by Eyal Kless
I waved and smiled at her but Emilija simply turned her head back. The side wind hit us and rocked the balloon, and I was momentarily preoccupied with stabilizing us. Once that was done, and I lowered our altitude another notch, I turned back to Sergiu, who was looking suddenly significantly deader.
“What will happen to the girl?” I asked again.
He took several deep breaths but did not turn toward me, focusing on the distant horizon instead. “She will be safe.”
“Mannes needs her and is going to somehow use her abilities, then what?”
“She will be safe,” Sergiu reassured me once more.
“From all I’ve heard about your guy, I am not feeling entirely confident,” I said.
This time Sergiu did look at me. “Don’t believe everything you heard in the City of Towers. Some of it is just malicious rumours, but some were spread intentionally, to keep people away from our base. Sure, Mannes killed many, but he also saved many. He saved me.”
Choose wisely, even after death were the words of a mysterious prophet, relayed to me by the man calling himself the Healer. As I gently steered the weather balloon I thought, and not for the first time, about the strange world into which I had awoken. At first, I found it exactly as people had imagined it would be after a world war. With the total collapse of modern society’s structures and the loss of knowledge and technology, humanity had slipped back to the way our race used to live thousands of years ago. On the other hand, the world had also evolved to something else, something different. Oracles, Healers, Lizards, tattooed, Trolls, and Puzzlers—these creatures never existed before and now they were a part of these times. It made me think about fairies, witches, and dragons. People easily dismissed them as myth during the age of reason, but maybe there was more to it than that. I chased the silly thought out of my mind.
Soon you will be having to be choosing yourself, between light and dark, between old and new, between worlds. Choose wisely, even after death. Those were the Healer’s exact words.
In a way I had died and was buried deep in the storage of Central Command, only to be born again in this world. Was this what this strange man meant? Could I just walk away right now? Land the balloon and disappear into the wild? I could certainly survive it; I’d been through much, much worse. I could live the rest of my vessel’s life exploring what was left of our destroyed civilisation, maybe help rebuild parts of it, or at least teach a few people some science. It wouldn’t be a long life—none of the vessels were built to last—but it would be worthwhile, at least. Maybe what this planet needed was not to go back to the way things were before, but to heal into a different, new beginning.
Yet, if there was a chance that this Mannes was more than just a vicious warlord . . . wouldn’t meeting him be the best course of action?
Inside my chest, a printed, fault-resistant organ pumped enriched artificial blood into my body, but in my heart of hearts, I knew this time around I had to do things differently. I would not follow orders blindly, believing that only one side was just and good. No matter how I justified my actions, I knew, I knew, that something was seriously wrong with my missions, but I did them anyway, because a Tarakan doctor had saved my life and thus marked me as one of their own. Perhaps things would have been better for the world if I had been left to die of the Purple Plague.
I was shaken out of my thoughts by Sergiu. “I can see the edge of the Broken Sands.” He pointed in the distance as a look between excitement and relief crossed his face.
“Really? I’m not seeing much difference in the way the land looks.” Actually, I was only registering the gradually increasing radiation level.
“Believe me, I know where the ground is safe, and we should land this accursed balloon once we clear the Broken Sands.”
“Why not fly the damned thing all the way?”
“Not a good idea, unless you wish to be blown to pieces. Mannes has fixed the defence systems of the entire area.”
“That is . . . impressive.” I wanted to say “improbable” but checked myself.
“That was the first thing he did when we got here, but we were lucky. Other than the high level of radiation and the meagre yield of the land, there was not that much damage to the buildings and machines.”
It somehow made sense. Even in the midst of the most catastrophic war, people from all sides must have wanted the Pillar as the spoils of war, or feared what could happen if it ever collapsed. If the systems were not destroyed or fried, getting them to work again would have only required a power source.
“What if we fly low?” I suggested.
