by P. K. Lentz
But she didn’t appear to take offense. “Safe passage,” she said cordially.
Arixa disembarked and the shuttle lifted into the darkening sky, barely visible on account of its mirror-like surface. Containing only its pilot and one unconscious passenger, it darted off on a course for the frozen wastes.
Arixa made her way alone across grassland until the glow of campfires appeared on the horizon. Promisingly, there was darkness in the direction of Roxinaki.
She made it in good time and was greeted far from camp by Dawn riders who brought her Turagetes, whom she rode the remainder of the way. During the ride, it became evident that the number of city-dwellers clogging the plains had increased drastically in her day-long absence.
Through the crowds, Arixa glimpsed Matas coming toward her on foot. She called out to him, “Did Orik make the decree?”
“He did!” Matas confirmed. “And you have a—”
Before her uncle could finish announcing that she had a visitor, Arixa spotted him walking a few paces behind Matas.
Vax.
Reining Turagetes, she reached into her saddlebag for one of the two vazers stashed there and leaped to the ground. She enabled the weapon and pointed it straight at Vax.
Without appearing to panic, the Persian froze in his tracks and displayed empty palms.
Arixa battled the urge to simply fire and be done worrying what Vax might do. It was the smart thing, the surest way. Yet...
“Convince me I’m not making a huge mistake by not killing you now,” she said.
“It would be only be your latest mistake of many,” Vax answered calmly. “Might we talk?”
Lowering the vazer but keeping it in hand and watching Vax’s every step, Arixa escorted the Persian to her tent. At the flap, she gave Matas instructions to check in on her every three minutes and also to bring some dinner.
“I owe you a meal,” she told Vax when they were inside alone.
“Not a final one, I hope.”
Arixa didn’t waste time responding with idle chatter or even threats. “What have you come so far to say to me?”
“I think I’ve come to convince you not to do whatever it is you’re planning to do with that vazer Zhi obviously helped you obtain. But then it’s equally possible I’ve come to be convinced. To be honest, since meeting you, I haven’t been entirely sure of my actions. I revealed things to you which you had no need of knowing. I invited you to begin a new life. When you left, I tracked your movements and listened to your interactions with others. I initiated fresh contact between us when there should have been none. In doing these things, I have become a catalyst and facilitator for developments which I failed to foresee and never wished to occur.”
When Vax paused, Arixa shook her head. “None of that tells me why you’re here.”
“To talk,” Vax said. “That is all. To talk and listen. To make clearer to you what you insist on failing to comprehend, namely the power which the Jir Pentarchy holds over Earth. Let us say you manage to kill a few of them with your stolen guns. Even better, let us suppose, impossibly, that you manage to thwart their entire Article 18 operation in this system. Do you know what they can do, and how easy it would be for them?”
“I’m sure you plan to explain.”
“Without sparing more time to further educate you about the cosmos, I can tell you it would be a simple matter for them to hurl rocks the size of mountains at Earth. Depending on the size and targets, they could create floods sufficient to wipe out most of humanity or blot out the sun and poison the air. They could shift Goros-3’s axis to—”
“I understand,” Arixa interrupted. “Fully. Not every detail, perhaps, but that they can exterminate us.”
“You do? Then tell me what it is you see that I do not.”
“It is no better for the Jir to possess this power over Earth than it is for them to use it. To me, it is the difference between being a well-kept horse and a sheep raised for slaughter. I don’t wish to be either. If the Jir’s power over us can’t be stripped from them, then I would just as soon they use it.”
Vax scoffed. “Life and death are the same?”
“A life of submission is no better than death.”
“You think it your right to make that choice for every native Gorosian?”
“I do,” Arixa said without hesitation. “I have far more right than any lizard-man does. Or humans born under some other sky, like you. Even if we fail and mountains rain down on us, it will not have been in vain.”
“How is that?”
“Our story will live on. Our courage will be an example.”
