by D. H. Dunn
A warm hand grabbed his own, Nima leaning her head against his arm.
“Nice job, big brother.”
“Thank you . . . thank you, Nima,” he said, choking up. “The trust you showed me. . .”
Nima threw her arms around him, the strength of her embrace filling him with joy even as it pushed the air from his lungs.
“I never worried,” she said with a smile as she released him. She then turned to walk towards Lhamu, who was staring over the side of the bridge at the raging river below them.
All around him people milled, hugging and shaking hands. He saw some people with Line tattoos being led away, others fervently apologizing to their neighbors.
There would be a lot of work in the days ahead, but for now the struggles were over and the people of the two communities mingled freely. Drew suspected it was for the first time in generations.
He heard a sob of relief from Merin, who went running into the crowd, people moving to either side to let her pass. Moments later he saw Arix and Lam scooped up in their mother’s arms, the smile on Merin’s face the first true look of happiness Drew had seen her have since Kad had died. She spun around with her children in her embrace, her laughter clear to Drew even at this distance.
“This is all due to you, Drew, my good friend,” Trillip said as he came alongside Drew. “You have given us our future back, you and your friends. A day we never thought possible, a day I never even dreamed of.”
Drew shook his head, putting his arm around the tall Rakhum for a moment. “It is due to us all, Trillip. Everyone sacrificed for this.”
Together the pair looked down at Garantika, now back in a kneeling position and facing them with his head bowed toward the stone surface of the bridge. He continued to mutter his chant of the Line, though he had stopped tracing his symbol and had his hands clasped together, so tightly they shook.
“What do we do about him?” Trillip asked. “About all of the Line. Something will have to be done.”
“That’s not a question for me.” Drew frowned. “He must be judged by his own kind. By you.”
“Judged by you?” Garantika’s voice came from below, soft and quiet. “I will not be judged. By Rakhum or god.”
A chill shot up Drew’s spine like a gunshot, but it came a second too late. Garantika was already moving.
With a shout of rage he slammed both meaty fists into Drew’s gut, knocking him off his feet. He fell to the ground, wheezing and unable to speak.
“For the Line!” Garantika bellowed, Drew helpless, unable to do anything but watch as the man pounced on a shocked Trillip, quickly grasping the tall, gentle Rakhum’s neck in his large hands.
“No!” Drew wheezed as Garantika throttled Trillip.
He dove into Garantika and knocked the man away from Trillip, who fell to the ground clutching at his throat.
Trillip, who once told Drew he wanted to make his own trains run on time. Who led the Yeti away from Kater’s fortress so that they could escape to Sirapothi. Who stood beside him and called Drew friend.
Garantika had wanted to kill him, kill them all in the name of his Line.
No more.
Drew was on his feet barely before he was aware he was standing. The heat rose inside him, and he welcomed it. He clamped a shield down around himself and Garantika, the man now backing away from him with terror in his eyes. Drew had spared him once before, but not today.
Today he would see the Line burn.
He felt the flame gushing from his hands, a second sun exploding on the bridge. Garantika’s scream was gone in an instant along with his body, vaporized by the intensity of Drew’s attack.
Dropped back to his knees, Drew kept pouring his fire onto the spot where his foe had stood, the man who had ruined so many lives, caused so much pain.
He screamed. Even as he let his flames finally die away he felt the tears streaming down his cheeks. Crying not for Trillip, but for Artie, for Mom, for Wanda. For everyone who was gone too soon.
The sun shone down upon him, then a shadow fell over Drew like judgment. He looked up to see the impossible.
A Dragon, diving out of the sky.
The Thread was already in full dive when Tanira saw it happen. She had already experienced the shock and dread of seeing the new male Manad Vhan standing on the bridge between cities, the familiar red static of the energy shield.
Her teeth had ground together as a mix of frustration and guilt swept through her at the sight of Nima standing behind him. Her anger seethed as she watched the Line soldiers laying down their weapons, sacrificing centuries of planning and preparation.
Then she saw her father in the center of the bridge, a small figure in the Manad Vhan’s shadow. The leader of her order, failing the very Line he had committed her to. Her mind bubbled over with questions and demands.
Then in a blur he was gone, reduced to cinders by the flames of the Manad Vhan. So much lost in that moment, answers to questions that had been building inside her all her life. Now left in ashes.
She felt her anger at her father, trapped forever inside her with no way to release. All around her below, she could see more evidence of his failure, his desire to force the rejoining of the two Rakhum societies now jeopardizing the very plan of the Line he had committed her whole life to.
No father left to question, only a pile of ash on the stone surface of the bridge, the Manad Vhan man’s hands still aflame as he stared up at her in horror.
But that was what Manad Vhan did, in the end. They burned everything, even the answers she so desperately needed. Even the chance to ask him why.
Tanira’s world went red with rage, her scream becoming the only sound in the world.
The beast dove straight at the Manad Vhan, the man looking up only after the Dragon’s shadow crossed him. She could see his eyes, see the fear in them as he quickly brought his shield back up, just as the Thread unleashed a barrage of fire and dove towards the barrier. Drawing the sword of the Hero, Tanira timed her swing, allowing the mystic weapon to strike the shield’s energy just seconds after the Dragon’s attack.
