Chaos Walking

by Patrick Ness

  There’s a flash of light as another dormitory goes up in flames, reflecting the road for a shining second–

  And I see them–

  The Answer.

  Lines of men and women, blue As written across their fronts and sometimes even painted on their faces.

  And every one with guns pointed out–

  In front of carts loaded with weaponry–

  And though I recognize some of them (Mistress Lawson, Magnus, Mistress Nadari), it’s like I don’t know them at all, they look so fierce, so focused, so scared and brave and committed and for a second I pull back on Acorn’s reins, too afraid to ride towards them.

  The flash of the explosion dies and they’re plunged into darkness again.

  Forward? Acorn asks.

  I take in a breath, wondering how they’ll react to seeing me, wondering if they’ll see me at all and not just blow me right out of the saddle in the confusion.

  “We’ve got no choice,” I finally say.

  And just as he readies himself to move again–

  “Viola?” I hear from out of the darkness.

  [TODD]

  The road outta town reaches a wide clearing bounded by the river on the right, with the massive crashing of the falls and the zigzag road down the hill direcktly in front of us. The army roars into the clearing, Captain Hammar in the lead, and even tho I’ve only been here once, I know there were trees here before, trees and small houses, and so the Mayor musta had his men clearing it all this time, making it ready to be a battlefield–

  As if he knew this was coming–

  But I can’t stop to think about that cuz Mr Hammar is shouting “HALT!” and the men are stopping in formayshun and looking across the clearing–

  Cuz there they are–

  The first troops of the Spackle army–

  Fanning out into the open ground, a dozen, two dozen, ten dozen of ’em, surging down the hill like a river of white blood, torches held high, bows and arrows and some weird long white stick things in their hands and there are Spackle foot soldiers swarming round other Spackle riding these huge white creachers, built wide like a bullock but taller and broader and with a massive single horn shooting out from the end of their noses and the creachers are covered in heavy armour that looks like it’s made from clay and I see that a lotta the Spackle soldiers are wearing it too, the clay covering their white skin–

  And there’s another horn blast so loud I swear my ears are starting to bleed and you can see the horn with yer own eyes now, strapped to the backs of two of the horned creachers up on the hilltop and being blown by that huge Spackle–

  And oh, God–

  Oh, my, God–

  Their Noise–

  It comes tumbling down the hill like a weapon on its own, cresting across the open ground like foam on a raging river, and it’s coming right for us, pictures of their army cutting us down, pictures of our soldiers being ripped to pieces, pictures of ugliness and horror that you could never describe, pictures–

  Pictures that our own soldiers are sending right back to ’em, pictures rising from the mass of men in front of me, pictures of heads torn from bodies, of bullets ripping Spackle apart, of slaughter, of endless endless–

  “Keep your focus, Todd,” the Mayor says, “or the battle will take your life. And I, for one, am more than curious as to what sort of man you’re going to turn out to be.”

  “FORM A LINE!” we hear Mr Hammar shouting and the soldiers immediately behind him start spreading out. “FIRST WAVE READY!” he shouts and the men stop and raise their rifles, poised to rush forward at his command as the second wave lines up behind ’em.

  The Spackle have stopped too, forming an equally long line at the bottom of the hill. A horned creacher parts their line in the middle, a Spackle standing on its back behind a u-shaped white thing that looks like it’s made of bone, half-again as wide as a man and mounted on a stand on the creacher’s armour.

  “What is that?” I ask the Mayor.

  He grins as if to himself. “I think we’re about to find out.”

  “MEN READY!” Mr Hammar shouts.

  “Stay back with me, Todd,” the Mayor says. “Keep out of the fighting as much as you can.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I say, heavy feeling in my Noise. “You don’t like to get your hands dirty.”

  He catches my eye. “Oh, there are going to be plenty of dirty days ahead. Don’t you worry.”

  And then “CHARGE!!!” Mr Hammar screams at the top of his lungs–

  And the war is on.

