Dust

by J R Devoe

  Nya’s looks me in the eyes. “No one can ever know the answer to that.”

  A long silence settles between us. Chirping insects fill the void. Leaves rustle as a warm sea breeze blows Nya’s hair in the night air.

  “At the next New Moon,” she says, “keep your eyes to the east. If you’re lucky, you’ll get to see the portal open.”

  “You’re leaving?” I cringe at the despair in my tone.

  “I have friends nearby watching over you. This is their domain, so if danger approaches you’ll have plenty of warning. So long as you’re among the trees, you’re among friends.”

  I appreciate Nya’s intent, but I’ve already seen she doesn’t have firm control over the elements she thinks she commands. “Your rain cover stopped earlier than you predicted.”

  “The Aeri left to join us in the fight.”

  I must appear nervous, because she places a comforting hand on mine. “So long as you’re here, you are safe. My Ori cousins will be your devout guardians. You can trust them. You can trust me.”

  My gaze drifts east.

  “Say it,” Nya says, her tone heavy and serious. “Say that you trust me, and that you’ll stay here.”

  “I trust you.”

  “And…?”

  “We’ll stay here until you come get us.”

  She gives me a satisfied smile. “Good.”

  The journey down the tree is a lot faster than the climb up. Wrapped in Nya’s arms, we drift gently toward the forest floor, though I feel by her labored breathing she bears my weight with difficulty.

  We land on a flat patch of lime green grass. Though we’re on solid ground, I keep my arms wrapped around her. She glances at my hold, confused, but remains in my embrace for a little longer.

  “Your guardian leader’s name is Mora,” she says. “So long as you’re under her watch, you’ll be safe.”

  Okay, I think with a measure of relief. I’ll gladly bet my life on her claim. Though, Marlok may need some convincing.

  19

  —

  NYA

  ARRIVAL at a dreaded destination always comes faster than when traveling to a place you desire. I’m sure a race somewhere has named and studied this phenomenon, and I very well may have sent their findings into the void of eternity. Anyway, it’s what I experience when leaving Deka’s sanctuary for the pyramids.

  My belly winds into knots the entire flight until the megalithic site comes into view. On their own, the three gigantic pyramids are enough to halt me in my flight. Add to that some five thousand of my kin gathered on the levels that narrow toward the apex, and I’m left with a heart bursting with pride.

  I fly hard to the eastern forest edge and then over barren earth toward the greatest, left-most pyramid. The one with the missing apex. The key that opens the gates between worlds had been removed shortly after our arrival here. It was to stay that way for another seventy spins around this sun, when we’d finish our work and move on to clean up the next mess.

  That’s the worst part about our work. I hate it! Spending decades constructing paradise, living in it and falling in love with every tree’s leaf and beach’s grain of sand, then being forced to move on to the next carcass of a planet, bring it back from the dead, fall in love, rinse and repeat.

  At least, that’s how it was until a few days ago. While Jexa possesses the golden pyramidion that connects us to the network of all known life-bearing planets, we are trapped on Gaia and completely at her mercy. Even the Magister cannot come without that gate key in place. Jexa decides who to invite, who is allowed to make the transit here, and who shall cross that gate safely.

  She has this power for now. But to set the key atop the Great Pyramid, she must get through us, and the sight before me promises this will be no easy task. Because, as I fly closer, I see the call to arms has traveled farther in my absence.

  Beyond the pyramids, an Ori leader blasts orders through a horn in a strange accent. Her workers are digging a trench from the great river to encircle the north-most pyramid. Seeing this defence mechanism brings the word ‘moat’ to mind.

  Inside the moat, around the Great Pyramid’s lowest level, Fori workers plant wooden stakes at outward angles. Their bickering seems derived by their lack of familiarity with each others’ dialect and working style.

  If I were to guess that these new arrivals have doubled our numbers overnight, I couldn’t be far off.

