Inheritors of Chaos

by Barbara Ann Wright

  When the tree reached the first slopes, Cordelia expected it to slow. Pool’s tree would have risked slipping on the rocks. Shiv’s tree moved easily between the spindly hill trees and scurried up the slope, going ever higher in the direction Naos had given her.

  Cordelia tried not to fidget as she scanned the growing darkness. The rain had stolen their ability to see all afternoon, and now night was almost upon them again. It seemed as if only moments ago she’d been stumbling aboard Pool’s tree, but all the traveling had eaten up the day and put her on edge. She didn’t dare scout outside her body, not so close to Naos’s lair.

  She chuckled at that thought. They’d made Naos into a fairytale monster desperate to rip out their hearts and eat their souls. Her brief laughter died. It’d be more amusing if Cordelia didn’t think Naos had exactly that in store. What else could they call it when one person carved out another person’s mind and attached it to their own, leaving the body a husk?

  Trying not to dwell on it, she drummed her fingers on the bark. Nettle rode just above her, and she was surrounded by people she cared about. She should take this opportunity to tell them how she felt in case the worst happened, but the hillside was so quiet. Even the animals and insects seemed to think it’d be safer not to be noticed.

  They crested the hill, the ground leveling. Cordelia worried they might have to go down another then up again, but a steep, rocky slope abutted the top of this hill, reaching toward the darkening sky. Piles of rocks lay scattered along the bottom, their color bright as if recently broken, and the tops of the nearby trees were scorched, the tips missing.

  They were close.

  Shiv’s tree climbed up the slope without difficulty, but several of its riders cried out as they slipped, just managing to hang on. Cordelia grabbed a limb with one hand and Nettle with the other as she tightened her legs around the branch she sat on. Simon grabbed one of her armor plates. He had an arm curled around a branch and was holding Reach with that hand. Pool’s large hand was fisted in his shirt, and her other hand held on to Nettle, who grabbed hold of Cordelia with one arm, her queen with the other, and had her legs wrapped around a branch.

  Cordelia barked a laugh. “Well, if we fall, we’re all going together.”

  “My daughter will not let us fall.” Pool sounded confident, but her grip didn’t slacken. Cordelia was certain Shiv didn’t want them to fall, but she was new to this moving tree thing. It had to take practice to hold people in the branches.

  Finally, the tree rounded the edge of the steep slope. Cordelia looked back and found it much more cliff-like from this angle. When her stomach threatened her again, she faced forward and gasped at the sight before her.

  The Atlas had made a crater where it landed, a blackened hole of rock and ruin. Pieces of the ship were strewn around the dented boulders along with bits of trees and a few burnt animal carcasses. No light came from the great machine, no hum. It shone in the last bits of daylight filtering under the cloud cover, but even with its long nose and with broken pieces jutting from its sleek hull, it seemed more like some great animal carcass than anything worth fighting over.

  “Shiv,” Cordelia said as loudly as she dared. “Take us to that stand of trees.”

  The order passed up through various murmurs, and the tree moved cautiously around the edge of the crater. The trees to this side of the Atlas’s nose still stood, though they were covered by dust and debris kicked up during the crash. Once under cover, Cordelia climbed down with the rest of the humans and Pool’s drushka.

  Shiv came, too, her face shining with hope. “I will go ahead while you remain here,” she said to Cordelia and Pool. “Naos expects me.”

  Cordelia only hoped Naos didn’t know they were all there, but what now? If Shiv had to go into that behemoth, how would they know when to strike? She was about to say so when she spotted movement on the other side of the crater, two forms half walking, half sliding down the slope and dragging two others.

  And one was wearing armor.

  Simon grabbed her arm. “It’s Horace and Lea!”

  Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief. Leave it to those two to get away from their abductors before they had a chance to be rescued.

  “I can reach them with my power,” Simon said.

  “No,” Cordelia said. “Naos will sense it.”

  “I will tell them to withdraw,” Shiv said.

