Fall and Rising

by Sunny Moraine

  “Yeah, funny how that works.” Adam closed his eyes as weakness surged through him, making his knees shake. He might be feeling better too, but better was fairly relative. “If you’re sure.”

  “Yeah, it’s okay. Least I can do, really. And maybe I want to see these refugees of yours. C’mon.” She slid an arm under his shoulders, and he leaned gratefully into her, letting her support him through the front room toward the door. She gave Kyle one last, lingering glance, then pushed open the door and helped Adam out into the night.

  The way back up the hill was spent mostly in silence. It wasn’t awkward silence, per se, but it was full of things that weren’t being said, questions that weren’t being asked. They boiled in Adam’s mind, but he couldn’t summon the energy to ask them, or even to know what they were. It would be enough to curl into Lochlan’s arms and rest.

  So it surprised even him when he spoke.

  “Does Kyle know?”

  He heard her let out a soft breath. “Know what?”

  “That you’re pregnant.”

  There was a very long silence. She didn’t falter in her steps, but he could feel new tension gripping her, a tightness in her breathing, and all at once he understood.

  “You didn’t know, either. Did you?”

  “No,” she said, almost too quiet to hear. “You … You’re sure?”

  “Pretty sure. I felt it when I was … You know. Inside you. I don’t know how else to say it.”

  “No, I know.” She lifted her head, staring up the hill to the little lights of Lakshmi’s house. The breeze that had felt gentle before was now chilly, almost biting. “We never talked about a baby,” she said, still quiet. “I guess I assumed …”

  “They never would have let you.”

  She snorted. “Are you kidding? Two people with a profile match like ours? Not in a billion years.”

  Adam smiled faintly. “Well, fuck them, I guess.”

  Eva laughed. “Yeah. Fuck ’em.” She went silent for another moment. “He’ll be terrified. Pitch a fit. Is it … okay?”

  For a few seconds Adam wasn’t sure what she was asking. Then he got it—the blackness, choking everything in her. And when the light had taken her …

  It had taken all of her.

  “I think so.”

  She let out breath. “Okay,” she murmured. “Okay. That’s good.”

  They went the rest of the way up without speaking, but the silence was easier, more comfortable. As they crested the hill, Lakshmi’s door opened and out came Lochlan, hurrying, fists clenched—and halted.

  “Line and fucking orbit,” he hissed, rushing forward. “Adam, what in the names of all the stars did you—”

  “You remember Eva.” Adam gently shrugged away, letting himself fall against Lochlan’s chest with relief that was almost overwhelming. Now everything was all right. Even if it wasn’t. “She was sick.”

  “You—” Adam couldn’t see Lochlan staring at Eva, but he could feel it, almost like a thrum in the air. “Khara.”

  “Yeah,” Eva said, amusedly. “Hello to you, too.”

  “There’s a bed for you on the floor,” Lochlan said, ignoring her. “For me too, I guess. Look, whatever, just … come in. You had to go and do that again, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I had to.” Adam leaned his head on Lochlan’s shoulder, his eyes closing. “Eva, thanks. I’ll … I’ll come by tomorrow and see Kyle. I promise.”

  “Or I’ll bring him to you. He hasn’t been out of the house in over a week.” Still that dry amusement, but there was real warmth under it. “Sleep well, Adam. And thanks. Thanks for everything.”

  The inside of Lakshmi’s house was quiet and warm. No one was in evidence—Adam guessed that Lakshmi herself was asleep, and Skitss was wherever Skitss bedded down. It had to be late, though how late, he had no idea. “How’s everyone else?”

  “Sleeping off a food coma. They ate Lakshmi’s fruit until you could roll them down the hill.” Lochlan stopped by a thin mat that had been laid on the floor and lowered Adam onto it. “I should stop worrying about you. You obviously don’t give two shits about my feelings.”

  Adam laughed, lying back on the mat, which was a good deal softer than it looked. “I seriously don’t know when you turned into my mother, but it’s weird.”

  “You shouldn’t have got me in love with you, then.” Lochlan reached down to pull off Adam’s boots, then pulled off his own. “Seriously, I was worried. She said you’d be back in no time. That was definitely time.”

