Badass and the Beast: 10

by Shrum, Kory M.

  Smoke wove through the air in front of her, and she saw where he was leading her. A low, but substantial mount lay just ahead, offering shelter from whatever was falling—if she could reach it.

  The sounds became a sustained shriek and a roar that seemed to double in intensity with each moment that passed, until she felt sure that she would never hear again. The mount was close, but still achingly far. She found more speed and gave everything to her legs and arms, but even the dust outran her, blowing past. The wind’s blowing the wrong way! She looked over her shoulder.

  “Oh, Momma!”

  The mass of rock seemed to blot out the sky.

  Tchak!

  Blind fear motivated her, carrying her forward faster than ever. The air trembled. The mount was on her left, and she curved around it, the world a blur. The sound became an insane, skull-splitting cacophony. And then the end came.

  The ground shook, knocking her from her feet and throwing her into the air, along with dust, sand, and rocks. The sound became the world. It burrowed into her ears and her brain. It invaded every part of her and threatened to turn her inside out. She landed with a thud, but it hardly mattered…the sound! Somehow, Smoke was there with her, continuing to coax, to draw her toward the mount. In a daze, she saw a shallow cave. Sand already huddled within it, looking catatonic. Sand had never done well with loud noises.

  Tchak!

  Pulling herself up, choking and coughing, she stumbled toward the declivity and fell in, bumping Sand out of the way. She grabbed her and Smoke, and pulled them to her. Dust—

  The air seemed to squeeze in on them, and her ears, head, and chest exploded in pain, making her cry out and the birds squawk and squirm, but it quickly subsided, leaving them all limp. Dust! The thought came again just as a wall of particles and debris blasted across the mouth of the cave. Pushing herself into the end of the hollow space, she pulled the cat pelt over her head and chest, and sealed it as best she could.

  Kak!

  Sand struggled in her grasp.

  “Shh…shh, Sand. Shh, Smoke,” she sang, barely able to hear her own voice.

  Tchak, Smoke uttered as if to say that he had not been fussing.

  “I know, just shh…shh.”

  The ground shook again and again. So many times that Zoe lost count. Eventually, the sounds became a reasonable patter, and she thought they might actually survive whatever had happened. She could smell some dust, but it seemed that the pelt was filtering out the worst of it.

  She finally relaxed, and Sand seemed to sleep. Smoke was not moving, but it was hard to tell with him whether he was asleep or not, even when she could see his face. He was always a cagey one. That was what Papa called Smoke, a cagey little gray demon.

  “He thinks more than he should be able to, being a bird.”

  “What do you mean, Papa?”

  He had rubbed a finger along the bridge of his nose, a habit Momma had told her meant that he was not sure what to say, not being used to the company of small children, and was thinking of a prudent answer. “He wasn’t expecting to be a father,” Momma had said. “He loves you more than you can possibly know, but being a daddy wasn’t ever in his plans.”

  Her father glanced up from his ruminations over their evening fire. “I mean that most birds aren’t terribly intelligent animals. Some are bright, but that bird, he’s a smart one. Perceptive, intuitive almost, and he seems to see things even I can’t see. I wonder sometimes if your momma changed him. Changed them.”

  Her sleepy eight-year-old eyes, glazed and slow-blinking, regarded him. “I don’t understand,” she said and shook her head.

  “You don’t need to, my little regal!” He kissed her forehead. “Just keep them with you. And keep you with them. Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  “Good. Now lie down. But listen. There’s something important I need to tell you. I don’t want you to be scared though, all right?”

  “All right.”

  “Do you remember when your mother went away?” He watched as she nodded her curly-haired head. “She told me, a couple of times, that she had begun to feel odd, as if she was a sticker, that’s a flat thing stuck on something else, but that she felt peeled at the edges, and pulled at. It was as if someone somewhere was trying to pull her away.”

  “Okay.”

  “A month later, she was gone.”

  “Okay.”

  He swallowed hard. “I’m beginning to feel that way too.”

  Her large, brown eyes blinked up at him. “You’re going away too?”