  “Wait,” Cordelia said, but Shiv was already underway, her tree carrying her down the slope into the valley. Horace and Lea froze when they saw her, and she made her way to them swiftly.

  “Fuck!” Cordelia said.

  “Now what?” Simon asked. She could practically feel him vibrating with the need to run to Horace.

  “Where’s the door to the Atlas?” she asked.

  “Um.” He thought for a moment and rattled off something about airlocks and the Chrysalis bay and escape pods.

  Cordelia held up a hand. “Where can we approach without Naos seeing us or popping out a door?”

  He thought for another moment before saying, “The nose, probably. There aren’t any windows on the bridge.”

  That didn’t make any sense to her, but she supposed they had vids and computers to tell them where they were going. Maybe if they could have looked out a window, they wouldn’t have crashed.

  She glanced at the setting sun. “Wait until it gets a little darker, then we go. Hopefully, Shiv will have sent Horace and Lea away, and we can sneak inside after Shiv goes in.”

  Simon frowned hard but settled in. Cordelia drew her sidearm and waited next to him, their allies arrayed around them, and night falling fast. If Cordelia still prayed to the Storm Lord, she would have asked him to keep everyone safe. Instead, she took another look at Nettle, Pool, Reach, Simon, all her troops, and the drushka and silently told them that they’d better stay the fuck alive.

  * * *

  “Fuck,” Liam whispered.

  Horace looked up, wondering what Liam had seen. He dropped Patricia’s arm where he’d been dragging her and stared in wonder at the tree walking toward them. Not as large as Pool’s tree, it was still quite a sight. He’d have appreciated seeing it sooner. Then he and Liam wouldn’t have had to drag Patricia and the Storm Lord, though Horace had given himself and Liam plenty of boosts to keep their muscles going.

  Liam hung back as Horace went forward, peering into the branches. When Shiv dropped to the ground, his mouth fell open in happy surprise. “You’re back! How did your tree get so big?”

  She smiled, then glanced at the Atlas as if doubting that they should have this conversation now. Horace recalled the stories that Shiv had attacked Pool, but she seemed normal, not flying at anyone in a rage.

  She squeezed his arm. “Sa and shawness Simon wait behind me, and you must go to them.”

  “Simon is here?” The need to see him burned inside Horace, but shame filled him, too. He’d been such an ass, and he didn’t think he’d see Simon so soon. He didn’t have an apology speech prepared, didn’t know how to make things right.

  “What are you doing down here alone?” he had to ask.

  “I will see Naos first, then you may do as you please.” Her mouth set in a line as if she expected an argument.

  And she was going to get one. “You can’t go in there alone, Shiv.”

  “I will not be.” She gestured above, and Horace spotted Lyshus high in the tree and another drushka he didn’t know.

  “Three isn’t enough. I don’t know what you want in there, but—”

  “Please, shawness,” she said, her fists clenching and releasing, the claw prominent. “Go.”

  “Come with me.” He turned, wondering why Liam hung so far back. He and Shiv had broken up or something, so was he feeling shy? “Liam, talk her out of this.”

  “Liam?” Shiv said softly. She looked around Horace as if just now noticing someone else was there. Liam came forward slowly, clearing his throat as if he didn’t know what to say.

  Shiv’s face seemed t
o wobble, and she threw herself forward, leaping to wrap her legs around Liam’s waist. He staggered but held on as she kissed him wildly.

  “Go now, kiss later,” Horace said. He glanced at the Atlas, wondering if Naos was listening. “We’re giving Patricia and the Storm Lord to Naos, and that should satisfy her.”

  If it did, she made no answer.

  Shiv dropped to the ground and hissed, backing away from where Liam stood looking stunned. “You are not Liam,” she said, a growl in her voice.

  “What?” Horace took a step toward them just as a hatch on the Atlas lurched open in a screech of twisted metal.

  * * *

  Lydia regretted every single time she’d tied up Fajir. Having her arms bound behind her not only hurt like anything, she couldn’t keep her footing either. And every time she’d slid around the mountain, one of the worshipers jerked her upright, wrenching her shoulders again and again until she lost all feeling in her arms.

