Penult

by A. Sparrow

  “Step back, please. Ain’t nobody going nowhere.”

  A Frelsian officer stepped to the fore. “What’s going on?”

  “I need to get down there. To the grotto.”

  “Not possible. Our last few units in the forest are executing a delaying action. Don’t expect them to hold up much longer.”

  “The stuff in the armory. Did they get it out in time?”

  “I seriously doubt it.” A wounded Frelsian hobbled over to us and leaned against the wall. “The bastards broke through both flanks, encircled our front line. We broke out but they pushed us all the way across the terrace.”

  “The clearing. Do we still hold it?”

  “Yeah, but not for long.”

  I burst away from the guards, hopping the makeshift wall they had thrown up to block the stairs. No one gave chase expect for John who eluded the grasp of a guard with a nifty pirouette. We flew down the stairs to the damaged first landing where the repair crews had abandoned their work half done.

  John and I picked our way carefully down the damaged sections carefully. The steps had been stripped away down to slick, steep bedrock. Sheer cliffs dropped away to the talus heaps below.

  “You really didn’t have to follow me,” I said.

  “But I want to help.”

  A series of hollow thuds erupted from the edge of the lower terrace. The Pennies had apparently transported several root cannons up onto the mountain. The projectiles they fired were shaggy and massive. The whole cliff shuddered when they struck. Sheets of rock sheered away and collapsed.

  We inched out way down, making use of whatever remained of the stairs when we could as a slow but steady barrage persisted.

  Mantid riders still patrolled the cloud forest but now they had been driven back within a stone’s throw of the clearing. Trees shuddered and fell. A battle raged unseen beneath the canopy.

  No stairs remained at the base. John and I had to hang by our fingertips and drop the final ten feet because the lowest landing had been demolished. The heavy blackout curtain that had enclosed the entrance to the grotto lay crumpled in a heap. We dashed into the cave which was awash in the last rays of the setting sun.

  Contrary to what the Frelsian soldier had told us, it looked like most of the weapons and equipment had been salvaged. The insect saddles along the side wall remained in place, but then again there were too few bugs surviving to put them to use.

  I wound my way through a mess of broken crates and empty shelving to the back of the room where I had seen the wings. More of grotto’s ceiling had come down and covered all that remained in grit and dust. I poked around and pulled up a set of wings that seemed intact. There were bits and shreds of membrane and a few salvaged joints but only one complete set.

  These were not mine, nor were they one of the copies we had fabricated. The membranes had the platinum sheen of the originals Luther had confiscated from the Seraph Petros.

  “There’s only one set, John. Here, you take them.”

  “What? Me? Nah. I ain’t putting on no wings.”

  “John, I mean it. Put these on! There’s no way you’re making it back up those stairs without them.”

  “Fuck that. You take them. You’re way more important than me.”

  “Put them on! And I want you fly straight back to the gardens and give these to Bern and Lille.”

  His jaw went slack. “What the fuck? Fly? I can’t fly.”

  “Shut up and strap on those wings!”

  Another projectile crashed low into the cliff-side and one corner of the grotto entrance collapsed. John pulled the wings over his shoulders and yanked the straps tight.

  He tried flapping his arms and not surprisingly, nothing happened.

  “This ain’t gonna work. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Use your shoulders. Just squeeze your blades together, that’s all you need to—“

  But John was already hurtling towards the ceiling of the grotto, nearly beaning his head on the stub of a stalactite.

  “Whoa! I’m … I’m doing it. I’m flying!” He careened around the cavern, eyes wide, guffawing like a goofball.

  “Gentle movements now. Flex one shoulder at a time, but go easy. Just a twitch. Just tense them up a bit. That’s it! That’s how you steer. Now get your ass out of here before this whole place comes down on us.”

  I guided him to the entrance and once he was out in the open air, he soared up the side of the cliff like a runaway balloon. I watched until he had safely cleared the rim and I stepped out into the clearing, my sword ready at my side as the mantid riders drifted back. An arc of trees surrounding the clearing began to shake. The shouts and grunts of battle drew near.