There was a thunderous clap as the shield collapsed from the combined onslaught. The Thread’s momentum carried it through the shattering energy field, colliding with the Manad Vhan, Tanira hearing the man’s cry of pain. As the Dragon arced back into the sky, she looked over her shoulder and confirmed the Thread’s success. The man lay prone on the bridge, three deep gashes from the Thread’s claws on his side.
She felt no joy at the sight, her heart seemed dead to her. She would see the completion of her mission, even if all others had abandoned the Line. They were not the End.
The Thread arced gracefully and dove again toward the city. She could see the form of the Manad Vhan man, struggling to his feet while several figures rushed over to him, Nima included. Tanira tightened her hand on the sword, ready to strike the man in the Line’s name as well as her father’s. She blinked as the wind rushed into her face, the attack only seconds away.
“Forebear!” The sudden fury in the voice of the Thread was like an explosion as he suddenly banked away from the Manad Vhan, turning toward a smaller figure off to the side of the bridge. Tanira struggled to keep her grip on the beast’s mane of fur as she focused on the blue-skinned woman the Dragon now hurtled toward.
A Caenolan? Here?
The Dragon would have torn the girl in half, missing only because a blur collided with the Caenolan and dropped her to the ground at the last instant.
Roaring in frustration the Thread twisted back up into the sky, Tanira carried along with it. For a second she had a glimpse of Nima lying atop the girl, a large Yeti right behind her.
“What are you doing?” she yelled, struggling to sheath the sword so she could gain a greater grip. The Thread’s momentum had it nearly vertical as it soared up into the clouds before it twisted, thrusted its wings back, and dove toward the ground.
“The Forebear!” The Thread’s voice might have been in her mind, she
was not sure. “The one who touched my thoughts, she cannot be permitted to be here.”
Tanira could no longer find the Manad Vhan’s body amongst the running figures. The Thread arced his descent toward the west side of the bridge, where the Caenolan, Nima, and the large Yeti were running. There was a tiny flash of lavender and the white figure vanished.
Tanira blinked, then cried out as the massive form of the Yeti appeared directly in front of her. She scarcely had time to cry out in shock before a furry arm like a tree trunk slammed into her. She flew with the impact along with the Yeti, the pair toppling off the Thread and hurtling toward the river below.
There was a second flash of purple and she was suddenly prone on the grass, the creature landing next to her.
She was frozen, her mind still in the clouds above. She had fallen? She couldn’t remember the descent. She blinked against the blurring in her vision, her head seemed filled with rattling stones as she struggled to her feet.
Her chest ached where the beast had struck her. Her hand strained toward her shoulder, fumbling. She needed to activate the Hero’s armor. She needed to protect herself.
The Yeti charged at her with a roar, a ferocious wall of white. She caught the flash of a red crystal in its massive hand, pain exploding in her back as the beast stabbed her. Her insides felt as if they had been jabbed with a hot poker, fire erupting inside her like a flaming spear. She dropped to her knees, the Yeti clubbing her in the face with its forearm, the impact throwing her onto her back.
Tanira screamed out as the fall forced the crystal deeper. The Yeti stood over her, its angry, white face framed by a clear, blue sky. She could see clouds passing by above the beast, thin streams that cared not for the worries of little Rakhum girls, even ones who let their fathers down.
The beast raised its hands to bring down another blow upon her. Someone needed her, depended on her. She knew she should do something. Something. The armor? Was there a button? Her brain could not focus, could not see past the white clouds and the blue sky.
There was a rush of air and a purple blur, a dark shape crossing over her. Tanira felt something grab her, enclose her tightly. She looked around, the pain still searing through her back.
She was in the clouds again, the blue sky all around her. The Thread soared like a great bird, she was just a tiny girl clutched in its claw.
The darkness beckoned her, and she welcomed it, she knew it would take her where the pain could not follow. Somewhere Tanira could dream of the sky and the bird long ago who was her friend.
16
Nima felt the cold night air creep in with her as she opened the flap to the small tent, a thin sliver of moonlight briefly appearing on the far side of the tent, like a dagger of light over the sleeping forms of Merin’s children.
The young boy Lam stirred for a moment, his small head of dark hair just visible underneath the mound of blankets atop him. Sleeping in the same cot with her face to the door, Merin’s daughter Arix looked like a statue. One arm over her brother in protection, even as she slept.
It was a scene that called back to Nima’s childhood, the older sister protecting the younger brother. Her heart gave a momentary ache as she thought of her brother Pasang, now alone with her elderly father.
Did her brother still need her? With Awa’s failing health, could Pasang manage the farm himself?
The flap closed, Nima moving to kneel beside Merin, who sat on the dirt watching her children. When Nima had visited hours earlier, Merin had been in the same position.
“Any change in Trillip or Drew?” Merin whispered.
Outside, the world was deathly calm, even the ever-present wind seemed subdued.