  No wonder Fajir had wanted to kill her at the time.

  But any pain was better than the Moon forcing her to look into the future over and over again. She’d never used her power so much in one day, and her head pounded. The blood had finally dried on her face from her cut to the forehead, leaving her itching, and the skin pulled around the dried blood every time she moved her face. Her throat was dry as dust, but for some reason, her nose ran freely. She hoped she looked enough of a mess that it made the Moon sick to touch her.

  They’d finally reached a crater that held the Atlas, but the Moon simply stared at it as if waiting for it to come to life. She was probably lost in the past, thinking of all her times with the Sun and how they’d never come again. Lydia would have pitied her anew, but she was too tired.

  Death would come at any time now. The Moon had the ship she wanted; she had no more use for Lydia. At least that would mean an end to pain and maybe even the chance to see Fajir and Freddie again. It had stopped raining, too. For some reason, that cheered her. She didn’t want to die in the rain, didn’t want to feel as if the whole sky wept for her. Too poetic by far.

  The Moon continued to stare until someone moved down the slope along the way. Then she stood, peering. When a tree walked down the opposite slope, Lydia almost laughed. It was too ludicrous. It wasn’t Pool’s tree, either. The Moon watched them, muttering to herself before she stepped toward Lydia, hands out.

  Lydia wrenched away. “Just kill me!” she said, rebellion rising within her if she wasn’t going to get an end to the pain. “I’m not looking into the future again.”

  The worshipers wouldn’t let her scramble away. She jerked her head from side to side and kicked, but one of the worshipers knocked her legs out from under her, and she fell to the ground, jarring her hip and setting her head to pounding harder.

  A screech of metal made everyone freeze. The Moon looked over the edge of the crater. Lydia peeked between her feet and saw that a hatch on the Atlas had opened.

  “No!” The Moon launched herself down the slope. “It’s mine.” Her power flowed ahead of her and knocked several bits off the Atlas. Then the worshipers were running around Lydia, blocking her view. She kept her back against a tree and closed her eyes, waiting to be trampled, but in a moment, they were all gone, running down the slope.

  Lydia pushed to a standing position, not believing her eyes as another group sprang out of hiding on the other side of the crater and rushed the Atlas as well. The light was failing, but she could just make out the glint of armor: the army from Gale. Lydia tried to walk, but her foot slipped and she fell back against the tree. She had to get someone’s attention, let them know she needed help.

  When they were done fighting for their lives.

  “Shit.” She glanced around, searching for a miracle. When she spotted a broken branch, snapped in the haste of the worshipers’ rush, she fell to her knees and squirmed until it was behind her, then rubbed the rope against the jagged sides.

  She wondered how everyone could continue to fight in the dark, and as if summoned by her thought, the Atlas made a whoomping sound before lights shot from small points all around it, bathing the crater in a bright white glow that made Lydia squint. All the people milling around the outside froze as one light shone toward the sky, illuminating a lone figure standing atop a shard of rock.

  The figure laughed, the hideous sound filling the crater from end to end. Everyone standing inside stiffened like wooden toys before they dropped and lay as still as the dead.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Simon stood in the halls of the Atlas, the caution lights bathing the sloping walls in an amber glow. He shut his eyes, knowing this had to be a nightmare.

  But when had he fallen asleep?

  “Laz?” a voice behind him said.

  Simon squeezed his eyes shut tighter, but when he opened them, the Atlas still surrounded him, and Dillon Tracey stood behind him in his old body, surprise and just a hint of malicious pleasure on his face.

  Simon reached for his power but found nothing. The sensation was enough to stop him dead. He’d only been without his power for eight months of the past two hundred and fifty years, and he didn’t enjoy the return to helplessness.

  Dillon spread his arms as if welcoming Simon home. “No powers, eh? If you’re gonna kill me again, you’re gonna have to use your own two hands, you little shit.”

  Simon sneered. “I don’t know why that man killed you the first time, but I’m sure you deserved it.” He turned away and scanned the hall, trying to pinpoint his location. If he could do that, he could find a way out.

