The Archealexolix lowered her hands, and the Lixovore followed her lead.
The undulating surface of the blob sucked inward, and the bodies of the creatures given up were replaced by something altogether different.
A monster slipped through the now slack and empty blob to land on the steps surrounding the Maelstrom.
Its body was that of a hyena, taller in the forelegs and shorter in the rear, with a scorpion’s tail, complete with serrated stinger. It bore massive black, feathered wings, and the heads of both jackal and raven, but between them was a third, clad in purple and black scales.
The central head opened its long jaw and exposed its midnight blue teeth. Smokey letters and symbols crisped through the air. They flowed, like exhaust, from its snout.
The Archealexolix snapped her claws and flaming letters appeared in the air before them.
“Here, anointed before the sight of the Lix, stands the God-creation, Chimerax!”
The Lixovore bowed deeply.
“You, living fusion of loyalty, perspective, and the refined power of ascendance, are born for this purpose: to discern the fate of the city of Hyadoth. False ryle are striving to avoid ascendance and are connected to a cataclysm. If any responsibility is exposed, it constitutes high treason. Determine the facts, find the perpetrators, and know that you are allowed any means in pursuance, and any end as punishment. The false-Argument is detected in quantity, and signs of Caspian manifestation have appeared. If Caspian is come, capture his body, alive, and return it here. Untangle these signs and discover the truth. With these tasks are you charged! The hand of God upon you!”
“His Voice within,” the Lixovore intoned, before rising.
Chimerax bowed deeply to the great beak, turned, and loped into the city.
Chapter 12
Among the Elazene
Letty brushed her tears away when she finally heard a voice calling her name. It sounded like Quill.
She walked softly through the trees and peeked from behind a bough. She saw Quill calling out, while Staza inspected leaves.
“I can’t! The trail goes in circles! She has to be around here somewhere,” Staza said, sounding defeated.
Letty wanted to run to them and break down in apology, but was afraid and ashamed, because she found nothing to justify that lost time.
She kept herself from crying and followed Quill and Staza for only minutes before Staza paused, turned, and spotted her.
“Letty! Is that you?” Staza cried, grabbing Quill and rushing towards her. “Where have you—were you going in circles? I couldn’t find you!” Staza rambled, embracing her.
“I’m sorry,” Letty burst out. “I didn’t find anything—I followed the sphinx and got inside a library, and there was a great book—but everything was in the wrong language—you don’t read Latin, do you?”
Overwhelmed, Quill shook his head.
“It’s okay,” Staza said, straightening Letty’s hair, and brushing it from her eyes. “You’re back now and it hasn’t been that long. The mice will be happy to know you’re safe, and Emma and Dean too.”
“They’re okay?”
“Yes, and a little afraid. To be honest, they thought you were eaten,” Staza said.
Letty recalled the piles of bones.
“I nearly was.”
“Hold on and tell the story when we get back. Everyone will want to hear it,” Quill said.
Letty followed and was surprised to find a camp set up in a clearing. Logs and rocks surrounded a healthy fire, while clean clothes were up on drying lines. The watch-mice spotted them before they entered camp and called out to the others. Emma and Dean greeted her with a flurry of questions and demands that she never leave them again.
Letty accepted a tin cup of coffee and a protein bar from Emma before sitting down at the fire.
“What happened out there? Did the sphinx try to eat you? How did you escape?” inquired Dean.
“Give her a minute,” Quill said.
“It’s fine,” Letty spoke between bites, before relating her past few hours.
“This book, it would show us everything. Everything to do with the Argument. It had new ways to use it, and a hundred things Andy and I don’t know.”
Fidelio interrupted, “It was an ancient training manual. The ryle hunt and burn them whenever they can. You might have found one of the last.” Several mice nodded at these words. “The old Praetor, he had some of that knowledge. He used it to train the few Seers they found.”
“I’m sure I can find the temple again, but does anyone read Latin?” Letty asked, looking across the faces of her friends, and then to the mice, who bent their ears or fiddled with their tails, as if ashamed.
