Riwenne & the Bionic Witches

by Kristen S. Walker

  Eberet jumped back from the sandpiper. “You can read, too? And you’ve seen this book before?”

  Tika bobbed her head. “Worse, I’ve been to a few of his lectures.”

  Eberet’s eyes looked ready to pop out of his head. “But that was centuries ago!”

  “They’re not regular birds,” Kyra repeated.

  I raised my hand. “And don’t ask how old they are, because that offends them.”

  Eberet fumbled for a notebook. “Fascinating,” he said as he wrote something down. “Do you have a recommendation for a book about saints besides Naqut?”

  Tika sighed. “Some of the saints wrote their own books, but I don’t suppose those are still around. Nir Qumejola drew on them for his Life of St. Jenatta and other works.” She preened her breast feathers. “If you read an accurate biography, you’ll note that Jenatta had an albatross companion who guided her across the ocean, and some people heard her talk.”

  “I must request that title from another library,” Eberet said.

  Deryt cleared his throat. “Did you ask us here just to talk about some old books? I don’t see what these stories about saints can do to help us with our current problems.”

  Eberet closed his notebook with a snap and looked up. “Because, according to several of my informants, you did something today that is already being described as a miracle. The only people who can perform miracles are saints.”

  I shrank down lower in my chair. “What miracle?”

  “The train station was destroyed by a bomb, and then miraculously restored.” Eberet looked around the room. “I asked Deryt to bring whoever did it. Which one of you, or did you all do it together?”

  Janera pointed at me. “The last word I’d used to describe Riwenne is a saint,” she said with a giggle.

  Eberet turned toward me in surprise. “You?” He opened his notebook again and leaned closer, pencil hovering over the paper. “How did you do it? No one saw any sign of machines helping you.”

  “Um.” I felt Kyra nudging me in the side until I sat up straighter. I opened the locket and showed him the moonstone. “I used magic granted by Quilla and just put everything back the way it was before.”

  He shook his head. “It’s very hard to find any references to Quilla,” he said sadly. “The law says all books about her are supposed to be destroyed, but I suspect the temples may still have a few in their own collections. It would be impossible for a public librarian like me to gain access to those books. But, tell me more about this incredible power you seem to have. Did Quilla tell you how to rebuild the station?”

  “I’ve been training her,” Tika said proudly. “The train station isn’t even the biggest thing she’s done. You should see the upgrade she did on our airship.” She waved a wing toward Deryt. “He helped with that. Riwenne also can link powers from various gods.”

  Eberet examined us again. “Each of you has been granted your powers by a different deity. That was another interesting point.” He reached for the oldest-looking book on the table, with a cracked leather cover and heavy parchment pages. “Now, you describe yourselves as champions of your chosen gods. I found several references to the term, but this one was the most interesting. Have you ever had the voice of a god speak through you?”

  Everyone turned to look at me.

  “You didn’t sound like yourself today,” Kyra said. “Or the other time, when you destroyed Rennu’s factory.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself. “It was like she took over. I wasn’t in control of what I was doing or saying.”

  Eberet carefully opened the book and turned to an illustration of a priestess with the figure of a goddess looming above her. The text was written in a strange script that I couldn’t read. “In Old Ursan, the word for magic was che,” he explained. “When they use magic, priestesses channel it from the gods, or wenache. That literally means to become a vessel to hold the energy. According to this, the most powerful priestesses could be a vessel for the gods themselves and speak in their voices.”

  Kyra reached her hand out but stopped herself from touching the book. “You can read Old Ursan? Where did you learn it?”

  Eberet smiled sadly. “I was a priestess in a local temple.” He brushed his hair back, which had slipped into his eyes again. “I had to give it up when I came out as trans. The price of living my truth.”

  I shared a look with Vilqa, who nodded sympathetically.

  Kyra looked at the picture. “So priestesses could let the gods speak through them?”

  “At the most important festivals and ceremonies. Usually the role of the head priestess,” Eberet said. “Such a powerful undertaking took the strength of the whole temple to support her. But saints are said to speak with the gods, or even speak as the gods, with no ritual. This book says it’s because the gods chose them for a great task.” He looked at me as if he could stare right through to my soul. “Something bigger than rebuilding a train station.”

  I shivered, hugging myself tighter. “The station part was just me. Quilla was there to stop the bloodstones.”

  Eberet nodded. “The reports said the bionic witches were involved in the attack, but I wasn’t sure why.”

  I gave him a quick explanation of what had happened—the accident, Pomavar calling the other witches, the fight where we tried not to hurt them.

  “And then you summoned Quilla?” Eberet asked.

  I looked down at the table. Kyra had tried to reassure me, but I still found it hard to say what I’d done. “No, I was still in control. I was trying to stop Pomavar’s bloodstone so he wasn’t controlling the other witches. But when I took away its power, he died.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I killed him.”

  My friends went still. I could feel their eyes on me, but I kept focusing on the table in front of me. They probably needed time to process the news.

  Kyra put her hand on my arm. “Like I said, you did what you had to do. Quilla didn’t blame you for it either, right? Trust the judgment of a goddess.”

