Leviathans in the Clouds

by David Parish-Whittaker

  The room erupted into light and heat as Thymon fired a flamethrower down the hall.

  Seconds later, there was nothing left but a carpet of ash where the prawns had been. The room filled with smoke and shadow as the moss on the walls burned.

  “What the devil?” Collins yelled. Annabelle could see him through the smoke, outlined by the multi-coloured light of the moss behind him. “I don’t know what you’re up to girl, but it won’t work, you hear me? I’ve got this whole damned planet at my beck and call. Mine! You got that? This is Neddie’s…” His voice trailed off as he limped out of the smoke, covered with soot and trailing blood.

  “Bloody hell,” Collins said, staring at Thymon. He clutched at his necklace. “But they made you skinks, too, didn’t they?”

  “There is story,” Thymon said. “Once Skreelan slaves, yes. But day come when there is hero who does not hear voices in head.”

  “Thymon,” Annabelle said. “That’s the man. That’s the fellow who’s trying to kill me!”

  “Want Thymon stop him?”

  “Please,” Annabelle said.

  “Oh kay,” Thymon said, pointing the flame thrower.

  “You have to obey me. You lot were bred for obedience,” Collins said with increasing desperation.

  “No more,” Thymon said.

  “I speak for the Old Ones!” Collins screamed.

  “No more.”

  The room filled with fire and the cloying smell of scorching flesh.

  “No one hurts Thymon’s friends,” Thymon said as he helped Annabelle to her feet.

  “Thank…thank you, Thymon,” Annabelle said. She tried not to look at Collins’ charred remains. He hadn’t screamed for long, thank God.

  “Thymon loves this magic lance,” Thymon said. “Glad Thymon steals from the opeme riders, yes?” Thymon said, jauntily pushing his deerstalker cap back on his head. “Big forest of these where Thymon sail in.”

  Annabelle found her voice. It took a while. “You’re real. You are truly real.”

  Thymon nodded. “Was not far. And Thymon knew place. Knew humans would go here. Was elementary.” He regarded her with a saucer sized eye, then slowly winked.

  Despite everything, Annabelle found herself giggling. “You just couldn’t stop following us, eh? After I told you not to.”

  “Thymon works for Mr. Forbesss, not Miss Somerset. Sorry. Thymon think humans need help, so Thymon follow.” Thymon gave a gravelly laugh. “Thymon was right.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  1.

  “Spiders?” Nathanial muttered as Annabelle raised a cup of water to his lips. They were under the lean-to at the top of the pyramid. His mind was finally beginning to clear. He had a memory of seeing a room full of humanoid mummies. Then everything became hazy. Perhaps that was for the best.

  “Or crabs,” said Annabelle, “I wasn’t really stopping to take notes.”

  “Ordinarily I would fault your lack of scientific inquisitiveness, Annabelle,” Arnaud said. “But it is hard to find argument with your need for alacrity.” He coughed. “Not to mention the desire to escape yet another surfeit of spiders. I consider their Solar System wide prevalence a convincing argument against the existence of a benevolent Creator.”

  “Must leave,” Thymon said. He was watching the city. It was mostly obscured in rain at the moment. “Doctors must move. Thymon is sorry. But opeme see us when rain stops.”

  “Can we get to your boat, do you think?” Nathanial asked.

  “Must try,” the Skreelan replied. “But if they look for humans, is trouble. Skreelan not a worry.”

  “But why would they bother?” Annabelle asked. “I mean, Collins is dead. Why don’t we just tell them that? Won’t they be happy?”

  “No,” said Nathanial. “They don’t have free will. Still don’t. Remember, the last thing Collins told them was to attack if he was hurt? I doubt they can deviate from that any more than a difference engine could refuse a calculation.”

  “Is true,” Thymon said. “But Thymon helps. Skreelan have choice, yes?”

  “Yes!” said Annabelle, giving the Skreelan a hug.

  “It makes sense,” said Arnaud. “Eventually there would be a beneficial mutation. Escaped Skreelan would be able to breed without the restrictions of their masters, and eventually they became dominant. One can only imagine the resentment. It would be akin to the Haitian rebellion, but multiplied by several thousand. The gods brought themselves down, indeed.”