  Chapter 50: The Stand

  The surviving warriors—a ragtag mixture of Frelsians and Dusters—emerged in twos and threes from the cloud forest to make their last stand against the base of the cliffs. Whatever distinctions had separated their units had dissolved in the chaos of battle. I stared agog at how few they were, and how many Cherubim were pressing them through the dense stands of trees.

  I climbed atop a heap of freshly fallen talus, pointed my sword tip and summoned my will. For once my spellcraft flowed naturally and without effort. One bolus of energy after another rolled out of my core with no more resistance than a burp. I aimed specifically for the Hashmallim who, like puppet masters, guided and amplified the battle efficacy of their brainless, soulless troops. One by one, with unerring accuracy, my blasts smashed into them and struck them down, leaving them twitching and flopping on the ground like bluegills on a dock.

  Something big whistled out of the forest, struck a boulder, bounced off the ground and struck my midsection hard, knocking my wind out and bruising my ribs. Had the projectile struck me directly it would have easily disemboweled me.

  The blow only sharpened my focus and intensity. My sword sizzled with pulse after pulse. The warriors cut down these leaderless Cherubim and those that came behind them were held up by their puppeteers while they peeked around the moss-covered boles to see what was doing this to them.

  A flight of falcons popped over the rim and were immediately intercepted by a pair of dragonflies that zoomed in out of nowhere to slash and crumple their wings. One falcon made it through and sent a ballista bolt shrieking in over my head. It hovered, maneuvering around to better aim another shot at me when a mantis lunged out of the canopy and ripped it out of the sky with its fore claws.

  A huge beetle landed in the clearing. Frelsian and Duster warriors swarmed it and clambered aboard its back. Its wings exploded into action and it took off from the clearing, heading for safety on the upper terrace.

  Our fighters were evacuating. To cover their retreat, I stood my ground and fired pulses into the forest as fast as I could summon them. If worse came to worse I could duck into the grotto and hold out there under cover. I didn’t care what happened to me anymore. Whatever happened, happened.

  Another mantid, already partially laden with troops, landed on the talus beside me. Hands reached down. A score of eyes beseeched me.

  “Save yourselves!” I shouted. “There’s too many of you. I’ll just weigh you down.”

  “Screw that! Get your butt up on this bug, you dumbass!” screamed the mantid rider from his saddle.

  The urgency of his request convinced me to scramble onto the board. I latched onto a loop of harness. The mantid’s wings thundered open and thrummed like a helicopter as we rose along the cliff face.

  ***

  The sun was mostly set when we alighted on the promenade, only a part of its purplish orb still poked above the cracker-ravaged hills across the basin. Soldiers on the rim were busy rolling boulders off the top to further demolish what was left of the stairways. Seven, battle-scarred mantids had survived and were being attended to, their wings shredded, wounds in their shells weeping yellowish blood.

  I went over to the Frelsian officer who had tried to prevent John and I from going down. “That kid I was with. Did h
e make it up here okay?”

  “You betcha. The little bastard was damned lucky we recognized him. Bunch of my guys were ready to shoot him down. Took him for a Seraph.”

  Relieved, but feeling depleted, I dragged myself up the central lane which was all abuzz with news of the collapse of our defenses on the lower terrace. Braziers of glowing root flickered all along the avenue. Perceptions were all over the place. Some felt that doom was imminent. Others remained confident that the upper terrace would hold.

  The Reapers were moaning in their new pens at the base of the meadow. Their keepers tossed them scraps whose identity I was glad remained obscured in the fading light.

  At the War Council’s bunker atop the hill, I found Olivier standing outside the entrance. It soon became clear that he was out there waiting for me.

  “Jeez kid. Thank God you’re here. I thought you had faded or something.”

  “Nah. I was … just helping out some friends. They meeting yet?