  “No, she took over right after it happened.” Tears threatened to rise again. “She was going to kill all of those people, the other witches. I begged her not to do it and she gave in, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop her again.”

  An enraged shriek filled the air. Tika flew straight at me, her tiny wings beating against my face. “You dared to disobey a goddess? Your job is to serve her will, not your own!”

  I ducked my head and protected my face with my hands, but she kept hitting me. “I couldn’t take any more lives! They didn’t deserve to die.”

  “That’s not up to you!” Tika said.

  “Enough!” Uqra squawked, raising her voice for the first time since I’d met her. She reached out on her long neck and plucked Tika out of the air with her beak. She dropped the little sandpiper on the table like a ball of fluff. “If the goddess didn’t kill them, she must have changed her mind.”

  Tika puffed out her feathers and hissed at the quetzal bird. Then she glared at me. “You should still show more respect.”

  I looked up at Eberet. “Is it true? Once Quilla takes over, I don’t have any say in what she does?”

  Eberet blinked in surprise, staring at the two birds. “Oh, um, I don’t know.” He adjusted his spectacles and looked at the old book again. “This just says you’re a vessel for the goddess’s will. I guess you’re not expected to have control.”

  26

  A Fleet of Airships

  After that heavy discussion, I needed a break. Vilqa left the room to get a pitcher of water and Kyra held my hand for comfort, but the others were tense. They didn’t know how to deal with me. I couldn’t tell if they were more concerned about me being a killer or the vessel for a vengeful goddess.

  Then Janera told Eberet what she’d learned last night about the bloodstones coming from Lyndamon. Eberet agreed that our next step should be eliminating the source.

  “With the numbers that have been showing up just in this town, I think it must be a la
rge operation,” Eberet explained. “It’s too much for Pomavar to handle alone, so I don’t believe it will end with him. I know you have a lot of power on your side, but it’s too risky to send you back to the floating city alone. I can send my cell’s resources to help you.”

  Amena leaned forward. “You’re ready to let us back into the rebellion?”

  Eberet held up his hands. “I can’t speak for the other leaders, so let’s just call this a joining of our forces. My people will assist you.” He held up a finger. “But there’s one condition.”

  Amena nodded. “What is it?”

  “Smuggling my people up to the capital through the official transportation is too risky.” Eberet jotted a number down on a piece of paper and pushed it across the table to Amena. “I can commit this number of fighters, but only if you can guarantee an exit strategy for them, like the way you escaped the first time. I don’t want them to be stuck up there if things go wrong.”

  Amena glanced at the number on the paper and frowned. “I don’t think we can fit that many people on our airship, even if we could make it bigger.” She folded her arms. “How are we supposed to help them escape?”

  Deryt took the paper from her and let out a low whistle. “You’d need at least three ships to carry that many people. Why doesn’t the rebellion have any ships of its own?”

  Eberet took off his spectacles and cleaned them with a handkerchief. “The leaders, including myself, have always thought challenging the skies was too dangerous. However, you’ve been flying an airship for almost two months and you’ve stayed under the empire’s radar. If you can get us the ships and make sure they’re not shot out of the sky, I’ll send my people with you to Lyndamon.”

  Amena turned to Janera. “You were just at the airfield. What did security look like? Could we steal any of the airships?”

  “Maybe a small one or two?” Janera said with a shrug. “We got away with Quilla’s Revenge because it was tiny and we slipped out without being noticed. I doubt you could get anywhere near the military’s gunships.”

  I had a sinking feeling about where this conversation was going next, so I kept my mouth shut.

  But Eberet’s gaze turned toward me anyway. “You built an entire train station in a matter of minutes. Couldn’t you create some airships for us with magic?”

  I looked over at Deryt. “He was the one who did all the design work for our ship. And I didn’t make that from scratch, I just changed an existing ship. Same thing with the train station, I fixed what was already there.” I held up my hand and created a flower. “When we make things from nothing, like our weapons, it’s something small. They only last as long as we’re concentrating on them.” I opened my hand, and the flower disappeared.

  Deryt nodded. “There’re limits to our powers, which we rarely discover until we’ve gone too far. It would be disastrous if Riwenne pushed herself until she blacked out again, and the ships she made ceased to exist.”

  I was pretty sure I’d only blacked out a few times, and I was getting better at avoiding it, but I nodded along. Better for Eberet to think I had weaknesses instead of seeing me as an all-powerful goddess vessel.

  “Then you two could change existing ships, even small ones, into battle-ready transports?” Eberet pointed at Deryt and me. “Because I know where there’s a junkyard full of decommissioned airships.”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again, unable to think of another argument. I looked over at Deryt with a shrug, and he nodded.

  “We’ll need some time to design and work on them, but we can try,” Deryt said.

  Amena stood up. “I’m sure you two will do great. The rest of us will get started on the battle plans.” She glanced at her pocket watch. “But I’m going to be late to my book signing.”

  Eberet wrote the location of the airship junkyard on another piece of paper and handed it to Deryt. “Assess the situation, then let me know an estimate of you’ll be ready.”