“Your healer person,” Nima spoke softly. “Irnantik I think his name was? He said Trillip will live. He might be hurt, he might have trouble talking. That’s about all I understood.”
Merin sighed, Nima looking back at the entrance to the moonlit tent. Trillip was a good person, a strong man who had stood up for his people. If he lived, Trillip might help bring the two broken communities together.
“And Drew?” Merin asked. Drew’s injuries from the Dragon had been severe when Irnantik had taken him away; the claws of the monster had dug deep into his side. Nima had never seen him so injured, so close to death.
The concept of Drew dying was hard for her to grasp, not because he had become some healing person with magic, a Manad Vhan. Rather because Drew was like the rock of the mountains to her. He was always supposed to be there.
“No word.” Nima’s voice broke slightly. “Your healer said there was nothing he could do, that Manad Vhan can’t heal injuries from Dragons. So Lhamu convinced the Speaker to look at him. Those two have been holed up in a tent for hours, and they won’t tell me anything.”
“I suppose if there was bad news, they would tell you.”
“Yeah,” Nima said, slumping down onto the ground next to her. Merin reached over, putting her arm around her. Nima felt safer, if only for a moment.
For a time they sat in silence, watching Arix and Lam sleep while Nima listened to the sound of their breathing. She wondered what the children dreamed of during this first night in so long where their mother could be with them. They were still without their father, and the threat of the Dragons hung over all their heads, but they also now had a future where their lives might be their own, not bound to the decisions of Manad Vhan rulers.
Should we all survive, she reminded herself.
After a time, she realized Merin was staring at her, looking at her with her brow furrowed.
“Do you wish to ask me something, Nima?”
She did, though she had not realized it until this moment. Nima nodded to Merin, but did not immediately speak. She continued to watch Arix and Lam in the dim light.
Merin’s two children reminded her so much of herself and Pasang, bringing her thoughts of a world she no longer had a route to.
Yet there was another concern that ate at her heart. A new responsibility, recently acquired. One that only someone like Merin might understand.
“Your children,” Nima said. “Your worry for them changes what you do. Makes you make different choices.”
Nima thought of Lhamu, who was an infant only a few days ago. Something to carry and protect. Now she was following Nima around, asking her questions and copying her actions.
Learning from her.
“That is true,” Merin said with a sigh. “Yet perhaps I did not change my behavior as much as I should have. Looking at them now, I thank the Founder they are safe, but I regret much.” Nima heard a catch in Merin’s throat as she looked at Arix, angled toward the door. “I regret a great deal.”
“Do you regret having children?” Nima asked.
“No,” Merin said, without any hesitation. “Yet I admit I underestimated the … mountain being a parent would be to me. Kad was more natural at it, and I allowed him to do more than his fair share. I shouldn’t have. Now he is gone, and I must take the lead. I must learn to be better. What I did before, the things I did for myself. It is done. It cannot be changed.”
Merin looked back at her children. Nima noticed that Arix had moved her hand off her brother and now slept curled up next to him. A child again, at least for the moment.
“Lhamu wants to go home, when this is over. Back to Sirapothi.”
Merin smiled at her. Though it was a small gesture, it was unusual for her, and infectious.
“What?” Nima asked, smiling back.
“You surprise me often, Nima. Your boundless optimism. ‘When this is over.’ As if it were an inevitability. As if the defeat of the Dragons would be just another climb.”
“Why plan to lose?” Nima shrugged her shoulders. “If I am excited about what is ahead, the climb becomes easier.”
“I would never debate mountains with you,” Merin said. “Yet in this case, I sense you do not know what is at your summit. What do you want, Nima? Do you wish to go back to your world? Or perhaps to Lhamu’s?”
Yet that was not Merin’s question.
“I liked it in Sirapothi. I thought maybe I wanted to stay there,” she said. “Now I am not sure. There is so much to see, and I want to see … everything. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Even with the danger, Merin, this is what I wanted. To see amazing things, to just go and do. But now, with Lhamu . . .”
Nima let out another sigh. “I feel responsible for her. Not in a bad way. Helping her makes me feel nice. But I don’t know what to do.”
Nima took Merin’s hand, feeling the rough edges of Merin’s skin, the callouses formed by years of work.
“Merin, how do I know what the right thing to do is?”
Merin chuckled, taking a quick look to make sure she did not wake the children.
“You ask me the very question that tightens around my own heart, Nima. I am sorry. We do not get to know the right answer for choices like these until later.”
Merin looked back at Arix and Lam. “Sometimes we make the wrong choices, but if we are lucky, we get a second chance to make a new one.”
“Do you know what you will do, then?” Nima asked.
She thought of how hard it must be in Merin’s place. Her own father had collapsed after Nima’s mother had died, shriveling and falling in on himself. And he had never seemed to find the love in Nima’s mother that Merin clearly had found in Kad.
“I will never leave them again,” Merin said, conviction in her voice. Her face then softened, and she smiled again as her eyes seemed to look beyond Nima, beyond the tent and into the night. Perhaps into the past, Nima thought. Looking at a ghost she loved, but who would never return.