by Adam Holt
His tattoos shifted—a covey of doves slowly winged across his arms and neck. That brought me back to my senses. Keep up your guard and keep your secrets, Tully. So what if he looks friendly and gives you a pillow? You’re not among friends.
He put down the screwdriver thingy and passed me a cup of water before I realized my own thirst. The room was cold and damp, his hand felt warm upon on my shoulder.
“Welcome to the Lost Catacombs,” he said. “Do you know this word?” He gestured around the room. It was a dingy, green corridor full of small arched enclosures along the walls. Most of the enclosures contained bones—lots of them—except for the one where I had been laying.
“I know what catacombs are,” I said, looking at a tidy stack of skulls. I felt a rustling on the side of my tunic.
“Catacombs,” said Little Bacon, “are underground passageways used for burials or religious practices.”
I tried to put a hand over his mouth, but my ribs hurt so bad that I had to lie back down.
“Your little friend is right,” he said, like it was no big deal that I had a handroid. Has he seen one of these before?
“So you captured and gave me a cup of water,” I said. “Now you’re going to bury me alive?”
“Catacombs aren’t just for the dead. You know how the living used them? On Earth, in Rome, the early Christians used catacombs to gather together and worship and escape persecution.”
“On Earth,” I said.
“Yes, and Christians built these catacombs, too. Later the Hindus used them. Then the First Rebellion. And now us, the Friends of the Encountered, or what’s left of us.”
When he said the word Encountered, my mind went completely wobble. Was he a friend or an enemy – or something else?
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” he said. “We seek safety among the dead. These catacombs have saved us many times, and now so few days left for them to be useful.”
With each word, his feathery tattoos rustled. They flitted with every word. My hand reached for the lucky shell in my pocket. I thought about the little wings carved upon the walls all over Rathmore. It all began to come together.
“You’re Icarus,” I said.
“Indeed.” His feathers ruffled along his hands and arms. He smiled. “But you have me at a loss. Who might you be?”
“Nobody,” I said.
“Well, he’s a bad liar,” said a gruff voice from the darkness. A short, musclebound Ascendant stepped forward, sneering at me. “He jumped off the Fifth Step with Sawyer on his tail. Nobody does that...unless he is somebody, or he is insane.”
Me, insane? You’re the ones hanging out in catacombs. You’re the ones tattooed from head to toe. You’re the ones coming to conquer my world!
“Bernard, you may be right, or maybe Stephen inspired him,” said Icarus. “The boy spoke the truth to the Lord Ascendant in front of tens of thousands of listeners.”
“Infinite wormholes! Inspired by Stephen’s act? That was a good boy that one, and now he’s dead.”
“Better to die free than to live in fear,” Icarus said.
He put a hand on my injured shoulder. I recoiled and expected pain but noticed that it felt better than it had. I could move it again.
“I repaired it as best I could,” he told me. “I am one of the Encountered, and healing is in my hands. I can see from your expression that you know what this means.”
“Of course,” I said. “You fought against the Lord Ascendant, but didn’t the he destroy all of the Encountered? How did you escape the fall of the Sixth Step?”
Whoops.
“A spy or a madman,” said Bernard, stepping forward with a black staff in his hand. “We cannot reveal ourselves yet, Icarus. We should have left him to his fate. Now tell us your name and what you know, or we will give you to Sawyer.”
I should have kept my secrets, I thought. Everyone on Earth thinks I have an alien virus, the Lord Ascendant knows I’m here, and now the Encountered think I know too much.
Icarus turned toward Bernard, who gripped the black staff tightly.
“Lower your weapon,” he said. “We won’t beat the truth from this young one. I know that you are upset about Stephen, but you are better than this. We are spies and madmen, too, Bernard!
“Yes, a few of us escaped the fall, young one. We hid, but now we rise. You know why. The Lord Ascendant wants to rule the Earth the same way he rules Rathmore—with fear and power. We must stop him, and our time is short. There is more to say, but do tell us what we can call you in the meantime.”
