by Jack Conner
“We need you, Layanna,” Avery said. “When we reach the Monastery …”
“I won’t be able to open it. Only the Sleeper’s head can do that." She paused, then, as if ticking items off a list: "In addition to finding a radio that can communicate across the waters in order to summon the navies, you must find the Sleeper's head and retrieve it without me ... unless events conspire to bring us together before then.”
“What if Uthua shows up?” Sheridan said.
“You'll just have to deal with him on your own,” Layanna said. “Unless you don't want me to raise an army to hold off Segrul and delay Thraish opening the Monastery until your navies can arrive. I'll leave it up to you."
Avery grimaced. Layanna's proposed army could really come in handy, he had to admit.
Layanna’s tone softened, and she touched his arm. “Trust me, Francis, I don’t want you to go on without me.” Her gaze flicked to Sheridan, then back to him. “I don’t want you to be alone.”
I want to keep my eyes on you, he heard. But that was just fine. He wanted her eyes close, and her tentacles.
“I’ll take care of him,” Janx said. “We’ll get the head and find the Monastery, see if we don’t. And raise the navies, too, by damn. Just be sure you’re there with your armies when Segrul shows up in Vinithir. I think we’ll need your help when that happens.”
Layanna nodded. “When Jivini is dead, I will be the god of the Rim.”
Avery suppressed a tide of misgivings but tried to appear confident—not just in her reasoning but in her motives. He wasn’t entirely sure he managed.
“Can you send some troops with us?” Sheridan said. “To aid our passage into the interior?”
Layanna started to nod, then stopped. “I would, but could you trust them? I don’t know yet who is loyal to me and who is not.”
“I doubt many are loyal yet,” Avery said. “Give it time.”
“Perhaps after the sacrifice,” Layanna said.
“Think I’ll skip that,” Janx said, and downed another long pull. “One for the road.” He stoppered the bottle and slammed it down on a table.
“We should be going before there’s any chance of Jivini loyalists organizing against us,” Avery said.
“That means now,” said Sheridan, and he nodded.
Shit, he thought. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all.
“Com’n,” Janx said, and a mad light smoldered in his eyes that Avery didn’t like at all. “Let’s grab some grub and some guns and get this fuckin’ party started. I got me a score to settle. Segrul ain’t gonna cut his own balls off.”’
“Fine,” Avery said. “But before we go, there’s something we need.”
“What?” said Sheridan.
“The Ral’ist’ti sap. Let’s take some of the dried resin with us—for use as barter, if nothing else. It’s very valuable, and we have no local currency, though I’m sure we can scrounge some from around here, provided the Rimmers have any Core money. But maybe … just maybe … the sap can do something more.”
Chapter 2
“I think I hear something,” Avery said.
“Just your ‘magination,” Janx slurred.
“Quiet, both of you,” said Sheridan.
They hunkered in the bushes outside of town. The night had grown cool, and gooseflesh crawled across Avery’s arms.
“It’s another patrol, I know it,” said Avery. They had been sneaking through the various sentry squads, all of which were mounted on ilithins. The huge birds moved with shocking grace and silence through the woods; a company of ngvandi riders could operate swiftly and with force. They were still a people at war, expecting attack from the enemy at any time; the Corers had driven them back, and now, the Rimmers obviously feared, was the time to finish them off.
“Let’s go,” hissed Sheridan. She rose from her crouch and sprinted forwards through tall, swaying trees.
“But—” Avery started. Janx grabbed him by the shirtfront and hurled him forward. Together they stumbled after her.
Avery’s heart crashed against his ribs. Sweat stung his eyes. At any moment he just knew the tall, nightmarish figures of ilithin-riders would loom out of the blackness, the birds all great spear-like beaks, surreally long legs and grasping talons. He wondered at their sense of smell. Vultures could smell prey miles away. What of ilithins?
