Etherwalker

by Cameron Dayton

  “You do realize that’s the last time she will ever let you help her, right?”

  Rictus was smiling from the passenger seat, his skeletal grin just as toothy and wide as when Enoch had first met him. After G’Nor had performed an emergency vivisection on the specter to get rid of a half-formed, dying digestive tract, Rictus had been able to rally his remaining nanites to recover—at least, to help him recover back to his withered specter appearance. He promised everyone that he was fine with it. Besides, after returning to the swamp, the Lodoroi had recognized his sacrifice (and Enoch’s gift of death to the undying) by returning his sword. And his guitar. The specter was tuning it as they drove.

  Mesha purred from Enoch’s shoulder, apparently having grown fond of Rictus’s music. The shadowcat had forgiven Enoch for his foray into the darkness without her and seemed to have expected this more comfortable passage north. She still snuck out at night for her gifts from the Swampmen, however.

  The Lodoroi had followed them from the desert and across the swamp, astride their large reptilian steeds, their hairless swamp murs, and even on foot. Six hundred of them, armed with venomous spears, darts, and clay pots filled with a thousand poisons. Seven chieftains had come to Enoch after he drove from the desert—they came and they offered their fealty. Apparently the Vestigarchy had not left a good impression on them.

  G’Nor appeared beyond the rise and signaled a clear trail ahead. He now led a scouting party of veteran Swampmen, and their ability to track and scent potential threats—combined with Sera’s view from above—had lead the small army to the lands just south of Tenocht without incident.

  Enoch left the vehicle idling and stepped out of his seat to stand in the crisp wind coming down from the forested hills. Tenocht was still many days journey to the north, and he imagined that an army this size wouldn’t escape the Vestigarchy’s notice for long.

  I am ready for them.

  He brought his wrists together and watched as the gems on his bracelets glowed a cool blue. The bracelets had a name: the Eurym. This name was one of the first things Enoch had learned in reading through the complex code hardwired into the bracelets—a code language developed by brilliant people outside of the Pensanden sphere. The things Enoch could do with these tools . . .

  A holographic sphere formed in his cupped hands, only now Enoch had learned what the sphere was—and what it meant.

  It was a map of the world, a map as seen by the satellites that still orbited the planet. Their vision was now his vision, and he could see the forces arrayed around Tenocht—as well as those resisting them from behind the walls.

  Then he took the disc from his neck—the disc that Rictus had salvaged for him—and held it in his cupped hands. Light spun from the Eurym, dancing across the disk. They were reading the information left there, he knew. Using the code stored there to open a channel.

  The hologram flickered, and for a moment the globe became something else. It was a face, a face made of stars. The endless eyes found his and then smiled before the image began to break apart.

  “Enoch.”

  It was Ketzel. Enoch had found a channel to Her, to the sky goddess, but the link was not strong enough to hold for more than a few seconds. He would find a clearer connection in Tenocht, he knew. He knew it without knowing how.

  And then he would seal earth and sky.

  Enoch spread his hands, and the hologram disappeared. He climbed back into the vehicle and drove forward, towards Tenocht. Under the sound of the engine and the brush crunching beneath the wheels, the melody of Rictus’s guitar was sharp and bright.

  Epilogue

  “These, then,

  were the names of they who spoke together.

  It was there that they came to await the dawn.

  They would look

  all calm,

  all silent,

  all motionless,

  all pulsating,

  awaiting the star that precedes the face of the sun when it is born.

  “We came from there, but we were split apart,” they said among themselves.”

  —Popol Vuh 587:1, Maya-Quiché Genesis, New Century Revised Edition

  She spun through the blackness over the broken world and ::Watched.

  And now . . . now there was one who ::Answered. This one was small, yes. This one was weak. But this one brought the seeds that ::Ended.

  And the seeds that >//Began.

  About the Author

  With over fifteen years writing for blockbuster franchises from Blizzard Entertainment, Electronic Arts, and Epic Games, Cameron has gained a reputation for bringing riveting, powerful storytelling to games. Cameron wrote the script to Advent Rising with best-selling novelist Orson Scott Card, and co-founded the story-centered game development studio Chair Entertainment. At Blizzard, he built narratives for some of the most popular games in the world, including The World of Warcraft, StarCraft, Hearthstone, Overwatch, and Diablo. He also wrote Blizzard's first web-comic, Kerrigan: Hope and Vengeance, which ranked #1 on Amazon. Cameron's short stories are featured in several anthologies: Wendigo Tales, Paragons, War Stories, and Heroes Rise, Darkness Falls.

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