  Dillon stayed on his heels, and Simon resisted the urge to say go away. He’d only refuse or laugh, and Simon didn’t want to be drawn into a physical confrontation with him unless he had…

  “Cordelia,” he shouted as she walked across an adjoining hallway ahead.

  She backed up. “Simon, what the fuck are—” She looked past him and stopped speaking, face falling into a murderous frown. She gestured Simon forward, and he hurried to stand behind her.

  “Hiding like a baby again?” Dillon asked.

  “I can’t beat you in a fight, not without my power, and we both know it,” Simon said. “Why don’t you try kicking her around?”

  Cordelia cracked her knuckles. “Yeah, God. No power is no problem for me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I think our time would be better spent trying to find a way out of here, don’t you?”

  “Out of where?” Simon asked. “Do either of you remember going inside the Atlas?”

  They shook their heads. A banging sound came from behind, and Simon glanced in that direction, seeing nothing, but the sound continued. When he looked back, Cordelia had looked toward the sound, too, and Dillon was gone.

  “Cowardly fuck,” Cordelia said.

  “Forget him. We have friends here, and he doesn’t.”

  “I didn’t see him with the Sun-Moon worshipers, and Patricia was on the ground.” She sighed. “That must have been him in the armor, not Lea. Horace probably thought he was Liam.”

  “We can work that out later,” Simon said as he headed toward the banging. He stopped when he saw Pool and a few of her drushka standing together, hammering on the cover to a set of ducts.

  “Pool!” Cordelia called.

  The drushka turned as one, faces confused. “What is this place, Sa?” they asked together.

  Cordelia stopped, pulling Simon to a halt as she looked from one drushkan face to another. “What the fuck?”

  The drushka looked to her as one. “Sa?” Even their confused expressions were exactly the same.

  Simon’s mind raced. They hadn’t gone into the Atlas; they weren’t asleep. He cast around for a door, any door, and one hissed open for him. He found a bed and a desk, standard crew quarters, but the monitor was what interested him. It switched on without difficulty even though the Atlas was a wreck. When it showed the ship as being in orbit around Calamity, he wasn’t even surprised.

  “We’re in Naos’s mind.�
�

  * * *

  Lydia had given up on ever feeling her hands again when the rope snapped. Her arms dropped as if they had weights attached to the ends, and she wanted to sag to the ground and rub them together, but she forced herself to stand.

  She walked to the edge of the crater. The Atlas still glowed, and the people were still scattered like grain and unmoving. She hesitated to go to them. Maybe whatever Naos had done only affected those she could see. Lydia ducked behind a tree and looked to where Naos was still standing. She’d gone as still as a statue, staring down at her victims, her laughter done, though she still smiled.

  Lydia glanced around, but just as before, no thoughtful worshiper had left her a weapon. Well, if a weapon was needed, Fajir would make one, so Lydia picked up the largest rock she could find that would still fit in her palm. She crept through the trees, trying to be quiet and straining to see with only the glow of the Atlas below to guide her.

  As she came closer to Naos, she stepped in a shallow hole, and the sound of crackling leaves and snapping twigs made her freeze. Naos didn’t move. Did she think she had everyone? That seemed like the height of overconfidence. Lydia crept closer, studying her: the unkempt hair, the tattered blue clothing, the one empty eye socket. She was taller than Lydia and as thin as a sapling. Her hands twitched, the nails ragged and splintered.

  Lydia hated the idea of hurting people, but as Fajir would say, this one definitely deserved it, and Lydia had a field of people to wake up.

  The sickening thump of stone against skull made Lydia’s stomach turn. As Naos crumpled, Lydia cried out and staggered back, the rock falling from her hands. She scurried forward again instantly, ready to shout that everyone should quit fighting, that she’d done what no one else could.

  The bodies lay as still as Naos.

  “Oh shit.” Lydia knelt at Naos’s side and turned her over. She still breathed, still smiled, and whatever she’d done was still happening.