Dragonfly: A Tale of the Counter-Earth at the Cosmic Antipodes

by Raphael Ordoñez

  “Duck,” I said. Over Jairus’ head I cut a chimera in two. I picked up the pieces and dropped them overboard. It was the last one. The battle was over.

  56 Red Harvest

  Jairus strode to the stern of the flagship and raised his arms. The survivors all gathered where they could see him across the space left by the sinking transport. “Men,” he cried, “the exodus has failed, but our mission continues. Are you willing?”

  The men shouted their assent with one voice.

  “We’ll take three ships, then,” said Jairus. “The Arrow, the Eclipse, and the Destroyer. Those too injured to man their stations must stay behind. They’re already martyrs for our cause. We’ll join them soon enough.”

  “What are you doing?” I said, coming up behind him.

  He turned and looked down at me. “We’re going to make a holocaust of the fatted cattle of Enoch. One part at least of our plan will succeed.”

  “But don’t you see that that’s exactly what Zilla wants? He planned for those chimeras to disable the transport. He wanted to slaughter your people, to end the exodus while leaving your fighting forces intact. He must have known how easy they would be to defeat. He’s using you to accomplish his own ends.”

  “That matters little to me, so long as they’re my ends, too. Stay behind with the women and children if you like. This isn’t your fight.”

  “I’m making it my fight,” I said. I dove off the side.

  “Down with the Dragonfly!” cried Jairus. “A place at my side in battle to the man who brings him down!”

  I found myself a target at once. Fireballs and bolts flew at me from all sides. They were too thick to dodge. A ball of brimstone slammed into my back with a shower of sparks. My wings were shivered to splinters. I plunged toward the earth, flaming through the canopy of black needles, and crashed like a meteor of smoking bronze.

  * * * * *

  Someone was calling my name: “Keftu!” It was a kind, gentle voice. I thought first of my mother, then Aine. “Keftu!” I opened my eyes.

  Joanna was looking down at me, her face framed by her dark red hair. She was cradling my head in her lap. Seila was kneeling beside me, cleaning my sooty brow with a cloth. They were both weeping. My face was wet with their tears.

  I sat up and looked wildly about. The women drew back in surprise. The people of the pit were gathered nearby. Airships drifted overhead like lost clouds. The transport was on its side close by, settling slowly over the necropolis.

  “What happened?” I demanded.

  “Keftu!” cried Seila. “You’re alive!”

  “What happened?” I repeated. “Where are they?”

  “Where are what?”

  “The ships! The ones Jairus took!”

  “They made off in the direction of the temple district. Look! You can see them vanishing.”

  I turned toward where she pointed. No ships were visible down the street, but I could see a long shadow just slipping off a building. “I have to stop them!”

  “You’re not stopping anyone right now,” said Joanna. “Look at you. You’re a mess!”

  “Hand me my helmet,” I said. I struggled to my feet.

  “What do you owe these people? Phylites and helots! Do you think they care what happens to you? You’re nothing to them!”

  “That’s true,” I said. “I was nothing to Granny, either, and yet I tried to save her. I don’t know why myself. Hand me my helmet.”

  Seila brought it to me. “Goodbye, Keftu,” she said. “I’ll wait for you here.”

  “We all will,” said Joanna.

  “Wait at the pyramid, then,” I said. “Maybe I’ll be back.” I set off at a sprint over the springy turf, making for the foundation-wall. The chimeras lying in pieces all over the cemetery were still flapping disgustingly. The only ones not moving had been felled by flamethrowers and fireballs.

  When I reached the foundation I climbed to the top, entered a building, and dashed up the stairs to the roof. From there I went bounding from rooftop to rooftop in pursuit of the ships. They had already cleared the wall of the Cheiropt; the hoplites had all been incinerated, but at the sacrifice of one ship, the Arrow, which lay in the street, a flaming wreck.

