Penult

by A. Sparrow

  I tiptoed to the opening of the grotto which at night was shrouded in several layers of heavy curtain, to keep the light in. I slipped between the layers and peered around the parting. Yet another body sprawled on the floor by the entrance, his arms still clutching a pair of rolled up sleeping mats—the quartermaster.

  Shadows danced behind bowls of glowing root strands that wiggled like flames. At first I thought the grotto was empty because she kept so still, it took a few moments to spot her. Victoria stood by the saw horses that held the captured cracker column.

  I was so relieved to see her. I brought down my sword, relaxed and took a deep breath. I assumed she had gotten here first and subdued or scared off the attackers who had taken out the guards.

  I was tempted to call out but didn’t want to disturb whatever spell she was conjuring. She stood with her back to me, her arms stretched out straight. One end of the cracker began to levitate off its saw horse, pivoting up vertical.

  I watched, mesmerized. Her powers were so strong she needed no sword or staff or scepter to focus them. Wisps of mist emanated from her fingertips as she manipulated the device.

  The column hovered a foot off the floor, bobbing like a buoy in a lake. She went over and pushed in a ring of knobs halfway up the column. It descended and upon making contact, began to spin. The stone beneath it gave way as if it were mud, heaping up around it to create a rim of re-congealed stone. The column embedded itself several feet deep, just enough to stabilize it so it did not to teeter or topple.

  Victoria pulled down a set of prongs from the top of the column until they projected horizontally like a ring of spike. She turned the uppermost segment until the bumps at its base matched those atop the next segment causing it to vibrate and hum. She did the same for the next segment, pulling down its spikes and rotating it until the bumps matched the one below it.

  This was a cracker and she was activating it! I stepped through the curtains and moved towards her.

  “Victoria? What the fuck? What are you doing?”

  Chapter 42: Treason

  Victoria’s head whipped towards me. I stood there gawking just inside the blackout curtains beside one of those guttering bowls of glowing root strands simulating flames.

  She jabbed her index finger at my feet. The cold stone instantly liquefied and surged up around me like a wave, solidifying around my ankles. She then slapped the back of her hand towards me and my sword went flying against the wall of stone behind me. It adhered to surface and turned as dark and tarnished as a fossil.

  “My apologies, but you are witnessing the end of New Axum, Mr. Moody. And … the end of you, I’m sad to say. These are to be your last moments in the Liminality. But no worries. I hear that you navigate quite well through realms. I have no doubt we will see each other again.”

  “But why are you doing this?”

  She shrugged and turned her weary gaze on me. She smiled sadly.

  “Because. I … am … fed … up. I am done … with Zhang … with all of these people, this place. My future lies with Penult. I am tired of waiting, of searching for souls with skills to match my own. Now I realize that my presence here was in error. I was meant for Penult. The surface must be restored to the worthy.”

  “That’s bullshit!” I said. “These Seraphs are no better than us.”

  “Maybe. But there are more than Seraphim and Hashmallim and Messengers and Cherubim in Penult. You know nothing of their Lords, the Erelim. You have seen nothing like them. They are the true powers-that-be. It did not me long to realize this as their prisoner that my future belongs with them. They are the truly enlightened. So this deed I am doing will be my penance, to take down this mountain, destroy this so-called resistance will prove my worthiness. In return, I am promised a chance to seek my rightful place in the after realms.”

  “You’re a freaking traitor!”

  “Oh, on the contrary. I am a redeemer. A restorer. A fixer.”

  She continued to work on the column, her fingers moving rapidly and intricately, peeling down the spines and rotating segments. She raked her fingernails through the air just above the surface of the column and etched deeper and more intricate grooves into its side.

  “Such a humble weapon they managed to capture. Not the best in the arsenal. But I can make this one better. Stronger. There is a lot of stone in this mountain and the roots are firm. Much more power will be needed to smash it down. Still, it is quite the windfall to find this one here intact. I was afraid I would have to craft my own from scratch. And as you know, mister wing builder, they are quite intricate.”

