by Matt King
Halfway through her speech, it looked like she wasn’t talking to him anymore, which was fine since he stopped understanding almost as soon as she started.
“You’re confusing him,” Balenor said. He cleared his throat. He rubbed his knees while he talked. “What she’s trying to say is that she figured out a way to transfer one living person’s life, if you will, into a new one once the body dies. The people who live here never really die. They move on to a new body, be it a walking human or a swimming reptice.” He motioned to the animals swimming above them. “As they do, Ion collects their memories and learns from them.”
Bear looked up at the creatures with a new, slightly unsettling understanding. “It all sounds so futuristic.”
Soraste tugged at a strand of her dark hair. “Artificial life evolves. Same as us.”
“Not exactly the same,” Balenor said. “But it is an interesting experiment.”
Her eyes dropped to her lap.
“Though as we’ve seen with Galan, those experiments can be dangerous.”
“He doesn’t respect life,” she muttered. “He meddles.”
Bear felt pressure to fill the pause that followed. Both of the gods took turns looking at him, although Soraste didn’t make eye contact for long. “I guess it’s time we talked about the reason I’m here,” he said.
Balenor gave a thin smile and nodded. His nostrils flared when he took a breath, like he was trying to appear calm even though he wasn’t. Soraste watched with a smile as a reptice swam past the light of their fire overhead.
“I’ve come to ask for your help,” Bear said.
The gods shared a look.
“I don’t ask lightly.”
“No,” Balenor replied, his face growing pale. “I don’t suppose you do.”
“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t think it was necessary. This war affects all of you.”
“It doesn’t affect me, and it doesn’t affect Soraste. Who it affects is you and Meryn and Paralos, the people who started this war.”
“For now,” Bear answered. “That’s true. Me and the Horsemen and August, we’re the ones fighting for your survival.”
He wasn’t practiced at using guilt to get what he wanted, but it was one of the only cards he could think to play when he was planning his strategy. He waited to see how they would respond. Soraste didn’t change her blank expression at all. Balenor crossed his arms and bit his lower lip.
“I don’t think we can help you.”
Soraste looked at him.
“But you didn’t even give it a thought,” Bear said.
“I’ve been thinking about it since Soraste predicted you’d come. I didn’t believe Meryn would do such a thing, but apparently I don’t know her as well as I thought I did. I doubt any of us do. I appreciate that you are thinking of our well-being, but we simply cannot support a potential civil war between our order. The universe would suffer even more than it already has. We can’t be party to it.”
“I’ll do it,” Soraste said.
Bear sat up tall. Balenor turned to her with his mouth open wide.
“You don’t mean that!” he said. He looked pleadingly back to Bear. “Please, she doesn’t know what she’s saying. She doesn’t mean it.”
“I do know,” she replied weakly. “I want to join.”
“Soraste, think of what you’re doing. Who would you get to fight for you? Your worlds are constructed to avoid these kinds of conflicts, not join in them!”
She nodded toward her lab. “Ion will fight for me.”
“Ion?!” Balenor put his hand to his brow. “Dear, Ion is a floating colorful sphere. He can’t fight for you.”
“He can,” she said. “I’ll teach him.”
“You’ll teach him…” Balenor stood from the pit and climbed out. He put his hands on his hips. “Well I can’t help you,” he said, waving his hand in the air as he spun back around. “I can’t help either of you.”
“Balenor,” Bear said, choosing to use the god’s name in hopes of calming him. “We’re stronger together.”
“We’d certainly have someone at our side as we all die together, wouldn’t we?”
“If you don’t join, how long until Amara comes for you?”
“Amara is reasonable. Yes, she has some…difficulties, due to her faith, but they’re difficulties we can work through if we try.” He addressed Soraste again. “Think about it. If we all got together and sat down and talked, I’m sure we could get through to her.”
“She’ll never listen to reason,” Bear said.
Soraste folded her arms. “She doesn’t comprehend reason.”
“But no one has tried!” Balenor pleaded. “Not really. What about Meryn? Maybe you could talk to her and Paralos and…and…get them to surrender! Yes, there’s nothing in our laws that prevents it.” He said the words like he’d just worked through the facts as he spoke. “If they surrender together and let Amara know that they’ll never take up arms against her again, we can end this war and get on with our lives. You can go back to your life.”
Bear shook his head. “There’s no going back to the life I had.”
“Of course there is. You’re just being stubborn.”
“No,” he said. “You don’t understand. Everything I cared about is gone.”
Saying the words ushered a stillness in him. Soraste and Balenor watched him with solemn expressions.
“I lost my mother when I was young. Not long after, my father got sick and I spent most of my years taking care of him. Despite his condition, we were happy. We ran a farm. Our life was simple until this war. When August came and told me what I’d been chosen for, I said I didn’t want to go. I still don’t want it, but no one ever asked me what I wanted, they only told me what was coming. And then I saw what Amara’s champions were capable of.” He stopped looking between them and concentrated on Balenor. “Talus killed my father for no other reason than to provoke me to fight. Gemini came through after and probably killed thousands of people just to get at August and me. Amara orchestrated all of it. None of those people were a part of the war. None of those people were a threat. They were innocent and she killed them anyway. Does that sound like a reasonable person to you?”
