Penult

by A. Sparrow

  She released and flew alongside me. The second falcon made another pass and this time unleashed a barrage of spikes. They tore through her wings but somehow missed her body. But then came another flurry and a spike tore into her wing joint, partially jamming her hindmost set of wings.

  It threw her off kilter and she veered away. She shared one last sad and hopeless glance before she turned around and fluttered back to the safety of the Duster lines.

  With Kitt gone, the falcon set down behind the foremost line of Cherubim, a wide and sparse screen of skirmishers. They dragged me across a patch of rocky ground before coming to a halt.

  A Hashmal clambered out of the ballista cage. He barely glanced at me, more interested in the wings. Puzzlement creased his face as he inspected them. Luther and Olivier had not copied their membrane material precisely. Their membrane was stiffer, more like Tyvek than skin, and was not capable of spontaneous healing. Only the elastic engine of the joints was a perfect copy. The Hashmal now knew what his Lords had denied. Our wings were copied not stolen.

  I wondered what they planned to do with me. Did they even know who I was? Did it matter?

  I dreaded being someone’s prisoner again after my experience in that basement dungeon in Edmund’s church. Maybe I had some value for some future prisoner swap. They had returned Victoria in fairly good shape, physically at least.

  I wondered if I would be brought in front of their mysterious Lords. Probably they would just make me the responsibility of some underling Hashmallim. In any case, I was about to learn a lot more about the Liminality. I felt no fear, just a little uneasiness over what was to come next.

  I gained solace in knowing that as a Hemisoul, due to fade at any time. That gave me a good chance of escaping since I doubted these fools would hang out and wait for me to come back. And maybe, if I was lucky, I would never return to this shit hole. God knows I had extra incentive now to stick around the living world.

  The Hashmal climbed back into his cage. The talons retracted from my shoulder and regathered my wings with me still harnessed in, but this time without impaling me. Blood gushed freely from my wound, but not as much as I would have expected if an artery had been slashed.

  It took some vigorous beating to lift off the ground with my dead weight dangling from the harness but those six gangly wings were up to the task. We banked along the wall of hills lining the basin, heading for the gorge leading down into the lower valley.

  In a panic, the pilot and gunner shouted at each other in some unfamiliar and incomprehensible language. A swarm of ballista spikes went spraying out. Something thudded into the falcon, instantly blunting its forward momentum. I squirmed around to see a giant dragonfly with a rider latched onto the ballista cage. The rider left her saddle and clambered over the dragonfly’s head to attack the ballista gunner, stabbing through the gaps with the pointy end of her scepter. She wore the scaly garb of a Duster but her face was far from gray.

  The pilot struggled to keep the falcon in the air while the dragonfly chomped and clawed at the cage and framing, tearing away the ballista housing while helping keep the falcon aloft with its own wing beats. The rider swung down onto the talons that held me.

  It was Urszula.

  “You strong enough to climb?” she said, her expression calm and focused.

  “I think so.”

  She pulled me free of the harness and helped me maneuver back to the dragonfly. I knew those patchwork wings, its cells and veins mended and spliced after many battles.

  Lalibela.

  With the falcon skimming and scraping along the hillside and about to flounder, we scrambled onto the raised saddle mounted high on Lalibela’s thorax. With a tap of Urszula’s foot, the dragonfly released and we soared away just as the falcon smashed hard into a ledge, scattering wing fragments, cages and crew across the scrubby slope.

  ***

  I slumped forward in the saddle, feeling all giddy and dizzy and weak. I hugged the front horn, which carved from shimmery burl wood, mesmerized by the facets of Lalibela’s compound eyes. It was like staring at a thousand polished opals. Nothing about this moment felt real.

  With a buzz and a rattle, Lalibela accelerated across the basin, over ranks of Cherubim, advancing in chevrons, obliquely approaching the terraced mountain. No longer statuesque, this time they were quite alert and aware of our presence and challenged us with barrages of projectiles that Lalibela deftly avoided.