  “No! You can’t do this!”

  “And who is going to stop me?” She chuckled musically. “Not you, surely. Without your crutch of a sword. You know, for a so-called savior, you seem rather pathetic. I’ve studied you, James. I know all about your clunky spell craft, ejaculating prematurely, if at all. Sometimes you get lucky, but not always when you need it most. Such a dysfunctional little wizard you are.”

  I was dumbfounded.

  “What the hell? I used to … admire you. What happened to the Victoria who used to rescue souls from pods? Save them from Reapers. Lead them to freedom on the surface … to Frelsi? The one who put Luther in his place?”

  She smirked. “I am who I’ve always been, just a little more enlightened these days.”

  Repeatedly, she dug her fingers into the air a few inches away from the column, a virtual space that controlled the device by proxy. She folded down another crown of spikes, twirled it and locked it into place. Segment by segment she worked her way down. The column vibrated at lower and lower frequencies until the floor of the grotto began to shake.

  The blackout curtain parted. Olivier burst into the room, bearing a crooked staff, his hair all mussed, his clothes disheveled.

  “What the fuck is going on here? Did you two get a cracker going? Turn the damned thing off before—“

  Victoria flung her hand towards him and sent a ripple of power blasting straight for his head. Olivier dove to the floor of the grotto, stretching and reaching his staff towards her. A bolt of energy sizzled forth and scorched the ceiling above Victoria. The sorceress took aim with her palm and summoned another burst. Her aim was true. The plasma struck Olivier’s staff and splintered its business end.

  You know that feeling I get? That loosening in my stomach when I’m about to project that weird force that is an extension of my will? Well, it came on super strong and fast this time. And I knew this time that I would need no sword to help me focus and direct it. My target was obvious. My intention, righteous. All I needed to send it on its way were my eyes.

  The bolus of power separated from me without the slightest bit of strain or effort. It blasted out of my core as a diffuse glob of plasma. Victoria, astonished, had only a moment react. She thrust her palms out. A misty shield materialized before her.

  The plasma I had conjured came together on the fly, consolidating into a dull and opaque mass the size of a cannon ball. Victoria’s shield was still cross-linking and acquiring density when my will struck and tore it to a million wisps and bits. My plasma flashed bright blue when it hit. It spread and clung to her skin, enveloping her entire body.

  I had no conscious premonition of what I intended that blob to do to her. I just wanted to stop her. My emanation was fury and panic made physical.

  And stop her it did. Every pore and appendage of her exploded with roots. Fine tendrils swarmed from every hair follicle. Thick corms sprouted from her toes. Wiry roots stretched from her fingers, her ears, her nostrils, from every bump and crevice in her body. Her scream was stifled by a root that transformed her tongue into a thick and gnarled trunk that stretched to the floor of the grotto and anchored her firmly to the stone. When the sprouting ceased, the only sign of life she displayed was a pair of anguished and flickering eyes staring from behind a brow of rumpled bark.

  But the cracker column continued to thrum and shake the grotto. Stones and bits of gravel started to rain down
from the ceiling. I tried to go to it, but my feet wouldn’t budge. I teetered and fell backward. I was still anchored up to my ankles in the re-congealed stone.

  “Olivier! I can’t move. You have to do it. You have to turn it off.”

  He looked down at me helplessly, still holding his splintered staff.

  “How?”

  Chapter 43: Expedition

  Olivier rushed over and tried to help me. He whacked and pried at the stone binding my feet with his shattered staff. But he only managed to jam a splinter into my toes.

  The shaking intensified. The waves emanating from the base of the column grew in amplitude. Cracks appeared in the grotto wall. Several of the cracker’s segments had not yet been activated. If they had, the mountain would already be coming down.

  Olivier stared at the vibrating column and the thing that Victoria had become.

  “What the fuck were you guys trying to do?”

  “It wasn’t me, it was her! She was trying to take down the mountain.”