The three slipped through the undergrowth, heading inland, and the land rose under them. At one point Sheridan called them to a halt and ducked behind a stand of fruit trees. Avery and Janx followed her lead. For a long moment, nothing happened, but then a dozen riders streamed by, just huge dark forms in the night, the birds gliding in eerie bobbing, undulating movements. The stench of rotting fruit filled Avery’s nose, and he didn’t want to leave the stand of trees, even when Janx grabbed him and shoved him on. The big man looked harsh, his jaw locked, dark eyes fierce, and his face as rigid as Avery had ever seen it.
Maybe they’re not even looking for us, Avery thought. Maybe Layanna’s coup was successful, after all.
But even if news of her uprising had reached the border patrols, Avery knew in his heart that the soldiers might not receive it happily. They might want to hunt Avery’s party. Even if they didn’t, the riders would likely think them spies or saboteurs if they caught them, and without Layanna to save them such an encounter would likely end badly.
The three fled all night, resting occasionally and eating and drinking from the provisions they’d taken with them. Not enough, Avery thought. The food and drink would only last them for a couple more days. At least the sea was further away now. Its fumes couldn’t infect Janx and Sheridan, and the risk of encountering mutated wildlife diminished with every step. Avery wished they could travel along the roads, but Layanna’s new priestess had warned against it. The fighting had caused a great deal of chaos, she said, and in it highwaymen and guerillas thrived. It was best to avoid the roads of the Rim unless traveling in an armored convoy.
Toward dawn the three found the ruins of a town. They watched it for a while, but nothing moved in it, and, as the sun’s first rays coated the buildings and roads in red, the group moved out from the jungle and into the ruins. Somewhere a bird squawked, and Avery jumped.
Sheridan laughed. “It’s only a rooster.”
Feeling himself breathe, he smiled.
“What happened here?” Janx said, looking around them. They passed down a cobbled road lined by handsome if modest dwellings and shops. The jungle had half reclaimed the town, with vines festooning stucco walls and saplings jutting from gutters.
“There,” said Sheridan, and pointed to a hole in the road—a crater made by a bomb. “And there.” She indicated a house that had collapsed. Avery would have assumed the jungle had done it, or time, but now he realized that a bomb had leveled it. “The war came here.”
“It came, and left,” Avery said. “I wonder if that means it’s over now, on the mainland as well as here. If the natural world is already filling in the holes it …”
His voice trailed off as they arrived at a town plaza. There rose the guard towers and fences of a hastily-made internment camp, and inside the camp—
“Dear gods,” Avery said. He turned and voided his stomach.
Bodies piled up in the camp, some in mounds, some littering the ground alone. Many had died along the fences, clawing the wires to get out. Black-winged birds pecked at them, and flies crawled along withered faces.
“It’s just like the camp in that ngvandi town,” Janx said.
Avery nodded, wiping his chin. “Prisoners caught by the infected people to feed their god.”
“Only the war ended and the ngvandi moved out,” Sheridan said. “But they didn’t have time to take their prisoners with them, and they starved to death or died of thirst.”
“Couldn’t the ngvandi have released them?” Avery said. “Set them free?”
Sadness touched her eyes, but only faintly. “And loose enemy soldiers that might come back to fight t
hem?”
“That’s terrible.”
“That’s war.”
Avery moved toward the camp.
“Doc, what’re you doing?” Janx said.
“You’ll see.”
The three had weapons, at least, and Avery used his pistol to blow the hinges off the first gate. A lane filled with razor wire stretched between the two fences, and Sheridan, with better aim and wasting fewer bullets, blew the hinges off the second gate for him.
“This is madness,” she said, as they strode amongst the dead. “Do you expect to find some still living here? Look at them. They’re half bone.”
He made for the guardhouse in the middle of the camp, a fortified building of stone and metal with barred windows. His gun took care of the locks, and inside he found machines and laboratories. The Octunggen had brought their science with them, and their experiments. Sure enough, bodies lay stretched out on hospital gurneys and were hooked up to strange apparatuses. The building lay dark, but it had run on a generator once, and there were many cans of gasoline.