  {VIOLA}

  “Wilf!” I yell, riding over to him. He’s driving an ox-cart, out in front and off to the side of the first line of the Answer, still marching down the road in the smoky gloom.

  “Yer alive!” Wilf says, hopping down off the cart and scooting over to me. “Mistress Coyle tol’ us yoo were dead.”

  Anger fills my stomach again over what Mistress Coyle tried to do, at the bomb she intended for the Mayor and how she didn’t seem to mind that it would take me with it. “She’s wrong about a lot of things, Wilf.”

  He looks up at me and in the light of the moons, I can see the fright in his Noise, fright in the most unflappable man I’ve ever met on this whole planet, a man who risked his life to save both me and Todd more than once, fright in the one man around here who’s never afraid. “The Spackle are comin, Viola,” he says. “Ya gotta get outta here.”

  “I’m riding to get help, Wilf–”

  Another BOOM rips through a building across the road from us. There’s a small blast wave and Wilf has to hold on to Acorn’s reins to keep standing up. “What the hell are they doing?” I yell.

  “Mistress’s orders,” Wilf says. “To save the body, ya sometimes have to cut off the leg.”

  I cough from the smoke. “That sounds exactly like the kind of stupid thing she’d say. Where is she?”

  “Took off when that ship done flew over. Riding fast to where it landed.”

  My heart jumps. “Where did it land, Wilf? Where exactly?”

  He motions back down the road. “Yonder hill, where tower used to be.”

  “I knew it.”

  There’s another distant blast of the horn. Every time it goes off, there’s yet more screaming from the townsfolk running everywhere. I even hear some screaming from the army of the Answer.

  “Ya gotta run, Viola,” Wilf says again, touching my arm. “Spackle army is bad news. Ya gotta go. Ya gotta go now.”

  I fight down a flash of worry about Todd. “You’ve got to go, too, Wilf. Mistress Coyle’s trick didn’t work. The Mayor’s army is already back in town.” Wilf sucks in air over his teeth. “We’ve got the Mayor,” I continue, “and Todd’s trying to stop the army, but if you attack head on, you’ll be slaughtered.”

  He looks back at the Answer, still marching down the road, faces still set, though some of them are seeing me and Wilf, seeing me alive on horseback, and surprise is starting to dawn. I hear my name more than once.

  “Mistress Coyle said to keep marching,” Wilf says, “keep bombing, no matter what we heard.”

  “Who’d she leave in charge? Mistress Lawson?” There’s a silence and I look back down at Wilf. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

  He nods slowly. “She said Ah was the best at follering orders.”

  “Yet another mistake she made,” I say. “Wilf, you have to turn them round.”

  Wilf looks back at the Answer, still coming, still marching. “Other mistresses won’t lissen to me,” he says, but I can hear him thinking.

  “Yes,” I say, agreeing with his thought, “but everyone else will.”

  He looks back up to me. “Ah’ll turn ’em round.”

  “I have to get to the ship,” I say. “There’ll be help there.”

  Wilf nods and points his thumb back over his shoulder. “Second big road up back yonder. Mistress Coyle’s got twenty minutes on ya.”

  “Thank you, Wilf.”

  He nods again and turns bac
k to the Answer. “Retreat!” he yells. “Retreat!”

  I urge Acorn along again and we ride past Wilf and the astonished faces of Mistresses Lawson and Nadari at the front of the Answer line. “On whose authority?” Mistress Nadari snaps.

  “Mine!” I hear Wilf say, strong as I’ve ever heard him.

  I’m already passing through the Answer and pushing Acorn as fast as he’ll go and so I don’t see Wilf when he says, “And hers!”

  But I know he’s pointing at me.

  [TODD]

  Our front line sprints across the clearing like a wall falling down a hill–

  Men running in a V-shape with Mr Hammar screaming on horseback at its tip–

  The next line of men sets off a split second later so now there’s two rows running at breakneck speed towards the line of Spackle, guns out but–

  “Why ain’t they firing?” I ask the Mayor.