“No!” Vax said, reserved even as he raised his voice. “The dead shell of this planet will be an example the Jir use to show others the futility of resistance! You will have set our cause back by generations.”
Arixa scoffed. “Your cause? The Jirmaken ships have visited Earth for how long now? And how long since the other races submitted to them? How long since the first whispers about resistance? Has your movement sustained or inflicted any losses? Have battles been fought? I think I know the answers, Vax, but if I am wrong, correct me.”
Vax did not interrupt.
“There is no cause, Vax” Arixa went on. “There is no resistance. The Irunen—they resisted. For all I know, they were monsters, but I would sooner see Earth follow their example than one in which endless waiting and hoping take the place of action. Tell me I’m wrong, Vax. Tell me there is a real resistance out there, armed and ready to sacrifice.” Arixa didn’t wait long for an answer she knew wasn’t coming. “I know there isn’t one because if it existed, it would be here defending us, recruiting us. Except that it wouldn’t because it would have recruited my ancestors and yours long ago, instead of endlessly waiting because some thinking machine told them so.”
Just then Matas entered through the tent flap, personally delivering a tray of roasted goat. Arixa thanked him and answered his silent inquiry with a look that informed him all was well. She bade the Persian draw up a cushion and eat, which he did while Arixa sat across from him.
“It’s quite good, thank you,” Vax said, partaking delicately of the meat, in a way that made it seem possible he was humoring her. “It appears as if you might succeed in evacuating this city,” he observed. “Thus saving your very nation. That is an enormous feat. Can it not be enough?”
“If you can ask that, you haven’t listened to me.”
“Believe me, I have,” Vax insisted. “I find it remarkable. Had it been any other man or woman Fizzbik encountered that day, I can’t help but think that events would have transpired far differently. But it was you, who feels as you do and who refuses to yield.” He smiled reflectively. “I’ve studied the beliefs of my Parsa ancestors. They thought quite differently than you Scythians do when it comes to gods. They defined the cosmos as a battle between good and evil spirits. To them, it was the duty of men and women to choose good and oppose evil so that in the final judgment, good triumphs.
“I don’t believe in spirits, of course,” Vax resumed after a thoughtful pause. “Nor in cosmic battle between good and evil. Still, it is an interesting way of defining the universe. As I told you, I don’t fully understand the choices I’ve made when it comes to you. I did things which seem foolish even to me in retrospect. But I wonder if, in my own way, without knowing it, I was choosing the good.”
He gazed at her intensely.
“Arixa, I believe you are good. If I were to oppose you, even if I thought my intentions to be noble, I fear I would be choosing evil. And so... even though your actions seem to me to be devoid of forethought, I wish to avoid being recorded in... well, legend, as you say... as the one who stood in your way.”
With a heavy sigh, Vaxsuvarda hung his head over the platter of goat which he had still only picked at.
“Thank you,” Arixa said sincerely. “I apologize for threatening you. To kill you would be a choice for good. If we meet again after the coming storm, you’ll have to teach me more ab
out these philosophies. Many years ago, I was a good student.”
“I’d welcome that opportunity,” he said. “If you survive.”
Arixa invited the Persian to finish dining, but he declined.
“I am not terribly fond of the meat of land creatures,” he said apologetically.
She accompanied Vax out of her tent where he said, “Safe passage, Arixa. I hope you live.”
“Safe passage, Vax. So do I.”
* * *
Arixa let her uncle Matas and sister Leimya convince her to confine herself to camp for the night and recuperate from her wound, the tale of which she was compelled to recount four or five times for various audiences. The Kephis practice of implanting eggs in the human body fascinated and disgusted all who heard it. As unneeded proof of her story, she displayed the two vazers which were not only trophies but their motive for attacking the Kephis. They begged her to demonstrate them, but she declined for now, promising that groups of them would begin training tomorrow with the weapons, starting with those warriors who were augmented.
At evening’s end, she retired to her tent and enjoyed a restful sleep beside Leimya.