Quill shook his head. “I studied a few brutox dialects, but it hardly comes up, they almost never speak.”
“They speak in Degoskirke,” Staza said.
“Whatever, forget the brutox,” Letty complained, “we can’t use the manual. We’re no better off than we were before—worse even, we’ve burned through more food!” Letty said waving an empty wrapper.
“Wait,” Dean mumbled, producing his cell phone, “try pulling up a translator,” he paused. “No reception… Well, next time we go up, we download a translation program and come back. We can try again.”
“We don’t have the time for that,” Letty said, stretching and realizing how exhausted she was.
“What’s that?” Emma asked, pulling at the piece of parchment Letty had in her pocket.
“Oh, this,” Letty handed it to Emma. “It was a message from some priest at the Abbey. Remember the goblin town? Steustace they called it. It’s actually St. Eustace, and the monks that used to live there worked in the same library the sphinxes guard. One left this message for the others. It helped me get past Aleta,” Letty yawned.
“Wait, there are two of those monsters?” Dean asked.
“Yes. Aleta has a sister, Typha, who is out hunting right now.”
“Hunting? Near here?” Dean asked.
“Possibly,” Letty answered.
They all shared a look before breaking camp, shouldering their bags and following Staza away from the hills.
“Letty, here is your pack,” Emma said, returning the backpack.
“Thanks, I thought I lost it.”
“You did, they found it in the woods,” Emma said.
Letty checked and found the pistol and cartridges were where she had left them.
They managed an hour’s trek back through the woods and towards Steustace before complaints of tiredness became incessant.
“We’re not far enough,” Staza insisted. She was immaculate next to the surfacers, who were sweating, disheveled, and dragging their feet.
“I need to sleep,” Dean said, taking the opportunity to lean against a tree.
“Fine,” Quill said, “we’ll put up a watch for the night.”
Staza raised a brow in irritation, but noticed that even the mice were flagging.
Minutes later, the sleeping bags were out and shoes had been tossed aside. Dean and Quill had taken to gossiping about the differences between the surface and Caspia. Staza helped direct the mice to the best trees for watching, and Emma was lying in her bag looking at the parchment.
“Hey Letty,” Emma said.
“Yeah?”
“Aren’t we going to Degoskirke?”
“Yes, we are. They have portals there.”
“So, we could use a map of the city, right?”
“Of course,” Letty said, suspicious.
“Well, this might help,” Emma said, turning the parchment over and waving it at her.
Letty sat up and snatched it.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Quill, Staza, and Dean all clamored in to get a peek.
The word, Degoskirke, stood out above a faded map. In the center was a mark and the words: refuge, cache, mouseport.
“Well done, Em,” Letty said, surprised that she hadn’t noticed the map earlier.
I was worried about being eaten.
“Cache,” Dean read, curiously. “Like a collection of stuff?”
“How about mouseport?” Staza asked, looking at Fidelio, who shrugged.
Emma held up the parchment and showed the damage. “But the tear. We can’t read all of it.” Emma held the damaged parts together and a fair sliver of map was gone altogether.
Quill leaned in. “Despite the damage, we should hold onto it. We might end up in the sewers.”
“Why do you say sewers?” Letty asked.
Quill held the map for them to see and said, “Roads don’t usually go through the buildings and places of note. Look here,” he pointed out a few examples. “This has to be the sewers.”
“I still think we should check it out,” Staza said.
The surfacers, and Letty included, weren’t keen on slogging through the sewers.
“Even if there is a cache, it’s probably looted by now, and who knows what might be living down there?” Dean said.
“Should we add it to our plan, like the cat-chase?” Staza asked.
They were silent for a moment.
“What is the plan, exactly?” Emma asked.
Letty spoke, “Our plan, as it stands, is to make it to Degoskirke, travel by portal to ryle controlled parts of the Netherscape, and hunt down the locations of Ziesqe’s palaces. That’s only part one. Then we have to raid them, maybe capture and interrogate one of his servants, to hopefully find and free Andy.”