  Deryt nodded and looked at me. “Are you ready to go?”

  I got to my feet with a sigh. “Can we at least stop for lunch on the way?”

  Deryt agreed to get some food. We said goodbye to the others who were going with Amena to the bookstore.

  But before we left, Eberet grabbed my hand and leaned closer. “Do you think a god might choose me to be their champion?”

  I blinked. After all he’d heard about, he wanted to go through the same thing? I looked at him, but I didn’t see the same inner light I’d seen in my friends.

  Trying to put off his question, I shrugged. “Um, I don’t speak for all the gods, so I don’t know?” My eyes slid to his books on the table. “I wish I could borrow those books and learn more, but I didn’t get far enough in priestess training to study Old Ursan.”

  Eberet stiffened. “Everything in the Rare Books Archive is only available to be viewed in these reading rooms. We can’t allow such valuable artifacts to be checked out.”

  “Of course not.” I squeezed his hand. “Well, if anyone can make sense of them, it’s you. Maybe it would be a good idea to find out more about channeling the gods and how we can control these powers before we recruit anyone new.”

  He looked deflated, but he nodded. “That’s a good point.” He let me go.

  I hurried out of the room before he could ask me to do anything else.

  The junkyard was full of all kinds of broken airships and spare parts. Since Ruraqie produced many ships and tested out new models, they had a lot of leftover junk. Raw material just lying around and no one would notice if it went missing. The question was how many ships we could make and hide.

  Deryt crunched the numbers on a pad of paper that he’d brought to sketch out ship designs. Eberet had promised us more than a hundred fighters. The biggest zeppelins in the imperial forces could hold close to fifty people, but even one ship that size would raise suspicions.

  “So we make smaller ships,” he explained, pointing to his first rough design. “A little bigger than the Revenge, enough for twenty crew on each, but small enough to be maneuverable. If we make five, the extra fighters should be able to squeeze onto our ship. Six ships is a decent fleet.”

  I chewed on my lip and gazed up at one of the empty frames he’d already picked out as a potential base for us to work with. “Is one small fleet enough to take on an entire city? It won’t just be imperial ships we have to fight. Lyndamon has its own defenses, and I don’t know how many witches there still are under Rennu’s control.”

  Deryt tapped his pencil against the paper. “That’s something for the strategists to figure out. We make the ships first, then they’ll figure out how to use them. If we design these ships to look like military aircraft, we may get them close to the capital without them realizing until it’s too late.”

  I touched the scarred metal of another ruined ship. This one looked like it had already seen a battle, so I hoped it was eager to fight again. “We need to be fast. They’ll be looking for revenge on us for destroying their bloodstones. If they can’t find us, I’m afraid they’ll take it out on innocent people in this town.”

  “It took a lot of energy for us to modify the Revenge, and that was already a functioning ship,” Deryt pointed out. “You’ve already done a lot. I think we can make one a day and fly them out of here at night, but we shouldn’t start today.”

  I clutched my moonstone and turned toward him. “When we changed our ship, we only had your power to work with. Quilla has given me more strength than all five of us had combined before. I could start right now.”

  A mixture of awe and fear flickered behind his eyes. No doubt he was thinking about the way I’d killed Pomavar. I’d have to get used to that reaction from all of my friends from now on. I had power beyond what any of us could comprehend, and I could do terrible things with it.

  He must have seen how his reaction hurt me, because his expression changed to concern and he reached out to touch my arm. “Are you okay with all of this? Even if you have the energy, we don’t h
ave to start today.”

  I forced a smile. “I’m fine. It felt good when I fixed the train station. I was using my power for something creative instead of destructive. This is the same.”

  Neither of us said what we both knew—these airships would be weapons made to kill people. No attack on a city could be bloodless. I’d still be responsible for more deaths.

  But how many people would die in sacrifice if we didn’t stop them? Our enemies’ hands weren’t clean, either. I didn’t know this was what I’d signed up for when I agreed to become a divine warrior, but I should have known from the name. We weren’t called guardians or scouts or defenders of justice. Warriors were made for war, and we had many battles ahead of us before we took down Chysa’s empire.

  So I hardened my heart and threw myself into planning the quickest, most efficient way to stop Rennu. We made one ship that first day and finished the rest over the next two days. Eberet gave them the names of official ships that had gone missing or weren’t used, giving them enough legitimacy to hold up under a first look. Rebel pilots flew them to secret locations where the crews could train in how to fly.

  At night, it wasn’t as easy. I awoke from nightmares filled with death. I would see the power fill my hands and strike down Pomavar, again and again. Sometimes it was Rennu who died, or Nexita. One terrible night, I dreamed that I killed every single one of my friends because they’d refused to help me.

  Each time, I woke up with my heart pounding, my throat raw from screaming. Kyra was always there beside me, holding me close and stroking my hair until I calmed down. But although she made me feel a little better, she couldn’t make the nightmares go away.

  I refused to talk about my dreams with her or anyone else. It was another wall between me and my friends, but it was my burden to bear. I couldn’t even pray to Quilla for comfort. She might be the one who sent me the dreams, to get me used to killing.