The Shivered Sky

by Matt Dinniman

  “Their sensors have likely picked us up by now,” Yehppael said. “Unless our cloaking is working.” He didn't sound confident. The personal camouflage devices could be used to conceal a pair of people, but not a little more than forty angels and a litter and a pair of humans. “Be wary, we may be attacked.”

  “We'll be there soon,” Ashia said. They could hear the guttural breathing of some of the giant monsters, though they were still out of view. Their pungent odor was stronger than ever. Hundreds of them were caged there, Xac had said. Mostly different. All terrible in their own way.

  “I'm scared,” Dave said, whispering it to Gramm. Escaping from the Spire had been the easy part. He thought of the beast that had ripped apart the angel base from below.

  Gramm smiled at that. “Of course you are. You'd be an idiot not to be.”

  Dave grinned back at his friend. So much had happened, yet somehow they were alive. “I've become the worrier and you're now the brave one. When did that happen?”

  Gramm didn't answer, just smiled sadly.

  “Have we learned anything?” Dave asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Unraveler. He said we'd learn something in the Spire, remember?”

  “I don't know,” Gramm said.

  The animal sounds were increasing—and not just because they were closer to hear it. They sense us coming.

  Like a tidal wave emerging through the darkness, the first cages came into view. They were in rows of several enormous squares the size of sports stadiums. They were made of a murky crystal. The shadows within were living nightmares. Claws, teeth, eyes, and spikes glittered and pulsed in the darkness. As they came closer, more cages came into focus. This whole area of the sett had been leveled and made to resemble a sort of checkerboard with the cages placed in every other row. The monsters ranged in size from as big as a blue whale, to so big they were literally stuffed into their cages, unable to move.

  One form, about middle-sized, but still gargantuan enough to take a nap on a football field and be cramped for space, looked familiar. A Burrower, Xac called it. The same type of monster that had dug through the angel base. Dave balked when he realized it fit so easily in the cage, with room to pace back and forth. It had been so huge out on the field, but it was tiny compared to some of the others.

  It was no wonder this city fell.

  Now Dave knew what Yehppael had meant when Ashia related to him the second part of the plan.

  “You're going to destroy the city,” the colonel had said, incredulous.

  “Just some of it,” Ashia said. “The occupied sections.”

  “They're trained to hunt angels. Once you release them, they won't just go bounding off for freedom. First they'll come for us, and with the air razors, we wouldn't be able to flee. You haven't seen them. Some are fast. Faster than you think.”

  “It's the only way we'll be able to get out.”

  That was the problem. She was right. While most of the setts in the undercity were attached, some were not. There was a secret way, through the ice core of this world, Ashia said, to the other side of Cibola where, hopefully, they would come out into angel-controlled territory. It was how Ashia and her Principalities had traveled to the Spire in the first place. It was why she had been chosen for the mission of blowing up the Spire. Only the Virtues knew the paths beneath the undercity.

  Unfortunately, this hidden entrance was located in a different sett, a smaller one. The only way to get to there was to leave this one, fly through the city, and enter some other underground cave. They would have to fly through the heart of demon-controlled Cibola. The only way they could possibly survive that was if they somehow became the least of the demons’ problems.

  There were too many possibilities for error, Dave thought, even if they did manage to get away with releasing some of the monsters. The hidden ice path could've been discovered by now. The entrance to the sett could somehow be blocked. The place where they were to exit—far, far away on the other side of the city—could've been captured by the Dominion already. Then, they'd simply be stepping out of one hell and into another.

  But other than fleeing back the way they came, back into the endless forest, they had no other choice. “It seems right,” Gramm had said. “I think we need to go deeper into the city. This may be our only way.”

  “Are you sure?” Dave asked.

  “No,” he admitted.

  There wasn't much of a choice, Dave reflected now, straining to see the top of a cage that held a monster that resembled a praying mantis. It threw itself against the clear walls of its cell, hissing. One could park a Winnebago in the nostril holes of the bug.