Sergiu shook his head. “There are trigger-happy, nervous troops who are going to shoot first and ask questions later. Might as well land here. We’ll spend the night, and come morning, take the route that won’t get us killed.”
There was no point in trying to argue. Sergiu was either telling the truth or setting us up. I began lowering the pressure of the balloon but chanced a quick glimpse at Emilija. She still was perched where I ordered her to be, her obedience as steadfast as her silence. The Lizard kept watch over her. I didn’t know what was going on between them, but I would bet hard metal, as the people in the City of Towers said nowadays, that the towering hulk of a monster would protect this girl with all of its considerable might. For some reason this gave me comfort, and despite how illogical it was, I silently swore to do the same. I would not let Emilija come to harm.
Chapter 62
Twinkle Eyes
It is one thing knowing where you need to be and another thing entirely to get there. Without maps or directions and the wild land being empty of people, we spent half our remaining power gems driving on roads leading nowhere, or into impassable swamps. An attempt by Vincha to use the hovercraft to drive across the wilderness cost a power gem and almost the shark itself. The surrounding land looked as if God tore it off with his hands and flung it in all directions, and many times we ended up backtracking dozens of miles over what we had believed was a promising route.
The shark was built for the Tarakan highways, not for cross-country voyages, and twice we had to stop and fix problems to the best of Vincha’s mechanical skills. I hunkered near the vehicle, where Vincha lay, sweat pouring down her neck, her LeatherFlex armour stained with muck.
“How are we doing?” I asked.
Her face contorted with effort as she twisted her arm deep inside the shark’s wheel guard. Suddenly there was a satisfying click. “Right.” Vincha breathed a sigh of relief and pushed herself out from under the shark. “I guess that will do for now.”
“You can let go now,” she yelled. I heard Galinak grunt and the vehicle was lowered back to the ground.
Vincha came to a sitting position and I stretched my hand to help her up. She glared at me for a brief moment but eventually accepted my offer and helped herself up. “What do you want, Twinkle Eyes?”
“Can’t a man be chivalrous without picking up a shark for you?” I asked.
Vincha snorted. “Save the chivalry for your cheap Salvo-novels. What do you want of me?”
“Actually, I wanted to give you a nourishment pill,” I said as I opened my palm and presented the pill to her. “It’s the last one for each of us, so we’d better begin thinking about water and food in the next day or so.” That was a lie. I had two more pills hidden in my belt, but I was not about to share that information with anyone.
Vincha had always been suspicious of me, and rightly so, but she was too tired, thirsty, and stressed to fear that I might be trying to drug her. She took the pill and swallowed it quickly. I watched the color rise back to her face.
“That’s better,” I said, and she nodded, then suddenly lost her balance. I managed to catch her before she fell.
“It’s the sudden effect of the pill,” I said as I eased her against the shark. “Rest a little and we’ll be on our way.”
She nodded and took several deep breaths. “What do you want to ask?” she said.
“How did you
—”
“You say I have a pattern.” Her smile was small and tired, but it was still there. “Well, so do you, and you might wear a different body, or vessel, or whatever you say the Tarkanians call it, but you’re still him, aren’t you? That shitty little secondary scribe who thinks he can save the world if he just asks the right question is still hiding under all that new skin.”
I nodded. “I hope so. I mean, it’s hard to tell sometimes, when I catch my reflection. Still the same old me, though, the man with the questions.”
Her smile widened. “Well, you are one lucky man ’cause I’m in the mood, so go ahead and ask.”
“It’s about Emilija.” I hesitated but went for it. “And the story that poor SkyMaster told me. He said she talked with a Lizard, described him, too. I’ve never heard of a Puzzler doing that.”
Vincha remained silent, and it spoke volumes.
“Emilija has tattoos on her head,” I pressed on. “I’ve never heard those being on a Puzzler before, and the way the SkyMaster told it, she not only controlled the Lizard but knew it was coming to take her away. What she told the SkyMaster to tell you, about not coming back to this world, that is a Nakamura-style prophecy.”