Avery dragged the bodies outside, then the cans. At first Janx and Sheridan complained, but, seeing that he would not be dissuaded, they pitched in, too, if only to get this over with faster. In the end they created three separate mounds of bodies. When it was done, they doused each one with as much gasoline as they could, then set fire to them and stood back.
“This is a mistake,” Sheridan said for the hundredth time, frowning as black smoke curled into the blue sky. “Enemies will see.”
“Then they’ll see,” Avery said. “Would anyone like to say a prayer?”
Wind sighed, and leaves fluttered.
“I know a prayer,” Janx said.
“Then say on.”
Sheridan swore.
“By the Three Sisters who ride the night, let these souls find peace. May their sins be washed clean and their wounds be dressed. Let them be given the succor that they did not find in life. Let their life beyond the Veil be filled with joy. Let the old world fall away.” As if this were a refrain, he added, “Let the old world fall away.”
Avery repeated the words. That was all of the prayer Janx seemed to know, or perhaps that was it. Sadness filled Avery as he stared at the mounds whose flames scorched the sky; he could feel the heat on his skin, blistering his eyebrows. Here these people had died, in agony, and for no reason. They had been soldiers defending their homes against a terrible enemy, but they had not died like soldiers. They had died like rats in a cage. Not even their own people had known they were here, or else they would have been rescued. Did the people of the Core still believe this town occupied by the enemy?
Suddenly Avery realized there must be other such towns scattered around the island, towns that both sides of the conflict had moved on from. Were there camps filled with dead bodies in them, too? After some thought, he decided it was unlikely—at least that there were more than a few. There had only been a handful of Octunggen, after all, perhaps one brigade; they had built this camp, and the one in Ri’ithla. The ngvandi possessed no razor wire, no laboratories. And the Octunggen had stayed close to their god. Thus so had the camps.
Avery, Sheridan and Janx stood staring over the largest of the bonfires, then gradually drew away, coughing and sickened by the stench. They worked their way to the river that ran through the center of town and washed themselves and their clothes on the cobbled bank. A tall red pyramid struck high into the sky nearby, the only one in the town, and as Avery washed the soot from his face he said, “That must have been where Jivini stayed. When she resided here.”
“Wanna take a look?” Janx said. “Could be the Octs left some provisions behind.”
Avery shuddered. “I hate the thought of what Jivini might have left behind.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” said Sheridan, “but remember the guardhouse. They didn’t leave anything behind there except some gas—not a single fucking bullet. They’re not sloppy. We wouldn’t find anything in the pyramid except a booby-trap or two. Better to break into some of these houses and see if there’s any food in the pantries.”
Water dripped down Janx’s square jaw. He had removed his nasal patch to wash it of soot, and Avery noted that he had smoke smeared around his nose hole, as well. Avery pointed it out to him, and the big man nodded his thanks and washed there, too.
“You still think you’re one’a them?” Janx asked Sheridan. “An Oct?”
She regarded him in silence. She had waded out into the river and wore only her bra, squeezing her blouse out with both hands. Water oozed between her fingers, and her muscular shoulders bunched. The cold water had hardened her nipples, but Janx’s gaze never left her face. “I am an ‘Oct’, as you say,” she said. “At least some of my ancestors were. Not that that matters in our present circumstance. If you mean to ask whether I identify myself with their cause, no. I haven’t for some time.”
Not since you chose me over them, Avery thought. He went shirtless too, and pantsless, sitting along the bank with the sun on his back and his legs in the cool, cool water. It all felt very pleasant somehow, even though the smoke columns of the dead still corkscrewed into the sky.
“I think we’ve dallied long enough,” he said. “What if the smoke does draw attention here?”
They pressed on to the edge of town, then into the jungle, which they traveled through for hours. At a high point they saw something that disturbed them. In the distance between lowering hills, forest and beach stretched the vast, dark crushingness of the Atomic Sea. Lightning blasted up from it, again and again, sparks from a staccato drumbeat. Gas bubbles exploded brightly, reflecting off the clouds that thickened and darkened, churning, over the waters, from one horizon to another. A cold breeze gusted in, ruffling Avery’s mustache, which had grown back, and the remains of his hair. He shivered.
