Dust

by J R Devoe

  Jaleera’s face blurs as tears well in my eyes.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “Jexa the Mighty slayed K’lora the Fool. That’s the story. Everyone knows it.”

  “A lie Jexa made every witness swear to tell. Betraying her secret promised death and eternal darkness. But all who stood on the battlefield that day saw that it was I, not Jexa, who slayed your mother. You must understand, I—”

  I swing wide and hard so that, when my open palm connects with Jaleera’s face, it produces a deafening smack. I recoil at my own defiance, shocked at what I’ve done. Striking a Watcher is certain death.

  I watch for Jaleera’s reaction. My life now rests in her hands.

  She rubs her cheek and smiles. A deep sadness remains in her eyes where there should be fury. “You cannot deny your nature. Your mother’s fire burns too bright in you.”

  “I am not my mother,” I say, “and you will not trick me into bringing more misery upon my people. If what you say is true about their plans, I will order them to stand down. They will back away from this fight and they will live.”

  I at least owe them that.

  As I dive below the canopy, all I can do is hope I return in time to greet Deka when he arrives at the forest. For if I do not stop what Jaleera claims is happening, there may not be a forest for much longer.

  14

  —

  NYA

  JALEERA IS A LIAR. She must be.

  That’s all I can think during the entire flight between ranks of tree trunks. Too many wild claims. She must have flown headfirst into a tree and knocked her sense loose. Lead my people? They hate me! Besides, who is there to lead? Every decent fighter foolish enough to rise against the Watchers died during my mother’s rebellion.

  As I venture deeper toward the heart of the forest, weaving between staggered ranks of tree trunks and mossy curtains, I see I am not alone. Figures buzz to my left and to my right. I catch glimpses of them whizzing between trees, moving in the same direction as me.

  This place has long been finished and is ready for the Magister’s inspection, so they’re likely Fori at play or traveling to a distant work area.

  “Hey, Leeta!” echoes a voice from my left. “Look, it’s Nya!”

  I stop mid-flight and almost sink to the forest floor in shock. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say by her tone she is actually pleased to see me. Not just pleased, even, but… excited? Relieved? No, I am mistaken.

  Ahead, a Fori breaks her flight and loops back toward me. Her wide eyes are intense and have trouble focusing on me as they rattle side to side.

  “Are you here to fight with us, Evening Star?” this one called Leeta says. Her wings buzz faster than is needed to keep her aloft.

  “I’ve come to warn you.”

  It turns out the Fori I’d seen flying at my flanks were only a tiny part of an entire migrating Hive. As I hover before Leeta, many of her kin materialize from the surrounding green and gather around me. They carry spears of wood and axes with heads of sharpened ore. I wait for the stragglers to join before making my plea.

  The Fori who’d announced my presence shoves through the group to fall in beside Leeta. Rippled skin covers half her body, even her head, making a ragged border of purple hair that divides her scalp. A quick glance around me reveals most of this cohort bears similar scars. Fire Divers. Of course they’d be first into the fray.

  “See, Leeta, I told you,” says the newcomer. “A few of us mobilize and the rest will join. Even the dust maidens!”

  “You forget how to count, Kassini?” says Leeta with a sharp, sideways nod toward me. “I see only one duster here.”

  Kassini’s frazzled eyes scan the forest behind me, presumably in search of my sisters, but it’s only more of her cohort drawing up to join us.

  The cause behind the pair’s erratic behavior becomes apparent when Leeta seizes Kassini’s wrist and pries loose a handful of brown beans, which she shoves into her mouth. Kassini’s wild eyes fall on her sister, and when her lips curl up in a threatening growl, she reveals brown-stained teeth. This, and the rate of their buzzing wings, tells me they’ve made a habit of indulging on java seeds. Pacifying this lot won’t be easy.

  “Where is your Elder?” I say.

  Leeta spreads her arms and looks around with flabbergasted eyes, as if it should be obvious. “’Tis I.”