I was expecting Vincha to shout at me, deny the implications of my words, resist the comparison to the self-proclaimed oracle who mass-murdered hundreds of Trolls, or at least punched me in the face. But she surprised me with an answer delivered in the softest tone of voice I’d ever heard her speak.
“Emilija was always a special girl. Always. Quiet but knowing. I wasn’t there when she began to speak, but they told me she just opened her eyes one day at the age of two and began speaking like an adult. She always saw things which weren’t there and heard things only she could hear, just like her mother.” Vincha smiled to herself and her eyes shone. “Before I took her to the Kethans, Emilija was with another foster family. The wife was pregnant and Emilija told them they would have a stillborn son two months before she lost the baby. I mean, these things happen and it could have been explained as a lucky, unfortunate guess, but the family believed Emilija cursed them and I had to take her away. Obviously, I was cross with her, but Emilija simply told me she knew what was going to happen and felt the right thing to do was to prepare the family for the inevitable tragedy. Those were her exact words.”
Vincha looked straight at me. “She was nine years old when it happened. Truth is, Twinkle Eyes, I was too busy running around, protecting my daughter from the fate Tarakan was planning for her, to actually watch her grow, or take her first steps, or hear her speak her first words. Do you know what they were?” She waited for me to shake my head. “Her first words were ‘I am thirsty, and there is a dead frog in the cupboard.’”
I smiled.
“Maybe she has the prophecy in her, maybe she is just weird in her ways and lucky with her guesses, I don’t know, but I do know I will do anything”—Vincha’s eyes hardened—“anything, to prevent her from being sacrificed for the greater good of Tarakan. Humanity be damned if that is the sacrifice they are asking me to make for their ascension.”
“What if this is what she wants?” I asked.
Vincha waved a warning finger in my face. “No one wants to die, not really. Tarakan is just messing with her head, sending weird thoughts and visions to her when she sleeps, like they did to Rafik, slowly manipulating her into believing she has a destiny, that there is no other way but to do what she was born to do. That rust ain’t going to stick on me, Twinkle Eyes.” Her voice rose as I held up my hands, trying to calm her down. “She has the looks on her, she can find a man, raise a family, learn to help people or just rusting survive to enjoy a nice sunset. She doesn’t need to be consumed by some machine to find her peace in this world.”
“Let’s just find Emilija first, make sure she’s safe, and then we can think of a way out of this mess.”
“You were always smart, I’ll give you that.” Vincha straightened up and patted me friendly like on my shoulder. “Better use that brain of yours to find a solution, because I would hate to shoot you dead.”
I looked straight into her eyes. “Would you? Shoot me dead?”
Vincha tilted her head. “It’s obvious you never had children, Twinkle Eyes, because if it was between you and my daughter, I’d kill you in a heartbeat and wouldn’t even bother to bury your shiny new body. I would leave you to the crows or give you a Salvationist burial instead.”
“Do I hear words of poetry?” Galinak came out from behind the shark, patting his hands and grinning.
Vincha turned, her expression darkening. “Why are you so happy looking?”
Galinak spread his arms wide. “Well, Vincha, your daughter was taken by the bad guys and that is a sad fact. But here we are running after them in order to save her. If I were as smart as our mutual friend here, I’d say that by simple deduction, that makes us the good guys, and frankly, I’ve missed being on the side of the good guys.”
“You’re just as annoying as an itchy arse, Galinak,” Vincha muttered as she entered the shark. Both of us hurried after her.
Galinak was still chuckling to himself as we sped away, and when I was sure Vincha was not watching, so did I.
Chapter 63
Twinkle Eyes
We drove slowly into town to the sound of the shark’s constant beeping, a warning that our last power gem was getting close to depletion. I’d visited many places that had felt the wrath of the terrible weapons of the Catastrophe but nature had managed to recuperate and heal. This was not one of those places. Nothing was alive here. Nothing. It was as if whatever terrible weapons struck this place had sucked away all life. We were on the safe side of the Broken Sands, but the merciless south wind meant we were driving in a cloud of dust, which reduced visibility. It was obvious nothing could survive in this environment for long.