  He hauled me aside before I could edge past him. “Before you go in, that replica you made? Anybody asks. For now, we pretend it works. Okay?”

  “You want me to lie? What for? If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.”

  “Listen. Some in the council might not be too keen to send us on our raid if they know we only got that one column. They won’t let us go if we can’t guarantee we’ll make a big enough impact. Zhang’s already making some noise about surrendering the mesa and negotiating some kind of deal with the Lords. Safe passage to the underworld or whatever. I say fuck that. I wouldn’t put it past these assholes to turn us into Cherubs … or worse. So, anybody asks you, we got three working cracker columns. Got it? We don’t want this expedition to be called off.”

  “Three? Do we need three?”

  “That’s the number Zhang seems to consider the bare minimum to justify a raid. Listen. You and me know for sure we got one that definitely works, okay? For me, that’s more than enough to make this worthwhile. We just got to be strategic about where we place it. And who knows, maybe we can get that dummy you made up and running. Let’s not count it out yet. Worst case scenario we have one cracker column. Best case? Sky’s the limit. We get one copy working, we can make a dozen. Hey, you did it with the wing joints.”

  I took a deep breath. Why was the pressure always on me?

  The purple sun had dipped below the horizon and the stars that might not be stars were showing themselves.

  “Come on,” said Olivier. “Let’s go see the Council.”

  Chapter 51: Decision

  The council chamber was crowded with onlookers from each faction of the resistance occupying New Axum. Even the Old Ones were well-represented. I had not seen so many active at one time since my attack on Frelsi. I looked around for Mr. O, but couldn’t spot him. Maybe some remained in the long sleep.

  As usual, the big shots on the Council sat in the center of the room on stone benches surrounding a circular stone table. Each had a pair of round things the size of poker chips in front of them, one green and one red. I watched Yaqob snatch his up and clack them together in one hand.

  I whispered to Olivier as we pushed out way closer to the table. “What are those colored things?”

  “Ah, they’re for voting.”

  “Where do we get ours?”

  Olivier narrowed his eyes at me. “We don’t vote. Only the Council reps vote.”

  After all the meetings we had attended, I hadn’t realized we weren’t members of the War Council.

  “So what are we doing here? Moral support?”

  “They value our opinion. Some of them, anyhow.”

  I was startled to see Victoria seated next to Zhang. The flesh weavers had pretty much restored her human shape, though her body still seemed a bit stiff and lumpy in the wrong places, her hair all wiry and askew.

  She seemed dazed until I entered her line of vision. Something snapped and her eyes latched onto mine and stared right through to the bottom of my soul. It made my skin prickle. A shiver rippled down my spine. I had to look away.

  I spotted John lurking in the back of the room and peeled away from Olivier to go see him. He seemed nervous as I approached, almost as if he were afraid of me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m technically a refugee,” he whispered. “Refugees ain’t supposed to be here.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m a refugee too. Technically. Did you manage get those wings up to Lille?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So what did she say?”

  “She said thank you.”

  “So is she gonna use them?”

  “She said she would think about it. Bern said he’s take them for a spin so he can show her the ropes.”

  “God. I hope he doesn’t crash.”

  “James!” called Yaqob, gruffly. “Come here.”

  I pushed back through the throng.

  “You stay with us,” said Yaqob. “Stay close.”

  Olivier was chatting with Urszula. Though he had come from the Deeps, I didn’t usually think of him as a Duster, but he looked right at home among these guys. Conversely, Urszula would always be a Duster in my eyes, even though she no longer shared their chalky, grey complexions.

  Through my peripheral vision I could sense Victoria still staring at me. I tried my best to ignore her.

  The Old Ones’ leadership had rotated once again. Two Old Ones, a man and a woman this time, sat together across from Yaqob. Each had red and green chips in front of them. I had to wonder how these people kept track of who was in charge at any given moment.