His blue eyes tracked across my face. I’m Tully Orion Harper. I am like you. I need to save my friend…no, keep your secrets. They’re all you have.
“Spaceboy is my name,” I said, taking a deep breath, “and I should tell you. I will only speak English.”
Icarus laughed, long and hard. He playfully pushed Bernard, who frowned even more deeply at me.
“What?” I said, almost laughing myself. Suddenly things didn’t feel so serious, like Icarus had flipped a switch and decided to make our tragedy into a comedy.
“Nothing,” said Icarus, “and everything. Bernard, maybe it is fate. He’s named himself after your favorite Earther song. Sing it for us.”
Bernard crossed his hairy arms over his chest. “It’s not my favorite. I don’t even like Earth Pop. I just started humming it that one time and you noticed...”
“You know Queen Envy’s music?” I asked.
Icarus started to sing. “I’ll turn red, red, red, when you kiss my f-f-f-f-face—”
“Enough, it gets stuck in the ears!” Bernard grumbled. “Okay, yes, this song pleases me.”
The tension evaporated in an instant. I was safe among the Encountered for the time being. This alien with feather tattoos could shelter me, and his friend was an Ascendant Queen Envy fan. This would totally go to her head, I thought. The song that she wrote about my dad is popular around the solar system. She has no idea how big she really is.
It was this weird conversation that stirred something in my mind. It was a thought connected to the Europa myth, catacombs, jokes, and music. The Sacred said they are more like you than you know. Yeah, but they’re almost too much like us – and they’re not faking it either.
Icarus saw me deep in thought and shook his head.
“This one is so much like the little Outlander that we found yesterday,” Icarus said. “They seem to be sneaking in from every corner of Rathmore. What did she call herself, Bernard?”
“Carpool,” he said. “Whatever that means.”
Carpool? No way.
IN THE GRAND CATACOMB
I carus and Bernard led me through the narrow catacomb that eventually straightened and descended deeper into the Fourth Step. A light glowed off the slick cobblestones ahead of us. Voices echoed off the walls and seemed to come from all directions. Finally our catacomb ended. It fed into a high-ceiled room with eight other identical exits. There was no lighting, only a soft purple glow from the lichen on the walls.
“Welcome to the Grand Catacomb,” said Icarus. “You are among friends now, or at least not among enemies.”
Icarus halted at the edge of the room filled with a group of fifty Ascendant. Most of them were young – in their early alien twenties, I guess – and they came from many different Steps, all mingling and laughing and talking as if they were long-lost classmates. A group of Firsters joked with a Thirder. A Seconder and a Fourther reviewed a holographic map in the corner. It felt strangely comfortable like snack break at my school, which was the period that I missed the most. I had the sudden urge to eat a bagel.
One of the Ascendant in a white tunic bounded toward Icarus and through her arms around his neck. She was strikingly tall, probably taller than Buckshot. She had long black hair with red highlights that cascaded down her shoulders, and she wore a red ruby around her neck. She looked over Icarus’s shoulder and narrowed her eyes at me. Then she pushed him away playfully. They exchanged a few words in Greek.
Everyone settled down when they finally noticed Icarus. His tunic turned from blue to white, as did Bernard’s.
Icarus lifted his hands. “Friends of the Encountered,” he said. “There’s much to say, but may I start with a prayer?”
“May we skip to the important stuff?” said the Ascendant with the ruby. She frowned but her eyes glimmered with laughter.
“Adèle, I’ll just pray twice as hard for all of this later.”
“At least pray in Greek or French,” Adèle replied. “All this English is terrible.”
“No, just Bernard’s English is terrible,” said Icarus. The Ascendant laughed, even Adèle. “Our Outlander friend here prefers English. He calls himself Spaceboy.”
Many nodded their heads to greet me, including one young Ascendant in the corner. Carpool.
Everyone bowed their heads for a prayer. I looked at Janice and mouthed some questions. Buckshot? My dad? Tabitha? She shrugged her shoulders. I don’t know. We split up. She pointed at Icarus. He found me. I noticed that Adèle had not bowed her head either. She watched Janice and me.
