by James Bow
I also thought: She looks so much smaller in death than in life.
Simon finished stacking the wood and he came to stand beside me. He looked at my face, then at the Elder, and matched my silence. Our fingers brushed and he took my hand. And, for once, I did not take my hand away.
But soon it was time. I gathered the bits of wood and wove the most flexible ones into a nest that floated on the swampy water. I motioned for Simon to help me move the Elder onto her death nest. When it was ready, I grabbed an edge and pushed into the swamp. The water lapped up my legs and over my waist, but I kept going.
Then the current pulled at the nest, and I let go. The Elder slipped through a gap in the trees. I watched until the fog veiled the nest from sight.
I stood with Simon, up to my waist in water, and began the Grief Song.
« Go to waters beyond.
And the rewards that wait there.
Justice. Joy.
Your time has ended.
The fight against pain.
Against hunger and need.
Is over.
Go beyond, to your well-deserved … »
I stopped. I bit my lip in frustration. I could not say the last word. My eyes stung. I could not say it!
* * *
SIMON:
I stood in the silence a long moment before I looked up, wondering what was wrong. Eliza was staring ahead. She worked her mouth, but no sound came out.
From listening to the earlier words, I guessed that the word Eliza wanted was “peace.” I realized then that we’d never spoken it. We’d spoken around it, using words like rest, quiet and no more fighting, but none of these would have fit as well.
Then I realized that the Elder had made other sounds when she’d been speaking to Eliza — sounds I couldn’t mimic, much less begin to translate. My mouth hadn’t been built for it.
Eliza’s mouth hadn’t been built for it either.
So the word remained unsaid. Her jaw tightened. Her eyes glistened.
Then she let out a wail. It rang across the roofs and the water, rising and falling in pitch. It was more than just grief. There were no words in it. It was just Eliza’s voice, singing the Elder’s way to the Creator.
As Eliza let out her mournful wail, I found my thoughts straying. Back to Iapyx and all the people I’d left behind — who had gone before me. To Aaron. To Ethan. Marni. Rachel. I hadn’t had time to stay for the Lament. So I sent up a solemn prayer from my childhood, one that had been spoken at my mother’s funeral. I said it for them, and for the Elder.
“You have seen the light and been burned.
You have done all you can for those who need you.
It is done.
May your soul find peace in the shade.”
Eliza’s fist touched my shoulder. She’d stopped singing. I turned and she pulled me closer.
I closed my eyes as she touched her forehead to mine, then her nose to my nose, then her forehead to my forehead again, as she and the Elder had done on her return home. We put our arms around each other and held on for a long moment. I felt her breath on me. Then we let go.
Without a word, we returned to the village and put on our carrying bags. We walked into the fog together, leaving the ruins of the Icarus behind.
ICARUS RISING
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
WALKING TO DAEDALON
SIMON:
Rachel came to me in my dreams again.
I surged from the latest nightmare and found myself staring into Eliza’s face. She kept her hands on my shoulders.
“You scream,” she said. Then, « Are you all right? »
The nightmare faded, but not quickly enough. I shuddered. “Yeah.”
She stayed close, frowning. “Who Rachel?”
I blinked up at her. Had I been talking in my sleep?
“Just a friend,” I started, then stopped myself. That lie was far too obvious. “A good friend. She died when my city fell.”
I rolled away.
I felt Eliza’s eyes on me for a long moment. Then she sighed, turned away, and nestled down beside me to sleep.
* * *
ELIZA:
We left the Elder, the last of my people. We left my home, for the last time. We walked.
Simon could see the pathways now. I hunted; he gathered fruits. We shared silences across our fires.
We came up through the cloud and into the narrow gap. On the other side, we paused. The hive that had been there the first time I came to this chasm was gone. Simon’s city. Eye-a-pix.
Simon had paused the last time we were here, and now I knew why. Then we were leaving his world behind, and now we were leaving mine. I had been here before, but then the Elder had been back home. In a strange way, I had felt she was still with me. Now, no longer.
I heard the stones scrape. Simon came up beside me, looking at me.
“Eliza —” He was going to apologize. What for? It would not bring the Elder back.
I cut him off. “Where we go? Let us go.”
“I’ve changed my mind about Octavia.” He looked grim. “We’re walking to Daedalon.”
“Why?”
He got quiet. The dry wind whistled around us, tugging at our travel pouches, our hair. Finally, without looking at me, he said, “I’ve been thinking about the sickness that swept the Elder’s people after the advance team arrived.”
“My people,” I said.
He paused at that, then went on. “Daniel Tal — Nathaniel’s father — was the chief medical officer of the Icarus, and its chief xenobiologist.”
“Zee-no-by- …”
“Sorry. He knew how plants and animals worked. He knew about how things get sick.”
The silence stretched again. “The sickness. He did this?” I said.
His shoulders hunched up. “I’m not sure. But I think he did.”
« We always believed this, » I said. « My people did not understand what happened, but we knew enough to connect it to the invaders. »
“We didn’t know,” Simon said quietly. “Most of us never knew. And I think that’s what’s happening here. Daniel Tal committed genocide, and his sons have killed to protect that secret.”