  I look to her cohort expecting to see mischievous grins on their faces. Instead, I get nods of agreement. But that can’t be. Leeta’s arms bear the same number of stripes as my own. She’s not much older than a youngling.

  Noticing my skepticism, Kassini says, “We don’t last long in these bodies, doing what we do. I’d say Leeta earned her Final Passage twice-times over already.”

  Her cohort crowd close around me. Their dilated pupils tell me they deal with the dangers of quelling fires by seeking the effects of psychedelic plants. And they do not take kindly to me questioning their leader’s status. Come to think of it, Leeta had called me Evening Star. My mother called me that at my birth. It’s the meaning of my name in our home language. This leads me to believe she was close to mother during the rebellion.

  A wave of goosebumps ripples my skin. I suppress a shiver. I’ll have to quiz her on the details of their relationship later.

  Leeta crosses her arms and gives me a haughty glare. “You’re no Fori, but you are an outcast. For that, I’ll let you fight alongside us.”

  “I didn’t come here to fight,” I say. “I come to you as a messenger.”

  “Well, tell the others,” Leeta says, then motions for everyone to continue on with their flight.

  They obey, and I’m dragged along by the wind of countless wings. The deafening flutter drowns out my protest. Soon we are joined from all directions, and not just by Fori cohorts. A mismatch of beings who you’d never see together outside of this moment—particularly Ori gangs and Aeri flocks—move toward the forest center. Aeri wings rarely glide beneath the treetops, save for the rare stray feather, which the Fori fight over to wear as decorations in their hair. It’s their presence that must embolden them. Some Fori actually see our air-swirling cousins as deities.

  But even god skin can burn in the heat of dragon’s breath. Though this gathering is an inspiring sight, I must smack them with reality before more sparks become prisoners to Jexa’s spear shaft.

  I’m about to shout the order for them to halt when the forward flyers glide to a stop. They come to rest in a small meadow and in trees surrounding the open field, where a few hundred more have already gathered. Normally I’d have heard such a large group long before coming across them, but here their chatter is drowned by the croaking of a thousand frogs. It’s near deafening.

  The armaments of those gathered confirm Jaleera’s claim. They’ve all come to fight the Watchers. At least they are still clustered into separate factions, lacking a single leader. They’ll be easier to influence like this.

  I land at the center of the meadow. I will follow Jaleera’s advice, though I will lead this group in a different direction.

  “Listen to me carefully, cousins,” I say.

  “Silence!” shouts Leeta. “Let’s hear what message the Evening Star brings us.”

  All chatter dies off, leaving only the croaking frogs.

  I nod my appreciation toward Leeta, then I say, “Jexa knows—”

  Sudden silence cuts me off. All at once, the frogs have stopped croaking. I see on the stricken faces around me that this is cause for concern.

  “Watcher!” cries a Fori. “Over there!”

  All heads whirl toward the Fori’s pointing, to a tree behind me.

  “A scout!” someone observes.

  “Catch her!”

  Before I can utter another word, anyone with wings is leaping into crisscrossing flight patterns in pursuit. The canopy rocks as leaves swish from the disturbance of the simultaneous take-off of several hundred Fori and Aeri.

  “It’s a trap!” I shout, but it’s only the wind
of pounding wings that hears my warning.

  Jaleera had told me that Jexa’s scouts already heard the Servants’ plan, and my visit here confirms that claim. Which means her spies are only seen when they wish it so, which lends further credibility to her claim about Jexa’s plot to capture more slaves.

  Bile creeps up into my throat. I swallow the bitter taste and spring off a tree trunk in pursuit. I fall in at the rear of the pack of Servants weaving through redwood forest.

  A chill blasts through me. It’s not the eerie kind, either. The air has actually turned cold to the point I see my breath puff before me. This change is too sudden, and sends a chill of a deeper kind through me.

  I shiver at the sight of my sisters disappearing into a wall of white mist ahead. Shouts and cries echo loud from beyond the fog screen. Some lingering in the rear recoil and hang back. The dauntless charge forward, and those who’ve hung back join them in a rush. I can’t help but admire their bravery and press on ahead, though not so fast as to lead the way.