  “Let’s see if we can find some strapping to repair that leg of yours,” Nathanial said. “I’ll go rummage about and see what I can find.”

  “Be a dear and get my bow and some bullets, would you?” Annabelle asked him.

  “I would never dream of saying no.”

  Arnaud walked outside and held his hand up in the rain. “I am afraid it seems to be dissipating. Which troubles me.” He turned to Thymon. “I was not able to study the lake as I would have liked. Tell me, how long to sail across?”

  Thymon looked thoughtful. “One, perhaps two hour. Not know, sorry. No clock on boat.”

  Arnaud sighed. “Merde. No quick dashing to the safety of the river, then. I think the best we can do is perhaps wait. We do not want to be caught in the open, and I do not think we can out-paddle an opeme.”

  “No,” said Thymon.

  “Wait,” said Annabelle. “I have an idea.”

  2.

  “This is a bad idea,” Nathanial said, as they watched the opeme from the safety of the flamethrower tree grove.

  “Compared to what?” Annabelle said. “Swimming back? Hiding in the bushes until it starts raining again? Commandeering a sailboat and trying to outrun a flamer equipped thirty-foot long flying lizard?”

  “No, I am in favour of putting as much distance between us and the opeme as possible,” Nathanial said. “It is a philosophy somewhat diametrically opposed to actions such as, oh, I don’t know, trying to ride one of the aforementioned beasts out of here.”

  “You’ve done madder things before.”

  “I’m trying to get out of the habit.” Nathanial sighed. “But you’ve a point.”

  “Good. Now hand me your biscuits,” Annabelle said. “Come now, I know you’ve got one last packet.”

  Nathanial sighed and handed it over. “This had best be worth it, these are chocolate.”

  Annabelle opened the packet and popped a biscuit into her mouth. “They’ll do.”

  Ten minutes later found her trying to summon the confidence that she hoped Nathanial believed she had. Put that way, it made her head hurt. It wasn’t a matter of fulfilling expectations so much as reminding herself that she could do this. Really, the creatures looked peaceful enough. They were tied to posts next to a shallow pond, looking for all the world like a flock of pigeons at a bird bath. Or at least they would were it not for the fact that these pigeons were five times her height with mouths filled with their fair share of fangs. But that didn’t mean they’d be vicious. Dogs were carnivores, for example, but hardly anyone would be terrified by a basset hound. The primary difference between dogs and wolves was less the equipment than the attitude.

  So, she’d have to find out whether the opeme were dogs or wolves. She approached them slowly, making sure they could see her at all times. Domesticated or not, she didn’t want to find out what happened when they were startled. As she got close, one popped its head up straight in the air like a crane and cooed loudly. Then it turned towards her and dropped its head, bobbing it up and down.

  “Do we know each other?” Annabelle asked it. It did feel oddly familiar. She wasn’t sure, but it could have been the one she rode in on. Well, this fellow was as good as any.

  The other opeme ignored her as she approached, seemingly intent on drinking and splashing water. Annabelle still made sure she was in their line of sight. They might not be hostile, but she could still get stepped on easily enough. It was rather like sneaking into a ballroom filled with elephants who fancied themselves terpsichoreans.
Due caution needed to be exercised.

  “Hey boy,” she said, rubbing her opeme’s neck. It gently nibbled at her skirts, tearing a three foot length of cloth off. “Hey!” Annabelle said, slapping the creature’s neck and leaning into it. She held her breath for a long moment, but it didn’t bite her. If anything, it looked somewhat abashed.

  It was a strange thing. Perhaps she was reading too much into its expression, but she could swear she felt embarrassment, or at least the feeling that a puppy might have when its ear got nipped by its mother. Not exactly regret, so much as a sheepishness at being caught. Annabelle put her hand on top of the opeme’s snout and gazed into its eyes. Was she sensing its emotions on some sort of psychic level? It was possible, she decided. She had been down in the pyramid, just like Collins had. Perhaps she’d been exposed to the same energies he had. Collins had seemed convinced that wearing the regalia of the dead Old One had enabled him to take command of the city. But she wasn’t trying to do anything so dramatic, much less against the will of the being in question.

