“No. There isn’t time. We must reunite our people now. We need to get as many together as you can, and get them all augmented at the same time. If we do it in small batches, they’ll just exclude the latecomers, like before.”
“So this is our task? Unite all of Uru, stretched from the northernmost plains of your land to the walls of Nethalanhal by which I grew up?”
Tasha nodded without looking at him, watching as the last of the little gardeners disappeared from view. The eastern sky had taken on a yellow-cream color that heralded the sun’s imminent rise above the mountains.
Pehr grunted. “Fantastic, Tasha.”
“If it were easy, someone would already have done it.”
Pehr sighed. His head hurt. His hands hurt. His left calf hurt, and he couldn’t even remember injuring that particular spot. He was tired of this strange city full of metal and glass; he wanted only to be somewhere wide and open, where he could lie down next to a warm fire and gaze up at the stars. He thought of the sound of the ocean in the distance at night, wave after wave breaking against the rocks that formed the lagoon’s outer edge.
A sense of homesickness assaulted him then, so powerful that for a moment he thought he was going to break down and weep. This was his destiny? He and Tasha alone were to unite all the people left in the world and bring them to this wasted, ancient city? Was it really possible that they would be able to repair these machines and someday slip the bonds of Earth entirely, to go in search of those who had left them behind?
“What if they’ve already found their God?” he said out loud, and Tasha turned, giving him a questioning look. Pehr sat chewing his lip and watching the sky.
“What do you mean?” she asked when it became apparent that he did not intend on continuing.
“We’re meant to follow them, but to where? And what will they be like should we find them? It’s been ten thousand years, Tasha. What if they’ve found God already and He’s taken them someplace where we can’t follow?”
“If they have found Him, then so will you.”
“I will be dead long before then,” Pehr said, and he knew that it was true. Somewhere in this place, the technology existed to extend his life for many hundreds of years. Still, it would not be enough. He would never live to meet those who had gone before; he could only hope to set those he gathered together on the right course.
Tasha rose to her feet and yawned. “You will do what must be done.”
“Of course I will,” Pehr growled, and Tasha cast him a sidelong glance as he got to his feet.
“Before we go, tell me something?” she asked.
“Yes?”
“If she had been anyone but your cousin – anyone at all, anyone with whom you might have built a life – would you have said yes to being augmented?”
“I would never have come here in the first place,” Pehr said. “I would never have left her. But, if I had been forced to come …”
“You wouldn’t have done it,” Tasha said. “You would have left this behind, all of it, and gone back to your woman to hunt boar until you died a hunter’s death before the age of forty.”
Pehr considered this, and then nodded. “I would have.”
Tasha smiled at him, and she gave her rare laugh.
“I’m sorry to say this, Pehr, but … I am so very glad she is your cousin,” the girl with the purple eyes said, and with these words she turned and began to walk down the stairs.
* * *
“Greetings, Mister Prime Minister and Tasha Samhad!” the last fully functioning RDIS unit said to them as they turned the corner. “I do hope you’ve brought your umbrellas, as it looks like it may rain.”
Pehr gave an incredulous laugh and said, “I’m sure we’ll get by, Ardis, thank you.”
“We’re going to need to get that one some new clothes, at some point,” Tasha said as they continued past it, and Pehr rolled his eyes.
“I think we should start with some new skin,” he said.
In short order they came to the fork that, Pehr knew, would lead them either back to the plains or to the malfunctioning RDIS unit that had killed Jace. He turned to face the right-hand path that led to the circle of bone, and he took a breath. Something sat like a ball of ice in his stomach, and it was only by force of will that he kept his body from trembling.
“My cousin has … has been exposed to the elements for two years. There will not be much left.”
Tasha stepped up beside him. “How will you know him from the others?”
“When Jace entered the circle, there was a long delay while it processed his DNA. He made it much further than anyone else, and he lies alone.” Pehr felt ill just thinking about that awful time at the circle of bone.
