by J R Devoe
Anger swells up in me. I swallow it down. “You risk only losing me if this plan fails,” I say. “But if it works, the demons will leave this planet for good. You chance nothing by letting me go, but wager everything by keeping me here.”
Marlok scoffs from behind. He steps up to my side and points a condemning finger at me. “We’ve heard those words before, from his mother’s mouth. That’s the argument she used to gain permission to go fishing. I needn’t remind you of the loss we suffered over that.”
G-Ma nods her head in ominous reverie.
“Now this fool is walking into a trap,” Marlok says. “That demon couldn’t kidnap him with us around, so it’s leading him away. He will betray our secrets to those devils and bring about our end. His final breaths will signal the end of ours.”
“She is not like those who killed my mother,” I say, my cheeks burning red hot. “She is different.”
“Listen to him! She, he calls it. As if it’s a human girl. He has fallen under its spell and become its agent. They infiltrate our colony through him.”
Rage boils in me, along with a sliver of doubt that keeps me from lashing out. Is what Marlok says true? If Nya really does play tricks on my mind, I’d never know it. After all, what son would defend a being that so much resembles the beasts that took both of his parents. In this light, Marlok’s suspicion seems warranted. Yet something inside me—my intuition—assures me this is the right path. This reminds me of a quote in one of mother’s books: Intuition is the highest form of intelligence.
“What information has this beast offered you?” G-Ma says.
I see in her eyes she cannot hide her curiosity. I indulge her. “Those demons are here to make this planet liveable for new owners, because they think us all dead or mindless. But this is our proper home. The authority I’m seeking is responsible for protecting races like us.”
G-Ma closes her eyes and rocks her head in contemplation. She does this for some time, giving my words deep thought. When she opens her eyes again, she says, “A clever story.” Her eyes soften. “You have a good heart, Deka. I see how you were fooled. I’ll show you some leniency for that. You’ll serve only three days in the ‘pit’, to let the darkness clear your mind of any spells that creature tangled in you.”
She nods to Marlok, whose large hands were already moving to seize both of my arms.
“Wait!” I shout as I kick and thrash. Huxley and two warriors grab my legs.
“Easy, Deka!” Huxley hisses. “You’ll hurt someone.”
Marlok pulls my arms together in front of me so his partner can clamp rusted manacles around my wrists. The snapping of metal locking injects a shot of panic through me. I scream and try head-butting Marlok, but he pins my shoulders to the floor.
This commotion should be the loudest thing underground right now. But for all my kicking and thrashing and yelling, it’s not enough to cover someone else’s shouting down the tunnels.
Marlok stiffens and cocks his head to listen. The others follow suit, with even G-Ma rising to her feet, a deep frown sagging her brow.
Footsteps race down the tunnel toward us. Mali bursts through the entryway without permission, a huge no-no even during regular times. But no one berates her, for she is covered in sweat and her cheeks smeared in tears so much that every part of her skin gleams in the candlelight. She’s panting and can hardly catch her breath, her eyes wide and wild. I’ve not seen her so worked up since the death of our parents.
Then it hits me—the smell of her. It’s the same scent I picked up on the beach before Marlok detained me, but now I know what it is without a doubt. It only took me so long because I’ve not smelled freshly fallen water since my childhood.
“You have to come see this!” she says, still gasping.
When she turns to leave, Huxley and every warrior but Marlok race from the council chamber, with G-Ma almost knocking me over in her hurry to join them. I’ve never seen our elder move so fast.
Marlok drags me by my chain to follow. As we approach the lower concourse, I hear a sound I’d nearly forgotten. It’s been five years since we’ve heard more than a trickle through our water vein, so that when I hear the rushing sound, my first thought is that it must be my imagination. When we emerge onto the lower concourse, however, my eyes confirm what my eyes and nose have claimed.
Our water vein has swelled to a gushing artery.