Balenor shied away from Bear’s look. “I’m sorry for your losses,” he said. “I hadn’t heard of that happening on Earth.”
“It did happen and it’ll happen again. One day it’ll happen to people on your worlds.”
Balenor sniffed. “You don’t know that.”
“Balenor, stop it,” Soraste said.
“Do you realize what he’s asking us to do? Do you really? This is Amara we’re speaking of here. No, not just Amara. Galan, too. And if we join, what do you think she’s going to do? She’s going to recruit Anemolie and Tamaril, gods who are more powerful than you, me, and Meryn combined, not to mention that they have armies and champions far beyond what you and I do. Far beyond.”
Soraste quieted. Bear thought he could see the wheels turning in her head, wondering if she might’ve jumped the gun by joining early. He raced to head her off.
“Maybe that’s true,” he said. “If you’d rather think of it another way, consider this: Suppose August and I lose. Suppose Paralos’s champions lose. Who does that leave to protect you once your life is on the line? If you think you’re outnumbered now, think of it when we’re gone. And if you’re worried about their strength now, it’s only going to get stronger if we lose.”
He got out of the pit and walked closer to Balenor, who took a step back.
“You’ve got a choice here, and it’s not whether or not you want to fight. I’m here to tell you the fight is coming. The choice is whether you want people at your side fighting with you or not.”
Balenor looked from Bear to the Horsemen. Their black face masks returned his stare. Finally, he looked to Soraste. He let out a pronounced exhale and cast his eyes at his feet. “I don’t suppose you’d allow me some time to think?” he asked, but it didn’t sou
nd like much of a question.
“Afraid not,” Bear replied. “The quicker we gather our numbers, the better chance we have.”
Balenor nodded with a defeated smile on his face. Soraste watched both of them, her eyes nervous and flitting.
Bear extended his hand to the god and held it there while Balenor studied it. “In my world, we shake hands when we agree to help each other.”
Balenor stole a final look at Soraste. He took Bear’s hand weakly and shook. “All right,” he said. “I’ll help you.”
Soraste clutched her hands to her mouth.
“It appears we have much to prepare,” Balenor said. He wiped his hand across his brow and tried to smile. “Much to consider.”
“Maybe it’s time I brought Meryn in to help plan.”
Both of the gods straightened when he mentioned her name. Bear took a step away and held his gloved hand to the circular mark on his chest. He felt a small jolt of electricity in his fingers.
Not knowing what else to do, he closed his eyes and sent Meryn a thought.
It’s okay, he said. You’re safe.
There was a pause as they waited. Finally, a familiar sound sprang to life as a synapse formed behind him. When he turned, he saw Meryn step through. Her blue eyes found him first before looking to Balenor and Soraste.
“My friends,” she said. “It’s good to see you both again.”
Soraste rose slowly. She lifted herself out of the pit and walked over to Meryn, stopping about an arm’s length away. She hesitated, then leaned forward to put her arms around Meryn in a hug. Her head rested against Meryn’s shoulder.
Meryn held her with a gentle smile on her face. The soft light of the reptice danced over them like snowfall.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
August slogged through the trampled snow of the camp with a bed sheet full of canned food over his shoulder. He straightened as he walked past Aeris, doing his best imitation of someone who wasn’t completely exhausted from the climb, but the steam rising from his heavy breaths gave him away. He dumped the contents of the sack next to the fire. The Vontani looked more confused than excited when he showed them his haul.
“It’s food,” he said.
“You caught this?” a woman asked.
“No, it’s canned vegetables. Plant food. I mean, it’s food that comes from plants. I found some in a bomb shelter back in town.”
While Dondannarin and her crew started picking through the cans of green beans and corn, he searched the edges of the camp for Shadow.
“She’s farther up the ridge, beneath the trees,” Aeris said, pointing to the nearby peak.
Shadow’s orange eyes were the only thing visible in the fog-covered hills. They disappeared in a long blink.
“Has she come down at all?” he asked.
Aeris shook her head.
One of the women held a can to her nose and sniffed, bringing it away with a confused sneer. She pressed her finger against the metal top.
“Here, let me show you.” He took the can from her and brought out a sword.
“Don’t you stab things with that?” Aeris asked.
“It’s clean,” he said. “Mostly.”
The blade cut through the top of the can easily. Even so, he wished he’d searched around for a can opener when he saw the sharp edges his sword left behind. Two things he didn’t forget were a couple of pots and a bunch of bowls. He poured the beans into a pot and told one of the Vontani to hold it over the fire until the green stuff looked hot.
Aeris picked up another can while they cooked the first. “Where did you say you found this?”
“Bomb shelter.”
“I thought you said you hadn’t come into contact with other worlds.”
“We haven’t. People built shelters a long time ago when we were worried about another country bombing us to oblivion.”
“What is a country? Are they dangerous?”
He hesitated, trying to piece together a definition he’d never had to think about before. “Countries are kind of like little worlds we claim for ourselves, except it’s all on this world. Sometimes we get into fights.”