“Remind you of anyplace we know?” Galinak remarked softly as we passed building after building.
“Yeah,” Vincha muttered back, “this is like the rusting Tarakan Valley, only deader.”
“Guess it’s like the good old days,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. Both warriors turned their heads to me, and seeing the expression on their faces I hastily added, “You know . . . Tarakan Valley, the adventures, the Nodes, the deep runs, the loot?”
“You know, Twinkle Eyes”—Vincha was tapping the steering wheel in unison with the annoying beeping—“time for you to grow up and realise there was never anything truly good about the old days. I still wake up in a cold sweat at nights.”
“That’s when you’re too exhausted to keep yourself from sleep,” Galinak said, surprising us both. “What?” he added when he saw the look on our faces. “Just because I’m good at it ain’t saying I enjoy every moment of it. Although I have to admit, bringing home the loot was definitely satisfying.” He nudged Vincha with his elbow. “Remember the GY blasters we brought back from one of the deep runs? Were they still around in your time, Vinch?”
“Oh, you bet they were.” I couldn’t see the expression on her face but it sounded like she was smiling. “Nothing shouts ‘I’m a big bad Troll’ louder than balancing a mining cannon on your arm.”
“The first Troll to find one was Dorgmahr. Remember him?”
Vincha rolled her eyes. “That pile of rust. He had some loose wires in his head, that one. More augs on him than in a Gadgetier’s weapon stall. Still, didn’t help him in a deep run. Heard he was fried to a crisp by a trap, ruined his augs, too. They named a steak after him in the Chewing Hole. You could have it rare, medium, well done, or charcoaled Dorgmahr style.
“I miss my old body armour,” Galinak mused. “Sure, it’d seen some rough days and more than a few patches, but the dart shooting gauntlets . . .” He sighed. “Those darts were hard to come by and rusting expensive, but they had a certain elegance to them.”
This time Vincha snorted a laugh. “Elegance? I’m surprised you even know the meaning of the word. You wouldn’t know ‘elegance’ if it—”
“There.” I nipped the argument in the bud by inserting my arm between their faces. “I can see the Long Tube tracks.”
Vincha turned in the direction I was indicating. “Where? All I can see is a cloud of dust.”
“It’s right there.” I traced the line in the sky.
“Those Tarkanians did have style, I’ll give them that.” Galinak squinted, trying to find the tracks. “I’ve always wondered how they kept those metal rods suspended in the air for a hundred years.”
“Keep to your right,” I said. “We’re on the edge of the Broken Sands. We don’t want to accidently find ourselves in a sinkhole.”
“That wouldn’t be an elegant death,” Galinak muttered softly.
“You’re sure this is the only way to cross the Broken Sands?” Vincha asked.
“As far as I know,” I answered. The southern Long Tube was the most chaotic of the lines. It would take off at odd times and sometimes stop in midair for days, but it was the only way to cross the Broken Sands without driving on the treacherous land.
Thankfully, the outer gate to the station was unmanned, probably due to the harsh weather conditions.
Vincha sped up and parked us near the entrance to the enormous building. She handed Galinak and myself Comm plugs. As soon as I placed it in my ear I heard Vincha’s voice speaking in my mind.
“Can you hear me, Twinkle Eyes?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Good.” Vincha killed the engine, and the annoying beeping stopped, leaving us in blissful silence. She leaned her driver seat back and shut her eyes. “Now, before we go inside”—Vincha’s hair began to turn and twitch—“I want you to look into the building with those helpful eyes of yours and tell me what you see.”
I concentrated and scanned as far as I could see into the building. It took a while, and by the time I was done I was nursing a splitting headache. “The Long Tube is in there, on the top platform, and also more than two dozen soldiers in defensive positions.”