“It’s gettin’ worse,” Janx said.
“So it appears,” said Sheridan. “And it looks like it’s taking over the skies, as well.”
“The wind’s blowing this way,” said Avery.
“We’d better get moving before it arrives.”
“Night’ll fall soon,” Janx said. “We need to decide whether to hunker down here till dawn or put at least a few miles behind us before nightfall hits.”
“I vote for making tracks,” Sheridan said.
“Yes.” Avery sucked in a breath. “We might consider pushing on after sundown, too—if we can. We may not be able to travel by night, but if we can we should. We don’t have long before Segrul arrives at Vinithir.”
They all voted to proceed. The storm crashed around them, and lightning flickered down and made strange shapes, nightmarish impressions that lingered in the eyes. Wind blew trees this way and that, ripping out leaves and making them fly all about in dark streams. Leaves plastered themselves over Avery’s face, then flew on. The Atomic Sea had indeed infected the skies, at least to some extent, and the rain frequently gave off little discharges of blue and white and yellow. Avery wondered if the rain could infect people. Surely not, he thought. Not yet, anyway. But soon, oh yes, very soon.
They moved up and around jungly hills. Great trees swayed all around them, except where the foliage opened up on the right and dropped away in terrifying plunges to the raging sea. Foaming, crackling waves smashed against the rocks, creating furious displays of color and energy. Far out over the water great dark shapes trailing tentacles drifted over the water, and Avery found himself hoping they were squids.
“The Atomic World,” he breathed.
“Gods below,” said Janx, as lightning etched an obscenity in the sky, blowing open the top of a tree in green light that arced from tree to tree all around. The trees sizzled. Smoke rose from them.
“They must have started it up,” Sheridan said. “The Central Processor in Xicor’ogna. They’ve begun activating their failsafe.”
“Fucking Uthua,” said Janx. “I bet he did this. The sea only started to get bad after he returned to the city.”
“I wonder how long it will take the Processor to finish,” Avery said. “I think I remember Layanna saying it would take a couple of weeks to create the Atomic World if it was cranked up to full power … that is, if it didn’t rupture the world before then.”
They picked their way through the trees, with the storm crashing overhead, for another hour. The storm raged fiercely in the tar-black night, and many times the group darted for cover as something large moved in the thick undergrowth—once, a group of somethings, large as elephants, and Avery wondered if he peeked whether he would see massive feathered elephant-birds sporting twenty foot long beaks instead of trunks. He’d already seen several feathered animals, one that resembled a snake, one that resembled a sloth; obviously birds had evolved to fill many niches on the island. He didn’t look, though. If it weren’t for the frequent lightning bursts, the three wouldn’t have been able to see where they were going, as nobody had thought to bring a flashlight. And they still couldn’t see very well, only a few feet in any direction, as the rain came too thick and the night pressed too black—and the jungle, too. It shoved at them all around, clinging and sticking and barring their way. They had to tear off branches of trees to hack their way through it, and even then it was tiresome, slow going.
Finally they stumbled into a sort of clearing, with a needle pyramid rearing from its center, and at the base of this pyramid they saw a strange scene. A giant, predatory bird, maybe fifteen feet at the shoulder, stuck its head down to dine upon a large, thickly-muscled bird-creature that had walked upon its legs and wings both. The wings had become large and heavily-muscled, a true set of arms. Its belly had been ripped open, and the predator bird dined upon its guts, its beak bloody and dripping, while off to the side several monkey-sized birds hunkered under a stout limb at the edge of the clearing, waiting for the predator to finish. By their whorls and spots Avery bet they would be beautifully-colored in the daylight.
“What is that thing?” Sheridan said, and at first Avery thought she meant the birds, but she gazed upward.
Avery turned his eyes in that direction to see the upper reaches of the pyramid, which he was sure would be red when the sun rose. There must have been a settlement here at some point. Then he saw what must have interested Sheridan. Something jutted from the very top of the pyramid. Avery strained his eyes.
