Dust

by J R Devoe

  They fall and slam onto the ground, where the Fori—Leeta—rolls off the Watcher, and several Ori quickly pounce in to finish our fallen enemy.

  I swoop down and grab the Watcher’s sword, then fly upward. The make of the weapon is tempered, more resistant to my disruptive vibration. A better conductor for my ‘magic’.

  A Watcher swoops down and circles me. She swings a metal spear, a smug smile on her face. I block it with the sword blade and watch in relief as her metal weapon disappears like a puff of winter breath, and with it her smile. I don’t need to finish the job. Two Fori grab her legs and drag her to the ground, where the Ori mob awaits with clubs.

  I continue my rise upward, smashing Watcher weapons to dust and watching my Fori cousins swoop in to finish them off. Before I know it, I’m at the canopy.

  Some of the bolder Fori, including Kassini, join me until we are a dozen. I meet the Watcher attacks with my sword, turning their weapons to dust, which grants the Fori the openings they need to vanquish their superior opponents.

  “Nya, behind you!”

  I swing back but, instead of that satisfying pop of exploding particles, I feel as if I’ve hit a steel wall.

  My disruptive vibration shoots back down my arm to my elbow, making a bad hit to the funny bone feel like a kiss by comparison. So bad that I drop my weapon. I hear the ringing steel fade all the way to the ground.

  It takes everything in me to remain firm at the sight of Jexa hovering before me. The black shaft of her diamond spear lacks even a scratch where my sword edge had connected. Flecks of gold dot the onyx finish.

  Her black lips curl into a rueful grin. She circles me, ignoring the Fori and their shaking weapons, confident they won’t attack her.

  I spin to remain facing her. I’m so jarred by her presence that I don’t even know where the spear in my hands came from, though it must have been a Fori or Aeri who tossed it to me after my sword fell.

  “I knew someone who fought like you,” Jexa says, her voice soft and soothing. Almost sweet. So much so that it rattles me further. “Never could hack a fair fight. But I found a weakness to her tactics.”

  Jexa holds her spear out to offer me a better look at the golden flecks in its shaft. “Do you see them in there?”

  My chest tightens. I do see them, the sparks of her vanquished, doomed to suffer in her spear until she no longer needs it and tosses it into the Dark.

  I swallow hard. Until now I’d thought the stories about her weapon were only lore. A story crafted to frighten us serving folk. But I feel pain radiating from the shaft. I swear I can hear their cries of despair echo in my head. They beg me to free them.

  Jexa stares wistfully at the flecks. “I don’t even remember how many are in there, but I’d trade them all for one.” Her eyes lift to meet mine. “I suppose I’ll have to settle for you.”

  I grip my spear shaft so tight my fingers go numb. That fate terrifies me so bad it paralyzes me with fear. I’d surely drop if not for the automatic movement of my wings.

  “Don’t worry,” Jexa says as she steals a glance at the Fori in the trees, “your time has not yet come. You still have a purpose to serve. Word of your victory here will spread. Many will flock to your cause. And when you’ve gathered your strength, I will stomp you all out like the ants you are. By the end of this little revolt, my staff will glow brighter than the brightest star. And you’ll be with them. They’ll blame you, Nya, daughter of K’lora the Fool. Did you hear how she begged for her life? Squealed like a pathetic little—”

  Rage flashes in me, evaporating any reason and turning my wooden spear to dust. I lunge at Jexa with both hands out, hoping to snatch the spear from her. Of course that’s exactly what she wants.

  She recoils and unleashes a scream, but I notice the flicker of a smile when she does so. She retreats up through the canopy, and an explosion of rustling leaves announces her escape into the sky.

  Cheers erupt from below. I shiver as Fori and Aeri rise to embrace me, the smell of sweat and blood overwhelming.

  I shove them away.

  “Listen to me!” I say. “This is no victory. Jexa was only…”

  Their chanting smothers my voice so that I can’t even hear my own words. Already they’ve broken off into groups to recount the deeds of their comrades.