  I kept wrenching and twisting and flexing my ankles, struggling to free myself, but the stone held me firm.

  “Step back!” I said.

  I relaxed, took a deep breath and let my will build inside until I got it churning. I focused hard and cast it down as forcibly as I could at my feet. The blast struck the stone and dissipated, scattering like mercury across the cracked floor. My feet remained trapped.

  It was no wonder Victoria’s spell craft held firm. Her weaving skills were way out of my league. Unlike me, she could manipulate objects and substances that had long differentiated from root and her rearrangements were permanent.

  “Listen, you’re gonna have to turn it off. See those spikes? Grab ‘em and spin each segment until they’re out of alignment. Then you fold them up into their slots. Start at the bottom and work your way up.”

  Olivier just stared at me. He looked befuddled.

  “Go! Turn the damned thing off! I told you how. Now do it!”

  The floor was heaving. The bedrock below had shattered. Random blocks of stone rose and fell. Olivier picked his way through the chaos block by block, barely able to keep his feet. When he reached the cracker, he latched on to the lowest ring of spikes and pulled.

  It yielded slightly, but the column continued to vibrate.

  He grunted. “It … won’t … budge … any more!”

  “Fuck!” I said, straining with frustration at my trapped feet.

  Olivier leaned back and threw all his weight against the spikes. The segment gave way. He kept pulling until it rotated to a place where the knobs were no longer aligned and the spikes could fold up flush. He did the same with the next segment and the next until the vibrations eased and the column grew still.

  The air in the grotto was filled with stone dust. Bits of grit rained down from the shattered ceiling. The floor shifted. The block of bedrock holding my feet cracked, freeing one of my feet.

  A band of Duster warriors surged into the grotto ready to blast us to bits with their gnarled and knobby scepters.

  “Easy, easy!” said Olivier, holding up his palms. “Everything’s cool here.”

  ***

  The Dusters helped me free my other foot from the grotto floor with a hammer and chisel. A contingent of Frelsians hovered at the grotto entrance until they were comfortable that the cave would not collapse on their heads.

  When they learned that Victoria was now more or less a tree, they sent off a runner to inform Zhang. Meanwhile, the others strapped the warty, mangrove-like monstrosity that she had become onto a litter and draped her with a tattered, old curtain.

  Once I was freed, I borrowed the tools and went to work extracting my now fossilized sword from the grotto wall. I was relieved to see that although it was now entirely black, it remained metallic. Victoria had not transformed it into stone.

  I managed to chip it out more or less intact, though it was encrusted with bits of stone that remained fused to the surface of the metal, now warped with waves and ripples. I didn’t care. All I cared was that it remained sharp and pointy.

  Olivier went and stood over Victoria as the Frelsians secured her to the litter with long and wiry strands of root.

  Olivier stroked the burl that encrusted her forehead. “Will you look at this gal? So full of hate. Not one shred of remorse.”

  I joined him and saw her eyes all inflamed with horror and rage and pain. She would be screaming if she had a mouth.

  A Frelsian soldier of middling rank came up to us. He looked a little nervous.

  “Excuse me. Would you mind if we ask you two a few questions? Comrade Zhang expects a full accounting.”

  ***

  Olivier and I sat on a bench near the entrance and did our best to satisfy the Frelsian officer’s endless inquiries. He asked us to describe step by step everything that had gone on down here from Urszula telling me to get myself a saddle to finding the dead guards on the stairs to Olivier turning off the cracker.

  Several of the Dusters gathered around to listen in on us. The Frelsian found it difficult to believe that Victoria would have unleashed a cracker on their doorstep. The Dusters seemed to have an easier time believing.

  When the questioning was done, Olivier and I were left sitting on the bench. Now that morning had come, the blackout curtain had been pulled back. A mist hung over the cloud forest. Mantids hunted in the treetops. The clearing below swarmed with soldiers gathering for patrols.