  The other two were only a few blocks from the rift when I reached them. I threw myself into empty space over the nearest and landed on its envelope. I rent it as I’d seen the chimeras tear through the transport’s balloon, releasing a small tempest. When the envelope sagged I leaped to the next and treated it as the first. I rode it to the street. As it touched down I leaped to the pavement, dashed another block or two ahead, and turned, standing between the Misfit and the rift.

  The Misfit’s men poured out as their ships slowly settled. Jairus strode forward through the ranks, setting them in order. Soon his small army stood in formation, serried from wall to wall of the street. There were at least a hundred men.

  Deinothax was white-hot and smoking in my hands. My legs were spread wide. Jairus gave the signal, and his men charged.

  It seemed at that moment that I had ages to wait until the tide of steel reached me. The light of the sinking sun shot slantwise down the street, and each cloud wisp, window, and mote stood out as something tragically and eternally beautiful.

  The wall of warriors was a block away now. A girl with green hair was watching from a balcony, calm and serious. I looked at her, and our eyes met. She was the girl I had saved from the slug. She waved at me; I waved back.

  The length of two buildings lay between me and the Misfit now. A new light flashed in Jairus’ eyes. He slowed and stopped in the middle of an intersection. His men drew to a standstill behind him, bunched up and tense, watching him with confused eyes.

  A slow and growing thunder was in the air. I looked at the sky, but the sky was clear. Then the quiet was cloven by the voice of a savage horn, awful and lonely, such as might have led the Wild Hunt through the moss-forests at the dawn of time. The street seemed to pulse and vibrate under my feet. I heard a sound that was something between a squeal and a roar, and wondered why it was so familiar.

  A cry of panic went up among the men. They started to divide down the middle, on either side of the intersection. But it was too late.

  A score of angry behemothim thundered across the street, trampling the warriors like cockroaches. They wheeled when they saw the men and drove into their ranks, tossing them with their tusks, crushing them between their great flat teeth. I stepped aside as the beasts passed, and they went off down the street like a tornado that strikes and misses.

  The air was full of wails and groans now. Three pale giants strode into view, eyeing the survivors with their great cartwheel eyes, bearing sickles in their soft gray hands. It was Arges and his two brothers. My friend raised one hand in greeting, and I returned the gesture. Then the three cyclopes set about harvesting the remainder of the Misfit’s men. It was a red harvest. The warriors were stricken almost senseless by the eyes of their foes, and hewed one another down in their desperation to escape.

  Only Jairus remained unaffected by the cyclopes’ coming. He saw the greeting I exchanged with Arges. “So,” he said, “it was true what my men told me about your escape that night. We keep underestimating you. Well, it takes only one man to do what I set out to do. Out of my way!” And he ran at me with flaming eyes.

  I thrust Deinothax still smoking into its sheath and hurtled toward the Misfit, head down. The move caught him off guard, and I was within his circle of defense almost before he knew it. I grappled with him like a wild thing, pounding him with my fists and tearing at him with my fingers. He threw me off with a bellow of terror. I struck the pavement and rolled, then rocked to one side to dodge his descending longsword. Yanking it from his hands, I leaped to my feet, snapped it in half across my knee, and threw the pieces far down the street. We eyed one another.

  “You fight like a beast,” said Jairus.

  “I fight,” I said, “like desert vermin.” And once again I threw myself against hi
m, pummeling him with my fists. With each blow I drove him backward a step. I began striking at his chin, and his iron-helmeted head snapped back again and again. He tripped and fell on his back, and I was on him immediately, beating his head against the pavement. The giant fell limp at last.

  I rose unsteadily to my feet. The cyclopes were standing in a ring around me, stained red up to their elbows and knees. “I thought you’d never come,” I said.

  57 A New Thing in Enoch

  “Farewell, my friend,” I said. “You returned in my hour of need. I count myself well repaid. Let this be the beginning of a long friendship between your house and mine. I have sworn it.”