  We passed over the defense berms. The ants and mantids had returned to the barricades which were also patrolled by rhinoceros and stag beetles armed with bifurcated horns and saw toothed mandibles. I thought I saw Bern and Lille standing with Tyler and other members of the ground party, but they were all too pre-occupied to even notice us.

  Lalibela veered hard left, angled steeply upward and accelerated, making straight for the cliffs of the terraced mountain. Just as we seemed about to collide with a column of angular and jagged basalt, Lalibela flitted upward and we were skimming the lower terrace of the mountain, scaring up a dog-sized leaf hopper that Lalibela snatched up to snack on once we landed.

  Another abrupt and speedy rise and we had attained the second terrace which held the bulk of the old city of New Axum. What had been a mess of rubble and overgrown ruins was now stripped of vegetation and partially rebuilt. Frelsians, Dusters and reawakened Old Ones mingled in its avenues and alleyways and squares.

  Urszula brought her dragonfly down gently on a broad grassy plain meadow had been fenced off for giant insects. Cisterns of water and nectar lined its borders. Besides the usual mantids and dragonflies, the paddock held several petite and elegant damselflies and a strange looking fly with a tail like a scorpion.

  Urszula helped me out of the saddle, frowning at the blood soaking my blue hoodie. She peeled away my jacket and probed gently at the puncture wound in my shoulder which had clotted nicely on its own.

  “You need to lie down.”

  “Here?” I looked around at all the giant bugs in the paddock with us. Several mantids had clambered over to watch over us menacingly.

  She pulled me down into the tall grass and made me lie flat. Peeling back my T-shirt, she picked out bits of debris with her fingernails. She then went to her saddlebag and pulled out a handful of gelatinous brown goop that she pressed into my wound. With a loop of broad, flat ribbon that adhered to itself and shrank taut when she touched it with her scepter, she wrapped my shoulder tight.

  When she was done, she straddled my chest and gazed down at me, a hint of a lip curl almost forming a smile. She swooped down and kissed me on the lips.

  “Thank you,” I said, gasping.

  “For what? The kiss?”

  “For … saving me … mending me.”

  “Not for the kiss? What? You don’t like? My other boyfriends don’t complain.”

  “No … uh … I didn’t mean to—”

  “Oh, shut up!”

  She rolled off and helped me up.

  “How you feel? Can you walk?”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “So now we go. See Yaqob and Zhang. They are expecting you.”

  Chapter 29: Zhang

  Urszula saw how weak and wobbly I was so she didn’t rush me. She steadied me with one arm as I strolled up narrow, cobbled lanes lined with head-high stone walls, through arches and gates across courtyards surrounded by squat and blocky houses shingled with mossy slabs of slate.

  At least half of the dwellings we passed had their roofs bashed in. Although some of the damage was ancient, some was clearly recent. Blood spattered some of the ruins.

  The courtyards bustled with Hemisouls, Freesouls and Dusters working together all frantic, clearing brush, weaving panels and awnings from sacks of root or simply piling up stones.

  “So many people now,” said Urszula. “Every day they come. We are not big enough to hold all the refugees who want inside.”

  “Where are they all coming from?”

  “Wide and far,” said Urszula. “The
re is more place here than we knew in Liminality. More souls on surface than just us and Frelsians. And the Penult Lords … they want kill them all. We are their last hope.”

  “Holy crap. So place is kind of like … the Alamo … of the afterlife.”

  Urszula squinted back at me, not comprehending.

  “This mission … in Texas. The Mexican Army surrounded it. Famous last stand.”

  “Ah like … Masada.”

  “The what?”

  “Jewish fortress in the desert. Sinai. Romans put under siege.”

  I just shrugged and we continued on up yet another set of stairs to the uppermost tiers of the settlement.

  I wasn’t really ready to face this Zhang guy. After all I had been through, I just wanted to lay down somewhere cozy and quiet and catch my breath. A fade would have been nice right about now. But Urszula insisted on bringing me up to see the man and his council right away.

  The steps led us to a building constructed of huge blocks of stone, many of them chipped and gouged and cracked from barrages both ancient and recent from the differential weathering of the scars.