  “I think so, but I won’t leave without you, I promise. But you have to stay close by, all right? No wandering away. If I feel it happening, I’ll hold you close, and we’ll both go find Momma, all right?”

  She nodded solemnly. The thought of finding Momma was powerful. “All right.”

  “Good. Now go to sleep.”

  Staying awake that night as long as she was able, she watched her papa, watched to make sure that he did not get taken without her. She did it the next night and the night after and the night after, but vigilance waned as nothing happened. Then, one morning, weeks later, she awoke to a cold tent, and her papa’s bedroll empty, but not turned down. She ran outside, thinking, and then hoping, that he had gone outside to gather wood or watch the dawn, but he did not responded to her calls. She waited there for a week, slowly nibbling through the food stores before she finally allowed herself to think that he was really gone, that she was really alone—a little girl and two birds against the wilderness. She cried herself to sleep that night, one last time. When she woke in the morning, she strapped on her father’s knife and took up her bow, grabbing this time for the quiver of arrows tipped with deadly red chert.

  Sand’s movements woke her. Everything was dark and close and it took several moments for Zoe to get her bearings. The colossus falling from the sky, the noise, the pressure, the dust—it all flowed back to her. The three of them under a cat pelt in a cave after the sky fell.

  “Everyone okay?”

  Kak.

  Tchak.

  “Good. Don’t move, okay? I’ll be right back.” She tried to roll, but something blocked her in from behind. So she lifted a corner of the cat pelt instead, revealing a faint line of light. “That’s a good sign.”

  Tchak!

  “Okay, children, up I go,” she said and sat up sideways.

  Dust rained down on them and she sneezed, while both birds flapped their wings and scuttled out from under the pelt before it collapsed on them. They headed for the cave entrance without her. “So much for listening to momma bird, huh?” She checked her belongs to make sure she still had everything. Not that I’d know where to look if something was lost. A foot of powdery residue covered the floor of the cave. Anything she had dropped could be anywhere under the mess. Stooping over in the diminished space, she grabbed the pelt and walked out of the cave, her feet sinking into the dust with each step. Late afternoon sunlight broke over the landscape, a landscape remade by mad giants. Rocks of all sizes were strewn about, and drifts of blackish dust smothered everything. She shook out the pelt, stepping away from the resulting cloud, and wrapped it around herself. Neither of her birds were nearby, so she walked to the right, back the way she had come a few hours earlier. Navigating the jagged rocks sparked a profound appreciation for the cave, and for Smoke finding it and leading her there. I’d be dead if I’d stayed out here.

  Coming around the giant rock that had saved her life, she saw the one that had almost taken it. Difficult as it was to get a sense of its size, she guessed that it was about two miles long. She shook her head at the thought of a two-mile-long rock falling from space. Her mother had told her about such things once, but she could not remember what those rocks were called; only that it started with the letter M. Meaty something. Meaty rocks? Meaty-ores? Her mother had said that some rocks held metal and were called ores. I think that’s what she said. Is that what she meant? The colossus was surrounded by other rocks, som
e bigger than her mount, that had either fallen with the colossus or broken off of it. If I’d been walking any slower…

  Kak!

  Flying together, Sand and Smoke circled overhead before dropping down to her shoulders. Absently, her hands rose to pet them. “Thanks for saving us again, Smoke.”

  The skyfall had made walking perilous. With night rushing on, Zoe had chosen to return to the cave to sleep. Now mid-morning, she was making little progress through the powdery dust and sharp rocks. Her feet sank ankle-deep or worse into the soft powder, and the rocks, often hidden, scratched her feet and legs through her socks. This was awful. The birds had been on the wing all morning, Sand pursuing smaller birds for her breakfast and Smoke doing whatever it was that Smoke did when he disappeared for long swaths of time.

  The towering mountains held dominion over the landscape now, their flanks definitely bearing more snow than yesterday. Snow even dusted the hills now. Diverting her gaze away from the vertiginous terrain, she stared instead at the cliffs. Several spots along the escarpment bore evidence of water working on stone, but most of the cataracts were now trickles or nothing at all.