Days passed, and her wound fully healed. Under Arixa’s personal instruction, her warriors learned to fire vazers and handle them safely. City-folk streamed out of Roxinaki onto the plains and north across the isthmus in an organized exodus overseen by Matas, Skulis with his Guard, and the Ishpakians.
Riders were sent back to the Kephis ship along with extra horses, allowing Ivar, Tomiris, a fully recovered Dak, and the rest waiting there to return to camp.
Five days into the evacuation, Skulis brought word that some tribal leaders were refusing to leave their strongholds in the city out of suspicion they might be barred from returning. Shath Orik, in turn, would not fully abandon the palace on account of the possibility that another tribal chieftain might occupy it and declare himself Shath.
After half-joking about the possibility of riding into Roxinaki with the Dawn and killing the holdouts, plus maybe Orik for good measure, Arixa took Matas’s suggestion and set limits on the number that would be allowed to remain: twenty from each tribe, warriors only, no families, with a higher limit of three hundred for Orik to ensure that his contingent outnumbered the rest combined.
Even if Arixa no longer counted him as her father, she had no wish to see Orik deposed by any party other than the Dawn. And since she had no desire to rule, Orik was to remain Shath, for now, irrespective of any empty promises she had made him.
A message was sent in to the holdouts explaining that sometime before Devastation Day, the Dawn would sweep the streets of Roxinaki. Any found to be flaunting her limits would be subject to immediate removal by force. The parties agreed, however reluctantly, proving the degree to which the Dawn had become a source of fear, while saving it the trouble of using force to prove that its reputation was warranted.
Arixa, with Leimya beside her, personally led their respective mothers and many siblings and half-siblings out of Roxinaki, escorting them as far as the isthmus on their journey to some temporary home that was sure to be less elegant, if still comfortable. It would be more fitting, at least, in Arixa’s view. Leaving the palace for a while could only do them good.
After tearful farewells, during which Arixa’s own eyes remained dry, she watched the dust cloud from their carriages vanish into the distance.
A day later, Zhi paid a visit, but not before flying a quick few passes over Roxinaki in broad daylight to instill a fresh sense of urgency among those yet to leave. She confirmed Vax’s stated intent not to interfere with the planned operation. The same went for Dr. Fizzbik, who had determined the Shadow-man to be egg-free and in good health. Having been kept unconscious during his stay at the base, the dark foreigner had no awareness of events since leaving his damp, green homeland.
“He is aboard my shuttle,” Zhi said. “I will return him to his home.”
“Or...” Arixa mused, “we could give him the option of joining us.”
“Why bother? We don’t need him.”
“It’s only fair. Imprint him with Nexus, show him some wonders and let him decide for himself.”
“I have no wish to play recruiter.”
“Nor I, at the moment. Perhaps Vax would be willing. Or it can be left to the three I am sending with you to be imprinted.”
Zhi shrugged her concession to what surely wasn’t the worst idea of Arixa’s she had agreed to.
That day Tomiris departed with Zhi along with two other Scythians to be imprinted by Dr. Fizzbik at the base with the basic knowledge required to pilot skyboats. As with horsemanship, true skill would only come with practice, but they would at least be able to tell which end of the horse was which, so to speak.
With only five days left before the predicted arrival of the Jir, Arixa donned her newly crafted armor of polished leather and bronze and led the promised sweep of the city at the head of fifty riders. The sweep turned up a few hold-outs, none of whom required more than a verbal warning to leave. At the end of the inspection, Arixa passed in front of the gates of Agathyr Palace and paused to look up at the East Tower from which Orik ruled with a sweeping view of his forefathers’ city. Looking up, she could not know whether Orik stood there at that very moment looking back, but she liked to think that he saw her.
Arixa Katiarsi. Arixa Ironglove. Arixa whom he had tried and failed to kill. Arixa who had emptied his streets. Arixa at whose pleasure he continued to occupy his throne.
She paused there before the palace, just briefly, before galloping out of the city for the final time.
Skulis met her at the outskirts.