The wind blew. My skin prickled in the dry heat. “Thank you,” I said. “Not lie to me.”
We had gotten around to “lie.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I tapped his shoulder blades with my fist. “This Na-than-i-el … He at Daedalon?”
He straightened up. “I overheard the guards talking about him when they were looking in our cave. I’m sure he’s at Daedalon.”
Suddenly, I saw Simon’s goal. I was impressed. “Good!”
He frowned at me. “Good?”
« It is good that he is there. If he is there, we will find him. And when we find him, we shall have our revenge. »
“We’ll have justice,” he said sharply. He tapped the bag at his hip, where he had his black box.
I raised my shoulders and let them drop. “Same thing.”
He looked at me a long breath, so silent that I had to look at him. There was a sadness in his eyes that I could not understand. “No,” he said at last. “It’s not.”
“What mean?”
He bit his lips. « Truth. No more lies. A better story. » And he said again, “Justice.”
“I not understand you.”
« I not understand you, » he said.
Revenge, justice. We just didn’t have the words. Maybe even it was more than words.
I felt the distance between us, and the silence. I turned away and walked down the slope into the fog. A few heartbeats later, I heard his footfalls as he followed me. It was a long while before Simon found something different to talk about. We did not talk about Nathaniel again.
* * *
SIMON:
Months of walking brought us to Daedalon, practically on the eve of Nocturne. Eliza pulled aside the ferns and nodded. « There. »
The fence stretched before us, buzzing with
energy. Eliza clearly didn’t like it, but we were home. I felt strangely ambivalent about that. I had been gone so long and had seen so much, home was nothing familiar. At the same time, I felt a tightness in my chest. Was it nerves? Anticipation? We had much to do.
“Plan?” asked Eliza.
« We go in, » I said. « We sneak past guards. Find clothes. »
« How do we get past the barrier? »
“We can’t touch it,” I replied. “We can’t go over it or open it. So we have to make the guards open it for us.”
She raised an eyebrow. « How? »
I brought out the full canister of firepills we’d taken from the Icarus crash site. « With fire. Get wood. I prepare. »
Eliza stepped away. Near the base of the fence, about five metres away from the gate, I started stacking up sticks for a fire, a fire with a difference. Rather than start a single firepill and pile kindling on top, I opened the canister and filled it further with more firepills from another canister we’d taken. I placed this carefully beneath the sticks, beneath a thick bough that I’d propped up with a precariously leaning smaller stick.
I didn’t hear Eliza approach, so when she asked, « Simon! What are you doing? » I almost knocked the bough onto the loaded canister.
“Don’t distract me,” I muttered. “I need to concentrate.”
She folded her arms. “What you doing?”
I nudged the canister forward. “I don’t want to wait while a little fire becomes a big fire to bring the guards out.”
“But what plan?” she said. “You not good plans.”
She might be right. How was I going to knock the small stick away so the heavy one could hit the firepills and ignite them? I should have used string. It was too late now. Instead, I grabbed another stick and poked it into the fire to knock the small stick down.
I heard Eliza backing up. “This smart?”
“It’s fine,” I muttered, and the stick knocked the prop, and the bough fell on the full canister with a crack.
Eliza dove for the ground.
It was a very big fireball. Above me, the fog went bright yellow, then angry red, and the distance between it and me closed, very fast.
Eliza grabbed me as I was scrambling up. She yanked me away from the fireball, and we landed in a heap among the ferns.
She pushed herself up and glared down at me. « You idiot! You and your silly plans: I know, I shall go and get between a mother slink and her hatchling! I shall set myself on fire! »
Maybe it was shock, or adrenaline, but I grinned. Behind us, the fire was catching. “I think this plan will work.”
She helped me up. We stepped behind a bulbtree while the flames licked up, igniting the wet wood. The fog turned orange.
Beyond, a door banged. A man shouted. I translated his words for Eliza.
“Fire extinguisher!” the man said. “Now!”
There was a whine and a squeal. The gate was opening. « They are coming, » I said.
Two shadows appeared in the fog, materializing into security officers holding fire extinguishers, which they sprayed at the fire. I nudged Eliza and nodded at the open gate.
She hesitated. She frowned at the guards, and brought out her blowpipe.
No! I shook my head and beckoned her to follow. She didn’t move.
The guards were still fighting the fire, but they wouldn’t be occupied forever. I pointed emphatically at the gate.
Glowering, Eliza shoved her blowpipe away and followed me. I led the way through the gate and past the rows of crops.
There was no need to shoot these guards. If we could get in without their notice, it would be much better. And I thought we could get in without their notice.
Until the stem materialized out of the fog, and I saw they’d shut the door behind them.
I looked behind us. The fog no longer glowed orange. I heard no sounds of spray. The guards were talking.
“What do you think happened?” said one. “Did a branch fall on the fence?”
“No,” the other replied. “Look at that stack of sticks. This wasn’t an accident. This was a bonfire.”
I jerked on the door handle, but it wouldn’t move. There was no button release, just a deadbolt lock that I had no key to.