  We were standing on the pinnacle of a tall tower, the three cyclopes and I. Jairus was kneeling between us. The four anchor chains of the Eclipse had been fastened around his neck and fixed to four stakes at the corners of the platform. His calm, pale face was something terrible to behold.

  I took each of the cyclopes’ hands in turn. They turned then and silently set about their descent from the tower, clinging to the ornate masonry and lowering themselves from floor to floor. When they reached the street they called to their livestock and began the journey back to the mountains.

  Jairus refused to answer my questions, or even to look me in the eye. He seemed a skeleton of what he had been; his white skin was like wax melting off his big bones. “So be it,” I said when I saw it was useless. “I’ll see you soon.”

  I took the elevator down and went out to a corner of masonry that projected over the crux of the rift. Nothing looked different, except that the helot custodian lay motionless beside the stream in its channel.

  The smell of gas grew stronger and stronger as I made my way down the maze of stairs, ramps, and porticoes that formed the canyon’s wall. I halted, sick to my stomach. Images of methane swamps and gas pipes and trembling lamps flashed across my mind’s eye. I thought also of the explosion I’d heard.

  Now I began to bound down with less caution. Suddenly my vision swam. A buzzing started in my head. My limbs turned to jelly. It was only with great difficulty that I crept back up to where I could breathe freely.

  My guess was that the Misfit had flooded Hela with leaked gas. His plan was to bomb the rift, setting off a chain reaction that would destroy that part of Enoch. It had been thwarted for the time being at least, but the helots could breathe gas no more than I could.

  Recovered now, I got to my feet, made my way back up to the street, and shot off in the direction of the necropolis.

  * * * * *

  Day was settling toward dusk when I regained the pit. I found the people all gathered at the pyramid. The Misfit’s stern discipline hadn’t been for nothing, for the able-bodied were unloading supplies from the transport and bearing them into the courtyard.

  The work ceased when they saw me. They all gathered around, clamoring for news. I strode through the crowd, climbed onto a tomb, and set my hand on the hilt of my sword. The people fell silent one by one.

  “Jairus has fallen,” I said, “undone by the trust he put in Zilla, who promised aid through fell beasts and proved faithless. You’ve come through fire and grief today. The exodus has failed. All that’s been accomplished is that life is impossible for you here now, and looks to become much more so in the future.

  “I hope that some of the evil fruit of the day’s doings can be prevented by swift action. This will only better your own lot in the long run, as you’ll see if you think about it. Disaster is about to strike the helots, if it hasn’t already. Is there anyone among you who knows their way through Hela, who would be able to accompany me there?”

  “I will,” a voice said. I looked down, and my eyes met Seila’s.

  “We may die,” I said.

  “It would not be too soon,” she replied. Her eyes burned.

  “Then we’ll go together,” I said. I looked out over the crowd. “The Cheiropt is slow to react, but once it does, it does so inexorably. Soon it will realize that Jairus is no longer a threat. I fear that the necropolis will be overrun at any moment. I don’t seek to assume the warlord’s role. Far from it! But I know of a place where I believe you’ll be safe for the time being. To those who are willing to turn their backs on their past here, I offer an uncertain road to safety today and, perhaps, liberty tomorrow. If you wish to follow me, gather as much as you can carry and come with me right now. There’s no time to organize.”

  “Why not use the ships?” someone said.

  “Perhaps that would be best,” I said, “but I myself think not. The Cheiropt has its own ships, doesn’t it? Jairus’ strategy hinged on surprise and panic. Any attempt to escape by air now will meet with retaliation.”

  “That was the case already. Why do you think we had warships?”

  “But who would man them?” I said. “Your warriors are all dead or scattered.”

  “What do you propose, then?” someone else demanded. “What good will it do to hide in Hela? We’ll have to come out eventually.”

