The Shivered Sky

by Matt Dinniman

  Despite the Unraveler's warning, she clung desperately to every fiber of memory, hoping to grasp just enough to pull her from the murky fog.

  Her first intact memory was old. She was very young, maybe three. A man—her father—stood over her, holding her arm out, showing her how to strike a punching bag. Her fingers bled, and she cried. He berated her, pushing her over every time she didn't hit the bag correctly. She rode home in the car that night trying desperately to cry silently, her hands wrapped in bloodied bandages.

  Another was much later, perhaps even recent to her own death. She wore a black karate gi, and her hands and feet were gloved. A blond girl was on the mat in front of her, eyes open in death, watery blood seeping from her mouth. A crying woman flung herself onto the dead girl. The referee just stood there, eyes locked on Indigo.

  “I told you to stop,” he whispered.

  But it wasn't until the fight with the demons that she realized what she was. They had all been transformed by their journey to this world. Dave was stronger, Rico could walk, Gramm had that odd instinct that guided them, Hitomi could somehow operate the periscepters, each of them spoke this language. At home, she had known how to fight. And she was especially good at it. Here, however, her skill was amplified tenfold.

  The last memory only lasted a moment, and it was very hazy. But she feared it the most. She was held down roughly. They were on her back, but she couldn't see them, couldn't reach them. Greasy fingers grabbed at her hair, but they kept losing grip. Then the sharp nails dug into her scalp, pulling her head back. Her neck cracked painfully. A knife was placed at her neck, pressure applied to her skin. The cold blade entered her flesh, and she screamed. But she couldn't let it happen, not like this. She reached, reached for something, her fingers finding it...

  And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't recall what happened next.

  They had been walking a long time since the conversation with the Unraveler. They had finally left the huge Tree of Eternity behind and re-entered the endless forest. Hitomi and Gramm were up front, and Indigo had moved back, allowing herself to fall somewhere in the middle. Though the Unraveler was the first friendly being they had met since coming here, the encounter left them all in bad spirits.

  Silence consumed them, and on they trudged, dodging falling leaves and hiding from animals. Occasionally they rested, but they didn't sleep. They encountered several streams, and they all drank, but they didn't dare rest near the water.

  Gramm had mentioned something about time being “funny” here, and he was right. The encounter with the Unraveler had seemed like it was only a day ago, but something deep within her believed it was really a month.

  And finally, they escaped the forest.

  It was perhaps two weeks, perhaps six months, since they had arrived at the lonely beach. They stepped into the bright light of the day, leaving the colossal trees, animals, and bugs behind. Before them now was a field of green grass, like a gigantic soccer field. It spread off as far as she could see.

  “Finally,” Rico exclaimed. He fell, rolling in the grass like a dog. “Hey,” he said. “I can see the tops of the trees from here.”

  They all looked up. The last trees of the woods stood above them, like ancient guardians to the dark forest. The tops were distant into the sky, far like the moon. Indigo's chest filled with wonder.

  “Where now?” Hitomi asked.

  “There's a road,” Gramm said. “I don't know where it is, though. It leads up to the front gate of the city.”

  Indigo looked off into the distance. The view was similar to that of the beach. But instead of it being gray, it was a light green. Just perfectly cropped grass. She couldn't see too far because of the haze, but she could see enough. A very slight odor permeated the air, not even remotely pleasant. Like burning meat. “We won't have the same cover we did in the forest.”

  “It's like bunny rabbit heaven.” Rico said.

  Dave laughed, though it sounded hollow and flat. “I hope so.”

  * * * *

  Mid-Commander Ungeo G'sslom was in a foul mood. The Charun whipped her four wings in anger, diving a few hundred feet, then swooping up at a quick angle. A full platoon of tempest infantry kept perfect, disciplined pace with her erratic flying. The thirty soldiers flew in a wide v-formation, one scanner in the middle, one on each end.