Staza shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. Even if we do discover the exact locations of the palaces, and if we learn which one houses Andy, the place will obviously be guarded. If we can find more Argument in this cache, we need to search it. Even with a thousand mice, we are too weakly armed as it stands.”
Staza’s point was convincing. Letty looked from face to mouse face, and saw the mice were determined, as were Staza and Emma, but Quill looked concerned, while Dean was no more anxious than usual.
Fidelio approached the sleeping bags and spoke, “We have agreed to take on the complete burden of the watch. But we beg allowance for the sentries to sleep in backpacks, or possibly on someone’s shoulders, come the morning.”
“Of course, Fidelio, I’ll carry them,” Letty said, stifling another yawn and taking off her socks.
She rolled over in her sleeping bag and was asleep in an instant.
She slept soundly, until a slight rattle, as of small metal instruments clanging, stirred her.
Letty yawned and cracked an eye. She saw a group of nearby mice. Frozen in fear, they were staring her way. They had built a few small fires and were cooking acorns, berries, and carved pieces of root. A pot-full of acorn stew had fallen off its stand and clattered.
“Terribly sorry, Mistress,” A mouse bowed pathetically, and the others followed.
“Don’t call me that,” Letty said, almost too loudly. She rolled back over and tried to get comfortable again.
“Letty?” Emma whispered.
“Ugh—yes, Em?”
“What’s that noise?”
“Someone dropped a pot.”
“No, the other noise,” Emma said, sitting up and looking around.
“What noise?” Letty also sat up. “You’re crazy.”
“Will you two please shut your mouths? It’s Dean and Quill, they got up early,” Staza said, before throwing a pillow at Emma.
Letty tried to get back to sleep, but she heard the noise Emma mentioned. There was a tapping. It was frequent, but also random.
After five restless minutes, Letty stood and stomped towards the sound, nearly kicking up a dozen mouse campfires in the process.
She found Quill and Dean striking at each other with sticks.
They’re training.
Letty felt a querulous smile appear on her face. She wanted to laugh as Dean stumbled, but then she felt something else, something painful. She was behind.
That’s actually a good idea. If I’m supposed to fight, I’ll need practice. I can’t just depend on the Argument for everything. I’ll meet a ryle with a purple orb at some point.
Letty stomped back to camp, and the mice cleared a path as she came, carefully balancing their breakfasts as they did so.
“Get up,” Letty said, smacking Emma with Staza’s pillow.
“Why?” Emma complained.
Letty nudged Staza, who glowered at her and cast a hand out for her dagger.
“We need to practice too; we can’t let the boys get ahead,” Letty said firmly.
Emma sat up in her bag. “I can’t fight, Letty. I barely weigh a hundred pounds.”
“Oh, shut up,” Letty said, and then to Staza, “You’re lethal, I’ve seen it. Please teach us.”
Staza sat up. “Fine, every morning, before breakfast, and we start before the boys.”
Letty smiled, and went to find a new set of clothes. “Get dressed, Em, nothing frilly.”
“I didn’t pack any clothes!”
“Fine, wear something of mine,” Letty replied, getting ready.
They went a safe distance from the many camps of mice and practiced blocking and striking with sticks.
The mice watched, giggling when one of the surfacers stumbled.
“They’re laughing, Letty,” Emma complained.
“Get used to the pressure,” Staza replied.
Practice continued until they were sweating and aching with hunger.
“We need to get a bow for Emma; she has a good eye,” Staza said, as they entered camp.
The boys were sitting together, snacking away. Dean had a heavy club tied to his belt.
“Practicing?” Quill asked.
“Dancing?” Staza replied, and the girls laughed.
Quill shared a knowing look with Dean and the two continued taking bites out of their respective bars.
A few minutes later, Fidelio reported the mice were fed and ready to go. Camp was broken, the many small fires doused thoroughly, and they were on the move.
