by A. Sparrow
I turned and looked at Olivier. “You knew she was here? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She showed up … after you faded. I figured you needed to see for yourself.”
Karla stepped closer like she expected me to hug her. I kept my arms to myself and stepped back, which induced her to smirk.
“You have every right to be angry with me. I understand. But I told you, we were desperate. But you dismissed me. It was looking like you might never return here on your own. I needed to find some way to get you here. We need you.”
Normally, I would have held back, self-conscious of all these faces watching us, but I just tuned them out. It was like the whole plaza was empty but for me and Karla.
“We? What about you? Do you need me?”
“Of course. Why would you even ask?”
“This place was never our problem, Karla. We didn’t ever have to come back here again. We had lives to live.”
“You … had a life. I had nothing.”
“You had me. We had a whole life in front of us, there for the taking, but you rejected it … for no good reason. You rejected life … with me. You rejected me.”
“This has nothing to do with you. It is only my life I do not want. If you want to live, then live.” She gave this little shimmy of a shrug and bit her lip. But then her face shifted and this sad look came over her. “Please. Do not hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I’m just … disgusted.”
“Disgusted? How?” She scrunched her face. “Listen. I know you did not want to come back here. I know … I forced you … to become miserable like me. But I had no choice. The Liminality … is our future. Life … yes, there are nice moments … but they are gone in a flash. This afterlife is our future. It is forever. We have to preserve our future, no?
I just stood there shaking my head slowly. “I’m sorry … but life … real life … is way better than this place will ever be. That world we were all born into is … special. Why not enjoy it? Give it a chance. The afterlife can wait.”
“You don’t understand,” she said. “I’m talking about preserving our immortality. I’m talking eternity here. You are talking about … eighty years maybe … if we are lucky.”
“Eighty years? That’s a long time, Karla. You’d didn’t even give us a year. We didn’t even have a month together, for Chrissakes. What the fuck? You ditch me for this place? This ain’t life. It’s not even close.”
“No, not yet. But we can make it special,” said Karla. “This can be made … a very nice existence. But not … with Penult … here. And … I think you know this … there is no guarantee we control our destiny, that we end up here when we die unless we arrange to become Freesouls. If we leave it to chance, let the afterworlds choose where we go, we can end up in other places. Horrible places. More horrible than the Deeps. But here, we can cheat the universe. Make a nice place for ourselves. Forever. But not with Penult doing what they do. They need to be defeated.”
“And if we fail? What then? Would you go back? To the living world?”
She ground her teeth. “I am already still there, unfortunately. But I do not think I can stay for much longer, no matter what happens here. I need to find my sister. To whatever realm has taken her. I will go. Maybe you can help? Maybe this Singularity can find her, like it found me?”
“You would go … like … even to the Deeps? Seriously? You would go back to the Deeps?”
She bobbed her head. “If she is there. You don’t understand. But how can you? You were an only child. But she is my sister. My baby sister.”
My mouth dropped. I liked Isobel and I felt bad for whatever happened to her, but how did I fit into Karla’s view of existence? Did I even matter to her?
“Well, now. I see your priorities. And they don’t involve me.”
“That is not true.”
I started quaking like I had a fever. Stuff was loosening in the chest and threatening to break free. I thought I was going to explode and spatter my guts all over the plaza, all over all the faces watching this whole awkward encounter. I turned to Olivier “She can’t come with us. I can’t handle it.”
“She volunteered.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want her coming along.”
“James. We need every volunteer we can get,” said Olivier. “I was hoping for fifty. We only got fifteen, not counting the scouts.”
“Fuck it, then. I won’t go. It’s either her or me. You decide.”
I stood there, gazing off down the wide, steep avenue that led down to the rim. A flight of falcons dodging plasma blasts pursued a mantid rider along the cliff top. Something large flew up at the mantid and missed, slamming into a partially restored building. Its wall collapsed and crumbled. A band of armored Frelsian troops rushed across the junction and down the promenade to meet yet another threat. New Axum was not going to hold much longer.
Olivier leaned over, his voice hushed. “James. It’s cool. I’ll make sure you don’t have to work with her. Just let her come along. Please.”
“Fine,” I said, sighing. “But keep her out of my face.”
Chapter 55: The Shore
I slunk away across the plaza, seeking a quiet place to be alone, buy some time to get my head together. I was tearing up and I didn’t want anyone to see me cry, especially not Karla.
What the hell was she thinking, showing up now? I was doing what she wanted, attacking Penult, however futile the outcome of our piddling raid was to be. Why did she need to go and butt in now? How was I supposed to concentrate on anything important with her around?
I kept my head averted and ducked behind a stone fountain at the base of the meadow. This fountain been dry last time I had seen it. Someone had recently restored the flow.
Gravity-fed spring water gushed a few feet up into the air from the central aqueduct, cascading down six spillways to the pebble-lined channel that encircled it. It emptied into a deep groove that slashed across the plaza carrying clean water deep into the warren.