  Ungeo should have kept her blasted beak shut. Soldiers were constantly disappearing, a good portion of them idiot junior officers on unauthorized patrols. It was her duty to review the last transmissions of the missing. This one had been smart enough to plot his damned coordinates. And use that word. The one word that would send any Overseer into a salivating frenzy. Periscepter.

  In her current tour, she had heard every plea imaginable. Waylaid soldiers claimed seeing everything from an entire legion of Powers to the indestructible three-headed Cherubim. Survivors of these “attacks” usually ended up executed. False alarms were serious business. It was usually revealed they had fallen prey to the local wildlife.

  But this particular officer, she couldn't even remember the bastard's name, had done something extraordinarily smart. He claimed to be under attack by something wielding a periscepter.

  It had been a long time since Ungeo had heard anything about the periscepters. They were artifacts, twelve in all, ancient weapons that could supposedly wipe out an entire division in seconds. While Ungeo couldn't possibly care less if these weapons were found, it was a Level One priority to locate them, with a massive reward to the commanding Overseer if they were unearthed. But the rumor was they were a dream.

  She had played the recording for her commanding officer, Grande-Commander Yvrex G'ssod, also a Charun. She had brought it up to her Overseer, and the worthless, greasy slab of carrion immediately ordered a full platoon sent to the location. And just so there would be no mistakes, a Mid-Commander would be sent along too. A Mid-Commander. She should be leading a regiment. Certainly not this.

  She flexed her talons, the knuckles cracking loudly. She would give anything to rip the demon's repulsive face right off. He was a pitiful excuse for a leader. All his kind were. Charun were not meant to take orders from inferior species. Especially male ones. It went against their very nature.

  And he had the presumption to reprimand her for taking so long to listen to the recording. She had just received the damn thing. It was the communications division's fault. Not a Charun amongst them.

  “Commander, movement to the east,” one of the scanners reported over the communicator. “On the ground.”

  “Size?”

  “Computer says bipedal animals, numbering five or six. Perhaps human.”

  They were just about to fly over the mighty forest that encircled this world. The distress marker had originated somewhere near the edge of the far side, near the ether. She really didn't have time to deal with escaped slaves. Though it was odd they were this far out. They were probably attempting to flee into the forest.

  “Do you have a target solution?”

  “Negative. They're still under cover from the foliage.”

  She considered it. The Dahhak tempests were notoriously good at blowing things up, and she knew this particular platoon hadn't seen any real action in a long time. But, she wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  “Stand down,” she said.

  “Yes, Commander.” She sensed the disappointment in the soldier's voice.

  “Worry not, Dahhak,” she said. “If they're still alive on our return journey, I'll allow the platoon to hunt them. If not, I'll give permission for some other game.”

  That seemed to satisfy them. “Yes, Commander.”

  Although Ungeo rarely ventured into the field, it was obvious that she was an excellent leader. All Charun were, after all. But she had a special gift. When this war was through, perhaps books would be written about her leadership skills. She knew how to keep her inferiors content. Now their spirits would be high with the promise of carnage.

  Plu
s, she did hunger. Other than the heart of a male Charun, raw human flesh was her favorite. A rare delicacy indeed.

  * * * *

  Rico spotted them first. A black V high in the sky, about the same height of the trees. A single dot led them, and it flew unevenly, like it was encumbered with something. They appeared in a hole in the tree tops, then disappeared.

  “What is that?” Gramm asked, squinting. “Maybe they're angels.”

  “Or maybe not,” Indigo said.

  “Think they saw us?” Rico asked.

  “I don't know,” Indigo said. She felt uneasy. Whatever they were, they were huge. Especially the one in the lead. There was just something about them, a funny feeling that made her fear them. “Hitomi.”

  The young girl gripped the periscepter tightly.

  “It didn't look like they spotted us,” Dave said, scanning the sky. “I don't see ‘em anymore.”

  How were they going to hide from flying creatures? If they had been out in the open field.... “We need to make camouflage,” Indigo said finally. “A netting of the grass that we carry like cloaks. Then if something flies above us, we dive for cover.”