  “This is house for council,” said Urszula. Her English had regressed since we were in New Hampshire together.

  The council house was a humble, bunker-like space. A ring of simple rooms including kitchens and privies lined its thick outer walls, surrounding a large central chamber. Grooves in the stone—tiny aqueducts—delivered spring water to each room.

  The place was busy and crowded. Bees flew in and out, delivering nectar. Aides, messengers and lieutenants buzzed about. As we made our way through, I could see the high mucky mucks of the resistance sitting on the floor around a low table.

  I hung back while Urszula pushed through the throng and approached the table. I looked for a place to sit along the back wall. I was feeling kind of shaky.

  Noticing my absence, Urszula wheeled around and scowled, throwing up her hands. She came stomping back and grabbed my arm.

  “What are you doing over here by yourself?” she hissed. “Come! Don’t be shy.”

  “They … look busy.”

  “Idiot. You … are their business. This meeting is for you. For meet you.”

  “What?”

  She dragged me over to the table. I averted my eyes but Yaqob’s stare found me. He gave me the vaguest nod of recognition. Next to him sat this Asian guy with sharp cheekbones and sleek, waxy skin. He looked like some kind of Hong Kong Kung Fu movie star. I’m sure some flesh weaving had to be involved. The Freesoul elite of Frelsi’s Sanctuary put a premium on good looks.

  Victoria sat beside him, her complexion and hair not nearly as perfect. In fact, she was looking a little disheveled. Her gaze raked over me like a laser. I sensed hostility. Suspicion. What had I ever done to deserve that?

  An Old One sat beside her, as still as a stone pillar. I took him for human furniture, stashed away in the long sleep, until his eyes suddenly shifted in my direction.

  There was a commotion at the entry. An argument broke out. Olivier rushed in, chased by a pair of Duster guards who seemed determine to evict him.

  “Leave him,” said Yaqob. “He is with us.”

  “James!” Olivier beamed. “Thank God! I thought we had lost you.”

  “Thank … Urszula.”

  “Please, take a seat,” said the Asian man I presumed to be Zhang.

  “Nah. I’m good,” said Olivier. “I think better on my feet.”

  I, on the other hand, was happy to get off my feet. I squeezed myself onto a mat between Yaqob and the Old One. Urszula a place on the other side of Yaqob.

  A pair of Frelsian servants, Hemisouls, from the looks of them, brought us some bowls heaped with what looked like multi-colored scabs.

  “Welcome to the Resistance Council … both of you,” said Zhang. “I have heard so much about the famous Mr. Moody. I’m so glad we finally have the chance to meet.”

  “Thanks.”

  Zhang looked me up and down.

  “I have to admit. Though I trusted their judgment, for the longest time I didn’t quite understand why the Old Ones insisted on bringing you back here. Of course, I know of your exploits. The raid on the Sanctuary. Your escape from the Deeps. I was actually a Hemisoul when you first raided our fair city. I tended Reapers back then. Your marauders destroyed my pens.”

  “Wow. So this here is quite a promotion.”

  Yaqob snickered. Zhang laughed out loud.

  “Yes, well … we all know that upward mobility is often accelerated in times of war. Battlefield promotions and such. But … these Old Ones. I didn’t understand. I thought they were just being grateful for what you did for them.”

  “I didn’t do much,” I shrugged. “Just woke some up.”

  “Are you kidding? It was much more than that,” said Zhang, narrowing his eyes. “You put an end to their genocide. We … Frelsians … never suspected they were living beings. To us … they were just … please, pardon me, but to us they were merely convenient Reaper chow. You’re awakening of them opened our eyes as well. We always assumed they were … dead. Inert, anyway. Unfeeling. Unthinking. Of course, we should have known better. What does ‘dead’ even mean anymore? But this is not just about what you did for the Old Ones, without whom this Resistance would have folded long ago. I saw those wings you engineered. When Miss Kitt came flying up the terrace on a pair of those things and I learned that you had made them, I have to tell you I was dumbfounded! What a brilliant feat! And then it made all sense to me, this clamor to have you summoned. The Old Ones were not simply being sentimental. They knew what value you brought to our cause.”