  Olivier looked up at the cracked ceiling. “This place isn’t going to collapse on our heads, is it?”

  “Nah,” I said. “What was gonna fall already fell. Everything else is wedged in tight.”

  “Well, I’m glad you think so,” he said, as he picked splinters of the end of his shattered staff.

  Six Frelsians passed us with the litter bearing Victoria. I had to look away. The weird mix of anguish and disgust in her eyes still haunted me and I had no desire to see that again. It was almost as if I feared her gaze might taint my soul.

  “She’s not right in the head, that one,” said Olivier. “The Lords must have messed with her. Tampered with her soul.”

  “Yup,” I said, averting my eyes until the litter bearers had turned the corner onto the stairs.

  “That stuff you did to her. Is that something you can undo?”

  “I’m not sure. The stuff I do, I can’t always control.”

  He smirked and patted my arm. “Remind me never to get on your bad side. He looked up at me? “Hey, did you ever get your saddle?”

  “Nah. I guess I’d better go grab me one.”

  I got up and sauntered over to the wall of the grotto where all the Dusters stored their gear. Everything piled against it was covered with a thick layer of grit and dust. The dragonfly saddles were all humped and vertical like motorcycle seats, designed to prop the riders high so as not to interfere with the wings. Mantid saddles were flatter, and looked more like something you could use on a horse.

  I chose the saddle that had the least blood smeared on it. It looked a little too small for me, but maybe a lighter saddle would be good for getting Tigger used to it. I could always upgrade later.

  As I slapped off the dust, a large gaggle of people appeared at the entrance, led by Zhang and Yaqob and a pair of Old Ones, both women, the latest in the rotation of their leadership. In their communal system, any Old One was empowered to speak for all.

  “Is it safe here?” said Zhang.

  “Oh yes sir, of course,” said one of the officers who always seemed to be near him. “The lower terrace is firmly under our control.”

  “No. I mean the armory. It looked a bit damaged.”

  “Oh, it is quite stable. I can guarantee.”

  “Good. We’re meeting here, then,” said Zhang, striding into the grotto.

  “You. Come here. Now,” said Yaqob, looking at me.

  ***

  I was glad to see Kitt and Tyler in the entourage, back from whatever fade or scouting mission had taken them away. Ki
tt had her wings with her, all mended and redecorated over my bleaching. Urszula had come as well. She smiled when saw me with the saddle and gave me a thumbs up.

  We convened in a circle on whatever benches and stools Zhang’s people could throw together. The cracker column had been removed from its socket on the floor and replaced onto the saw horses beside us. Yaqob scrutinized its knobby surface closely studying the fresh grooves Victoria had added. He glanced over at me.

  “This is not the same device we captured.”

  “Yeah it is,” I said. “She modified it. Made it stronger. She wanted to take down the whole mountain.”

  Yaqob’s eyes twinkled.

  “Can you make another just like this?”

  “Uh. I doubt it. Not one that works.”

  “Why not?” he said.

  “Because … they’re complicated.”

  “Have you tried?” said Zhang.

  “Not really. But I … I don’t even know where to start. I mean, give me some roots and I can make a pole that looks like one of these. But it won’t be functional.”

  “Can this one be reactivated?” said Yaqob.

  “Probably,” I said. “I’d rather not try. Not here, anyway. Any more shaking and this cave is coming down.”

  “But you could start it if we brought it to Penult? Give the Pennies a taste of their own medicine?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  Excited murmurs swept through the grotto.

  “We must form an expedition as soon as possible,” said Yaqob. “The Cherubim in the basin are preparing another assault. This column will not be safe here.”

  “And yet more Cherubim come to reinforce their brethren,” said one of Yaqob’s scouts. “A new flotilla has arrived on the shore.

  “Will they bring more columns?” said Zhang.

  “Undoubtedly,” said the scout. “Their vessels bear cargo. But we couldn’t get close enough to see for certain. Their falcons drove us off.”

  “I volunteer!” said Kitt.