  “I had work to do.” Adam turned toward Lochlan as he lay down, settling one hand on the other man’s hip. “What did Lakshmi have you doing that was so important?”

  “Weeding,” Lochlan said with clear distaste. “She really is exactly like Ixchel.”

  “Not completely.” Adam closed his eyes and slid closer. “Don’t ask. I’m about to go into a coma and I didn’t even get any food. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

  He could feel Lochlan struggling not to say more. But to his credit, his more prudent side seemed to win, and he curled an arm around Adam’s shoulders, pulling them chest to chest, so their legs tangled. Adam fell asleep with his head tucked under Lochlan’s chin, and when he had dreams, they were—at last—peaceful.

  It appeared to be late morning when Lochlan opened his eyes. The sun was bright through the window, and an old woman was prodding him with a stick.

  Ixchel?

  “Aha. I knew you couldn’t be dead yet. It’s not in your dance. Your love has been awake for hours; you should join him.” She stepped back with a smile, and Lochlan sat up, blinking at her. Now he remembered. Not Ixchel, but very like her.

  Except not completely.

  “Lakshmi.” He scrubbed at his eyes. The mat next to him was, indeed, empty. Through the window came the faint sound of voices, Adam’s among them. “What’s going on?”

  “Many things, boy. You should get on your feet or they’ll run right by you.” She nodded at the door, which stood open, admitting a warm morning breeze. “There’s fruit and porridge under the trees outside. Not an endless amount of the latter, so I’d get to it before it’s gone.”

  Still dazed, Lochlan rose and headed for the door. Some of the previous night was clear, but some wasn’t, and it wasn’t until he walked outside and saw Adam embracing a tall, dark-skinned man—who, though he was thin and weirdly old looking, was also profoundly familiar.

  Then he remembered Eva—Eva, who was standing behind them, a hand over her mouth and tears glistening in her eyes. And he understood.

  Adam stepped back, clapping the man—Kyle, his name was Kyle—on the shoulder, grinning widely. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” he said. “Seems like it was years. And here you—” He caught sight of Lochlan, waved him over. “Kyle, you remember Lochlan.”

  “I … Yeah, I guess I do.” Kyle offered Lochlan a hand, which Lochlan grasped reflexively. Suddenly it felt as if things were moving too quickly, which wasn’t a new feeling, but— “Good to see you again. Seems like we could have better circumstances, though. Adam’s been telling me—”

  “Kyle knows how we got here,” Adam cut in. “And he knows that we’re almost certainly being followed. Lock, we have to talk. All of us. Aarons and Rachel, too. Can we—” He gestured to a cluster of trees a little way away, at the center of which sat a much thicker grove, the trunks and branches woven around each other in a way that reminded Lochlan for all the world …

  Here were her Arched Halls. The last piece of the homeship that she couldn’t quite let go of.

  At the edge of the trees, Aarons and Rachel were approaching—very close together. Aarons raised his arm in greeting.

  “Right,” Eva said, and started toward them. “Come on.”

  Finally together since the battle on the Plain, the full reunion—plus Rachel—was strange, though not awkward. Eva and Kyle appeared to know that Aarons was a friend, though they didn’t seem easy around him. Rachel was clearly bemused, looking from one
to the other as they headed further under the cover of the trees, but more than willing to go along.

  Lochlan thought he knew how she felt.

  “Okay,” Adam said when they were gathered in a tight circle. “I’d say Lakshmi should be here, but I think she knows everything she needs to know. It’s up to us now.”

  Aarons arched a brow. “You gonna tell us what it is?”

  “The Protectorate are chasing us. They might’ve been chasing me at first, but now we’re all involved.” Adam grimaced. “I’m guessing I won’t be popular if the rest of our fellow fugitives find out, but I can’t help that now. They’re coming. Eva told me last night that we have to run or fight, and I think she’s right. Thing is … I don’t think that’s my call to make.”

  Lochlan glanced at Eva, then back at Adam. “How the hell would we fight?”