  I smile at the hardship awaiting Jexa. Even if she manages to get that mass of gold across the moat and through the picket line, her force will have to fight through a legion of rebels occupying every level of that great stone slope. It would take the Black Tide itself to wash us from that pyramid, and Jexa cannot summon those waves of darkness until she knocks every last one of us from those stone levels. For once, a dilemma works in our favor.

  In my fixation with the activity ahead I’ve completely forgotten the power of this sacred ground. That is, until I am falling.

  My wings flutter erratically, desperate to stop my three hundred foot drop, but they catch no air. It’s like trying to fly in the vacuum of space, with no atmosphere to push down against. The energy that sits under this place does not allow it. The Anomaly sends me diving headfirst toward the base of the Great Pyramid.

  I shriek and shield my face with both arms, bracing for impact. This is going to hurt.

  Splash! Instead of hard ground, I plunge into water.

  The moat!

  When I emerge from the warm river water, I’m greeted by two dozen spear tips glinting in the afternoon light, their points all aimed at my face.

  “It worked!” declares an Ori among them.

  “Spaced it just right I did,” claims another.

  “No way!” shouts the first Ori. She points back across the moat, toward the forest. “You wanted to dig it there. Then the Watchers would land right inside our perimeter.”

  “Nah-ah! You wanted to put it there. Not me!”

  Both drop their spears and one tackles the other to the ground. Dust rises from the scuffle, and the Ori trenchers turn their backs to me to cheer on their favored wrestler.

  The butt of a spear shaft taps my shoulder from behind.

  “Always know how to make an entrance, don’t you.”

  I grab hold of Ko Zola’s spear and allow the senior Ori to guide me to the outer wall, where a ladder of hand holds rises from the water surface. I climb from the moat with a sense of joy and relief. Our people have really come together on this. We actually have the odds greatly on our side.

  This elation, however, evaporates in an instant.

  I’m joining Ko Zola on the outer bank, shaking the water from my wings, when an arrowhead of Watchers swoops in from the great river behind the pyramids.

  I gasp in terror. I’ve seen this formation before, when I led Bercidia the Butcher’s squadron astray to buy Deka’s tribe time.

  “Incoming!” I shout, and it takes everything in me to resist diving back into the moat for cover.

  The wrestling Ori and working Fori all stop and give me perplexed looks. What are they doing? They must prepare to face the attack!

  “Relax,” Ko Zola says, pulling my arm down. “They’re ours.”

  I squint for a better look and see she’s right. It’s not two large foils that propels each figure in the sky, but four narrower wings. Like those of a dragonfly. Those of my serving kin, Servants no more. The object of their chase, however, is a different story.

  My heart skips a beat at the bronze skin and scarlet hair waving in the breeze.

  “Jaleera came here unarmed,” Ko Zola says. “Ko Tora insisted we take her hostage, but I stuffed that idea.”

  “Jaleera…” I say absently as I watch her zoom around the Anomaly’s boundary with my kin in playful pursuit.

  “They call it ‘Chase the Watcher’,” Ko Zola adds. Then she scoffs. “Never thought those words would ever pass these lips. Interesting times.”

  Interesting times indeed. I’d been spec
tator to a few games of ‘Escape the Watcher’, back when the very mention of that game carried harsh consequences. Back then, you couldn’t even suggest defying our wardens. Now we train to kill them.

  “She’s teaching the Aeri and Fori leaders to fly in formation,” Ko Zola explains, “should we need to meet the Watchers in the sky.”

  I’d seen the effectiveness of the Watcher strategy to separate us during battle. I’m amazed and comforted at the strict formation above. We must make the most of our numbers in the coming fight, and Jexa may find a way to lure us from the safety of our defences and into the sky. I’m glad we’re preparing for that.

  Jaleera banks right. A few Fori miss the cue to follow and stray away from the group. Jaleera scolds them in her flight. In battle this will make them easy targets while weakening their squadron strength. And here we must be mindful of other dangers. As I’d just learned myself.

  I cringe as the three stray Fori enter the Anomaly and tumble toward the ground. The first, Kassini, splashes into the moat, which incites riotous cheers among the Ori canal diggers. However, the two behind her crash into sand and draw a collective gasp.

