Negative Film (Star Child: Places of Power Book 2)

by Leonard Petracci

  “Cowards?” I asked. “What are you trying to say?”

  “One of you already took off.” she said, “Rode a tiger out the back while we were preoccupied, left faster than the wind. You’re saying you don’t know?”

  Our group met eyes, and Arial spoke what we were all thinking.

  “Zeke.”

  “Which means we better be ready,” I said. “If he’s fled, there’s certainly danger coming. Real danger.”

  “I don’t need a power to be telling you that,” said Rila then turned eyes directly on me. “You, I’ve heard you have strength. Is it close strength or far strength? Like a throwing spear or a knife?”

  “It’s easier for me to fight farther, but close works as well,” I answered, matching the authority of her voice. “I’ll be much more effective if I can stay back and aim.”

  “Top of the wall for you. And you?” She pointed at Lucio.

  “Top of the wall for me!” he said. “I’m great for distractions; just let me know when and where.”

  “When you hear the horns, keep any stragglers from getting too close to the wall. Our Vibrants need to be as unhindered as possible as they form our material defenses,” she commanded, then turned to Slugger.

  “What about you?”

  “Aye, I’d be best in the fray; just give me your biggest club you’ve got,” he answered, and Rila nodded as she looked him over.

  “You’re to join the final defense at the wall base, behind the Transients.” Then she turned to Arial. “And you, make sure nothing comes from above or behind. You circle the battle and watch. You are my eyes, and should we need it, our sting.”

  She tossed a spear to Arial, who caught it, her hands shifting along its length as she struggled to find a way to hold it.

  “Um, thanks,” she said, finding a balance and waving it with her right hand.

  “It’s more for your self-defense and intimidation than anything,” instructed Rila, and adjusted Arial’s grip. “But should you need it, the pointed end for killing, the blunted end for shepherding.”

  “Shepherding?” Arial asked, turning her head to one side.

  “For prisoners and hostages,” answered Rila bluntly. “Should there be survivors.”

  “What about those Deathguards?” asked Slugger. “How come they’re not coming? Seems like they pack a punch.”

  “They’re the last defense, and they protect the great tree. In all the war history I’ve studied, we’ve only used them once. Long ago, when the battle turned against us and we were left with no choice.”

  “Seems like it would be a quick way for things to end,” said Slugger. “Better than risking lives.”

  “With destruction comes damage,” answered Rila. “When we fight, we minimize the damage, we lessen its impact on nature. When you have an orchard, and there is a thief, you do not set fire to the orchard to drive him out. And now, we wait for our thief to arrive, to remove him without damage.”

  “Unless they try to lay siege to you,” I said. “How long could you survive then?”

  “Even if we could not access the other side, we grow our own food. Our water comes as rain. I do not think we have to worry about a siege. They do not know the forest, so it is them who will run short on food and water. Besides, that one does not seem the patient sort—even if a siege were to be successful, he would not wait the months it would take. And we have been waiting here as long as I can remember.”

  “True, you have a point there. He’s not patient, not at all.” I said, remembering how he had ripped up the sewers to chase me, or how he had four specials powering his boat. “But he’s not stupid either.”

  “And neither are we,” Rila answered. “As I said, when Lola studied the outside world, I studied the ways of war. My grandmother was wise to balance us.”

  By now, we had reached the top of the wall, taking the same elevator stalks as before. Vibrants passed through the thorns as if they were swimming, popping in and out of the mess to make small adjustments. Soldiers walked the top in a hardened path, as fresh spears grew into their outstretched hands. But most impressive was the change in the grounds below.

  Where there had been jungle only hours before, the ground was now thick with fortifications. Living trees bent outwards like porcupine quills, their tops sharpened to charred points, glinting with a liquid I assumed to be poison. The roots carved out large swaths of dirt before retreating, leaving ditches that would fill with water upon the first rain, but were still difficult to traverse when dry since thorns now grew thick within. Cicadas buzzed from the trees a quarter mile away, a dull hum from our vantage point, but enough to drown out instructions of advancing troops, hindering their communications.