Tasha touched his shoulder. “I will help you to bear it if I can.”
“Gods help me … I mean to do this,” Pehr said, and he forced himself forward on legs that felt numb and wooden. Five steps. Ten. Twenty, and he was at the jagged edge of rock around which lay the circle. Tasha was just behind him. Trying not to think, trying only to act, Pehr forced himself to turn the corner, bracing himself for the screeching voice of the worn-down RDIS unit.
The machine was just ahead of him and to his right, leaning against the wall, its back to him, but Pehr paid it little attention. His eyes were drawn immediately to the spot where Jace had fallen. There was indeed not much left of the boy; two years of direct exposure to the elements had reduced his body to little more than bones. Still, Pehr felt an overwhelming wave of despair roll over him at the sight, so much so that he made a noise of anguish and had to steady himself with one hand against the canyon wall.
“Pehr, I’m so sorry,” Tasha said from behind him, her voice little more than a whisper, and at these words the broken RDIS unit leapt to life. Its head spun, shoulders following, and its cracked and warbled voice burst forth in its familiar refrain.
“W-LC-M- FR--ND!” it cried. “PL--S- PR-S-NT Y--R P-SS.”
As it spoke these words, it turned fully to face them, an act which its body hadn't performed for nearly ten thousand years. With the twisting of its abdomen, an enormous jet of sparks and flame blew outward from its side, black smoke belching forth. The RDIS machine began making a hideous squealing that grew louder even as its tone lowered, finally dropping to an ear-splitting, bone-shaking note that was as much felt as heard. The RDIS gave one final seizure and fell to the ground, its advanced state of decay finally catching up with it. This thing, this metal god that had killed Pehr’s cousin and the Gods only knew how many others, now finally lay dead itself.
For a moment they stood in silence, staring at it, and then Tasha spoke. “That … was unexpected.”
Pehr was rendered momentarily speechless by the sudden and violent nature of the RDIS unit’s final moments. He looked down at the pile of metal and then at Tasha, and he felt tears spring to his eyes. He blinked them back, battling against the rage and grief that threatened to overwhelm him. This was all it took? Two years ago his cousin had stood before this creature made of rotting metal, and it had paused in its delivery of flaming death. If Jace had simply strode past the machine, causing it to turn, his life would have been spared.
As if reading these thoughts, Tasha stepped up next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. She leaned in close to murmur in his ear. “It would have done no good for your cousin, Pehr. If he had broken this machine two years ago, the both of you would have died under their blades. Because of his sacrifice, you went free, and the world may yet be saved.”
After a moment more Pehr found his voice. “Saved? Is that what you think is going to happen now?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, but her voice told him that she already understood.
“All that protected the plains from the Lagos was this machine, this thing that those creatures worshipped like a god. Now we’ve killed it. How do you suppose they will respond, Tasha? How would anyone respond, if someone came to their place and destroyed their god?”
; “They don’t know it was us,” Tasha said, and Pehr gave a bitter laugh, turning away to stare again at the dead god lying at his feet.
“What difference could that possibly make? They will know two things: that none of my people could have come here and done this, and that there is a path leading in the only direction from which this assault could have come. That will be enough. The path will lead them to Havenmont, or to Tassanna. There is nowhere else.”
“They can’t go to Havenmont. The next RDIS unit will kill them on sight … Allen said so.”
“Then that leaves only the plains,” Pehr said. “They will come for us, and it will not be a small raiding party. They will come in force.”
“We must not let this keep us from our path.”
“Is that it, then?” he asked, whirling on her. The sorrow had left him, and any fear he had felt was rapidly being consumed by the anger rising within him. “Is this what you would have, then? The burning of all that you’ve ever known in the service of this … this Gods-damned quest of yours?!”
Pehr was shouting by the end of it, hating himself for it but unable to stop. He knew that Tasha would no sooner sacrifice a single life than he would, but there was too much anger to let such rational thoughts win out.