I wedge between Marlok and Mali to watch a flood rush over rocks below, which grows in force and volume by the second I swear. We stand at the concourse edge, staring in awe at the swelling river until its force is enough to send mist up to the lower rings of the Grand Gallery. Fresh, saltless moisture wets my nostrils. Suddenly I’m aware of how much my breathing had become a chore over the years. Everyone’s hair and skin are soaked within minutes. Before we know it, the upper concourse is hard to see in the mist.
My breath catches. Nya’s signal! Life flowing back into our sanctuary, compliments of a ‘conniving demon’. It takes everything in me to refrain from jabbing a gloating finger in all of their faces.
The miracles don’t stop there. A bit of my mother returns to life when, for the first time in five years, the lights above flicker. Explosions of blinding light flash erratically. Like the lightning storms of my childhood, light and dark struggle for dominance over our sanctuary, until those lamps we’d forgotten about flash on and stay that way. At first the steady glow is dim, but quickly grows bright, so much that we must cover our eyes and shirk back into the shadows.
It takes me a few moments to notice that everyone from the council is now watching me. Some are stunned, like Marlok. Others, like Mali, cannot keep the wonder from their eyes. I know many are wondering if they should consider this a gift or a curse. G-Ma is giving me a long, appraising look. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that’s the hint of a smile gracing her face.
“You understand the risk you take by leaving?” she asks. She has to yell over the rushing water.
I nod, my heart racing with excitement. Never in the rest of our days would I have bet on gaining the colony’s approval to seek out Nya’s council. But never in that long would I have expected to see water flow like this again. In her, I believe we have found a worthy ally.
In this moment, humanity’s future looks a whole lot brighter.
11
—
NYA
A GREEN GLOW near the horizon guides me through the night toward my destination.
Summon the Magister, I say to myself in frantic flight. That has become my mantra, and I will repeat it until I say those words to the Councilry and demand that they do just that. I will say it to them until they set the Capstone atop the Great Pyramid, open the portal, and perform the ceremony to call upon our savior.
Summon the Magister, and all of our problems will be solved. Jexa will be held accountable for her crimes, and Deka’s people will be saved.
Summon the Magister. Don’t think about Ko Mirah.
Oh, Ko Mirah! How could I not think of her? Jexa has stolen her spark and will cast it into the Dark if I fail. So I must succeed. The Magister will get it back and cast his judgement upon the Watchers.
I fly harder than I ever have until the source of the green glow comes into view and halts me in my flight. Few structures survive in my memory that could rival this beauty.
Carved into a mountain slope, the three-story temple boasts two dozen columns across its upper level, with even more spaced across the level below. Two long ramps lead to the upper terrace, which seems redundant for a winged being like myself, which leads me to believe this complex was created by Deka’s folk.
I land on lime green grass a good distance before the lower ramp. Though I’ve never held audience with the Councilry, have no idea what they even look like, instinct warns me that to fly into their presence may be taken as a great disrespect.
Is that even true, though? Have I really never seen them? The events of recent days now has me doubting if what I’ve forgotten during my transit to
this world was more than insignificant details. Where did the instinct to avoid flying into the council’s presence come from? If I have met with them before, what was the nature of our meeting?
My breath catches. Have we been through this on another planet?
No. The killing of Ko Mirah and her Hive shall haunt me until time’s end. No number of transits could ever wipe that from my memory.
The grass is soft and cool beneath my feet as I march to the ramp. I stop at the bottom of the sloped stone and ponder what I’m about to do. Those of my stature are only allowed to set eyes upon the council for judgement. But I have no one else to turn to. They are the only of my kind on this planet who exceed Jexa in rank. I must report.
I proceed up the lower ramp, and though I’m moving upward, my legs feel as if I’m going down. In fact, my entire body feels lighter. Like I’m shedding pounds with every step. The stiffness in my chest where the wound had tightened my muscles loosens the higher up the ramp I walk. There’s a cool, tingling sensation atop the red blotch of the hole that sits deep in my chest. The air is refreshing. With each breath I feel the release of physical pain and mental darkness these past days have wrought upon me. I walk toward those emerald-tinted pillars with a spring in my step.