  Yaqob was flanked on either side by Hailay, his top lieutenant and Reznak—a grizzled Duster with scars to rival Yaqob’s. Across the table Zhang sat with Victoria and a studious-looking Frelsian who sat quietly with his hands folded on his lap. I noticed that he had a pair of chips in front of him but Victoria did not.

  A young Duster clad in scaly armor sidled over to Yaqob and engaged him in an intense discussion. He spoke the guttural tongue of the Deeps.

  “Who’s that guy?” I whispered.

  “That’s Ubaldo,” said Olivier. “One of the new crew. He came over with us from Deeps.”

  “Oh yeah. He looks sort of familiar.”

  “Good fighter. He might come on the raid with us if we go. But let’s not put the cart before the horse. The Council first has to agree to send us. Apparently, Zhang’s trying to monkey wrench the whole idea.”

  Yaqob cleared his throat and glared across the table at Zhang.

  “Why you bring her?”

  “Miss Victoria?” said Zhang. “No worries, Yaqob. She will not be voting.”

  “We would prefer she not be privy to our deliberations,” said Reznak.

  “Oh no, it’s fine,” said Zhang. “My people have been working with her. They’ve reversed most of the modifications. She’s almost all the way back to the way she was. I do so value her judgment. As much as you all value James.” Zhang smiled and winked at me.

  “She should not be here,” said Yaqob. “What if she still communicates with the Lords of Penult?”

  “Oh! No worries,” said Zhang. “The Erelim do not speak to her. But since she has witnessed the other side, she may have perspectives, insights worth sharing. She deserves her place at the table.”

  Through all this discussion, Victoria made no attempt to defend her presence. She kept staring straight ahead, her expression as blank and inscrutable as the Old Ones.

  “We should have tossed her to the Reapers,” said Ubaldo.

  Zhang’s mouth dropped. “I beg your pardon?” He turned to Yaqob for support, but the old Duster would not even look at him.

  “Honestly, when you think of all she has done for Frelsi … for … our cause. You are talking about one of the original founders of our colony.”

  “Perhaps she can stay for now,” said Reznak. “But if any sensitive discussions arise … operational details and such … she should leave.”

  “One might say this w
hole discussion here is pretty sensitive,” said Olivier.

  “I assure you she has no means of communicating with the Erelim,” said Zhang. “If she did I would have had no need to send envoys.”

  Yaqob sighed long and deep. “You send envoys? To the Lords?””

  ”Well, yes but just as an overture. To assess their appetite for negotiation. It is useful to have options, is it not?”

  “And what do your envoys tell you?”

  “Well, only one has returned so far, but the Lords seem willing to listen. What we ultimately offer them is certainly open for discussion, but I propose that we offer to leave New Axum. There are indications that those willing to return to the underworld would be allowed safe passage.”

  “That’s nothing new,” said Reznak. “What of those who wish to remain on the surface?”

  “We’re still working that out. But I am hoping they will allow some of us to stay.”

  “How so?” said Reznak. “When their goal all along has been the total eradication of all surface dwellers?”

  “They are taking huge losses,” said Zhang. “Their invasion has entailed an enormous investment of resources on their part and yet here we remain, thanks to the valor of our citizens. And so, they may be open to compromises.”

  “This makes no sense,” said Yaqob. “Where would they allow us to stay? Why don’t they just leave us be here … in New Axum?”

  “Well,” said Zhang. “Victoria has indicated that some of us … the Freesouls among us at least … might actually be welcome in Penult.”

  “What foolishness!” said Reznak. “They would never have us there. They consider it Heaven.”

  “Actually, they might. Not you perhaps, but some of us. Victoria tells me they recognize that the natural vetting of the Liminality has not always been perfect. They have suggested to Victoria that some among us … many perhaps … might be offered entry into Penult … as was offered to her at one point.”

  The crowd in the chamber burst out in spontaneous outburst of discussion and expression. I sensed excitement, derision, disbelief and relief.