The sentinels from the night before had strapped themselves to various packs, while Emma cradled one in her arms.
“What?” She responded to Letty’s curious look, “He kept falling off my shoulder.”
The mouse twitched in his sleep, limbs kicking this way and that.
“And besides, they’re kind of cute.”
Letty laughed, and the mice in earshot grumbled with concern.
“We are not cute,” one insisted.
“Maybe a bit—in the right light,” another responded.
“Anything’s cute when it’s asleep,” a third said loudly, hoping to catch Emma’s ear.
Emma, however, didn’t notice.
Quill hummed a few tunes, and Staza occasionally stepped in to sing, though she was bashful about it. The mice joined in with a well-timed tapping of their weapons on the ground.
The tedium of marching melted away, and they found themselves back on the road and approaching Steustace.
“There it is,” Letty said, pointing at the ramshackle wall surrounding the abbey and town. “It wasn’t that far after all.”
“We covered a lot of ground before we slept, yesterday,” Staza replied.
“No one wanted to be eaten,” a mouse muttered, reminding Letty of Aleta’s sister, who she hoped was feasting on birds at the waterfall, far from the goblins.
As they approached, Letty noticed a few carts and a curious group idling around the gate.
Dean stopped in his tracks and pointed at a cart. “What the hell is that?”
There were several lumbering creatures harnessed to the carts. They looked like a cross between insect and gorilla.
“That’s a bruton,” Quill answered, “beast of burden and distant cousin to the others, which are the brutox we told you about.” Quill squinted as he looked at them. “Though they are no strain of brutox I’ve ever seen.”
Letty didn’t recognize them either. Though her experience was nothing like the Caspian’s. These brutox moved too
gracefully, and their plates from limb to limb were discolored or oddly patterned. One beetle had red arms and a green chest, though both were offset by a white head.
“Whatever strain they might be, they’re also traders,” Quill said, “and therefore, peaceful,” he concluded uncertainly.
“Brutox traders?” Letty mumbled, “I thought they all served ryle.”
“What do you think they have in that weird cart?” Emma asked, pointing to the largest.
It had a patched tarpaulin tied down over something tall and bulky.
“Let’s find out,” Staza said.
Letty agreed and led the way. The others were slow to follow.
“So, these are brutox. Aren’t they our enemies?” Dean asked from further back.
Letty palmed the Argument, while Staza and Quill had their hands on the hilts of their blades. Emma caught up and had drawn her club.
Staza smacked Emma’s hand. “Put that back in your belt!” She hissed, and Emma obeyed.
“We need to look prepared, but not openly hostile,” Quill added. “There’s more going on here than we understand.”
They approached, close enough to hear the goblins on the wall arguing with a tall brutox of indeterminate type.
“He must be the leader,” Letty whispered.
The lead brutox had the head of a fire ant, and the body plates in the coloration of a wasp, though he lacked a stinger.
“Have you ever heard of an ant-wasp?” Staza asked.
Quill and Letty shook their heads.
As they approached, they could hear the discussion was heated.
“We have fulfilled our end of this bargain, you damned points! Get out here and pay us!” The lead brutox waved a fist in frustration. “We’ve carted this thing halfway across the scape! You can’t do this to us!”
Letty stared at the Caspians, surprised. “Are brutox known to yell?” she asked.
Quill shook his head. “It’s known that they can talk, though they almost never do.”
A goblin, wearing a large gray wig, poked its head over the wall.
“Open the gate!” the lead brutox yelled again.
“It’s not safe t’ be consorting with strangers when there’s a gobeater afoot!”
“There’s nothing out here but us!”
“Look,” the wigged goblin rejoined, “we undershtand and sympet’ize with the trialy tribulations o’ onesuch as yourself such, but the’s been a vote. The vox populi o’ Steustace says to maintain a self ‘mposed blockade o’ the town, from the inside, until furhder notifications.”
The Ryle of Zentule Page 24