  Beside me, Arial stretched her calves by standing on her heels, gazing towards the sky and gripping the spear. She looked at me before lifting off, and I took her hand as she glided into the air.

  “Here we make a deal,” she said and put a stern finger on my nose. “Neither of us does anything stupid. Got it?”

  “At least not without the other,” I said with a smile. Ever since Aetia had spoken to her, a piece of Arial felt like it was returning. Maybe it was confidence, or maybe it was the Paint.

  “I suppose that’s the best I can ask for. So it’s a deal,” she said, letting our fingers shift apart as she rose steadily into the sky, and my hand trailed down to her ankle, then felt only air as she accelerated high above, her hair streaming behind her until she became no larger than the leaves that hid her from sight.

  Chapter 95

  The attack came at dawn.

  For her part, Aetia delivered coffee to the troops at four in the morning, setting the cups before each along with encouraging words whispered in ears. Lucio and I had been taking turns napping, one of us remaining on full alert while the other rested. But even awake, we knew our eyes were no match for the yellow-eyed sentry wearing the blue paint that perched next to us, his pupils fully dilated as he named his familiar warriors a hundred feet away in the darkness without squinting.

  We were both awake when Aetia reached us and set two steaming cups before us.

  “To sharpen your senses,” she said, the warmth seeping into our bones. “We’ll want you to be ready. Be careful out there, dearies— so long as they stay outside our walls, we have won the battle. That is what you must defend, the wall. And oh, I just remembered!” she exclaimed, picking up Lucio’s cup. “Four scoops of honey for you! I’d never forget that much of a sweet tooth!”

  Lucio accepted the cup from her, his eyebrows scrunching together as they locked eyes. She smiled, and he bit his tongue, taking a sip to validate her and nodding in approval. In moments, she was gone, and we waited atop the wall, each of us drinking and staring into the blackness below. If figures moved, they were unknown to us, and the only sounds reaching our ears were the hooting of owls paired with the mysterious rustlings from the within the wall far below.

  “You know, something’s not right,” said Lucio in a hushed tone after he was sure Aetia had departed. “I don’t like it.”

  “And what’s that?” I asked. “You mean besides us sitting on top of a bubble of thorns, in the middle of the jungle, with a tribe chock full of weird Specials? Not like this place is that normal.”

  “Yes, besides that. Though Lola’s home isn’t as scary as I thought. It’s more, I don’t know, solid. Not as ghosty as I expected.”

  “At least the parts we see of it,” I answered.

  “Exactly!” he exclaimed. “That’s what I’m worried about. You know, what we don’t see. There’s something I noticed. Something weird, SC. Real weird.”

  “I’m sure—” I started, then paused as a pair of yellow eyes next to us swiveled up into the sky, and Arial came barreling down, nearly carving a hole in the wall as she landed.

  “They’re coming!” she exclaimed through exhausted breaths, and the yellow eyes bobbed as their owner nodded. Then he trilled, his voice imitating birds in a series of notes that was repe
ated over and over throughout Rila’s forces, and the warriors entered high alert. Arial spoke, rapidly covering what was occurring.

  Throughout the night, she had reported in every hour—Lacit was camped just over a mile away, with a stream at their right and a cliff at their back. She could see two hundred torches in the darkness, along with a handful of bonfires that illuminated the cliff face, casting dark shadows that loomed upwards against the rock. As the hours crawled by, the torches continued to burn, and the shadows waited, standing still as if they were sentries.

  As Arial returned to check, she realized that the pose held by a group in front of a fire only danced in accordance with the flames. Swooping lower, she discovered why they had been so still. Not because they were on guard, or attention, or sleeping.

  But because they were scarecrows.