  He breathes out a little. “Overconfidence, I should say.”

  “What?”

  “We’ve always fought the Spackle at close quarters, you see. It was most effective. But . . .” His eyes play over the front line of Spackle–

  Which ain’t moving.

  “I think we may want to be back a bit farther, Todd,” he says, turning Morpeth down the road before I can even say anything.

  I look back to the men running–

  And the Spackle line that ain’t moving–

  And the men getting closer–

  “But why–?”

  “Todd,” the Mayor calls, now a good twenty metres behind me–

  There’s a flash of Noise thru the Spackle–

  A signal of some kind–

  Every Spackle on the front line raises his bow and arrow–

  Or his white stick–

  And the Spackle on the horned creacher takes a lighted torch in each hand–

  “READY!” Mr Hammar calls, thundering forward on his horse, heading right for the horned creacher–

  The men raise their rifles–

  “I really would get back if I were you,” the Mayor calls to me–

  I pull a little on Angharrad’s reins–

  But my eyes are still on the battle and the men running cross the clearing in front of me and the men behind ’em ready to do the same and more men behind them–

  And me and the Mayor waiting at the back of the pack–

  “AIM!” screams Mr Hammar with his voice and his Noise–

  I turn Angharrad and ride back to the Mayor–

  “Why ain’t they firing?” I say as I get close–

  “Who?” the Mayor says, still studying the Spackle. “The men or the enemy?”

  I look back–

  Mr Hammar’s not fifteen metres from the horned creacher–

  Ten–

  “Either one,” I say–

  Five–

  “Now, this,” says the Mayor, “should be interesting.”

  And we see the Spackle on the horned creacher bring the two torches together behind the u-shaped thing–

  And WHOOMP!

  An exploding, spilling, tumbling, churning flood of fire looking for all the world like the rushing river beside it comes whooshing out of the u-shaped thing, way bigger than looks possible, expanding and growing and eating the world like a nightmare–

  Coming right for Mr Hammar–

  Who pulls his horse hard to the right–

  Leaping outta the way–

  But too late–

  The fire swoops round him–

  Sticking to Mr Hammar and his horse like a coating–

  And they’re burning burning burning as they try to ride away from it–

  Riding straight for the river–

  But Mr Hammar don’t make it–

  He falls from the burning saddle of his burning horse–

  Hitting the ground in a jerking pile of flame–

  Then lying still as his horse disappears into the water–

  Screaming and screaming–

  I turn my eyes back to the army–

  And see that the men on the front line don’t got horses that’ll carry ’em outta the way–

  And the fire–

  Thicker than normal fire–

  Thicker and heavier–

  Cuts thru ’em like a rockslide–

  Eating the first ten men it touches–

  Burning ’em up so fast you can barely hear ’em scream–

  And they’re the lucky ones–

  Cuz the fire spreads out–

  Sticking to the uniforms and the hair–

  And the skin–

  And my God the skin of the frontline soldiers off to each side–

  And they fall–

  And they burn–

  And they scream like Mr Hammar’s horse–

  And they keep on screaming–

  Their Noise rocketing up and out over the Noise of everything else–

  And as the blast of fire finally dissipates and Mr Morgan is yelling “FALL BACK!” to the front lines of soldiers and as those soldiers are already turning and running but firing their rifles as they go and as the first arrows from the Spackle bows start arcing thru the air and as the other Spackle raise their white sticks and flashes come outta the ends and the men hit by the arrows in the back and in the stomach and in the face start to fall and as the men hit by the flashes from the white sticks start losing bits of their arms and their shoulders and their heads and falling to the ground dead dead dead–

  And as I grip Angharrad’s mane hard enough to pull out hair–

  And she’s so terrified she don’t even complain–

  All I can hear is the Mayor next to me–

  Saying, “At last, Todd–”

  And he turns to me and he says–

  “A worthy enemy.”

