The Beauty of Destruction

by Gavin G. Smith

  ‘I will kill you,’ she warned. ‘I don’t care about the consequences!’ Then the area was bathed in flickering blue and white light. Tangwen looked behind her at the vast wood. Lightning was surging up from blackening, glowing, smoking treetops. The closest trees to her were shrivelling. The lightning wreathed the form of a winged dragon, just above the roof of the forest, fire in its tail, its maw glowing. Where the lightning touched, flesh was charred. Moving things, armoured creatures, were growing and leaping out of the dragon’s armoured skin and dropping into the trees, the lightning hitting many, but not all of them as they fell. Tangwen’s head whipped around as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  ‘We have no time for your fear,’ Raven’s Laughter told her. She noticed the small Croatan woman’s hand was on her own axe. Tangwen swallowed and nodded. Britha and Teardrop were already rushing towards the chariot, the rear of the vehicle peeling open for them. Raven’s Laughter and Tangwen followed. Tangwen’s stomach lurched as the chariot started to rise the moment they were on board, though there was no one controlling it as far as she could see. She felt something at her waist. She looked down. Raven’s Laughter was attaching a strangely shaped box, made of an oddly coloured metal that Tangwen didn’t recognise, to her belt.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Tangwen demanded.

  ‘This is a shield, this is Teardrop’s shield.’ Raven’s Laughter shifted to show a similar piece of metal on her hip. ‘You must not get hit by any of the Naga’s weapons. You will know when the shield is up because you will be surrounded by light. Nothing can harm you then, but you will not be able to harm them either. You can still move, however. Do you understand?’ She didn’t but she nodded anyway. She screamed as she was suddenly able to see through the rear of the chariot. Raven’s Laughter was crawling along the neck of the vehicle. Teardrop was looking out of the back. In the distance the huge monster was through the spewing fire. It looked like things were falling off it as it made its way through the sky. Spears of light and lightning were answered with fire as the Otherworldly vessels fought with the dragons.

  ‘Manitou Pass or the New Pool?’ Raven’s Laughter called from the chariot’s neck.

  ‘The Pass is closer,’ Teardrop called. Tangwen let out another scream as the chariot veered sideways sharply, and she found herself looking straight down at the land below, yet she did not fall. It was if she was standing flat on the ground.

  ‘New Pool is safer,’ Raven’s Laughter called back.

  ‘Not if the dragons catch us in the air.’

  Tangwen’s stomach lurched as the chariot levelled out. She edged back towards the benches that ran around the cupola.

  It was the circle of stones where they had first arrived in the Otherworld, nestled in the canyon mouth, the rock outcrop looking out over a vast plain in the shadow of the huge god whose wings obscured the sun. She could see dragons over the plain. These ones did not have wings like the one over the forest. They looked like armoured, ridged, flying slugs, with fire in their rears. A hard, thick, dark rain fell from them, and where it landed the plain died as though diseased, and new land grew. The new land looked like hardened tree sap. Occasionally lightning would arc up from the land, always answered by gouts of white flame.

  Tangwen stumbled out of the back of the open chariot. Teardrop was out next. He was carrying the case that bore Fachtna’s screaming spear of the sun. He made for the outcrop, and started climbing up it. Britha climbed out next, the metal armour unfolding all around her, her helm also shaped like a raven. She was carrying a strange-looking spear. Finally Raven’s Laughter climbed out and thrust a large, strange, and very ornate bow into Tangwen’s hands. It looked like a bow fit for a god.

  ‘Now listen to me. If you can see them, you can hit them, but don’t draw attention to us. Only use it if you’re sure they are going to attack. Aim at what you want to hit, not above it, the arrows won’t drop. Understand?’ the Croatan woman asked. Tangwen most certainly didn’t, again, but she could do what Raven’s Laughter asked, so she nodded. The Croatan woman did not look convinced, but handed her a quiver of thick-shafted arrows. ‘It can also call and guide the lightning … but you probably don’t want to worry about that. There is a spirit bound into the bow. If you let it, the bow will teach you how to use it best.’