Tasha did not return his anger, and she kept her voice soft. “My people are dying, and so are yours. With or without the Lagos, they will die. You heard what Allen said … there’s nothing left for us here.”
“There will be nothing left at all!” Pehr cried, and he grabbed her shoulders. “You’re not the only one who has dreamed, Tasha. I have seen how this ends: a host of Lagos so great that their coming stains the very sky red with dust. An army of the creatures thousands strong that comes not to maim or pillage. They will come to eradicate everything ... to wipe every last man, woman, and child from the plains. That was what I dreamed, and now we’ve made that dream reality. We have killed their god, Tasha. Do you expect them to forgive us?”
Tasha shook her head, still unfazed. “I do not.”
“Then what? What would you have us do now? What group shall we lead to Havenmont once they are all dead? Would you have us hide in the city and wait for the bloodshed to end, or shall we simply go die at their hands like everyone else and end this pointless waste of time?”
Now at last he had brought Tasha to anger, and he saw her eyes blaze. She grabbed Pehr’s hands, yanking them from her shoulders and squeezing them hard, baring her teeth.
“This has not been a waste of time!” she snarled. “Don’t you understand what we’ve done here?”
“We’ve damned every last person alive,” Pehr said, pulling away from her grip. He felt suddenly old. Old and tired. Worn out. Sick.
“We have given them the only chance they will ever have!” Tasha cried. “What the Lagos might do to them will seem a mercy compared to what will happen should the Everstorm fail and radiation sweep in upon the land. If it means we fight to the death, then so be it! This long, slow death that we’ve been going through since our fathers left us must end.”
Pehr turned away from her, feeling exhausted. He took a few, faltering steps toward Jace’s body and then fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands.
“My cousin, I have now failed you twice,” he said, struggling with the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to fall upon the ground and beat his fists against it, to tear his hair out, to rend and wreck and destroy, and to curl into a ball and weep for the slow, sad extinction of humanity. He wished he had never come to this place, never known of the horror of the Lagos and the miracles of Havenmont. He wished he could have lived in peace with Jace and Nani, Truff and Anna, and the rest of his village.
“Pehr …” Tasha’s voice had grown soft again.
“Let me do this,” he told her, and he took his hands from his face but remained on his knees, head down, eyes closed. He tried to picture Jace, the way the boy had looked before the coming of the Lagos, and once he had that image fixed firmly in his mind, he began to speak.
“Cousin, I have wronged you. I have left you here in this place and not given you the honorable burial you deserve. I acted to save myself and left you behind, and though I beg your forgiveness for this, I can never forgive myself. Even now I must leave again … we must go to Tasha’s family and try and help them prepare for the coming of the Lagos. If we survive, cousin, I swear to you that I will return, and I will take your bones from this terrible circle, and I will give you the ceremonies you deserve. You have my oath as a hunter, before all of our gods, all of the plainsmen’s gods, and the god of those who once dwelt here.
“I miss you, my cousin. Forgive me for what I have done, and what I must do.”
There was silence for a time, and Pehr sat with his head still bowed, eyes still closed. If Jace’s spirit remained in this place, it gave sign neither of displeasure nor acceptance.
At last Tasha spoke. “Pehr, I’m sorry, but time is precious now. We must—”
Whatever it was that Tasha had been about to insist upon, it was cut short by a sudden rushing, whistling noise. Her words became a scream of agony, and Pehr’s eyes flew open. He looked up to see that a great length of wood, tipped with a wicked metal point, had embedded itself in Tasha’s side. Falling sideways, she hit the ground with a thud that sent white bone powder puffing up into the air, her blood pouring out from around the spear that had been driven six inches or more into her body. Pehr turned, reaching for his club, remembering even as he did so that the club was gone.