  How did they ever control these things? The praying mantis flared its wings. One of its blimp-sized segmented eyes seemed to focus on Dave. He shivered. It wasn't exactly like the creepy bugs. Its green body was longer in proportion and striped with a slightly different shade. It wasn't the bulkiest of the monsters, but it seemed to be the most active. It skittered back and forth in its cell, intently watching the oncoming angels. The speed with which it moved was phenomenal.

  It was to be his and another angel's job to open the cage for this one.

  “It's called a teast,” Yehppael said, coming up beside Dave, seeing that he was still watching the praying mantis with fear. “Don't worry yourself too much. Be glad you won't have to free the razer like I do.”

  “Why?” Gramm asked, turning slightly pale in the darkness. Each cage required two different people to open it, each pulling a latch. Dave was paired with one of Yehppael's Powers to free the teast. Gramm and Yehppael together were assigned to free the mammoth in the next cell over, a black mass so huge, its features blended together. It was just a lump in the cage with a single, angry eye. The razer.

  “There's a wound in the main wall wide enough to march a regiment through. The razer here caused that. It ripped through stone like it was made of parchment.”

  “How do they make them do what they want?” Gramm asked.

  Yehppael shrugged. “Some of them aren't handled very well. A few, like this razer here, have a collar. They're somehow controlled with that.”

  “Then why are we going to set that one free? They'll just turn their controls on,” Gramm said.

  Yehppael patted his gun. “We're going to blast their collars off.”

  “This isn't going to work,” Dave said miserably. He was thinking of another animal, Carumba. His dog had killed him on the ice.

  The mechanics of opening and closing the pens were outlandishly simple considering how gigantic they were. Two levers had to be simultaneously thrown, and the end of the cell would slide down.

  They were going to open as many cages as possible and run. Hopefully most of them would immediately make a break for the surface, creating mass chaos above. Like unleashing twenty Godzillas on the city. Dave looked up at the teast as it smashed itself up against the cage. It was like looking into the eyes of the apocalypse.

  * * * *

  Eyre eagerly listened to the security band for news on the angels and humans rampaging through the city. The thought of battle made her exceptionally excited. She thought of muscles bulging and sweat pouring from the arms and necks of Dahhak, Angels, Shishi, humans, it didn't matter. It had been almost twelve hours since she last gave birth, and her loins burned for physical passion. The men were insatiable after a heated fight. She wished she was off duty. She reached over and plucked up a rag with her tail, using it to wipe her neck and forehead.

  Monitoring security around the sett could be hideously boring. Other than the recent disaster with overdosing the Burrowers, it had been relatively quiet in the cages. They were escape proof, and other than the occasional stomach ache of a spigger or teast, it was incredibly unexciting.

  It was one of the many reasons why she wanted, needed, a child. She'd given birth to 8,199 litters. A little over 41,000 children, all dead. She kept careful count. None of them had lived more than a few moments. All tossed into
the ovens, crying, gasping for breath, hideously deformed. She named them all. Had a heavy book, bound with a human leather that kept careful track.

  The Sedim had an understanding with the Dominion. It had been one of their few demands. If they gave birth to a child that lived, they would be given leave of their duties for a full cycle to raise and suckle their offspring.

  They said the 8,200th litter was lucky. That's why she was particularly excited. She was late reaching the number. Most Sedim her age were well past 10,000. But her sickness had kept her barren for a long, terrible time. She still bore the pox scars on her legs and breasts. And her face. Which further impeded her constant quest for both offspring and sexual release.

  She wasn't taking any chances. She had a luck charm tattooed into her flank, and she carefully made sure her breath was held whenever she crossed a threshold. No bad omens for her. She knew she'd never be lucky enough to find an actual male Sedim—there weren't any here. Except for the boy borne of a dreadfully dangerous union with an Asag mating spear, but he was much too young, and he was secreted away in some apartment deep within the city. It was long known that pure, female Sedim could be born with the sperm of just about any creature. In fact, Eyre's father had been an anonymous Dahhak found at a trading post long, long ago. Her mother was fond of telling the story. “He told me I mated well,” she would say, enough times to get tedious. But male Sedim—until very recently—were thought only to be possible in a pure union, and even then, the odds of the litter containing any living males were remote.