  The fog is so thick around me that I feel as if I’m alone. Cries of fear and distress soon dispel this illusion. I proceed cautiously, moving from tree to tree, using thick trunks as cover until a horrifying sight takes shape in the mist.

  Ahead, a wall of Fori and Aeri stretch across my vision as far as I can see to either side. They hang in mid-air, frozen in various splayed out positions, their upside down and sideways arrangements most unnatural.

  An Aeri flies into the invisible barrier at top speed. The impact rocks the whole lot outward, then springs back and forth several times before coming to a stop. She hangs upside down as one more fly of hundreds caught in a web.

  I land on a tree branch a stone’s throw from the net, where I survey the chaos. Those who’d managed to veer away in time to avoid the web rush to help their stuck companions. Their efforts only further the disaster. Pulling and prying leads to many would-be saviors becoming dragged into the sticky wall. And like trying to save a drowning person, frantic captives latch onto any rescuer within reach and hold them tight in panic.

  I look above for the spiders. Where the fog does not conceal, the canopy does. This is a well-laid trap. A quick assessment reveals that two thirds of our force is stuck to the web, with the rest trying to free them.

  Less than twenty in my sight remain free flying. They move on to the web’s anchor points woven around large tree trunks, where they hack at the wood. A few lose their weapons when they accidentally hit the webbing.

  Part of me wants to grab the net and shatter its bonds, but I resist the urge. My last encounter with this material did not fare well for me.

  “Nya! Down here!”

  I look below, to a cluster of Ori gathered around the base of a massive tree.

  “Hurry!” Mora says.

  Looking up the redwood, I see all web strands connect up the length of its great trunk. The center anchor pole.

  I glide to the ground at the base of the net wall.

  “Quickly, girl,” Mora urges as she watches the canopy warily.

  Hearing the havoc above is all the coaxing I need. But when I place my hands on the rust-colored trunk and feel the life force from within, I hesitate. I’ve used my ability to destroy the legacies of the dead. That is one thing. To end a living being, though…

  Screeches and howling rise from above. They turn my blood cold. Before I can look up to see the cause behind the eruption of despair, a Fori slams onto the ground beside me.

  The cracking of her bones sends my stomach into backflips. Her eyes remain open, locked on the canopy above, but she does not blink. Nor does her chest move.

  A battle rages above. No, not a battle. A slaughter. Watchers swoop down from the treetops and pick off the free Fori with wide swipes of their spears before disappearing back up into the canopy. Their sweeping runs separate the clusters of Servant prey, who, in their panic, scatter into easier targets. This I can see from here, but it may not be so obvious to those in the ambush above.

  “Nya!”

  Mora’s voice rattles me. I don’t need to be told again. My kin are greatly outnumbered until I untangle those in the web, so I press my both hands to the tree and feel its life force breathing out through me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, then send a vibrational shock through its base.

  A dust cloud blasts me like the winds of a hurricane, blinding and choking me. As I cough furiously to clear my lungs, I don’t need to see to know that not a splinter survived the chain break.

  Mora pats my back. “Nice work, dust-maker. Now, let’s join the fight.”

  Fight? I promised to not fight the Watchers. It was Ko Mirah’s dying wish.

  A wounded Watcher hits the ground nearby, and a dozen Ori swarm her with clubs to ensure she stays there.

  I’m watching the clubbing in shock when an Ori shoves a branch at my chest. “For you,” she says with a wide, hopeful grin.

  I accept the smooth shaft and realize it’s a spear. All around me, Ori and a few grounded Fori are fashioning weapons to replace those lost in the fray above.

  Every few seconds a Fori swoops down for a replacement spear. Their Watcher chasers attract volleys of Ori arrows that find more wood than flesh, but the effort keeps the ground free of attack. The wounded are safe to rest here.

  My heart flutters at the inspiring sight. I see why so many followed my mother. She needed only to show them they had the smallest sliver of a chance to win. A glimmer of light in the dark.