  Shouts of pain rise from the fallen Fori. As Ko Zola rushes to render aid, a set of feet land on the sand behind me. I turn to see Jaleera smiling at me.

  “I’m relieved to see you, Nya.”

  “Worried you’d have to come find me?” I say.

  Her smile levels. “I’d never drag you into war. That’s one decision I left entirely to you.”

  “Ko Skadia won’t commit the dust maidens to fight. Who else would you have destroy the Capstone?”

  A sly smile spreads across Jaleera’s face. “I know you better than that, Nya. You’d never risk not seeing your home again. It’s the only thing that’s kept you in line for so long.”

  I hold a hand over my eyes and squint at the flat pyramid top. Even if we defeat Jexa, we’d have to ensure enough of us survived to get the Capstone up that mountain of layered stone.

  I shiver. How cruel a fate that would be to remain as a last survivor, with a key to the door in your grasp but arms too short to reach the lock.

  “How long do we have?” I say.

  “I checked the moon last night. I’m no Consul, but my estimate puts us seven days out.”

  “Seven days,” I repeat absently, wondering what mayhem Jexa can unleash in that time. Will she lay low until the last minute? Or try to scatter our force? At least with Jaleera here advising us, we’ll not be easily fooled. No one knows Jexa’s methods better than her.

  “I hear you squared off with her,” says Jaleera, pulling me back to her presence. “Got your mother’s spirit, girl, I’ll give you that.”

  My mouth twitches with a smile. “Jexa couldn’t fly away faster.”

  “A trick.”

  “I know. She even told me so.”

  “Another trick.”

  “I assumed as much.”

  Jaleera grabs my wrist, squeezing hard, and gives me a warning look. “You won’t be so lucky next time.”

  “Now that you’re here, I don’t suppose it’s Jexa I need to worry about.”

  Jaleera’s face glows red. She looks to the ground. “I’ve made my choice by coming here,” she says. “This is the side I’m forced to stand with, to whatever destiny we create. Our fates are entwined now.” She shakes her head, at me or herself, I cannot tell. “I witnessed your birth, Nya. It would pain me greatly to witness your death as well. When you do battle again, you must avoid Jexa at all cost. Leave her to me.”

  This order I will not protest. Though Jaleera’s confession to killing my mother eats away at me, I cannot deny having her at my side reassures me. Sure, I should suspect her of spying for Jexa, but there is little to gain from this close look. Whatever Jexa needs to know, she can find from looking at a distance with her own eyes. Besides, I believe Jaleera when she says Jexa crossed the line by stealing the Capstone. I also believe she regrets her role in snuffing out my mother’s rebellion.

  Jaleera folds her arms and watches Fori squadrons practice flying in formation above.

  “Jexa could kill every Servant on this planet, but it’ll never satisfy the hunger I cursed her with. K’lora is the one that got away. The one she can never get back. But I’ve seen the way she perks up when I mention your name, how much interest she’s invested in your growth. How much time she’s pondered the reports she receives about you. She obsesses over the day she lost. I swear she’d trade the entire Galaxy of Gems for a single drop of K’lora’s blood, so much that she’d settle for yours.”

  My heart slams against my navel as if trying to punch its way out of this cursed body of mine.

  “I will try my best to protect you,” Jaleera says, “but battle is chaos. It will take only a single blink to lose sight of you, so you must be prepared to hold her off until backup can reach you.”

  The possibility of dueling against Jexa with both sides watching makes me ill. I might actually puke right now. If I don’t have the stomach for even the thought of it, I doubt I’ll fare well in the actual situation. But I cannot run. That would destroy morale for our resistance and reverse our momentum. It could even reverse the tide of battle.

  Looking Jaleera in the eyes with all the intensity I can muster, I say, “Teach me your fighting arts. At least enough to hold Jexa off, anyway. Then you can do what you do best, and, when the time comes, drive that spear through her back.”