  It was getting colder and darker. Drier too, with all the moisture getting trapped as snow—effect and cause, but why? The thing blotting out half the sky was not helping. Blocking the sunlight and throwing the mountains into shade. That probably explained all the new snow, but the creeks and rivers had been drying up long before the thing arrived. “What’s going on?”

  The wilderness held no reply, not that she had expected one. What she had expected was to be at the base of the cliffs by the end of today, but then the sky had fallen and ruined her plans. If I had some planks, I could tie them to my feet and I wouldn’t sink in so far. Maybe not at all. A honk caught her attention, and she watched a flock of geese fly overhead before returning to the idea of dust shoes. Something lightweight and wide—like a goose’s foot! She unslung her pack and sat down, removing the tent and poles. The tent had been her father’s and was different from many of the things that she was used to on Airzots. The tent itself was made of a lightweight and densely woven fabric, very unlike the chunky, coarse fabrics that her mother had made. It shed dirt and wetness easily and was almost thin enough to see through. But the poles were even more spectacular. Lightweight, but incredibly strong, the poles were assembled from short, narrow tubes that cleverly interlocked. And they were metal, one of the rarest things in the world. Besides the tent poles, Zoe owned only three other metal objects, a bowl, a cooking pot, and Papa’s knife.

  Taking three of the tubes, she lashed them together with leather thongs to make a triangle. She briefly considered cutting fabric out of the door flap of the tent, but she could not bring herself to damage it, and sacrificed one of her leather food bags instead. The half-bag was not exactly the right size for the frame, but she stretched the leather and made it work. Then, passing laces through punched holes, she tied the contraption to her foot and walked, looking for all the world, she imagined, like a duck. But it worked—her left foot did not sink into the dust. She quickly made another and tied it on. After a few steps, she realized that the design was flawed because the broad, duck-like paddles in front of her kept clashing with each step. Thinking about how close her feet were, she rotated the triangular frames until two of the bases faced each other. She punched new holes, re-laced them to her feet, and took several steps. Yay! She practically floated on the dust now. Certainly walking would take a little more attention than usual, but she would no longer sink. She hoisted her pack and set her steps toward the cliffs.

  Zoe cleared the dust field shortly after noon and returned to walking on just her sandals. The first several minutes were an awkward period of readjustment while she unlearned the exaggerated movements that the dust shoes required. Learning to walk again…story of my life.

  Throughout the day, more meaty-ores fell from space, stirring animals into restless motion. She saw many more creatures wandering about than was normal and tried diligently to avoid most of them. Between the space rocks and the critters, she was motivated to reach her goal, and soon the cliff reared above her in the faint glow of the half-seen evening sky. The sand and dirt rolled up to the wall and simply ended, while the wall rose straight up to an insane height. And a wall it was, smooth and flat, barring small divots and gouges. It was a wholly unnatural edifice. How? She had surveyed the wall on her approach and had seen no variation in it except where the waterfalls had darkened and eroded it over countless years.

  “So, what now?”

  She had made it to her target, but now was at a loss. She had walked south, the direction that Sand had always flown, always south. But south was at an end. Where should I go now? She rested her forehead on the wall and fought the tears that threatened to come. Even with her thoughts in turmoil, she felt the deep thrumming in the bones of her skull and stilled her body and breath. Somewhere behind this massive wall, something big moved. Opening her eyes, she regarded the stone anew. Somewhere behind there. There had to be a way in. She looked to both sides and saw Sand and Smoke winging away to the right. She set her face to the west and walked.

  She watched her birds play while she followed the wall. Smoke darted around, acting the prey to Sand’s plunging but harmless attacks. Several times he simply tumbled out of the way, gained altitude, and dropped down on her, calling out triumphantly at each tag he completed. Sand was stronger and faster, a natural leader and predator, but Smoke was more agile and cunning.