  Annabelle just wanted to befriend the opeme, was all. And it seemed willing to be friendly in kind. She wondered if it had ever been treated with kindness. She remembered how loyal her mustang had been once he’d discovered that a certain Miss Somerset could be counted on for regular currying and a steady supply of sugar cubes.

  Oh, right, the biscuits. Not wanting to lose a hand, she tossed a handful on the ground. Some actually made it there before getting snapped up. She was rewarded with more cooing. And yes, she definitely was sensing the opeme’s feelings now. She felt waves of curiosity mixed with biscuit love pass over her. Laughing, she scratched its cockscomb.

  “There’s more where that came from,” she said. “But first, I’ve a few things I need from you.” She untied the halter from the hitching pole. Thankfully, the riders had left the opeme tacked up. Not something she’d have done, but it meant she didn’t need to wander around trying to find whatever passed for a tack shed around here. She took a moment to cinch up the girth strap and other fittings for the saddle belts. Probably not as important as with a horse saddle, given that the majority of the saddle was actually part of the opeme itself. But she wasn’t taking any chances.

  Trying to keep her thoughts friendly and encouraging, she leapt up into the saddle and strapped herself in before she could reconsider. She’d brought along an arrow to serve as an improvisatory gaff, but her opeme didn’t need encouragement. She snapped the reins, and it was springing into the air before she could so much as yell “giddy up!”

  Annabelle might have screamed. She wasn’t sure. It was one thing to be taken for a ride, it was another thing to hurl along solo on top of a real life dragon. But she could feel contentment from the creature. It felt free, and she sensed that wasn’t a common reaction. It beat its wings deeply for the apparent joy of it, making her struggle to keep her balance as the opeme surged up and down with each stroke. But the seat was deep and she had the restraint belts. She wasn’t likely to get bucked off anytime soon. Or so she told herself.

  She hadn’t much time for gallivanting, though. She could already see other opeme in the distance turning to fly towards her. They seemed as if they were a good mile away, and perhaps they just wanted to say howdy to a fellow rider. Be as that may, once they got close enough to spot who she was, her goose was likely to be cooked. She didn’t think she could win them over with biscuits.

  It took a bit of reining, but she managed to get her opeme to return to the field and land next to the others.

  “Mademoiselle Somerset, you never fail to be impressive,” Arnaud said, clapping his hands.

  “I’m afraid that I’m being followed,” Annabelle said.

  “Yes, spotted a few of our friends headed our way,” Nathanial said. “Not sure, but I suspect that joyrides during the middle of the day are not a common occurrence.” He swallowed visibly. “So, saddle up shall we? Do you think there’s enough room there for all four of us? I don’t think the rest of us are up for steering beasts on our own.”

  “Not Thymon,” Thymon said. “Too heavy. But Thymon has boat. Not worry.”

  “You’ll be caught!” Annabelle said. Glumly, she realised that Thymon was right. Even three humans was probably pushing the weight and balance envelope. Tossing a seven foot tall Skreelan on top would make things impossible.

  “No caught,” Thymon said. “Thymon has been thinking. Look at trees, yes?” He patted his flamethrower. “Foolish to let grow so close. Like box of matches. Thymon escape while city burns.”

  “Very good plan,” Arnaud said approvingly. “One has to wonder why none of the Therians thought about it, though. I mean to say, it’s a stone city of sorts, so there’s security there. But one typically doesn’t care for large forest fires in the back garden. One would have thought they’d grow the trees elsewhere.”

  “One would think,” Nathanial said. “But that’s quite the point. The poor Therians had their free will taken from them. When another makes all your decisions for you, one falls out of the habit of creative thought.” He shook his head. “To me, that’s a worse crime than mere enslavement. A slave still has his soul.”

  “Free will or not,” Arnaud said, “I see a flock approaching. I recommend departure.”

  “I don’t know,” Annabelle said. “I’m not comfortable with Thymon yet again risking his life for us.”