  “That's a good idea,” Gramm said. “But how do we make them?”

  Hitomi slowly moved to the edge of the slightly taller grass and pulled a few threads.

  It was deeper than Indigo had thought. The blades were about a foot long each, and they were all the same height, which gave the illusion of a closely-cropped football field. They'd be able to hide more easily in the tall blades, but so could other things. Plus, it would be more difficult to traverse through the field. They had to find Gramm's road.

  “I can make what you want,” Hitomi said. She put her periscepter down and quickly threaded the thick grass together. Her slender fingers moved like they were dancing. “It will take time.”

  “Do what it takes.”

  Dave leaned up against a normal-sized tree. This one was about 100 feet high. It shot up at an angle, with wavy branches like frozen streamers. “While she does that, I'm going to try to climb this tree,” he said. “Maybe I can find something.”

  “Don't kill yourself,” Rico said.

  Indigo didn't object, and that seemed to be the unspoken consent. She was just now becoming aware of how the others looked to her for leadership. She never asked for that position, and it made her uncomfortable.

  Dave shimmied up the tree like a cat. The strong boy quickly pulled himself to the first level of branches, then stood, reaching above. In only a matter of minutes, he was near the top, staring out into the distance like a pirate on a crow's nest.

  “I saw the road,” he said to Indigo when he returned, breathless. “It's about a half mile to our right. It's really wide, like a highway. There's some other junk out there, too, but I'm not sure what it is. It's like crashed airplanes and shit.”

  Gramm looked up. “Did you see the city?”

  “No,” he said. “It's too hazy.”

  Indigo turned to the tall boy. “Gramm, how far is it?”

  “Far. But the distance isn't as wide as the forest. No way.”

  “And what about this Spire of Jhunayn thing?” She'd been thinking about that too. It's where the Unraveler told them to go. It was the only destination they had.

  “I don't know. I guess I'll just know it when we get close.”

  Hitomi looked up from her work. “Will this be over when we get to the city? It's where the angels live, right?”

  “That's right,” Gramm said. “I'm starting to think the city is Heaven, and everything around it is hell. Maybe everyone who dies goes through this same thing. And only the worthy make it, like a limbo or purgatory.”

  “I'm gonna snag me an angel chick,” Rico said. “I bet they dig Mexicans.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Dave said.

  Indigo was not nearly as optimistic. The Unraveler had been very specific. The journey to the Spire would be treacherous. “Hitomi. When do you think you'll be done?”

  “It is going to take time,” she said. “But they will be strong.” She wove the grass so tightly, it was practically a solid piece of cloth.

  “Then we wait,” Indigo said.

  * * * *

  Ungeo G'sslom was not pleased with what her patrol found. At first the scene had been a familiar one. A field full of dead shoals and a single dead Dahhak. The little creatures were easily defeated, though they were most dangerous in death. The ring of fallen scavengers surrounding the shoals was evidence to that.

  However, the Dahhak was usually in the middle of the ring, peppered with spears. The manner of the demons’ death was most disturbing. The shoals hadn't been slain by the Dahhak. What had killed them had also killed the lesser-commander. A soldier had found the upper part of the Dahhak's torso, minus the head. The legs and most of the wings were gone also. It was the same with the shoals, different parts missing here and there. And the cuts were precision made.

  “Has it all been recorded?” she demanded of the Arms Officer.

  The wizened old Dahhak looked slightly ill. “Yes, Commander. One of the scanners has located tracks leading into the forest, dated back to within hours of this incident. The tracks suggest they are in insurgent armor. But they're too heavy to be any known angel strains. Humans I'd say.”

  “Five of them?” she asked, her mood darkening further.

  The doleful creature nodded.

  “Damn,” she muttered. They had them and let them go. Not the move of a brilliant commander. But it really wasn't her fault. It was the scanners’ fault. They should have determined the threat was greater. She made a note to put a formal reprimand in their folders.

