. With their mouths, they dart and snap, narrowly missing each other’s necks. Bronze tries to sweep his tail around, but Gray twists his talons away, dodging the tail. So Bronze tries something else.
The big Oratus squats, keeping his claws linked with Gray, then leaps into the air. Gray tries to release, his eyes going wide, but he can’t extricate himself. Bronze twists in the air, swinging Gray beneath him. Gray lands flat on the ground, Bronze on top of him, pinning her friend’s arms and legs against the rock floor. Bronze opens his maw wide - Gray squirms, but there’s nowhere to go but to that endless sleep.
“Don’t,” she hisses suddenly, staring at Bronze’s back as the larger Oratus keeps her friend down. “There’s no reason to.”
When Bronze twists to meet her eyes, it’s not the same. He’s cold, distant. Vicious and uncompromising.
“You either earn your name, or you don’t deserve it,” Bronze replies.
“What are you talking about? You are with us,” she replies.
Bronze glances at his bracelet. “I am beyond you. I am what you hope to be.”
She doesn’t understand, but she does know one thing: once Gray is dead, Bronze will come for her next, and she doesn’t want to face him alone.
She breaks into a run at the larger Oratus, who turns as she comes, plants a talon on Gray’s throat.
Which leaves Gray’s own legs free.
“Just like before,” she shouts she closes.
Gray gets the message, and she jumps, sweeping her claws towards Bronze’s face. The big Oratus is ready for the frontal assault, his claws ready to meet hers. What he’s not ready for is Gray’s talons as Gray catches her feet and pushes, launching her over Bronze’s head. She whips her tail as she spins over Bronze, circling its end to catch Bronze around the neck and pull him with her.
She yanks Bronze off
of Gray and they both collapse. She’s on her back, with her claws facing the right direction and her tail pinning Bronze against her. Bronze tries to push with his own tail, but her grip is tight. She could kill him, but she’s after something else.
Her left claws grab hold of Bronze’s left foreclaw, and she digs for the bracelet. It’s not like loose clothing. Taking the bracelet off rips Bronze’s scales with it, but then it’s free. It springs off of Bronze’s foreclaw and rolls along the ground. All the knowledge, all the secrets waiting there for her to take.
As if the bracelet kept Bronze going, he stops struggling once it’s free, instead leaning his head back to look at her and Gray.
“Together,” Bronze says. “I am impressed.”
Gray rolls himself back to his feet, and is about to launch for Bronze when she frees the larger Oratus and gets between the two males.
“Impressed?” She asked before Gray decides to go through her. “Impressed by what?”
“By you. I did not think it likely,” Bronze says as he leans back against the rocks, massaging is for claw with the bracelet once was. “You are together. You formed the bond that is the whole point of this journey.”
Now even Gray’s confused. “What bond?”
Bronze gives them a side smile, brighter than ever before.
“You are a pair.”
11 Earning Her Name
A pair?
Gray beats her to the asking.
“What you mean, a pair?” Gray says. “I thought we were three.”
Bronze is still sitting, and the look he throws Gray is one of soft amusement. “I am your guide and also your judge, assigned to watch and make sure you both grow as you should. To make sure you’re ready for the trials and, if you fail, to know why so the next Oratus will be better.”