  She returned as quick as she could fly, scanning the forest below but seeing nothing, hoping that she had not been too late. And now, atop the wall, the yellow-eyed man spoke, his words difficult to understand since the Speaker of Tongues’ power was diminished at a distance.

  “Four hundred yards out,” he said. “They move quickly but not silently. They are camouflaged poorly; they stand out strong. But still they approach.”

  And for a second, I actually saw him squint as he scanned side to side.

  “All of them.”

  Chapter 96

  When they charged, enough sunlight peeked over the horizon to reveal their faces, but not enough to diminish their powers. Behind them all, Lacit stood with his hands raised as if conducting an orchestra, willing them forwards to do his bidding. Sparky led the center, blue coronas discharging from his forearms as he built up energy with each step, the lightning crackling in a growing sheath around his body. On his left, the fiery henchman sprinted, tongues of flame licking up in each of his footsteps, two fireballs building in intensity from each of his palms. And Blake took the right, his diamond skin fully deployed, capturing a mix of red and blue and sunlight that shimmered like lances of light among the fallen leaves.

  At least fifty others streamed behind each, and from my vantage point, I could see the silver rings wrapped around their fingers, their variety of powers starting to activate. For an instant, I looked down at my and Lucio’s hands, at the spot where our own would be if we had never escaped the academy. Perhaps we would be among their ranks now, helping them charge behind Blake.

  They met no resistance for the first hundred yards, then the next hundred, crashing through the undergrowth with no heed to its warning of their approach. A battle cry started through their ranks, first thin but growing as they trampled unchallenged, the path before them devoid of any obstacles at that distance. Their confidence soared, triumphant smiles already appearing across their faces as they tasted victory.

  When they were a mere hundred paces from the wall, reality split with a sound like thunder, the ground quaking with the eruption of chaos. Trunks trumpeted as the herd of mastodons exploded through from the other side just in front of the oncoming soldiers, each mounted by a masked warrior as they crashed into the oncoming Specials. Enormous tusks swept left and right, launching bodies to the side as they plowed through the shocked invaders, scattering them like feathers in a pillow fight.

  Lola and Rila led the onslaught, each crouched atop the two largest mastodons, barreling through the tip of the charge—and though Lola was valiant, even from our distance, I could tell that her skill was far outmatched by Rila’s. Each held a spear they used to ward off approaching Specials, the dagger-like tip enough to dissuade any from coming too close. From directly in front, Sparky pointed to Lola, sending an electrical impulse snaking through the air towards her. My heart slowed as she turned to face it, her eyes narrowing as it bent towards her heart in a fatal strike. But just before they collided, she flickered from existence, dodging the energy as it passed through her and burst into the canopy far above, igniting the branches. Then Sparky dove to the side, ivory cutting through his shirt as he rolled, narrowly avoiding a slice through his neck.

  But others were not so lucky.

  Blake stood his ground as a mastodon beelined towards him, slicing a thin ribbon of tusk away as it swiped at him. With a bellow, the beast reared on its two hind legs, trunk curling up and away, then brought its two front legs down upon him. It screamed as his razor-sharp limbs cut into the bottom of its feet, but its weight was already bearing down, instantly compressing him until he crumpled into the earth. It trampled again before storming off, leaving him behind as a glitter spot in the mud, no higher than a manhole cover.

  But as soon as it moved on, Blake’s arm shot upwards, pulling himself out of the hold and back to his feet, unfolding his filthy limbs and dusting himself in the enormous footprint left behind.

  No longer than ten seconds after they arrived, the beasts winked from existence, their trumpeting and stomping receding with them to the other side and leaving behind Lacit’s shocked army. Though they were scattered, they were far from broken, even the injured rising to attack once more. With an angry whistle from Lacit, they regrouped, several Specials with fire abilities stepping forwards to create a wall of flames for momentary shielding.