“God beyond all praising,” Icarus began, “you created a magnificent Universe. We do not understand Your ways, but You have made it known that we should love our neighbors as ourselves. Help us bring this message to our people. They live in fear. They need peace. This is our common cause, regardless of our beliefs, that none should suffer, that all should be loved, on Earth and Europa as it is in Heaven. Amen.”
“Very pretty, as usual,” said Adèle.
I wasn’t expecting to hear Ascendant praying or joking like old friends. The words of the Sacred returned to me: They are more like you than you know. Still, their tattoos and Adèle’s fiery looks set me on edge.
Icarus addressed the crowd. “Friends of the Encountered, our message has spread. Many have taken up our cause. We have seen the wings scribbled across all five Steps now, but this will lead to consequences. A young boy confronted the Lord Ascendant in the arena today, and he was not taken to the Undercity this time. No, he was cast down and killed. I saw it firsthand and learned that his name was Stephen. Let us honor his memory in our thoughts and prayers.” The crowd shook their heads, saddened but not surprised. “Now, the rumors are confirmed. The Exodus is upon us. Soon the Ascendant of Rathmore – and all the other Chaoses – will depart for Earth, and against the weapons of the Lord Ascendant, no Earther can stand. Therefore, our time is short. Our mission is bold. Our duty is to our people. In these final moments on Europa, in the spirit of Stephen and all Seven Steps, we must show the Ascendant what it truly means to rise—not just from Europa, but above pride, hatred, anger, and most of all, fear.”
The assembly nodded, some applauded.
“This plan will not work,” said Adèle.
“I have yet to tell you the plan,” said Icarus.
“But I know you too well. I have heard this plan before.”
“Then let me say it again,” said Icarus. His tattoos bristled, the feathers seemed to rise off his skin and make him look larger. “Stephen is just a hint of what is to come. It is time to march.”
“You believe that the people will follow?” someone asked.
“After today, yes, I do,” said Icarus, looking toward me. “Soon we must gather on the First Step. We will call the Firsters to us. They will march with us to the Second Step, where we will gather the Seconders. Then the Thirders, the Fourthers, and finally all of us will march upon the Fifth Step in peace, the same peace that we hope to bring to the Earth. We will unite Rathmore in peace, and the Lord Ascendant will no longer have anyone left to rule in fear.”
“Yes, the peace march,” said Adèle. “The Lord Ascendant will slaughter us. It will be a waste of time and life.”
“A waste of life,” Icarus repeated. “I’ve heard those words from another’s mouth—the Lord Ascendant’s—when he cast down Stephen in the arena today.”
“How could we move the people from one Step to the next?” someone asked. “It would take more than trolleys, Icarus.”
Icarus nodded. His feathery tattoos ruffled along the lines of his arms and shoulders. His white tunic shined. Then for a moment the feathers really did rise off his shoulders and extend above him. I could feel the air on my cheek from his fluttering wings. They were tattoos, but they were also real.
Everyone murmured. I remembered what the tattoo artist had told me. Only the Encountered can alter their tattoos. This looked more like using a tattoo than altering it.
Icarus leaned toward the group. Everyone watched his tattoos, but I watched his feet. The more he leaned in, the more he stood on his tiptoes, until for a split second, he left the ground. He pointed to the white tunics of Adèle and Bernard and whispered, “You are listening but not understanding. Among you are the last of the Encountered, and that is enough. We can move you between the Steps.”
“But there are too many of us,” someone said.
“Not anymore,” he repeated. “The Sacred has awoken. I will fly again. You will see and believe.”
The Ascendant looked confused, but not Adèle and Bernard. The three of them were the only Encountered. Adèle closed her eyes while shaking her head. So did Bernard. A moment of silence. Then their tattoos glowed faintly, and their faces softened, as if they felt a long-forgotten comfort. Their powers returned.
“You speak the truth,” Bernard said. “The Sacred has awakened. We can move the people between the Steps again, as it was before the fall of the Sixth Step.”