“But you’re all the same people. Why would you try to kill yourselves?”
“I didn’t say we were proud of it.” He took out his second sword and gave it to her. “You can use this if you need to open more. See if you can get Shadow to eat some. I don’t like the way she’s acting. She seems sick.”
Aeris cast a wary glance to the hill. “You assume she will let me. Where will you be?”
“I’m gonna go see a man about a horse.”
She didn’t ask, which was probably for the best. He took one more look up at the hill, where Shadow blinked slowly before moving to the other side of the ridge.
“Go ahead,” Aeris said. “I’ll see to her.”
With no sun to go by during the day, they’d learned to judge the onset of evening by watching the clouds. When they turned yellow, it was only a matter of time before the temperature dropped and the wind began to howl. Darkness came quickly and when it did, it was like being stricken with blindness. There was no adjusting to the low light because there was no light, and no hope of moonlight breaking through the clouds. It brought back memories of living with his mom. She would send him to bed wearing a night mask so he wouldn’t wake up early and rob her of sleeping in. The panic of waking to darkness with his eyes wide open still made him shiver.
He turned around to mark the direction of the camp. The firelight didn’t extend far beyond where the women were having their first taste of Del Monte’s finest. He made his way over the hill to make sure he was out of sight.
Holding a deep breath, he braced himself for the shock of cold and released the seal on his suit. The paralyzing chill was instant. Every gust of wind felt like daggers shooting against his bare chest. He turned his back to stave off the worst.
His teeth chattered uncontrollably. He started whistling to take his mind off the cold. As soon as he started, he spotted a pair of eyes looking through the bush in front of him. A floppy set of brown ears appeared over the leaves.
Please tell me I’m not hallucinating. A rush of adrenaline warmed him. How long had it been since he’d seen an animal that wasn’t from an alien world? He could hardly believe his eyes. This is someone’s dog. Someone survived.
He finished up and started to close his suit again as he walked over slowly. “What are you doing out here, puppy?”
The dog inched away. When she was far enough past the bush that he could see her, he recognized the black and tan body of a small Doberman, though her ears flopped over instead of standing on end. He got within arm’s reach and held out his hand to let her sniff. She edged forward, extending her neck to keep from getting close. Finally, she sniffed his fingers and let him scratch the side of her head. He worked his way down to the collar and looked at the tag.
“Emma,” he said. “Where’s your owner, Emma?”
A gust of wind swirled through the woods, pelting his face with clumps of snow from tree limbs above him. He triggered his mask to fend off the pain. As soon as it shut, Emma jumped back. She growled as she backed away, then took off into the trees.
“Wait! It’s still me!” he called after her. He retracted his mask and gave chase, trying his best to keep pace with the limber Doberman as she wove effortlessly through the drifts of snow. At least he could follow the debris she kicked up, otherwise she would have been impossible to see in the increasing darkness. Don’t get too far from camp, he told himself, but the promise of finding survivors was too tempting. For some reason, it felt like the most important thing in the world, even if it meant never making it back to the Vontani.
He held his hand up to keep the blowing snow from getting in his eyes. The trail narrowed until it was barely wider than his legs. Eventually, he chased her to a creek, where she went bounding across water trickling over stones. She disappeared into a dog-sized burrow in a bank of snow.
As soon as he cr
ossed the stream, he ran into the snow drift and immediately ground to a halt. He reached for his sword to cut a path, only to come up against a mound of dirt. Damn it. He jumped to see if he could look out over the top of the mound. The woods clumped closely together, greedily absorbing the last remaining light.
“Emma?” he called out. He tried to make the kissing sound his mother used to use to call their dog, but it came out sounding more like a cartoon smooch.
When she didn’t answer, he ran up the creek to get around the snow. His jog quickly turned into a careful plod as he strained to find his way in the darkness.
Finally, he saw a haze of flickering orange light through the shadows. His heart quickened.
A woman’s voice rang through the trees. “Emma!”
He froze. A silhouette appeared in front of the light. She looked like she was covered in a fur coat. She bent down and came back up with Emma in her arms. She carried her around the tree and disappeared.
“Hello!” he called out. He worked his way toward them as quickly as the thick cover of trees would allow. Eventually he made it to the edge of the light and turned the corner.
The woman stood with Emma clutched against her chest. What he thought was a fur coat was actually a thick winter jacket with a mane of white fur around the opening for her face. She stood in front of a bustling camp filled with crackling fires and clumps of tents. Most of the people were men, stocky Eastern European types with closely-cut hair. The woman’s tent was set apart from the rest by some fifty yards.
“Allo?” the woman said.
Her French accent reminded him of Aeris. “Hello,” he said back. He had to stop himself from laughing from excitement. “Um, pourquoi? Mon cherie? I’m sorry, I learned all my French from Pepé Le Pew.”
“Who are you?” she returned in plodding English. She held Emma closer. The crow’s feet around her eyes deepened as she squinted into the darkness.
“August,” he said. He looked down, instantly aware of his metal ninja suit. “I’m from Earth. Like you.”
“Where else would you be from?” she asked.