  I squirmed and looked away. I never was good at handling praise. It always struck me as false. Too good to be true. I knew the real truth about myself.

  Zhang’s face grew serious. “I have to tell you something else, James. I know … I knew … your mother.”

  That certainly got my attention. “My mom? How? Is she okay?”

  “She’s not in New Axum so we can’t be sure. We evacuated much of Frelsi just before they deployed the devices that brought down our mountain. Many of our people are still out and about. A few straggle in every day. Those who can make it past the Cherubim.”

  “I saw her. In the Sanctuary. She didn’t remember me.”

  Zhang shrugged. “That’s not too surprising. Many Freesouls opt to have their memories scrubbed. Many are haunted by regrets and longing for those they left behind. Abandoned. But like all flesh weaving, it’s only temporary. Memories seep back, but in increments that are easier to cope with. I guarantee that your mother remembered you. She knew it was you who led the raid on us. She was embarrassed … but also proud … if that makes sense to you. She wished you had the chance to learn the ways of Frelsi. We’re not bad people. Even the Old Ones forgive us our atrocities. Those from the Deeps have become our friends. It’s too bad we couldn’t come together sooner. The war weakened us both. If we hadn’t fought, perhaps we could have repulsed the first wave of Cherubim.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I feeling kind cowed in the presence of all this leadership. Everybody was staring at me like I was some kind of new zoo exhibit.

  “And so, like I said I didn’t know exactly what you would be able to do for us, beyond bolstering the morale of our Old Ones, perhaps delaying a few more from returning to the big sleep. But now I understand. These wings. As incredible as they are, this is not the only Penultian technology we wish to possess.”

  I just sat there and stared. My head swam. I was starting to feel a little woozy again.

  Urszula leaned in and whispered into Yaqob’s ear.

  “The boy needs time to rest and mend,” said Yaqob.

  “Of course,” said Zhang. “We only brought you here to welcome you. Please, go and rest. But you need to understand. Our need is urgent. You saw those armies in the basin. This is the first day in many that they’ve left us alone. I am sure the siege will soon resume now that their Seraph has been returned.
And now that we have our Victoria back….”

  Victoria smiled, but there was something odd about her. She looked dazed. Her eyes wandered the room, drifting from face to face as if she were among strangers. This was not the Victoria I knew. Something fundamental had changed.

  Zhang shared a concerned glance with Olivier, who strode over and whispered something that made the Frelsian leader nod and frown.

  “Miss Urszula will show you to your quarters,” he said. “I see your wound has already been attended to but I’ll one of our flesh weavers around to see if they accelerate the process. It’s good to have you with us, James. I do hope you decide to stick around.”

  Chapter 30: The Warren

  Urszula got up and came over to help me. Good thing too, because I was so weak I don’t think I could have risen off the mats on my own. I had never felt so drowsy in all my time in the Liminality. I had to wonder if the falcon talon that had pierced me had been poisoned or something.

  Yaqob clapped. “Summon the bees.”

  A Duster guarding one of the many entrances to the room yanked a lever on a contraption attached to the wall and it emitted a high-pitched scratching sound, like a tree cricket’s chirp. Within moments, a swarm of bees zoomed into the room, offering nectar to each of the luminaries gathered around the table.

  I accepted a mouthful myself from one insistent bugger, before stumbling towards the exit arm in in arm with Urszula. She led me out of the bunker, down the narrow alleys to a maze of narrow walkways connecting hundreds of one room dwellings in various states of disrepair. Most were unoccupied, and in the process of being cleaned out and rebuilt, but many refugees were already living here.

  She brought me to a refurbished space on the far edge of this warren, perched on the lip of lower terrace with a distant view of the basin and the river valley beyond. Dust clouds obscured whatever hostilities might be going on down below.

  My room was Spartan but functional. My bed was a heap of rushes covered with crudely woven mats. A groove in the stone delivered a constant trickle of water to a basin. There was even a rattan-like chair made the old fashioned way, with lengths of woody vine bent and lashed together.