A bunch of insects came flying in, all bearing riders—another scarab beetle and several sleek and nimble creatures I hadn’t seen before, not in the Liminality anyhow. Whatever they were, they landed close to Tigger and spooked him. He took off and flew over to the meadow next to the Reaper pens.
I strolled towards Tigger, not because I thought I could comfort him, but figuring he was my responsibility and I should keep him from straying too far. He preened his antennae as he watched me approach with those huge compound eyes. He let me come right up to him without threatening to taste me or attempting to flee. I was impressed.
I climbed up behind his wings and checked my ‘fat man’s’ saddle, finding it perfectly configured with the cinches and straps all snugged up tight. Someone had already gotten Tigger prepped and ready to go for me.
My Tyvek-patched Seraph wings were folded up and lashed to the base of his abdomen. Water skins were slung from loops. The saddle bags were stuffed with manna chips and some gooey, smelly crap wrapped in leaves that I hoped was meant for Tigger’s consumption and not mine.
Olivier whistled to get our attention and waved for us to join him. Tigger let me climb aboard, no problem, but I just sat there in the saddle kicking and stomping and patting his shell, trying to get him to go.
“Giddy-up! Yee-haw.”
I might as well have been trying to get a boulder to take wing. He remained oblivious to my commands.
Tigger continued to ignore me, but as soon as Ubaldo let out a piercing shriek, the damned insect responded, buzzing us back over to the others on the plaza. My Duster friends had apparently been getting him trained up while I was away. I wasn’t sure I was capable of replicating Ubaldo’s scream with my reedy voice. This was going to be a problem.
Tigger set down right next to the three cracker columns. They were laid out on the cobbles like missiles on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier. Encased in their shrouds, I had no way of discerning which one was real.
The assembled party offered various grunts of assent. I looked over the group and saw mostly Dusters and only a few familiar faces. There were only two Frelsians joining us and zero Old Ones. I suppose that wasn’t too surprising because Frelsians had little experience with bugs. The Dusters coming along were primarily from the old guard—Yaqob and Urszula’s generation. Ubaldo was one of the few recent immigrants from the Deeps.
Out of the corner of my eye I watched Karla hop onto one of the robber flies. Since when did she know how to ride a bug? I have to say, those robber flies were impressive creatures. They looked sort of like houseflies, but way more lanky and burly, built for speed and predation.
Olivier came up beside me and Tigger. “Hey James. No offense, but I want you in the rear group with Zhang’s people.” He clambered up onto a massive metallic-blue scarab that seemed to have a stripped-down easy chair strapped to its thorax. “The Frelsians are still a little shaky with their bugs. It’ll give you guys a chance to much around and practice. Less pressure.”
“That’s fine!” I said, though it came out louder and more annoyed-sounding than I intended. Olivier gave me a weird look. Of course it made sense to have the more experienced Dusters on the lead dragonflies. I was just feeling agitated.
Everybody climbed aboard their bugs and made last minute adjustments to their gear. I was not ready for this raid one bit. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I wish I was still in the Orkneys, in Jessica’s aunt’s cottage.
The three lead dragonflies took to the air first. The robber flies quickly followed. And then Tigger burst off the plaza without me needing to do a thing. While we circled overhead, the beetles opened their wing cases and lifted off the cobbles, swooping down over the cracker columns, latching onto the shrouds with their claws. The crowd on the plaza cheered as they thundered off to join us.
Each of the bug riders followed Olivier’s instructions to a T. All except me and Tigger, of course. As soon as we got up in the air, Tigger zoomed up over the beetles and took up a spot just behind the tail of the lead dragonfly, an impressive specimen with a huge wing span, a golden green body and eyes of iridescent amber.
I tried every kind of slap and kick to try and get Tigger to go back, but he paid no attention to me. He had decided on his own that he was going to be second banana to the big green bug and that was that. When the leader’s wing men came over and tried to nudge him aside, he tussled with them, scraping wings, pummeling their heads with his feet.
I felt deeply embarrassed. I could imagine Olivier rolling his eyes at the sight. Ubaldo came zooming down on his hornet and I thought for sure we were in for a scolding.
He pulled up next to me, his face calm and unperturbed. “No worries,” he said. “You can stay here. We know your mount is difficult.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded, though there was nothing I could have done about it if he had changed his mind. Tigger was determined to follow the leader.
Ubaldo leaned slightly to his left and his wasp responded like it was wired to his brain, arcing wide around our flank. And yet Ubaldo was as new to bug riding as me. Not fair. At least, flying up front, it was easier to keep from staring at Karla.
My feelings about her remained a jumbled mess and I expected things to stay that way. I was pissed at her beyond belief for what she had done. Though, it was tinged with relief that nothing nefarious had happened to her. I was worried about the risk of her coming to Penult, but glad she wouldn’t be in New Axum when it fell. The bottom line was, I still had feelings for her. They weren’t going away anytime soon, but I wasn’t near ready to let her know that.