Of course. They could create portals. I used portals for escape, but they could be used for transportation. With a big enough portal, the Encountered could move their peace marchers from one Step to the next. The idea would work, but only if Icarus could use his wings. Bernard or Adèle could open an entry portal on one step. Then Icarus could fly to the next step and open the exit portal. First to Second, Second to Third, and so on. The entire group could ascend Rathmore as easily as walking through an open door. It was a vision of freedom. This must have been the way it once was here. A city of magic portals. A city with Seven Steps but no real boundaries to separate them. The vision was beautiful, but Adèle shook her head.
“The Sacred power returns,” Adèle said. “Why waste it on this risky plan. Icarus, they will shoot you down, and for what? There is another way. As they say, cut off the head of the snake and the body will die. We can assassinate the Lord Ascendant, then make for Earth and set down a peaceful agreement with the Earthers. The power of the Sacred makes this even easier than before. Let us make an end to him and we will not have to march at all!”
Icarus had won me over with his idea of the peace march up until that moment, but Adèle was right. The Lord Ascendant had countless black staff at his command. He could shoot Icarus from the air or simply line up his army in front of the portal and blast the marchers to smithereens. But an assassination? The idea seized me in its grip. I could accomplish something like that all by myself, and what if I revealed myself to the Encountered? I rubbed the lightning scars on the backs of my hands. They felt warm. The three of us could take down the Lord Ascendant together. We could send him to the bottom of the ocean with the rest of his victims.
“We cannot bring peace through violence,” said Icarus. “It only leads to more death. So we do not want to kill the snake. We want to turn the snake into a dove. This is the path to peace, even if it means our lives.”
“And who would be our assassin?” asked Bernard.
I almost raised my hand.
“Right,” said Icarus. “We could confront the Lord Ascendant, but none of us could fight him. We are prophets and protectors, not fighters. The Sacred did not give us those gifts.”
I really almost said something.
“Some of us would like to try,” said Adèle. “I say that we have a vote.”
“Uh, excuse me,” I finally said. “I am kind of new here, but why don’t you ask the Harp – I mean, the Sacred – what to do?”
The Enco
untered – and everyone else – stared blankly at me. It was like that moment when you ask the same question someone else just asked the teacher. Adèle and Bernard laughed along with everyone except for Icarus.
“You must have heard these tales from your Outlander mother,” said Bernard. “The Sacred speaks in dreams and visions, but not in words that we can understand.”
“But, but—” But I stopped myself from blurting out anything else. You are the Encountered. How can you not know this? The Sacred does speak. It spoke to me.
Something else was wrong. I could sense it. So could Icarus and Adèle. They didn’t get to take our vote.
From deep in one of the catacombs, everyone heard a deep rumbling. Then the clash of footsteps on cobblestones and a faint electric buzz.
WICKED MAGICS
We stood breathless in the middle of the Grand Catacomb, listening to the approaching sounds echo off the high ceiling and the walls. There were eight exits, all of them identical and dark. It was impossible to tell where the sounds originated.
“They’ve found us,” said Icarus. “There’s no time to use the Sacred powers. Meet me at the beach in two days. We march from there.”
Everyone scattered. Icarus grabbed my hand and started down one tunnel. Adèle pulled Janice in the opposite direction, but I wasn’t about to let her out of my sight. I yanked away from Icarus and grabbed Janice’s hand. The four of us were left in the Grand Catacomb, along with a few Thirders.
“Come on!” Icarus said. “There’s no time.”
But there was. The crowd rushed into each of the eight smaller catacombs. If they ran into any black staffs, it would delay them on their way to us.
“Give me a second,” I said. “Trust me.”
Icarus gave my arm another yank but then relented and let me stand in the middle of the Grand Catacomb with my eyes closed. I took a few deep breaths and listened to the sounds around us. There were battles erupting in some of the catacombs now. I could feel the others behind me, ready to burst into a run. I wanted to run, too, but something told me to wait. We could hear the shouts and bursts of black staffs.