  I drift below with them, watching for a leader to emerge among the rabble. Someone who has proven themselves, someone I can reason with. Leeta, perhaps.

  We join the wounded on the ground, where a few tend to the dead, but even the loss of life cannot stifle the celebration.

  I find Leeta lying on her side. She looks unnaturally innocent there with her eyes closed. Almost peaceful, like she’s having a nap. But it’s clear the fall had killed her.

  “You should have seen her,” Kassini tells a few others in astonishment. “She was so brave!”

  Kassini is in shock. When she realizes her Elder friend is not coming back, she’ll regret her reaction here. But right now, that revelation seems a long way off. Not just for her. But for everyone.

  Before I know it, stringed instruments and flutes bellow music into the dusk air. Fires burn bright, around which many dance. Their shock will wear off, they will realize the finality of their losses, and then they will mourn.

  But, looking around, I find I am also guilty of strange behavior. A few days ago the sight of my own blood would make me lightheaded. Yet now there’s blood everywhere, smeared on bark and dripping from leaves, and here I sit with a calm belly and a steady head.

  I must be in shock. Though, that doesn’t explain my actions during the battle. It’s one thing to fight back when you’re attacked, but to go on the offensive like I did… What had gotten into me?

  Madness, clearly. Or maybe it was something else. My mind was clear when my hands swung those measured strokes. It was as if the violence had woken a dormant trait in me, a genetic wiring that’s been inside all along, driving me to act out as my mother had years ago. And as with her, many were quick to follow me. That memory sends a flutter through my heart.

  I shake my head and swat this rousing feeling away before I can revel in it. We got lucky there. Next time I’ll be leading them all to their deaths. And I do feel the truth behind that fear. Because, as I survey the scattered bodies I’m struck with the feeling that they were the lucky ones. Those who now celebrate may have worse fates awaiting them in the coming days.

  While the celebration intensifies, Jexa’s words hang heavy in my mind.

  Mora claps my shoulder. “You’re in it now, girl.”

  “Jexa told me this is part of her plan. They won’t listen.”

  “Maybe Jexa’s plan is to throw you off. She’s just as likely to try disguising her defeat as victory.”

  I don’t believe that. The look in the Marshal’s eyes told me otherwise. She’s seen how this ends, a long time ago with my mother.

  15

  —

  DEKA

  “THEY’RE GAINING ON US,” Mali says from the bow.

  I look over my shoulder to confirm her claim. We’d lost sight of the fishing boat packed with warriors a few hours ago, when the storm hit, and I’d been hoping Marlok had turned around like the other boats he’d ordered back earlier. But our war leader is determined to bring Mali home, and I’d be tempted to toss her overboard to end the chase if I didn’t need her.

  The clouds overhead are so dark I can’t tell if it’s night or day, and rain hits the water so hard it bounces back up. The constant pelting on my skin is starting to hurt, but that is minor compared to the rising water level in our boat. My shins are half submerged, and that’s with Mali bailing as fast as she can with a plastic jug. Even if we had another, I’m too occupied trimming the sail to keep us going in this constantly shifting wind.

  “How many days did she promise rain?” says Mali as she pauses for a rest.

  “Seven.”

  She hangs her head and continues scooping water from our tiny boat that grows heavier with e
ach second. We’ll have to switch soon, and Mali won’t be able to adjust the sail as skillfully as me. It is this that gives Marlok the advantage. They have many bailers and free hands to spare to them. Their boat remains light while mine is near sinking.

  “They’re going to catch us,” I tell Mali, preparing her so she can accept her fate.

  The words haven’t even left my mouth when the wind and rain suddenly die off. The sail luffs as we bob aimlessly over the swells. With only the creaking stays that hold up the mast and water sloshing against our hull, it’s eerily quiet.

  My heart drops like an anchor. This is where I’d normally start paddling, but Marlok and his warriors will outrow us in no time.

  “Now they’re definitely going to catch us,” I say. It’s over.

  Mali squints back at her brother’s pursuit. “I count twelve of them weighing down that boat, and only two of us in ours.”

  “They have six paddles,” I point out. The defeat in my voice makes me cringe.