  And now, because of their mistakes, the platoon was going to have to track the humans again, and with much caution. It defied comprehension, but the slaves wielded the True Light. There was no other explanation.

  But she also salivated at the idea of capturing the periscepters. The Overseer would get the credit and reward, but all Charun would know who the true hero was. Ungeo of the G'sslom flock, second born of a nesting of seven. Daughter of Lhyrix G'sslom. Hero. Celebrated military leader.

  She liked the thought of that.

  * * * *

  It took a long time for Hitomi to finish the five cloaks. But the final product surprised Indigo. It was beyond all expectations. They looked as if a professional had tailored them. The grass was woven tightly, and full length. They were even topped by a wide, drooping hood.

  “Damn, woman,” Rico said, trying his on. “Did you work in a sweat shop or something? These are perfect. Now we're talking Jedi.”

  Dave shook his head. “First we find out Indigo is a ninja, and now we learn Hitomi here is really Martha Stewart. Anything else we need to know? Gramm?”

  “Where did you learn to do this anyway?” Gramm asked.

  “I'm not so sure,” she said. “I know origami, and I learned some basket weaving in school. But I was never so good.”

  “Well you're an expert now,” he said.

  “Yeah,” said Dave. “If we were back home, you could sell this stuff to the tree huggers and make a fortune.”

  Everyone went silent at that. Dave shuffled his feet uneasily, looking abashed. He turned and pulled the cloak over his shoulders.

  Indigo put on her cloak. It was light and comfortable. She tied it around her neck and pulled the hood on. It smelled like freshly cut grass. She inhaled sharply, gradually realizing a new memory was coming, like water dripping from a clogged pipe.

  * * * *

  Grass. Recently cut, still lining the yard in parallel lines she'd have to rake into a bag. She picked up a handful and pulled it to her nose. They said there was no grass in Arizona. No more mowing the lawn, no more hours of meticulously pulling weeds.

  Still, she knew she'd miss the smell of cut grass, her friends, her studio, even her school. It would be like traveling to a new world. From Virginia to Arizona. It might as well be across the universe.

  Her father had bought a
studio in Tucson. No more of this second in charge bullshit, he'd said. I'm gonna be the boss. And one day, Indy, it'll be yours. You'll display your Olympic medals and trophies all on a big wall, just like I'm going to do the day we get there. So anyone walking in will know this ain't no crap studio. This is the real deal.

  She'd told her father she was excited, though she dreaded having to start all over. She secretly admitted to her mother how she felt, and her mother pleaded with Indigo not to say anything. It was his dream to run his very own school.

  Her mom was thirty-three years old when she said that. She looked fifty.

  Her friends had promised to keep in touch, but she knew what was going to happen. They'd write, even call for a while. But then high school would start, and Indigo would drift away from their memories.

  She wondered if she'd make any friends. The only ones she had now she'd had as a little kid. As she got older, her circle was constantly shrinking as friends moved away or went to different schools. She was taller than everyone, even the boys. She was quiet. She got straight A's in school but never raised her hand. She always ate lunch alone, even away from her few friends. Some called her “Freak Show” or “Indiana Bones.”

  It wasn't that she didn't want friends. She didn't know how to make them. She felt different from them. And they sensed it.

  Though she complained about the work, she secretly liked cutting the grass. It was the only time she was allowed outside. Her training schedule was punishing. An hour of hitting the bags before school. Three of sparring and forms after. The weekends were aerobics or some tournament, which she didn't dare lose. Her father did not like losers.

  “You're destined for greatness, Indy,” he'd say at night when she was in bed, putting his strong hand on her shoulder. The smell of his Brut filling the room. “I only wish my father had taken as much interest in me.”

  And when he was gone, his smell would remain. Like a ghost, watching her.

  Rain

  They hadn't moved from where they were before, a stroke of good fortune. Ungeo and the thirty Tempest Infantry perched upon a tree high above the five humans. She watched them for a short while, hoping to catch sight of the periscepters.