At the top of the upper ramp, I’m greeted by statues of giants with chin hair that hangs down to their folded arms. Their grandeur casts a shadow of unworthiness over me. Between the pillars flanking them, the glowing green orbs that had guided me here turn to indigo blue. An overwhelming sense of welcome draws me inside. I enter without hesitation, almost in a trance. In the entry hall, I admire walls decorated with murals of colorful hieroglyphs and compare this work to the rugged cave walls of Deka’s home. My, how far his species has fallen.
I emerge into an open-air courtyard and am immediately drawn to a golden pyramidion that gleams orange in torch light. The Capstone, the key to the gateway of this planet’s portal, stands thirty feet high under the night sky.
I approach the gate key in wonder, but stop when my reflection sharpens in the golden face. A Watcher stands on guard at each point, an upright spear gripped tight with both hands, their eyes fixed ahead in a lifeless stare. Their wings hug their torsos, fitting tight like pliable armor. But these four guards are not what keep me from venturing in for a closer look.
The internal chains that bind sacred structures such as this were set by masters possessing skill far greater than any who now wander the physical planes. Before ascending back into the higher dimensions, they set the bonds as unbreakable, and so unbreakable they are. For one like myself, a breaker of chains, to even touch such an object risks unbinding my own physical being.
I’d rather not explode into a cloud of dust and light, so I carry on around the Capstone toward the far end of the courtyard, where a shifting green light lures me through a door in the base of the mountain.
I’d been expecting a challenge from guards before meeting the council, but seeing the Grand Councilry in person is enough to halt me in the doorway.
In the center of a sunken chamber, one of the most senior representatives of both the Watchers and my kind sits before a golden bowl that bears a green flame. I’m lucky to have never encountered her outside of this temple. I’d certainly get myself into trouble by questioning her status because, unlike our Ko Elders—whose wrinkled skin and colorless hair reveals their age and wisdom—the figure before me has the appearance of a mere child.
From here she appears to be wingless. I heard this is to prevent bias against councillors of my kind. In the Councilry there is no division. They are to be respected by all—Watchers and Servants alike. And because her eyes are closed, I cannot tell if she’s my kind or a Watcher. There are supposed to be two. So where is the other? I’d prefer to report Jexa’s crime to the Priestess Darxa. Though Councilry members are wise and unbiased, I feel Ko Mirah’s Hive would garner more sympathy from one of our own.
I pause inside the doorway, unsure how I should interrupt her meditation. This work to support all our efforts is of utmost importance—would be, I should say, if we were allowed to be performing a reclamation of this planet in the first place.
Her eyes open suddenly and lock onto me. She spreads both arms wide in greeting. “Come, child. Sit.”
Such strange words coming from a being who appears years younger than myself, but her tone commands a respect no youngling ever could.
I accept the invitation and sit cross-legged across the brazier from her. A chill comes from the green flame dancing between us. By the color of her green eyes and round pupils, I’m guessing she is Darxa, a High Priestess of my kind.
“You join us with a troubled heart,” she says, her voice soft and empathetic. “More trouble than usual, I feel.”
Fearing that at any moment guards will rush in from deeper chambers to haul me away, I waste no time.
“Jexa destroyed my Hive. She killed Ko Mirah and many loyal Servants.”
Darxa responds to this news with a grave and knowing nod. All innocence abandons her young face. “Jexa takes interferences in her affairs very seriously.”
“But to do that? There’s no excuse!”
Darxa shuts her eyes tight. When she opens them again, much to my dreadful surprise, they are yellow with a vertical slit in each. These reptilian eyes take in my presence with less warmth. I’m guessing this new arrival is the Sage of Faes.
“That stunt of yours severely injured two Light Ones,” she says, sounding very much like a brat with her tone. “They’ll be lucky to ever fly again.”