We passed over the wilder and un-terraced back reaches of the mountain. Here, overhanging cliffs dropped in one fell swoop to a splintered badland of pointy spires and deep, dry gorges, terrain so treacherous it required no defenders. I wondered, though, what one well-placed cracker column might do to tame it.
We followed the one river valley that remained under the control of the Dusters. The route was familiar to me. Urszula had taken me this way to Tigger’s bog. Though, when we reached the circle of peaks that cradled those wetlands like the walls of a massive bathtub, we veered eastward, to an area of savanna that reminded me of the pitted plains before crackers had torn them up. Here, too, the land was dotted with pits, portals and vents to the underworld, a place I had no desire ever to return.
We headed for a range of hills backed by yet more ranges in the distance. Hours, we flew. Tigger had a way of flying that forced me to stay alert at all times. Over and over he would spot something that would interest only a dragonfly and veer off and dive without warning to inspect it, leaving my stomach in the lurch somewhere back in the clouds. Then, just as abruptly, he would dart away from whichever dead tree or rock formation had piqued his curiosity and rejoin the formation. I no more controlled this bug than a sack of rice controlled a donkey.
Staying alert for all of these herky-jerky changes in direction was exhausting but necessary to keep from tumbling out of that damned saddle. These things had no seatbelts. I wondered if I could rig up some kind of life line or safety tether, whenever, if ever we landed. At least it would give me some peace of mind.
On and on we flew, over hills and marshes, deserts and forests. I kept hoping we would stop for a rest. Surely these insects needed some refreshment. Their stamina astounded and disappointed me.
Finally, late in the afternoon, the last range of hills rumpling the horizon gave way to a narrow forested plain fringed by gleaming ocean. Chevrons of breakers converged on a strand of golden sand lining the broad curve of a bay. The lead dragonfly led the descent with Tigger close behind.
***
We touched down lightly on the sand. The beetles behind us scraped trenches with their payloads and struck the beach with a thud. I sat there hunched in the saddle, muscles quivering with exhaustion, still clinging to the handholds. The other riders had already dismounted and were dipping into their saddlebags.
Yaqob’s scorpion fly hopped over to the surf line to nibble on the remains of some fleshy mollusk that had washed up. The beetles went and huddled over a decaying heap of giant kelp like cows over a bale of hay.
I took a deep breath and lowered myself to the ground, grateful to feel solid earth beneath my feet. Ubaldo came striding up.
“Remove your saddle. There is good hunting in the forest. We will let the insects forage before nightfall.”
“We’re not gonna tether them? How do we get them back?”
He looked at me like I was a dunce before a trace of sympathy entered his expression. “Don’t worry about yours. He will follow the others. He is a good dragonfly. He is just young and stupid.”
Yaqob came strolling up. “We can’t camp here. Too exposed. The Seraphim will spot us.”
“There is forest behind the dunes,” said Ubaldo.
Olivier came dragging his chair-like saddle through the sand. “We should lay low and keep a watch for the scouts. We should see them patrolling down the shoreline once they return. Once we have a confirmed visual, we can send up a guide to bring them down to us.”
“And if they never come?” said Ubaldo.
Yaqob sighed. “If they don’t come, we cross without them.”
***
Our fellow raiders helped haul the crackers under the cover of the glossy-leafed trees that backed the dunes. Their canopies spread w
ide and dense between their narrow, ribbed trunks, while thickets of shrubs screened us from anyone who might approach on foot.
Ubaldo went off to take the first watch atop the dunes, digging himself a foxhole concealed with hunks of driftwood and strands of dried seaweed. We expected the scouts to come up from the south where the crossing to Penult was the narrowest. But that was also where the Cherubim came ashore in their oar-driven ships.
As the sun hunkered low, I wandered the fringes of our camp, keeping my distance from Karla. Maybe I was being immature, but I wasn’t ready to talk to her. I needed some space. It felt weird, avoiding her, after a week of trying to hunt her down across half of Scotland and all of the Singularity.
She pretended not to notice me, making no attempt to approach or even look my way. Was she respecting my need for space or did she simply not care anymore? When I spotted her joking around with one of the male volunteers, a wave of jealousy roiled my innards.
My emotions towards her remained too strong, too raw, and I could not handle them any better than I could handle Tigger. It was inevitable that I would be the first to break my self-imposed silent treatment. Maybe she knew that. Maybe she was just being patient and understanding. Maybe she was just a selfish and conniving bitch.
But I had to stick it out a little longer. I had to send the message that she had been wrong to manipulate me and that these were the consequences.
As the dusk deepened, our insects settled down for the night. The beetles dug shallow burrows in the sandy loam behind the dunes while the robber flies and dragonflies perched high in the canopy. From all the cricket parts I found strewn beneath their roosts, I could tell their hunts had gone well.
I found Olivier sitting with Yaqob in a little glade ringed with shrubs and joined them. It was getting so dark I could barely make out their faces, and the canopy of broad-leafed boughs overhead only made things darker. Giant crickets began to creak in the distance, their chirps as loud as chainsaws.
“When the time comes, I can spell Ubaldo on the watch.”