  ‘What happens now?’ Tangwen asked. ‘The stones. You open a trod?’ Raven’s Laughter looked up into the sky, through the spears of light and the fire, towards the sun that was too large, felt too close, and the god that obscured its light.

  ‘We don’t have a control rod. It is with him now.’ She nodded towards the sun. ‘Look!’ The Croatan woman pointed over the plain. Four of the slug-like dragons were turning towards the canyon. Tangwen was aware of light shining through the earth from below the stones. The air felt like it did before storms swept in from the sea over the marshes at home. She jumped when the spear started screaming. Teardrop was knelt on the outcrop. He had opened the case, the spear’s fire reflecting in his shining raven armour. Raven’s Laughter was reaching into the back of the chariot and pulling out another bow. The moment she had it the rear of the vehicle sealed itself, and the chariot, of its own accord, flew out over the diseased plain. Lightning shot up from the earth into the chariot in a constant stream. The vehicle started to glow, and then a thick stream of lightning-wreathed light shot out from the front of it. The light pierced the flesh of one of the slugs, went straight through it like a spear shoved through flesh. Smoking, the slug-like dragon started to fall from the sky. Flame lit up the twilight, burning the chariot as it banked hard and fled the breath of the three remaining dragons.

  ‘Tangwen!’ Raven’s Laughter shouted. She had one of the thickly-shafted arrows notched. Tangwen did the same thing. Teardrop threw the screaming spear, it left a path of flame over the plain. Tangwen pulled the bowstring back to her cheek. The bow had no pull, the heavy arrow would fly little distance if at all. Then she heard the whispering in her mind, the spirit of the bow, eager for the hunt. She flinched as symbols of light appeared in her vision with promise of where the arrow would hit her prey, the whispering describing how to slay a dragon. Give in to fear and you will die here. You know how to hunt, she told herself, and suddenly the unfamiliar bow didn’t feel all that unfamiliar. This she knew. This she understood. She listened to the whispers. She listened to herself. She held her breath. The screaming, the flames, all of it went away. It was a perfect moment of calm. She loosed. Then she breathed.

  The slug-like dragon was as far away as a trader’s ship close to the horizon back home. Once she had loosed she knew that the arrow could not hit, but the arrow flew from the bow so quickly it seemed to disappear. Things were happening to the other two remaining dragons, but she remained focused on her own. There was a gout of what looked like liquid metal from a forge on the dragon’s hide. Then it lurched in the air. Then it was as though a white sun had burst from inside it, and smoking lumps of flesh rained down on the plain. There was another white sun, and another of the dragons was gone. The fourth one was lit from inside by fire as it too fell smoking from the sky. The screaming spear burst out of it, making its way back towards Teardrop. Once the weapon had terrified her. Now, in the face of the dragons, it seemed reasonable.

  The stones in the circle behind her were glowing from within, lighting up the strange symbols inscribed on the rock. Lightning jumped between them.

  A pale amber light sprang up around her, and then she was surrounded in white, liquid flame. She had no idea what was happening. She went down on one knee as though the fire had weight. The flame receded, though the surrounding rocks had turned into still burning molten pools. Britha was kneeling down as well; the metal of her armour looked partially melted. The boots of the armour were eating into the rock, and it started to heal itself in the way that metal shouldn’t be able to. A winged dragon curved over them and came to a stop in the sky in front of Teardrop. The Croatan warrior’s hand was outstretched, waiting for the screaming spear to ret
urn, thunder echoing over the plain as the weapon sped back to him. Tangwen reached for another arrow.

  ‘Tang … !’ Tangwen turned to see Raven’s Laughter wreathed in the amber light as a much smaller gout of the white liquid flame hit her. The serpents were running down the canyon walls. They wore what looked like armour made of living flesh. Some carried long, barbed-looking spears, others strange weapons that she only recognised as such because of the way the walking snakes carried them, and then because they belched the liquid fire. Despite the armour she recognised their shape. There were differences but underneath the living armour she knew they would look like her Father.