“It’s up to you now, brother,” Arixa told him. “You and the Guard and the other war bands who’ve come must keep this city empty for as long as you can. If we have succeeded, then nothing will happen at all.”
“What of you?” Skulis asked.
“We embark tomorrow for a land far to the East where we hope to do much more than save a city.”
A new voice called, “I’ve always had a mind to ride east one day. Might I accompany the Dawn?”
Arixa smiled on seeing yellow-robed Phoris walking toward them.
“You are most welcome, Brother,” she said. “Except we won’t be riding.”
Twenty-Two
Four days before Devastation, the Dawn broke camp and rode to the mountain hiding place of the Kephis ship. There Arixa met the Shadow-man for the first time since his awakening. Since bare skin would never suffice on the steppe, never mind these mountains, he was dressed in the style of the star-folk in a one-piece, form-fitting black garment. Over it he wore his jewelry of tooth and bone.
At Arixa’s approach, he sank to one knee and put hand to heart. “I am Baako,” he said in Nexus-G. His voice was remarkably deep. “I am told that I live thanks to you.”
“Not me alone,” Arixa corrected. “It’s thanks to the Dawn.” Tugging his elbow, she encouraged him to rise. “Do you not wish to return home?”
Baako stood. “The giant bug slaughtered all four of my brothers. I have no family left. I would like the chance to avenge them. Plus, as I said, I owe you my life, and that is a debt I do not take lightly. Honor demands I repay it with service. I was told you would welcome it.”
Arixa smiled and extended her arm. “There is no debt, Baako. But I welcome you to make the Dawn your new family, if you so choose.”
Grinning broadly, Baako clasped her arm. “Give me a weapon and I will smash your enemies.”
“We’ll provide you with all you need,” Arixa pledged. “Can you ride a horse?”
“A what?”
She laughed. “We’ll worry about that later. We don’t need horses where we’re going.”
* * *
Leaving their hundreds of mounts in the care of extra riders brought along for the purpose, the Dawn began boarding the two skyboats. The captured Kephis vessel could hold about eighty warriors, with the shuttle carrying an additional twenty-six. Th
at meant that multiple trips would be required to transport the three-hundred-plus strong war band to its destination far to the East, the land of the Han.
Ivar led the first group, which began establishing camp in a spot scouted by Zhi near the Han capital, a city called Luoyang. Matas followed with a second group and Arixa accompanied the third and final contingent. Zhi piloted the Kephis ship, while the three pilot-imprinted Scythians, including Tomiris, took turns piloting the shuttle. They had practiced over the icy wastes of the north, and their abilities proved adequate to the task of ferrying the war band.
In the camp they established near Luoyang, the Kephis ship remained cloaked with a tent concealing its entrance, while the shuttle was hidden a quarter-day’s trek away.
The arrival of so many foreigners on the rugged territory of the Han, near to a major city, didn’t go unnoticed. The Scythians didn’t attempt to hide their presence. With Zhi interpreting the musical language of the Han, Arixa communicated with the six men who came out from Luoyang on horseback. Envoys of the Emperor, they wore colorful finery and flew silken pennants.
The Han were curious, to say the least, how so large a force had managed to approach their city on foot undetected, but Arixa and Zhi held fast that this was a question for them to answer themselves. A small collection of Scythian gold and silver items was offered as payment for the privilege of camping on the Emperor’s land, with the promise of more to be paid when the visitors departed Han territory four days hence.
The Han were understandably suspicious, but a deal was made. Still, Arixa kept the war band ready for surprises, just as the Han likewise made no secret of the armed sentries they posted within sight of the Scythian camp.
Arixa and Zhi discussed the possibility of attempting to convince the Emperor’s men that their city was doomed, but decided against. Even in the unlikely event that the Han envoys believed the warning and could convince their Emperor, it was already too late. More likely, the Han would sense a devious motive and rethink the good will shown thus far to armed strangers. In this way an uneasy peace was maintained. It could never have lasted long, but then it didn’t need to.