  “We have weapons,” Kyle said. “A lot of them. We’ve been stockpiling for a while now. They don’t guarantee anything, but they’re something. And Adam tells me that as far as he knows, none of the ships chasing you are equipped with orbit-to-surface artillery. That means they’re stuck using fighters and ground troops, and if they’re only recon ships, they won’t have many of either.”

  “And they won’t be expecting us to fight much,” Aarons said, a smile pulling at his crooked mouth. “Isn’t that so? Sure, we gave ’em a run for their money at the camp, but as far as they know, we’re not armed, not more than a few of us. And they still don’t know that everyone’s healthy.”

  “Right.” Eva nodded, a thin, tight smile tugging at her mouth, and watching her, Lochlan’s gut twisted. “We have a shot, unless they show up with backup. But Lakshmi hasn’t said—”

  “Lakshmi knows?” Rachel’s eyes widened, then she let out a laugh. “Shit, of course she does. Okay, so your witch feeds us prophecy, and that gives us an edge. What the hell, I’ll take it.” She fell silent for a moment, thinking. “But convincing the others that we should fight … Some of them will want to. A lot of them won’t. They got free, and they fought for that, but now they’re tired. They might prefer to run.”

  “So we don’t stop them,” Adam said quietly. “No one has to fight if they don’t want to. But this …” He hesitated, then shook his head. “This isn’t an ending. This is a beginning. I can’t say how I know that, but I do. This is where everyone who’s willing to stand up and fight for their people makes their choice. That’s why we have the weapons. That’s why we’re here.”

  “What about after?” Lochlan’s voice was low, hardly audible, but everyone turned to him. He felt sick. Because he remembered the Plain, the bodies, the screams and the pain, the countless dead, and Adam at the center of it, writhing in the depths of his agony.

  All of that. And here they were again.

  Adam met his gaze squarely, sadly. “I don’t know.”

  “I can’t.” Abruptly, Lochlan spun, fists clenched so hard that his nails cut into his palms. “You do your talking. I’ll be weeding the garden.”

  “Lock, wait.” But he was already gone, striding away from the trees, head down and stomach roiling, a roaring in his ears that sounded like the wind on the Plain, lost and lonely and mourning for the dead.

  Lochlan didn’t weed the garden. He passed the house and kept walking, not toward the ship and the people taking the sun around it—so peaceful, so fucking clueless—but toward a little wood that lay at the bottom of the hill some distance beyond, the trees squat and thick in trunk and branch, their leaves a pale green tinged with purple. Here, the birdsong was louder, and he was grateful for it. It drowned out everything else.

  He didn’t enter the wood either, but instead walked along its edge, slowing, his hands loose at his sides. Here he was again, petulant Lochlan angry at not getting his way—except it wasn’t that. It had never been about that. It had been about too much death far too young, and loss so deep it was as though a piece of his heart had been ripped from his chest. He had never wanted to feel like that again. He hadn’t.

  Until Adam.

  And now Adam was going to war. That he hadn’t outright said as much didn’t matter. The implication was there. Clear.

  He kicked hard at a tuft of grass, sending thin blades into the air—and that was a bit childish, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Kae would say that he was being stupid. Kae was probably right. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t right as well.

  Hadn’t there been enough death? Wouldn’t it be better to run?

  But khara, he hated running, too. He hated everything about it. Especially running once more, from something so big and bad that it assumed it would always win.

  He kicked at the ground again, and this time a hidden twig broke with a crack. Instantly the trees to his right came alive with rustling and high-pitched calls, and from the branches erupted a huge flock of brightly colored things—things that, as they took to the clear sky, he realized were not birds in any form he knew but lizards with leathery wings, their heads long and narrow and beak-like and their bodies spattered with multiple hues of purple and blue and gold and red so vivid that there was no possible way it could be for camouflage.

  They were beautiful, and he stared up at them, entranced, as they rose into the air and wheeled in a slow, graceful arc, settling back into the trees some distance away.

  “They’re called lenki birds,” Adam said quietly from behind him. “Lakshmi told me.”

  Lochlan didn’t turn. He gritted his teeth. “I gather she told you a lot.”