“Bonfire?” said the first guard. “What? Who? Ticktock monsters?”
“Whatever it was … I think they set it to lead us out—”
Footsteps pounded through the undergrowth. I rushed for the gate. Perhaps I could shut it. But even as I took my first steps, I knew I wouldn’t be in time.
Then Eliza stepped up beside me, putting her blowpipe to her lips, and I couldn’t stop what happened next.
* * *
ELIZA:
I blew, reloaded, and blew a second time. The second guard lurched out after the first and keeled over on top of him.
I shoved the blowpipe back into my pouch. Then I looked up and saw Simon staring at me. « Why are you looking at me like that? »
“You killed them!” He knelt by the guards’ limp bodies and pulled the heavier one off his partner.
I stared at Simon. Why would he think this? « I did not! »
“But — you hit them with your darts—”
Is that what he thought my darts did? « It wears off after a sleep. Two sleeps on people, » I said. « You must know this! Always I have to break the animal’s neck after I hit it with my blowdart! »
He was suddenly unable to meet my gaze. “No … I did not know that. I thought …”
What in water did he think of me? « I do not kill unless I need to kill. »
Simon looked up at that. He looked at me, curious. « How do you know if real need? »
Somehow, that question stung. « I just do! »
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get them inside.”
Simon started to move the the guards. I noticed, however, that he checked to see that each man was still breathing. I tried not to be insulted.
We dragged them in beyond the fence. Simon pressed a button on one of the posts, and the fence gap closed. He searched the guards’ clothes and found the key to the stem’s doors. He opened them and we stepped inside.
The inside was brighter than I had expected, and smaller. Lights burned behind glass in the ceiling. There was a pair of sliding doors, leading to a smaller room.
Simon led me into this smaller room. And here our trail ended. There were no other doors. No steps leading up into the city. I looked up and around, searching for secret openings. To come all this way …
But Simon slid the door closed and pulled a lever. Steam hissed and the walls rattled. The floor shook and I grabbed a handhold.
“Elevator,” he said quietly, but smiling. « Remember? Lift machine. I tell you. »
« Oh, yes. » But I felt trapped. And I hated that Simon took all of this in stride. I straightened up, planted my feet and gazed at the closed door, just as he was doing.
« Will this take us to the top of the hive? » I asked.
“No,” he replied. “Only a hundred metres or so.”
After a breath of silence, he added, “It’s for defence. You go up one short elevator because, if there’s trouble, they can shut it down. They make you switch elevators so that someone taking over the elevator doesn’t get an easy run to the city.”
« Defence from what? »
He grimaced. « The Elder’s people, I think. »
« My people. »
He did not look at me.
« When we come here, » he said, slowly, « we put our cities on fog floor. We could not see. Our machines — » he searched for the word, « red turned. » “Rusted.” « Then … »
He took a deep breath. I knew the story my Elder had told me, but this was the first time Simon had talked of what he really knew. I waited.
« Stories say clicking monsters attack out of fog. Hundreds die. Many never found. »
Silence fell. The elevator suddenly seemed much smaller.
« The Elder had
her reasons, » I said.
« I not blame her, » he said.
« I think you do, » I said. Then I added, « I do not blame you. »
The floor stopped rising. Simon opened the door. Even though he had told me about the lift machines, I was still startled to see that the room outside had changed.
We stepped into a corridor. The wall curved in front of us and, to our left, steps leading up curved behind the lift machine’s shaft. There was a door a few steps up. It was open, and voices drifted out.
Simon tapped my arm, a warning. I nodded. I crept to the edge of the door and peered in. There were two men and one woman inside, seated around a table, holding small, square pieces of paper that, from time to time, they tossed onto the table. The two men had their backs to the door. The woman did not. No one was looking at us.
I signalled back to Simon. Three. No one watching.
Simon nodded. He motioned me back from the door and did not object when I pulled my blowpipe out and shoved a thorn inside. Then he coughed, loudly.
Feet shifted in the room. “Ben? Gaz? That you? Everything all right out there?”
Another voice chuckled: the woman’s voice. “You two aren’t sneaking up to the Nocturne celebrations, are you?”
“Gaz is out cold!” Simon shouted. “Come out here, quickly! Give me a hand!”
Scrapes and footsteps erupted from the room. Shadows darkened the doorway, and a guard emerged. I blew. He managed one shout before he fell forward. A second guard came out and tripped over the first. I shot again. He jerked as the thorn hit, then lay still.
I listened for one more set of footfalls, but none came. I looked at Simon. He shared my look, and crept to the door, peering in. Then he lunged into the room.
I rushed after him. I arrived just as he pulled the female guard away from a slot in the wall. The guard was holding a container that would have fit into the wall, and Simon seemed to think it very important that the container stay outside. The guard turned and smashed the container, end-first, on the side of Simon’s head. He stumbled, almost fell, but grabbed the guard and tackled her. They struggled.
I could not use my blowpipe. I might hit Simon. But then Simon shoved the guard with all his might, and brought up his hand, fist balled, and struck. His knuckles connected hard with her jaw and she crashed to the floor.