  But what caught my eye was not staggering outliers or the line of embers. Rather, a group of four stood in a circle near the edge of their ranks, their arms held before them and their faces strained, ignoring all that occurred around them. Nearby, a messenger broke away, sprinting towards Lacit to draw his attention as they maintained their pose, hardly daring to breathe. His head snapped upwards as soon as he heard the voice, and his eyes glinted as he found the group of four waiting, their muscles trembling and sweat running down their faces.

  “Oh no you don’t,” I whispered, feeling space warp as I prepared two black orbs and turned to a Vibrant guarding the wall on my right. “You! I need a path down to there, where they’re huddling! As quick as you can!”

  With a flick of her wrist, a vine leapt upwards from the wall, wrapping itself around my forearm and constricting to form a strong grip.

  “Jump!” she shouted as the vine tightened and I felt my breath catch in my throat. I looked downwards to the ground several stories below, then back at the vine, which looked like it would snap under the weight of someone half my size.

  “Go! Jump!” she shouted again, waving me forwards as the vine bristled. Closing my eyes, my heart pounding, I leapt forwards, my fist latching around the vine as I soared through the air. The strand whipped above me, the wave dashing me forwards nearly fifty feet as I entered a controlled fall, my eyes opening again as the sound of rushing wind filled my ears. I touched down just short of the circled group, the vine cracking apart as soon as I met the dirt, and it rapidly died to prevent anyone from scaling it back up the wall.

  Barely visible from my vantage point on the wall, I had suspected what the gathered Specials were conspiring more than I could see it. But here, the hairline mark of shimmering darkness that marked the passage into the other side at their focal point could not be mistaken.

  A portal they had held open as the mastodons retreated, and waited for Lacit.

  Chapter 97

  With the momentum of my fall, I had rolled forwards, coming up on one knee with my palm facing outwards. Four heads snapped towards me as I released a black orb into their midst, detonating it right beneath the sliver of darkness they surrounded. With a flash, they staggered backwards, caught off guard by the sudden explosion, just as the portal slammed shut with the sound of a snapping rope.

  “It’s not going to be that easy!” I challenged, arming myself with another dark orb and looking back to the way I had come. While leaping here had been simple, I was now on the enemy side of the wall. And with the mastodons gone, I realized something else, a thought that jolted through my mind with a shock.

  I was the only one on the other side of the wall. And just moments ago, the messenger had reached Lacit.

  He was coming, while I was surrounded and heavily outnumbered by
his army.

  I turned to run, hoping the Vibrants would open a new passage for me as I arrived, but felt the ground in front of me stir. No, not the ground—rather, space itself shifted, as if it were being tested, stretched. I lurched to one side as a flurry of twigs and leaves rushed past me, coalescing around a point that curved rapidly up and away before colliding with a tree trunk. Another bundle ripped past me, and I felt it pulling at my skin as it travelled, the hairs on my arm tracking it as I realized what they were.

  Force points. But not my force points.

  I reeled on them as all four raised their hands, and the ground shuddered as a single thought rushed through my head.

  Mimics.

  Mimics who had first used their powers to hold open the portal to the other side, and now used it to absorb my own powers and use them against me.

  Shock rushed through me, my jaw slightly open—when Darian had taken my power, it was given. It felt like sharing or lending something away, with the expectation that it would return. But this was far different—it felt violating. It felt stolen.

  The ground lurched again, and I felt my feet rising as the gravity around me shifted and I was pulled upwards by several different force points circling above my head. My shock turned to defiance as I dropped a fist, slamming the distortions in space back down with enough veracity to make them stagger backwards. I dropped to the earth as they recovered, two splitting left and two splitting right in an effort to surround me.

  They raised their hands again, but I was prepared, knowing that, like Darian, they would be weaker than me. And I could only hope that with the novelty of a power they had never used, they would be four times weaker.

  But only two threw force points towards me, the gravitational drains serving to divert my attention as I countered them, easily controlling their path. Two more force points came, and I started to strain, feeling like I was being pinned down by my own power. That simply warding off my own attacks took almost all my attention.