  Far out on the plain, movement caught her eye. A small and ragged herd of deer, or some animal that resembled deer, was navigating the rock field. She felt for them. There was some forage to be found, woody shrubs, herbs, and grasses that grew in the lee of mounts and in the valleys that used to host rivers and streams, but it grew sparser with every passing day. The whole world was turning shades of brown and gray, sand and smoke.

  Grimacing at the thought, she quickened her pace and was just looking away when a black shape bolted from the concealment of a boulder and leapt upon the back of a deer, taking it down almost immediately. The thing was huge and feline, like some dark, avenging devil cat. Breathing with difficulty, Zoe squatted and watched as it set to the bloody business of eating. The process did not take long.

  After grooming, a comically dainty act for something so large, it set off to the east. Good, Zoe thought, you go the opposite way from me. Her quiver contained two good arrows and one of questionable worth. She was not convinced that three would be enough against something that massive. To be safe, she watched it until it disappeared into the distance and the deepening shadows of dusk.

  “Day two of going south by going west. I’m beginning to think this was a stupid idea.”

  Tchak.

  “You too?”

  Tchak.

  “You’re too kind.”

  Ahead, the cliff stretched as far as Zoe cared to look. And aside from one scant and icy-cold waterfall, where she had quickly bathed and refilled the water skins, the wall had been entirely featureless. Even the thrumming sound had been absent for the past day.

  “We have water, but we’re out of food, except jerky. I sure would like some fruit.”

  On her shoulder, the drowsing Sand perked up and twitched her head in different directions. And Zoe heard it too, a faint throbbing, just at the edge of sound. As she walked, the sound intensified. Both birds perked up and all three of them scanned the wall. “Is this it? Something happening?” The vibration intensified and shook her feet with each step. “That’s interesting.”

  After several steps, the effect diminished. She turned and went back, running her hand and gaze along the wall, looking and feeling for anything out of the ordinary. She stopped at the point where the vibration was the most pronounced. The wall was entirely unremarkable.

  “Well, now what?”

  Sand flapped from her perch and dropped to the ground. Gazing at the sand, she scratched at it, opening a narrow furrow.

  “You think
it’s down?” Zoe got on her knees and began digging away the loose sand. “Yeah, see? This is a sand drift. It’s higher here than it is behind us. I wonder…”

  Of the three sets of limbs, talons proved less effective than hands, and Zoe ended up digging the hole herself, with the birds standing by as moral support, occasionally offering an encouraging kak or tchak. After a few minutes, she uncovered the top of a smooth, white substance stuck fast to the wall. More excavation revealed text, or what she guessed was text as she could not read any of it.

  Breaking away for a moment, she opened the pack and drew out the metal bowl. “Time to get serious.” In a short time, she had the entire area uncovered. The idea, she saw, was similar to the sand tablet on which her parents had taught her to write and read, but the reality was something entirely different. Here, the letters were fused to the white background and could not be erased. “Wow.” She traced the letters with her fingertip, wondering what they said. She knew English and some French from her mother and Olómiru from her father. “I’ll teach you Kef, the language of the ancient ones, when you’re a little older,” her mother had said, but that day had never come.

  “Is this Kef?” she asked the mute characters. She felt certain that it was and regretted that she had never been allowed the opportunity to learn it. But the vibration reminded her that other treasures might still lay undiscovered right below her knees, so she continued to dig.

  The day was close to dying and the spot of writing was now level with her eyes. Thousands of bowls of sand had been made and discarded while she dug, not just down, but out and away in an effort to keep the pit from filling in by collapse. The final few bowlsful revealed a band of discolored metal, stout and attached to the wall. Laughter had filled the pit, drawing the birds, which had looked on with curious eyes.

  Elated as she had been, she now sat beside her pack, exhausted and eating some jerky, wondering where she should make camp. The nearest mount was at least a mile away, and she saw no evidence of a cave. Considering her options, she thought it might be best to just set up the tent here. Of course her arms and back were busy reminding her of all the work she had done, so she also considered simply wrapping up in her furs and hoping for no rain.