  “Had six paddles,” she says as she slides in beside the starboard oar. She grabs the handle with a devious grin on her face. “I’m no scholar, so you’ll have to help me on this one: what’s six minus the four I hid on the beach?”

  I stand up in the knee-deep water and squint to better see Marlok’s boat. A single oar reaches out from each side, both dipping into the water out of unison. The uncoordinated effort propels the boat to the right.

  If I wasn’t in a rocking boat I’d jump for joy. Even if Marlok’s rowers syncronize their paddling, the drag created by their weight will slow them enough for us to maintain our lead.

  I could kiss Mali for this forethought. Instead I plop down beside her, grab the port side oar, and together we start rowing.

  16

  —

  NYA

  THE FIRST GROUP of recruits arrive before midnight. The mixed lot march up to our bonfire in two neat ranks. They’d started their journey in the south, gathering numbers in their northward travel. Their faces, painted with red and black paint, are hard and intense in the orange glow, and suggest this is not the first time they’ve marched together.

  “Caught wind of the skirmish from our Nest,” says their leader, an Aeri Elder. Ko Tora, the whispers around me call her. She’s stout and broad, and at five feet tall, she’s built more like a grand-sized Ori than an Aeri. A thick braid of silver hair hangs between her powder blue feathered wings.

  I give the rest of the group a look over and see their leader’s unusual size is not unique to her. Some Ori stand taller than me, and rather than feathered wings, a few Aeri have clear wings like mine. A quick inspection reveals the only thing consistent about this group is their inconsistencies. Mutts, the whole lot of them. Their skills vary depending on which genes they inherit most, but in many cases they aren’t effective enough to master any element. If they can’t display a command of some natural force as a youngling, the Watchers kill them.

  “Who’s in command of this rabble?” Ko Tora bellows through her barrel chest.

  Every eye that witnessed the battle falls on me.

  “Nya rallied us and led the charge against Jexa,” says Kassini.

  Ko Tora’s eyes narrow on me. She nods faintly in acknowledgement. “Are you the same Nya they call the spawn of K’lora?”

  I raise my chin, unsure if this connection is meant as an insult or an honor.

  Ko Tora turns her back to me and addresses everyone else. “We saw Jexa gathering a swarm of Watchers to the south. She was preparing a counter-attack and had gathered enough to come stomp you into the ground, but,” she puffs out her chest and says, “the sight of my force sent them scattering.”

  I roll my eyes. There’s that classic Aeri ego at work. Judging by the spaces between the bands on her arms, she is a newly-minted Elder, and likely earned her position through some kiss-ass act that’s left her with a self-appraisal above her worth.

  “It’s a ploy,” I tell her. “She wants to gather us all in one place to crush us with one swat. Her own words.”

  Ko Tora scoffs. “Jexa is a proud warrior. I find it hard to believe she’d sacrifice her reputation like that. Not her style.”

  “So she’d have you think,” I say, my face burning in anger and frustration.

  “Whether what you say is true or not no longer matters,” Ko Tora says. “Your actions here have made us all enemies of the Marshal. If she gets the Capstone to the pyramids, then every Servant on Gaia will drown in the Black Tide.”

  I can’t argue that. And as the treetops shake with the arrival of more Fori and Aeri, I see a chain forming that words alone cannot break. But I must try.

  “Only a small number of us stood against her today,” I point out. “The rest of you can still save yourselves. Whatever Jexa’s plan is, she’ll still need Servants in her future. Stand down, and she will spare you.”

  “Your mother said something similar,” snaps Ko Tora. “She prevented us from uniting and instead chose to face Jexa with a smaller force. We all know how that ended. A leader must bring together, bind our assets tight, or we will all fall.” She gives me a smug look. “This is no task for a chain breaker. You’ve already proven that you cannot control what you turn to dust. You don’t have it in you.”

  My gaze lowers to my feet. Shame has this way of subduing even the strongest of us if it strikes at the right moment. And though the daughter of K’lora can be many things to many people, shameless is not one of them.