  Thymon walked over and looked up at her. “Is Thymon’s life to risk.”

  “You’re right,” Annabelle said. She got down out of the saddle and threw her arms around his middle. “I will miss you so.”

  “Will see again,” Thymon said, patting Annabelle gently on the back, then helping her back into her saddle. “Is promise.”

  “I think it’s a good thing for Commander Bedford that Thymon isn’t human,” Nathanial said to Arnaud as they watched the two make their goodbyes. He smiled bemusedly. “I mean, tall and strong, always ready to jump in to the rescue. The sort of fellow girls sigh over, or so I’m told.”

  Arnaud shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I think intelligent and unassuming but willing to throw a punch as needed has its charms as well.”

  “You truly think so?” Nathanial said. He took a breath. “Well, off to our aviation adventure. Shall we?”

  “With pleasure, mon ami. After you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  1.

  The opeme was clearly happy enough to fly away from its former home, rapidly climbing upwards to a few hundred feet before straightening its wings and picking up speed. The three hunkered down in the saddle, with Annabelle only needing to provide occasional direction with the reins. Their steed seemed to know where they were headed all on its own.

  They could see a patch of fire at the edge of the city, presumably set by Thymon as he escaped in his boat. A few opeme followed them for a while, but then turned back. Annabelle let her opeme slow, spiralling up and around the clouds. It was overcast but brilliantly clear, at least by Venusian standards. She could enjoy the view, so long as they weren’t being chased.

  They watched for half an hour. The fire seemed under control, if demanding the attentions of a good score of opeme, who at this distance looked like moths dancing around a candle. But then the flame began to spread rapidly along the walls, encircling the island in a matter of minutes, the flames leaping so high as to obscure the walls.

  A heartbeat later, the city exploded in a fireball. Black smoke poured straight up in a column, then spread out, looking like nothing so much as a grotesque mushroom.

  Annabelle cracked the reins and leaned forward on the opeme’s neck. A giant invisible hand threw them out and upwards into the clouds, tumbling the opeme like a leaf caught in a gale.

  The opeme snapped its wings open, slamming its passengers against their restraint straps. It started climbing through the clouds.

  “That was unexpected,” Arnaud said.

  “Well, we seem to be alive,” Nathanial said. He glanced at Annabelle. “I’m cert
ain Thymon was as far away as we were. He doesn’t strike me as the sort to dally.”

  Annabelle nodded weakly. “No. But…all those people.”

  “Perhaps they had someplace to shelter themselves,” Nathanial said. “One hopes.”

  “It could not have been just the trees,” Arnaud said. “Something else, perhaps. I haven’t discovered all the properties of asterium. Large ore deposits might very well be volatile. Further research is needed, I think.”

  “I’m sorry, Arnaud,” Nathanial said. “I’ve fair much failed you, haven’t I?”

  “Not at all, mon ami. I still live.”

  “With your sickness. Not to mention—” he looked at Annabelle, who had recovered the reins and was steadying the opeme with comforting clucks of her tongue.

  Arnaud put a hand on his shoulder. “I thought you might have a notion of that,” he said quietly. “I saw your eyes after my foolish hypothesizing over this ‘life force’. We read the same monographs, you and I.” He coughed. “We have to see. There are other fish in the sea and other ore deposits in the Solar System. Or perhaps the explosion we have left behind has done us the simultaneous favours of excavation and evacuation. We might very well be able to collect some samples in relative peace. But that will be a future expedition, I think. For now, I have an excuse for the occasional hot tea with brandy.”

  “You have a point,” Nathanial said. “In the meantime, we have the more immediate issue of locating the Aeronaut.”

  “To the first things first, I suggest climbing out of the cloud,” Arnaud said, raising his voice enough for Annabelle to hear. “This damp does little for my cough.”

  Annabelle nodded and reined the opeme upwards. They emerged above a great plane of golden cumulus splashed with tendrils of mist. Far above them, they could see the outline of the sun through the overcast. It was breath taking.

  And they had no idea where they were.

  “No sign of Forbes-Hamilton,” Nathanial said.