  Dahhak were especially virile after battle. She was eager to get off duty and seek out a soldier. She just prayed there would be some more action. The excitement of battle was the only thing that cleared her mind of her urges.

  Blip. Blip. The monitor answered her wish. She jerked upright in her chair. She activated a camera and zoomed in on the contact.

  “Hello there,” she said, smiling. A group of angels walked through the ruins of the human dwellings. They were clearly headed for the cages. But how did they get in there? Other than the entrance here, they had all been sealed off. Were these the angels who had escaped the Spire? Or were they part of a larger invasion?

  She hit the alert. The leader of the handlers, a Geyrun, appeared on the screen. He looked extremely irritated, his red jowls quivering.

  “Sir,” she began.

  “I know,” he said, sighing. “You have contacts.”

  No time to wonder about that. “Yes, shall I engage?” They had recently installed manual cannons, part of the extra defense measures decreed by the new leadership, and they were accurate enough to fight a whole party of angels taken unawares. She had been wanting a chance to use them since they had been put into place.

  “Stand down, soldier, yesss,” a voice said from behind her.

  “I see they're there,” her commander said. “Do as they say.” His communication abruptly flipped off.

  “My Lord!” she cried upon seeing who had entered the security room. By now, everyone knew Uzkiev. He was covered with black soot and blood. His powerful arms were scratched and cut in several places. But it was clearly him. On his shoulder was his assistant, the Mite named Ascot.

  What're you doing here? she almost cried. But it was obvious. He had somehow anticipated the attack and came to observe her blow the angels to hell.

  “How may I serve you, My Lord?” she asked.

  He ignored her. “Ah, it appears I may be correct,” he said to the figure on his shoulder. The Mite whispered something, but she couldn't hear. Uzkiev nodded. He watched the monitor for a long moment. She turned back to the screen, waiting for his instructions. She altered the camera angles to follow the slowly moving group.

  “Would they be able to open one of those cages if they wanted?”

  He was talking to her. “Yes, My Lord,” Eyre said quickly. Her heart beat faster than it had in a long time. She trembled slightly, too. “But it would be suicide.”

  “How very vulnerable of the late Overseer.” He put a strong hand on her shoulder. She tingled all over. She'd never done it with a Nidhogg before. She imagined him twined around her body, hissing in her ear. “Is it possible to totally close off the sett?”

  “No,” she answered. She hoped he took notice of how prompt she was with her answers. “Emergency doors were placed by the angels to quell human attacks, but when the cages were built, they had to enlarge the entrance, and they destroyed the door mechanism.

  “But,” Eyre added, “under your orders, the subterranean cannons are online. Shall I engage them?”

  The Nidhogg didn't answer. He was frowning slightly, listening to the Mite whisper something quickly to him.

  “Are you sure that is wise?”

  The Mite whispered something else, angrily.

  Uzkiev sighed. “Let the angels and humans pass.”

  “Sir? What if they attempt to open a cage? Or even worse, several cages? We can handle two, maybe three escapes. But not any more!”

  The Mite was on her shoulder. It surprised her, causing her to jump. In his hand was a tiny blade, razor thin. “You won't have to worry about that, my dear,” he said. “You've served the Dominion well. If you have a family, they will be well taken care of.”

  She was suddenly extremely dizzy. She could no longer feel her feet. Or her tail. Everything was suddenly muddy. Like she had quaffed too much yellow berry extract.

  “It's a shame,” Uzkiev said. “She seemed like a competent soldier. Ugly, even for a Sedim, but competent.”