Two less Watchers in the sky is nothing to cry about, is what I want to say, but I keep it to myself. Such talk will gain me no support here.
The vessel before me blinks, and then I’m looking into Darxa’s eyes again.
“Why did you interfere in the Light Ones’ work, anyway?” she says.
This pair of supremely wise elders seem more concerned with my delay of the genocide than for the genocide itself. What are we, if not invaders and murderers?
“The owners of this planet are still here,” I say. “I saw them, and…it’s true that we kill them?”
“They killed themselves,” snaps the Sage of Faes, “a long time ago. They almost took this planet with them. Now we are restoring it for those who will take better care of it. If a few stragglers remain, well…”
My Priestess, Darxa, returns and places a comforting hand on my leg. “The Light Ones are just speeding up the inevitable. Much like how the Ori draw in the right combination of nutrients in the soil, or the Aeri stir particles in the atmosphere to call upon the rain. All these processes are natural, much like the certain death of those survivors who cling to life. Consider it a mercy.”
The words of this council sit heavy on my heart. They confirm that everything I ever knew about our work to be a lie. Worse, an invasion. Oh, Darkness! We’re invaders! I feel helpless and at the same time complicit in these deeds. “But…killing…It’s…”
“Nature,” the Sage of Faes says sternly. “You’ve not seen the behavior of this species in their prime. Even at their best they were very much accustomed to self-inflicted brutality, and far worse than that which we offer. Now, go and do your work like an obedient Servant. And forget not your place again.”
So that’s it? I’m supposed to just go tear down the accomplishments of this race and act like they’re not being driven to extinction by my masters?
The Consul closes her eyes and I feel much of the tension evaporate from the chamber. I’ve used up all my time with the Sage of Faes.
“Go now,” Darxa says, looking to the doorway. “We have much work to do before the Magister’s inspection.”
“Does that work include ignoring Jexa’s atrocities against your own kind?”
Darxa closes her eyes. Her face is startlingly serene, with a… hint of satisfaction? “We do not take this transgression lightly, young one. We’ve already summoned Jexa to report to us at once. She will stand trial and face our judgeme
nt. This will be settled well before the Magister arrives.”
“Does he know about the…the…
“Humans, they’re called. And their existence is of no concern to him. If we halted our work on every planet that still harbored survivors, you’d never fulfill your obligation to the Light Ones. Now, you’ve wasted enough of this council’s time. Leave us.”
I want to stand, but my knees remain locked in a cross-legged position. I didn’t come all this way to be shooed away like a pestering fly.
Though, what else can I say? This seems to be the way of it. It’s this reality that I must adapt to, not change. That’s what the Grand Councilry is telling me. Yet I feel like I can do this task no easier than my destructive dust making.
I now sit across from a breathing body, but I know I am alone. So I take my leave.
In the courtyard, I give my reflection in the Capstone a hard look over. Ignorance allows me to forgive myself for going along with these crimes before. Now that I know, however, I’d be no better than those spilling the blood.
No. I won’t let it happen. I have ten nights to keep Deka alive and arrange audience with the Magister when he arrives.
I stride past the Capstone with great urgency. Outside, on the upper terrace, the night air cools me. I stare at the waning gibbous moon, wondering if its three quarter surface will provide me enough energy to last in my flight until daybreak. I must reach Deka’s meeting point without delay, for I do not know at what speed he can reach the pyramids for the Magister’s arrival.
“I thought I smelled Servant blood nearby.”
The voice creeps up like a serpent’s slither and makes me squirm. I look down to see an ivory figure climbing the ramp. Pointed ears of the palest white protrude from the blackest hair I’ve even seen. Black as the Dark I so fear. Ragged wings of the same color bespeak lifetimes of violence, and the black lips of her wicked grin have issued commands of unspeakable terror.
My heart races. It takes everything for me to remain in place, to keep my feet from retreating into the temple in search of the Councilry’s protection.