  She thought of the lightning. She listened to the whispers of the spirit in the bow. Lightning leapt from the ground, from the stones, to the bow. She pulled the bowstring, lightning became an arrow, and she loosed, and she loosed, and she loosed again, and her Father’s people fell from the canyon wall. In her periphery the dragon breathed. Teardrop was engulfed in the constant stream of fire, molten rock shot up into the air. A hand reached out of the stream of liquid flame. He caught the returning spear. The amber light surrounded Tangwen again and the lightning died, as some of the remaining Naga warriors used their weapons on her. She turned, protected by the fair folk’s magic. She could make out Teardrop, a silhouette in the flames as he threw the spear into the dragon’s maw. As the amber light faded the lightning returned to her bow. Tangwen felt another change in the atmosphere. She turned to see a circle of blue light contained within the glowing stones, and in that circle a blood-red land. She was aware of the dragon drifting away from the outcrop, burning inside, slowly dropping towards the floor of the plain far below. She was aware of Teardrop’s smoking, blackened body as it fell from the now molten outcrop to hit the ground.

  Raven’s Laughter glanced behind at the body and then continued firing lightning from her bow as she moved towards Britha. The raven-headed dryw was fighting like a demon. One arm was held high, the glowing spear in her metal fist bearing an impaled Naga warrior on the end of it. She was crushing another’s head with her armoured fist, as a third charged her. She flung the impaled Naga off her spear. Light sprang from the weapon’s tip and pierced the charging serpent straight through. Tangwen loosed, and another Naga warrior fell.

  ‘Go!’ Raven’s Laughter shouted. Then the amber light was again protecting her from the fire weapons. Tangwen loosed again, and again, killing those attacking the Croatan woman.

  ‘Tangwen first!’ Britha shouted.

  Fool! Tangwen thought. Raven’s Laughter was growing spines through her flesh. There were too many of the Naga. Britha suddenly sank to her knees, gripping her head. Screaming, though it sounded wrong through the armour, like the ringing of metal. Britha held out an open hand, and suddenly her fingers were curling around the haft of the burning, screaming spear. Tangwen saw Raven’s Laughter unclip the strange metal object which provided her shield from her belt, attach it to Britha’s armour, and then push the Pecht dryw towards the circle.

  ‘Go! Or this is for nothing!’ Raven’s Laughter screamed. There were Naga caught in the lightning around the stone circle. Britha stumbled between the stones and into the blue fire and fell into the red world, surely Cythrawl, Tangwen thought. Good. The blue fire disappeared and with it the red world, leaving an afterglow in her eyes.

  Tangwen loosed lightning at a Naga charging Raven’s Laughter, and it fell. The Croatan woman leapt over a spear thrust, and landed on the serpent wielding the weapon. Frenzied axe and blade blows bit through armour and into snake flesh.

  Tangwen loosed lightning into a Naga warrior that had almost reached her, leaving its face a smoking hole. She dropped her bow, and grabbed her hatchet and dagger. Amber light surrounded her, the spear thrust sent her tumbling backwards, then everything was fire again. She rolled over but was struggling to get up. The protective magics didn’t quite let her touch the ground. She managed to stand and ran through the flame. The stones were glowing, smoking, trembling. Above them the sun flickered like a burning brand in the wind. The amber light disappeared. There was a warrior in front of her. She rammed her chalice-re-forged dagger into its head, forcing it to the ground. She side-stepped a low spear thrust, stepped onto a non-barbed part of the weapon’s haft, and launched herself into the air. She kneed the spear-wielding serpent in the bottom of its jutting, helmeted maw as she brought the axe down into its head with a satisfying, echoing crunch, spraying herself in its surprisingly red blood.

  In the air she saw Raven’s Laughter’s barbs shoot from her flesh, impaling the surrounding Naga warriors. Almost immediately their living armour started to rot, they staggered and fell. Tangwen landed and rolled forwards under a spear-thrust. She pushed the barbed weapon away from her with the blade of her dagger, and swung the hatchet into the Naga’s neck as she rolled to her feet. The blue flame illuminated the glowing stones again. She felt warm sunlight on her skin. She could see a green land through the trod, in the circle of stones. She ran. The chariot was in the air again, taking lightning from the earth and raining it down on the Naga. The rotted Naga killed by Raven’s Laughter’s spines were climbing to their feet, turning on the other snakes. Raven’s Laughter tumbled sideways, fire burning the rock where she had been standing. Tangwen pulled the strange metal object from her belt, and leapt for the green promise in the circle of stones. Tangwen threw the magical shield towards Raven’s Laughter as she flew over the circle of blue fire, and closed her eyes.