  That one dead Watcher on the ground nearby is all it takes for me.

  Through the thinning dust cloud above, where Fori and Aeri clash with Watchers, I see an opportunity. The blast has created enough confusion that we might use it to repel our enemy. After all, beneath the canopy is Fori domain. Only trickery managed to catch the forest folk off guard.

  I leap into the air and fly straight up the column of swirling dust, where a massive trunk stood only moments ago. If I can take the life of a harmless, life-giving tree, then I can kill a murderous Watcher.

  Beneath the canopy is chaos among a cloud of buzzing wings. Wood clacks on wood, groans and cries add to the clamor, and screams of terror from the falling wounded tear at my nerves.

  I cling to a tree and search for a target to ambush. This leaves my head spinning. Watchers whiz by and cut down the Fori before they even know they’re near, with weapons far superior to our crude Ori craft. Blades fashioned from the metals and stones of distant planets slice through Fori bone like they’re made of water.

  It’s too much for most. The Fori and Aeri retreat to the cover of trees, desperately using branches as cover. Some aren’t lucky enough to remain hidden when the Watchers swoop by and pick them off in coordinated runs.

  I watch the slaughter with frustration. We outnumber the Watchers, but our force is scattered across many trees, each choosing a different branch. Each alone and vulnerable.

  We need to rally.

  A nearby oak tree with five mighty branches provides cover for three dozen Fori and a few Aeri. That’s where I start.

  I fly to where Leeta glares up at the canopy. She spots me in the open and is quick to jump out and join me.

  “Shooting star!” she yells.

  Many take her meaning and leap out to follow. We form a tight group and move to the next tree to gather the others. The Watcher tactic is to divide. To counter them, we must unite. So we move from tree to tree, gathering strength with each crossing over the open. Growing stronger with each bold move.

  When we gather fifty I turn command of the group over to Leeta. She leads them on the hunt while I cling to a tree. There’s something I want to try without an audience.

  My opportunity comes when a Watcher swoops down from the canopy, her course set on a Fori hiding on a branch below me. I wait until she’s about to pass the trunk to jump out and whack her with my spear.

  I’ve timed it just right. She’s whizzing just below me when I leap into the open and swing my spear downward. But a sec
ond before making contact—WHOOSH—my spear bursts into a trillion pieces.

  I watch in terror as the particles slip through my fingers from a rogue vibration. My hands feel so empty as the Watcher passes underneath. She spots me, the only lone Servant in the open, and abandons her original target, banking upward to loop back toward me.

  “Nya!”

  I turn to see Mora clinging to the adjacent tree trunk, which she’d scaled from the ground. She tosses me a spear. When I catch it I notice it’s heavier than my last, courtesy of a core of iron ore.

  When the Watcher rises high and then takes a forty-five degree dive at me, I point my spear at her and brace for the collision.

  Her eyes narrow tighter the closer she comes. I am the only thing that matters to her. Just before smashing into me, she bares her teeth and releases a growl.

  At the last second I dart left and shove my spear across her path. She bats my shaft away with her own, and at the moment of contact both turn to dust.

  She glides on past and, when she whirls around to face me, she can’t hide her surprise. But her expression quickly hardens and she draws an axe.

  I force my wings to freeze and allow myself to fall backward, flipping head first into a nosedive toward the forest floor. Tears glaze my eyes from the increasing speed. The ground grows dangerously close, but the warning of a Ori scout informs me that the Watcher is still on me.

  As the ground comes within a hundred feet, my wings start fluttering in an act of self-preservation. My fall angles into a glide and, as I bank around a tree, an Ori tosses me a spear. I catch it and immediately swing wide around to my rear. I time my vibration to exactly when the shaft hits my pursuer’s axe blade. The strike obliterates the top half of my spear, along with all of her axe.

  We both stop in flight and square off. She reaches for a short sword while I try to muster the courage to charge in and finish her with my splintered spear shaft. But before either of us can move, a Fori drops from above and lands on the Watcher’s back.