  “I’ve seen a path under the city. It’s a dark, terrible path, deeper than Hela and far older. But the Cheiropt knows nothing of it. That’s our highway to freedom, our highway of freedom. I have a plan for our survival. There’s no time to explain it now, and, even if there was, the details are all uncertain. I’m going to carry it out nonetheless. Anyone who wishes to accompany me on those terms is welcome to.”

  I got down from the tomb. Seila put her arm through mine, and we set out for the foundation-wall. I picked up a tube lamp as we passed a box of them.

  The people of the pit followed us in a long, straggling stream. About half ultimately came, including most of those with children. The other half set about loading the warships.

  I saw the remains of a chimera and stopped. The creature had been cut in half and lay draped over a wiry lichen bush. But its sticky ichor had begun to coagulate, and a thin web of tissue looked to be extending across its exposed insides. Its eyes watched me placidly. Seila and I continued on our way.

  We led the people through a portico in the side of the foundation. Beyond it lay an ancient fane and burial complex whose great crypts held stacks of bones removed from the cemetery to ease overcrowding. Some of these chambers had been emptied to serve as Jairus’ armory and commissary, and the people behind me bore off what supplies remained. We passed into the brick maze where I had found Maruch. The songline called to me, and I led the way down unerringly.

  For the second time the silver-green light of a tube lamp dropped into the dark corridor like a star making a progress through the underworld. It was joined by another, and another, until a galaxy of them stretched in a belt along the black cathedral space. I led the way up the stony rise where I’d buried Granny. The Misfit’s phyle gathered on its sides and around its base like a city set on a nighted hill.

  I climbed a pile of slabs at the top. “This is the place of which I spoke,” I said. “Seila and I will continue to Hela. Wait for us here. We’ll return if we live.”

  “Wait!” Joanna called. “You can’t just leave us like this! At least tell us your plan.”

  “I would tell you more if I could,” I said. “My path is like this corridor, which is dark, and leads I don’t know where. My thought is that we’ll become a new people. Not a new phyle within the Cheiropt, fighting to divorce itself, but a truly separate kingdom, existing within the Cheiropt, or beneath it, rather.”

  “But how can we be a kingdom?” someone cried. “We have no possessions, no land! We’re empty-handed!”

  “What is a kingdom?” I countered. “I’ll tell you. A kingdom is people—people with a common hearth. We are people.”

  “And what is our hearth?”

  “Darkness. I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I don’t have the words to say what I mean. The Inception of the Cheiropt was a new thing in the story of the world. Before that there had been cities and empires, but the people then had no words for what was happening. And so it rose up in their midst unopposed. Well, thi
s is a new thing, too. A spore sown in a dark place.

  “One thing I can tell you, for it comes from Jairus’ own lips. A people without individual responsibility is a people without greatness. It spreads out like a body without bones. Our kingdom in casual shelters will be composed of cells knit variously into hierarchical organs.

  “But now I truly must go. The worse things get today, the worse it will be tomorrow, for us and for everyone else.”

  I stepped down from the pile and took Seila’s hand. The people parted for us as we climbed down to the floor. We began making our way along the corridor. A bend soon hid the shining hilltop from sight.

  “Keftu,” whispered Seila.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s going to be bad up there. Do you know that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The pressure is gone from the gas lines. The lights will go out, if they haven’t already. The helots will tear themselves apart with fear. They’re terrified of the darkness, and the leaked gas will keep them from lighting fires. Or, what’s more likely, they’ll light them and blow themselves up.”

  “Why are they so afraid of the dark?” I asked. “They live in darkness.”

  “Never complete darkness. There are things down here. They spread from another part of Enoch a long time ago. They’re shy of light. Few people have ever seen one.”

  “Are they a kind of arthropod?”

  “I—I think I’ve heard that. The helots say they’re men who’ve reverted.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  She shrugged. “The helots are idealists. They think a man has something to lose.”

  We were picking our way along a sodden path through beds of white tubeworms with scarlet plumes. “I hope I do,” I said. “Have something to lose, I mean.”