  “She's just at the wrong post,” the Mite responded. “It's all for the good of Broken Fist. And for the Dominion. We'll have to deal with the others quickly, especially that fat sett commander.”

  Eyre reached for the emergency button, but her arms wouldn't move. Hundreds of thoughts swirled, but she couldn't fully grasp onto any of them. How can I have children if I can't move? The ground rushed up and smacked her in the face. She could taste blood. They say 8,200 is a lucky number. It's my chance to finally have a child.

  It was getting hard to breathe.

  “How many do you think they'll manage to release?” the Nidhogg said. He sounds worried, Eyre thought wildly. Why aren't they helping me?

  “We can handle it,” the Mite said. “We just need to make sure those damn weapons are taken from the humans.”

  “They may end up in the stomachs of one of those beasts.”

  “Yes,” the Mite said, “That is a concern. If that happens, we'll have to retrieve it.”

  “Yes, sir,” Uzkiev said.

  Eyre's last thoughts were of her children, all 41,000 of them. She had names for them. Each and every one.

  Change

  Yehppael aimed his weapon carefully at the metal clasp buried in the hairy hide of the razer. It wasn't really a ‘collar’ in the specific sense of the word—the razer didn't even have a neck—but that's what it was called nonetheless. He pulled the trigger, and the control mechanism exploded. The beast screamed and unleashed a torrent of needles flying through the air at the access slit he had used to aim his weapon through. He dove down as a few of the six-foot blades shrieked through the air. The beast howled again, its one eye focused squarely on him.

  Behind him, a needle had completely pierced a stone pillar. He took a deep breath. He didn't know they could do that.

  Yehppael still couldn't believe the security down in the sett was so lax. Maybe they thought the creatures themselves would be enough of a deterrent. The most feral of them would be almost impossible to stop, especially without their control collars.

  He moved into position. Tamael found her way into his thoughts. He prayed for her. Since the onset of their relationship, this was the longest they had spent apart. The strong emotional reaction surprised him. Longing. You would not approve of this plan, would you? he thought. He wondered what she was doing right now.

  It was unlikely to have survived, but Yehppael had sent her a message about the plan in a mini-drone. Like many of the
other objects he kept on him at all times, the mini-drone was a failed or never fully realized invention of the engineers. It was the size of a fingernail, originally designed as a weapon of military assassination. It homed in on a particular radio frequency and exploded when it reached the target. But the few demons who attacked before the Fall who used radios didn't have a compatible frequency for the weapon. It was changed to home in and give a short message, “whispering” it upon the helmet screen once it was within a few hundred yards of the target.

  The problem was the range of the machines. They were intended to resemble and mimic a common bug; however, the devices adapted the range of the bug as well, just about half the distance this device needed to go. Once it ran out of its power source, it would just fall. Once the secondary power source died, the message would be erased forever.

  Since they couldn't cover great distances, and the already in-place system was deemed infallible, the project was scrapped. Only a few thousand of the mini-drones were ever developed. Yehppael was given one by an engineer whom he had given advice on a grip design for the new Stilettos.

  But even if she did receive the message, it was too late now for her to do anything for them. He could just hear her now. You dimwitted son-of-a-demon!

  He'd just smile back at her and say risks were necessary sometimes.

  Some risks, however, are greater than others, he decided as he looked up at the black mound of the razer. Each blade of its hair was like a sword, sharpened to a point, as long as an angel. Its impossibly blue eye was close to the ground, its massiveness towering over the rest of it like a mountain.

  “You're going to try to eat me, aren't you?” The giant eye, bigger even than him—but still disproportionately small—blinked hungrily.

  On the other side about two blocks away, Gramm stood, his hand on the control. Yehppael couldn't make out the human's expression, but it couldn't be anything other than fear and determination. He had struck him before, knocked him out. The boy held a grudge, but it seemed to be fading. Through all their self-indulgence and righteousness, humans had an unassailable sense of honor. They adapted easier, no matter what any other angel said, and they bonded together and formed relationships harder and faster than any angel.