  {VIOLA}

  Me and Acorn are barely a minute away from the army of the Answer when we pass the first road and I recognize where we are. It’s the road down to the house of healing where I spent my first weeks in New Prentisstown, the house of healing where Maddy and I snuck out one night.

  The house of healing where we took Maddy’s body to prepare it for burial after Sergeant Hammar shot her for no reason at all.

  “Keep going, Acorn,” I say, pushing the thought away. “The road up to the tower has to be around–”

  The dusky sky suddenly lights up behind me. I turn and Acorn does, too, and though the city is far away and behind trees, we can see a huge flash of light, silent from this distance, no rumble of an explosion, just a bright, bright glow that grows and grows before dying away, lighting up the few people on the road who’ve reached this far out of town, and I wonder what could possibly have happened back in the city to make a light like that.

  And I wonder whether Todd is in the middle of it.

  [TODD]

  The next blast of fire comes before anyone’s ready for it–

  WHOOMP!

  Shooting across the open ground and catching the retreating soldiers, melting their guns, burning up their bodies, laying ’em to the ground in the worst sorta heap–

  “We gotta get outta here!” I shout at the Mayor, who’s watching the battle like he’s hypnotized, his body still but his eyes moving this way and that, taking in everything.

  “Those white sticks,” he says quietly. “Obviously a ballistic of some sort but do you see how destructive they are?”

  I stare at him wide-eyed. “DO SOMETHING!” I shout. “They’re getting slaughtered!”

  He raises one eyebrow. “What exactly do you think war is, Todd?”

  “But the Spackle’ve got better weapons now! We won’t be able to stop ’em!”

  “Won’t we?” he says, nodding at the battle. I look, too. The Spackle on the horned creacher readies his torches for another blast but one of the Mayor’s men has risen from where he’s fallen, burns all over him, and he raises his gun and fires–

  And the Spackle on the horned creacher drops one torch and slaps a hand to h
is neck where the bullet hit him, then falls sideways off the creacher to the ground–

  A cheer goes up from the Mayor’s men as they see what’s happened–

  “All weapons have their weaknesses,” the Mayor says.

  And quick as that, they’re regrouping and Mr Morgan is riding his horse forward, leading all the men now, and more rifles are getting fired and tho more arrows and white flashes are coming from the Spackle and more soldiers are falling, Spackle are falling, too, their clay armour cracking and exploding, falling under the feet of other Spackle marching behind ’em–

  But they keep coming–

  “We’re outnumbered,” I say to the Mayor.

  “Oh, ten to one easily,” he says.

  I point up the hill. “And they’ve got more of those fire things!”

  “But not ready yet, Todd,” he says and he’s right, the creachers are backed up behind Spackle soldiers on the zigzag road, not ready to blast unless they want to take out half their own army.

  But the Spackle line is really crashing into the line of men now and I see the Mayor do a counting moshun with his hands and then look back down the empty road behind us.

  “You know, Todd,” he says, taking Morpeth’s reins. “I think we’re going to need every man.”

  He turns to me.

  “It’s time for us to fight.”

  And I know with a stab in my heart that if the Mayor himself is gonna fight–

  Then we’re really in trouble.

  {VIOLA}

  “There!” I shout, pointing at what has to be the road up the hill to the tower. Acorn flies straight up the incline, bits of foamy sweat flying from his shoulders and neck. “I know,” I say between his ears. “Almost there.”

  Girl colt, he thinks and for a second I think he might even be laughing at my sympathy. Or maybe he’s just trying to comfort me.

  The road is incredibly dark as it curves around the back of the hill. For a minute, I’m cut off from absolutely everything, all sound from the city, all light from what’s happening, all Noise that might tell me what’s going on. It’s like Acorn and I are racing through the black beyond itself, that weird quiet of being a small ship in the hugeness of space, where your light is so feeble against the surrounding dark, you might as well not have a light at all–