Pehr hauled himself to his feet. Less than fifty yards away and well into the circle of bone, a single Lagos priest came loping toward them at full speed, snarling and howling in abject, bestial rage. This was, Pehr understood, their first glimpse of what was to come. This was the reaction of the Lagos to the death of their god, and it was nothing less than the murderous hate that he had expected.
“Oh, Tasha, I’m sorry for this,” Pehr murmured, and in the next moment he reached down and tore the spear from the girl’s side, eliciting another agonized scream. He had no time to worry about it right now; the Lagos priests were smaller than the warriors, but they were still strong, fast, and equipped with the same deadly claws. This one was clearly prepared to kill in retribution for what they had done to the RDIS unit.
Pehr felt adrenaline flood him and relished it, wanting the clarity and sense of purpose it would bring to him. Gone were thoughts about his cousin, the future of mankind, or even of the girl lying in agony at his feet. Now there was only the battle about to be joined, in which he would either prove triumphant or die in the same circle of bones that had taken his cousin.
Pehr found himself filled with a hatred and disgust that he couldn't remember having felt before, not even when these things had come to his village, to burn and pillage and maim. He knew now what the Lagos were, nothing more than the twisted end product of genetic engineering gone awry, and if they had been human once, that humanity had long been lost. They were not something natural, but rather something made by perverted science, and in that moment he wished nothing more than to extinguish them from the earth entirely, that they might never again threaten anyone on Uru.
The priest came upon him at full speed, slashing with its wicked talons and screaming, froth flying from its jaws. Pehr ducked and turned, swinging the spear around in a wide arc and batting the creature’s stomach with all his might. The Lagos let out a startled, gasping grunt and doubled over. At the same time, it grabbed the spear with one clawed hand, preventing Pehr from pulling back and delivering the killing blow. In some other time, this instinctive movement might actually have impressed Pehr, but now it only served to enrage him further. He brought his left hand down, palm out, striking it flat against the spear as he pulled up on its end with his right hand.
The spear cracked, splintered, and broke in half from the force of the blow. Pehr brought it up above his head and back down again in another powerful arc. This time the wood connected with the top of the L
agos priest’s head, and the creature fell into the dirt. Pehr dropped down upon it, one knee out, driving his full weight directly into the creature’s spine.
The Lagos jerked its head backward and let out a howl of pain, and Pehr shoved his free hand forward, wrapping it over the creature’s head, covering its face, fingers hooking into its sharp maw and pulling its head even further back. Holding the Lagos like this, he dropped the spear, reached with his right hand down to his boot, and drew forth his stone knife. Without word or ceremony, he cut the Lagos’s throat, spraying its blood upon the bone-white ground, and he held it there, neck wide and gaping, until it was dead.
Beside him, Tasha was panting, pulling her breaths in through teeth clenched against the pain. Blood had soaked her leather garments and was pooling underneath her, mixing with the bone dust and forming a grotesque, pink mud that clung to her body. She was badly wounded, and Pehr felt a moment of raw panic as he contemplated the situation. Tasha managed to turn her head and look at him, her eyes tightened to slits, lips bared against the pain.
“You must leave me here,” she said, and Pehr shook his head.
“Not even if a million of these things were at our heels,” he said. “I’ll take you back to Havenmont. We can find something there for you …”
“They won’t work. Allen’s cures were for smaller injuries. Pehr, please! You must get to the plains and warn them.”
“I'm not leaving this place without you,” Pehr said, squatting down beside her. “I already left one person I love lying in this circle. You’ve been punished for my inattention, and I won’t abandon you because of it.”
Tasha stared up at him, clearly furious, but just as clearly aware that there was nothing she could say to convince him to leave her.
“Don’t you see how this ends?” she asked him.
“I don’t care how it ends. I will not walk out of this circle of bone without you. We’ll go together, even if I have to carry you. You must get up, Tasha.”
Pehr took her arm and helped her to her feet. The girl with the purple eyes cried out in agony from the effort, but her strength held, and after a moment when Pehr thought her knees would buckle, she seemed to steady herself.
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