  “Yes, she did.” Adam heaved a sigh. “There’s things you need to understand, Lock. I think you know a lot of them already. You’ve seen the same things I have.”

  “Yes, I fucking well have.” He whirled on Adam, his face burning. “You saw the Plain, right? What happened there? Now you want it to happen all over again? Seriously, are you stupid or really just that selfish?”

  Adam looked stung. “This isn’t like that.”

  “The hell it isn’t.”

  “We’re armed. There aren’t as many Protectorate. We’ve got a decent chance—”

  “You think my people weren’t armed? You think every one of us wasn’t trained in combat? We take an animal’s life when we’re children, an innocent life, just so we know what the cost is. You stupid fucking raya.” The last word came out in a snarl, and part of him regretted it, but the rest of him was raging, completely absent thought, simply knowing that it was hurt and wanted to make the rest of the world hurt too. “You think this is what Ixchel wanted? More bloodshed? I hate your people, but I don’t want to see more of them dead. I don’t want to see anyone dead. It’s always been like this, ever since the massacre on Caldor, and I hate it. I hate it so much, Adam.”

  Adam stared at him. Lochlan stared back. Behind them, the birds rustled and muttered at each other.

  “I don’t want to see that happen either,” Adam said softly. “How could you think I did? How could you think that?”

  “I don’t. I don’t … I don’t know.” Lochlan gripped his dreadlocks, pulled them behind his shoulder, and twisted half away. His eyes were prickling, and suddenly the idea of breaking down in front of Adam Yuga was the worst thing he could imagine.

  Adam Yuga d’Bideshi.

  Are you sure about that?

  “Lock, they’re my people.” Adam took a step forward. “I don’t think you understand. You never had to turn on yours. You never had yours turn on you. Do you have any idea how that feels? How helpless it makes you?” His voice was still low, aching, almost broken, and the world blurred before Lochlan’s eyes. “Do you know what I was dreaming about? The nightmares? It was the Plain. Everyone was fucking dead because of me, and you—” His voice did crack then, and it was awful. “I couldn’t save you. I lost you. I was losing you every night.”

  “Chusile,” Lochlan whispered, something in him collapsing, and when he turned back, Adam was suddenly pressing against him, holding on so tight that the breath was almost squeezed from his lungs. Lochlan didn’t
care. He wrapped his arms around Adam, buried his face in blond hair, and made himself breathe.

  My heart.

  “There was never any other way this could have gone.” Adam pulled back slightly, his face streaked with tears, and he reached up, rubbing away the wetness beneath Lochlan’s eyes with his thumbs. “I understand that now. The second one of us reached for a weapon, we were both screwed. Completely fucking screwed. But you’ve seen it. You’ve seen what the leaders of my people do. They’ll just keep doing it, setting the enhancements in place in each new generation, altering it, poisoning it, making people sick and killing anyone who gets in the way of their empire, until someone stops them. Saves them from themselves. You know another way to do it? Tell me. Lakshmi doesn’t seem to think there is one, but she doesn’t know everything.”

  Lochlan shook his head. He wanted to pull Adam even closer, burrow into him, hide inside him and forget everything else. “I still don’t understand why it has to be us. Why it has to be you. Here. Now.”

  “Because these people have to know that they can do it. They have to learn that they can fight.” Adam curled a hand around the back of Lochlan’s neck and tipped their foreheads together. “Someone has to take the first step. Find me someone else and I’ll cancel the whole thing. I’ll do it right now.”

  Lochlan fell silent again. Then the silence transformed into his mouth on Adam’s, fiercely pushing his lips apart, and he shoved Adam down into the grass, slid between his legs, and they both forgot the world for a short, precious time. Too short. Too precious.

  “Promise me something.”

  Adam turned to face Lochlan more fully, and his touch was warm when he laid his hand against Lochlan’s cheek. They were still tangled together, the grass itchy under Lochlan’s side, the last of the sweat drying on their bare skin. Lochlan wasn’t sure how long they had even been there, but it was getting on to midafternoon. Despite the time and his sudden realization that he was ravenously hungry, all he wanted to do was stay here until he couldn’t anymore.