  She hit the ground hard enough to have the wind knocked from her. Then she thought of the life she carried within her, her hand involuntarily moving towards her stomach. She felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, grass against her cheek. Tangwen opened her eyes. She was lying in a circle of stones that she did not recognise, under a clear blue sky. The air felt like it did just after a summer storm.

  The chariot and the Naga Tei-Pai-Wanka that she had enslaved when her spines had infected them with disease finished off the rest of the snakes. Raven’s Laughter went to stand over the blackened body of her husband, fused with his armour. The chariot came down to hover close to the crumbling stones in the now useless circle, the rear of the cupola splitting open. Raven’s Laughter burst into tears.

  The chariot had flown across the burning Riverlands, taking Teardrop-on-Fire home for the last time. Raven’s Laughter had carried him from the chariot and into their home, the children and Oliver, all armed and armoured, watching her as she laid him down. Her eyes were red but no longer wet. The children, and even Oliver, were sobbing. They could only be allowed to do so for so long. It was clear the Ubh Blaosc was lost. She had flown over the diseased sourland that the Naga were creating, but this was their home, you had to protect your home, and she had seen the shadowy forms of the serpents close by.

  41

  Now

  The clone had strayed too close to C&C. Yaroslav had been terrified, Lodup had seen it on his face, but the Russian security chief had risked leaving C&C to snatch the clone and bring him back. Lodup had recognised him, or rather who he was a clone of, vaguely. A Danish diver he had worked with on oil platforms off the coast of California. The clone stared blankly up as Yaroslav slowly beat him to death, a grin on the Russian’s blood-spattered face. Lodup was curled up in a ball close to where the pole that Germelqart’s head was mounted on had grown into the floor. He flinched with every blow, but he supposed it was the first time that Yaroslav had felt in control for a very long time. Lodup closed his eyes. Thought about killing Yaroslav, and not for the first time. Some of it was fear, but some of it was pity. He wanted to put the Russian security chief out of his misery. He was too frightened to act, and after all the clone wasn’t human any more, if it ever had been. Just another hollowed out, flesh satellite of the city. Also he couldn’t be sure how Siska, now little more than a brooding, predatory presence in her corner, would react. Instead he closed his eyes, and tried to find a pattern in the muttered nonsense spouting from Germelqart’s severed head.

&nb
sp; ‘It’s not a city,’ the severed head managed in halting English, as if it were a language freshly learned, as if he was talking through a great deal of pain.

  ‘What?’ Lodup whispered back.

  ‘It is an apparatus, a tool.’

  ‘What for?’ Lodup couldn’t believe what he was hearing, though he had no idea who he was talking to: a lingering fragment of Germelqart’s psyche, Lidakika, or some other fragmented mind, even Siraja, the habitat’s corrupted AI. It could just be a cruel trick.

  ‘Transmission. A huge machine used to focus the minds of the Seeders, one of many across the universe. It was used to help build the red realm when Earth was but cooling chunks of molten rock. It was meant for ascension. To leave the flesh behind …’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Siska came stalking out of her corner, her long unbound hair obscuring her face, reminding Lodup of the Yūrei, the vengeful spirits of Japanese folklore.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said. Not quite willing to look up in case he saw more of the serpent in her than he wished to. He tried to push himself further into the wall.

  ‘Don’t speak to it. It talks for the city now. It will drive you mad.’

  Lodup wanted to laugh. He just wasn’t sure that he could stop if he started.

  It looked like the conn of a normal submarine, but there was no crew, which gave it a somewhat haunted feel. An AI piloted the vessel. Du Bois was thankful for the L-tech-derived machine mind’s discretion. Most of the AIs he had ever come into contact with had been quirky, to put it mildly, and he wasn’t in the mood. Thankfully his arms didn’t ache from covering King Jeremy; his augmented physiology had taken into account that he was going to be locked in this position for a significant amount of time and had made allowances for it.