  Jaleera’s cheeks glow red. I hope it’s with shame. “I think that’s the best you can hope for. Here.”

  She offers me her spear. I accept the weapon warily, unsure what dark energies may have attached to this cruel device. But instead of negative vibrations, there’s a tingle of familiarity that prickles my spine. Its shaft is smooth like polished stone, solid, yet light as a feather. I admire the carvings in what appears to be mahogany wood, but is actually some foreign metal I’ve not encountered in any recent lifetime. The designs of swirling knots mesmerize me.

  “Learn to use it properly,” Jaleera says, “and you’ll give Jexa the fight she’s been looking for.”

  Holding the weapon by its center, I feel a huge imbalance. The pointed end is much heavier than the bulbed bottom end. When I give it a swing, the shaft slides in my hand, with the tip shooting away from me until my hand chokes the swollen end. As I do this, I notice the center of the shaft part slightly. When I swing again, this time with more force, the shaft parts enough to reveal a spring at the spear’s core.

  I swing again and again, even twirling the spear around my back and shooting it forward. The snapping back of the spring produces a loud ting each time.

  “Nya the Evening Star,” says Jaleera while nodding her approval. “I think your mother was wrong. I think you arrived just when you were supposed to.”

  20

  —

  NYA

  JALEERA MUST HATE ME. In the orange glow of the sinking sun, that’s all I can think as she presses her attack.

  I raise up my spear to block her swipe. She bats it away with her tip, then whacks my shoulder with the blunt end, which forces me to drop my own. The pain is blinding.

  Why else would she be doing this if not out of hate?

  “Pain is the ultimate motivator,” Jaleera taunts, as if she actually believes crippling me will make me a better fighter. “It decides the difference between survival and extinction among all physical lifeforms. You’d not be here if it wasn’t for the pain of your ancestors.”

  I bend to pick up my spear from the grass while warily watching Jaleera for a cheap shot.

  All across the barren circle of land that surrounds the pyramids, wood clacks on wood and steel clinks on steel as battle groups hone their skills. Their choppy, uncoordinated movements do not inspire much confidence. Do they think the same of me? Many eyes had watched my practice with Jaleera in our early hours, so I had her move us into the forest. But still, a few Fori now watch us from the trees.

  “I think you have an admir
er,” Jaleera says, nodding to one Fori hiding behind a stump.

  It’s Jinny. She’s been watching us since we started, hardly blinking when Jaleera offered me corrections on my technique, but it’s not me she’s interested in.

  The obsession started yesterday morning. Jaleera had gathered all the top tier fighters—relying mainly on rumor—and taught them close quarter combat drills, one movement at a time. As the combination of swinging, blocking and thrusting increased in complexity, those who could not keep up were eliminated until only fifty remained. Their names went to Ko Tora to approve as battle group leaders. Then Jaleera ran them through gruelling drills all through the night—stabbing, thrusting, swiping—allowing for failure in these rounds until they were good enough to smoothly parry back and forth. When satisfied they’d gripped these essentials, she sent them to train their followers.

  Jinny had been eliminated from the first round because she wasn’t fast enough on her feet. But she’d lingered to the side, practicing the skills on her own, swinging a crude short sword of rippled iron through the air until the new battle commanders were dispersed. Now she watches us to learn from Jaleera. Everything Jaleera does, Jinny is quick to practice. Even down to the way she walks with her back rigidly straight and her chin held high.

  I’ll be the first to admit that if I’d been in that try-out group, I’d have not made it past the first round.

  “I don’t think my fighting skills are going to inspire many,” I say, swinging my spear through the air in a crisscross pattern. This weapon belongs in the hands of someone who will put it to good use. It’s clearly designed for a skilled warrior, perhaps a master of an old fighting art, but in my hands the split shaft jars around clumsily.

  “Your skills are meant to keep you alive,” Jaleera says. “That’s it. You just concentrate on your spear and Jexa’s.”

  “Because that worked out so well for my mother,” I say, injecting a bit of venom into my reminder.

  Jaleera’s face sets into a frown.