  “What’s your plan?” I ask. There are few things an Elder does without great reflection, going to war the least of them. She’d have not come here on a whim and lacking clear intent.

  Ko Tora looks to the rebels gathered around. “We’ll attack Jexa before she gets anywhere near the pyramids, reclaim the Capstone, and hide it where she’ll never find it. We’ll nest here for two nights to allow time for the outlying Hives to join us. Any who have come to this fight already are in it until the end, for leaving risks you falling into enemy hands with valuable information about our force and our intents. Tell every newcomer when they arrive: anyone caught leaving will be buried to their heads in desert sand and left for the vultures.”

  This threat doesn’t kill the mood. Quite the opposite. Red faces whistle and cheer, newly-branded warriors still hot from the battle behind us. If this Ko is willing to lead so many to their deaths, then so be it. At least this failure won’t have my name attached to it.

  As Ko Tora assigns sentries to guard the perimeter, I find a perch in the canopy to watch for a way out. I need to get Deka into hiding for when this gathering storm wreaks havoc across the forest.

  It doesn’t take long to see this won’t be easy. Even before this, I see Ko Tora had a militant way about running her flock. The half-breed sentries stick to their posts and keep their heads on a swivel. Maybe this gives the others a sense of confidence in her leadership, but she doesn’t fool me. They’ve not seen our enemy do battle like I have.

  As the night drags on, however, it becomes obvious the extent that the Watchers have used separation to weaken us. Hives arrive in numbers greater than I’d ever known to exist, hundreds and thousands from all over the continent, with the prediction of more coming from across the great seas once word of Jexa’s defeat reaches them. And though this gathering is exactly what the Marshal claimed to desire, I can’t help but marvel at the sheer numbers of our swarms that black out the night sky in their arrival. The whole canopy rustles with life. With defiance. Ori and Fori and Aeri, all banded together against our common enemy.

  When a gang of a thousand Ori arrive over land, breathless under an Elder named Ko Zola, who hails from the deep, deep south, I realize there is no stopping this. The hurricane has gained too much momentum.

  The corner of my mouth twitches with a smile. We are the rain and the wind, the thunder and the lightning.

  Yet war is not our practice. It was luck that thwarted Jexa’s ambush earlier. We’ll need more than that the next time we meet. So long as Jexa has
the Capstone, we cannot summon the Magister. But hiding it away will only cause endless war between us and the Watchers here on Gaia, and eventually Jexa will get her hands on someone who knows where we’ve hidden the gate key.

  And Deka. Oh, poor Deka! My heart sinks to my feet. He has risked everything to come to this forest, which I assured him was safe. Now all of Jexa’s focus is on the storm gathering in the trees. I must get him to safety, or divert the Watchers’ attention. But how?

  I watch my newly-branded warrior kin dance and laugh around a great bonfire, cheering and learning the ways of foreign cohorts, or reminiscing with reunited siblings of lives past. This camaraderie is a good start, but it’s only that.

  I join them at the central fire, but I do not dance.

  “You’re all fools!” I say.

  Three thousand sets of eyes fall on me in the fire light. They stare me down from every branch, some angered by my accusation, others curious. Every furious and curious eye on me. Good.

  “You may call today’s success a victory,” I explain, “yet wars have many battles. And today we gave Jexa something of great value: she now knows how we fight. She’s seen our strengths and our weaknesses, and she knows what to expect when we clash again.”

  “Then we’ll show her what fifty times your numbers earlier can do,” says Ko Tora, and she beats a fist against her chest. Bold, unrestrained words for an Elder. Emotion has too great an influence over her judgement.

  “We can muster a thousand times what we have now,” I say, “and Jexa will eventually find a way to outwit us. What we need is an ally more powerful than any army. While Jexa breaks sacred laws, we fight to uphold them. The Magister will see this clearly.”

  “True!” says Ko Tora. “But what you propose is to steal the Capstone from Jexa, then transport it to the Great Pyramid, then drag it up the steep stone face, all while repelling swarms of desperate Watchers. They’ll whittle us down to nothing!”