Penult (29 page)

I circled back and looked for Olivier
to report what I had seen. I landed hard, skidding past him on my
knees. I had yet to get the hang of sticking the landings like my
fellow pseudo-Seraphim.

“
The forces are split,” I
said. “Frelsians to the left. Dusters to the right.”

Olivier smirked. “That’s nice. Tell me
something I don’t already know.”

“
So … who do we go to? The
Frelsians or the Dusters? I know I have my preference.”

“
Neither. We go straight
ahead,” he said. “Right up the mountain with the Old Ones. That’s
where Zhang and his council are hanging out.”

“
But how? I mean … I’ve got
wings … but you guys—”

“
I know it doesn’t look
like it from here, but there’s supposed to be a way up those
cliffs. At least, that’s what they tell me.”

“
So where do we do the
swap?”

“
Not sure, exactly. But
let’s not worry about that right now. Let’s worry about first
getting our asses behind friendly lines.”

Kitt came winging down in a wide
circle. “You guys better get moving! You got Cherubs coming up
behind you hard and fast.”

“
I wasn’t exactly planning
on setting up camp here, my dear,” said Olivier.

“
Nothing to be concerned
about,” said Petros, who seemed in full control of his
consciousness once more. “They are only to be my escort. Your
prisoner is on her way.”

The strain on Kitt’s face did not
ease. “I’ll take the point from you, James,” she shouted. “You got
the left flank. Detmar’s got the rear.”

I flexed my shoulders and my wings did
the rest. I hopped into the air, though my trajectory was a bit low
and I almost kicked Olivier in the forehead. Luckily he had the
presence of mind this time to duck.

I flew out to my position on the
flank. Olivier roused everybody who had sprawled on the ground to
rest their weary feet and got them all moving again.

I could see why Kitt was concerned.
The Cherubim behind us had reached the edge of the marshes a few
kilometers back and were tromping through the reeds. They had split
their force into seven columns, two on each side arcing wide in a
pincers movement. At the rate they were moving they could easily
encircle and entrap the ground party if they didn’t haul
ass.

But haul ass, they did. Oliver got
them up and moving at a good clip, practically at a jog. Not as
fast as the Cherubim but fast enough to reach the cliffs before the
pincers closed, in only they could sustain the pace. With some
dismay I noticed Lille and Bern in the rear of the group,
struggling to keep up with others. I wished now that I had made a
couple more wing joints.

The cliffs ahead were slashed with
diagonal fractures and fissures. I couldn’t spot any obvious routes
up that wouldn’t require mad rock climbing skills and gear. I hoped
that Olivier knew what he was doing and we weren’t just marching
into a wall.

The first terrace of the mountain was
blanketed in a thick, viny cloud forest not unlike those I had seen
atop the now fallen mesas in the lower valley. The second tier was
studded with the ruins of an ancient city—the jagged stubs of
towers, stoned builds, most without roofs though some were encased
in wooden scaffolds.

I knew this place. This was the lost
city where I had accidentally awakened my first Old One—Mr.
O.

Three dragonflies bearing riders
swooped off the upper terrace, skimming the tree tops of the lower
tier—the first mounted insects I had seen since coming back after
the invasion. They were a welcome sight after passing so many
broken and empty exoskeletons on the march.

More flying objects appeared on the
periphery. I spun around and took inventory of everything in the
sky with me. The speck off to my right was Tyler, the most
conservative and deliberate of us fliers. He liked to hover at a
constant height keeping pace with the marchers, so he was easy to
identify in the air.

Ahead of me, Kitt was half again as
high as the rest of us, testing the limits of her ceiling. She
liked being up high, that one. Detmar was far behind us, swooping
low to buzz the middle three columns of Cherubim ploughing through
the marshes behind us. He was playing with fire. All it took was
the annoyance of a single Seraph to make them spring into action to
blast him out of the sky.

But there was something else just
within the ring of mountains, cruising over the Cherubim armies
that seemed to be waiting in reserve. It was too far to discern,
and poorly contrasted, dark against dark, against the forested
hillsides.

A speeding blur came speeding at me. I
flinched, but it was only Kitt, motioning for me to descend. Below
us, Olivier stood atop a jagged boulder, waving his arms. Kitt and
I landed simultaneously on either side of him. Tyler and Detmar
dropped in moments behind us.

“
We just got word,” said
Olivier. “We’re doing the swap right here. Petros says they’re
bringing the prisoner in by air. I’m sending the group on ahead to
get behind the lines.”

“
Those cliffs … I didn’t
see a way up them.”

“
I know. The group’s gonna
make for that gully on the right where the Dusters’ are holed up.
Nobody’s comfortable going to the Frelsians.”

“
What do you want us to
do?” said Kitt.

“
I want Tyler to escort the
refugees to the Duster’s barricade. Stay close. Watch out for
anything fishy. Kitt and Detmar, I want you to keep an eye on the
Cherubs coming up behind us. Stay out of range. They do anything
aggressive, hit them hard. But watch out, they’re deadly accurate
with their projectiles. James, I want you to intercept the condor
that’s coming in and make sure they’re bringing in our prisoner and
that she’s okay. If everything’s cool, signal me with a loop de
loop. If there’s a problem, you come flying straight back here. Got
it?”

“
Condor?”

Olivier pointed to a dark blotch in
the sky behind my head.

“
And watch out for the
gunner in the front cage. Their ballistas are supposed to be
disarmed. But if you see him arm the mechanism, you blast him. In
fact, if he as much as lifts his finger to scratch his nose, you
get that sword of yours ready.”

“
Please. That will not be
necessary,” said Petros.

“
For your sake I certainly
hope so because you, Mr. Seraph, are next on my hit list if
anything bad goes down here.”

Most of the marchers had veered off
towards the Duster lines, but a few hung back, Bern and Lille among
them.

“
Go! God damn it! What are
you waiting for? An invitation?”

Lille’s eyes sought and captured mine.
“Be very careful, James?”

“
No unnecessary risks?”
said Bern, leaning on his staff.

“
Get the fuck out of here!
Now” said Olivier. I took off with the other scouts and the
stragglers left only Olivier and Petros standing by the
boulder.

***

I gained altitude and flew toward the
gangly mass of membranes and struts gliding towards us from the
outer rim. It looked more like a bat than a bird with its angular
joints and claw-like protrusions. There were was a cluster of seven
cages attached to the craft, each with an occupant. The front-most
cage bristled with spikes. I assumed that was what Olivier meant by
‘ballista.’

I wasn’t close enough yet to discern
the presence of any prisoner, but we were closing on each other
fast. My sword’s hilt was slick in my sweaty palm. Olivier’s
anxiety was infectious. He acted as if he expected something to go
wrong with the transfer.

I twirled around to check on the
others. The ground party had hustled almost halfway between the
boulder and the Dusters’ barricade. Tyler stayed low above the
stragglers, drifting backwards, facing me. The hand-carved dummy
rifle stock he used to focus his emanations was tucked under his
arm.

As they neared the barricade a swarm
of man-sized ants burst out from beneath and raced out into the
wash, brandishing their jagged mandibles, forming a protective
cordon behind our people. A half dozen mantids burst over the berm
and landed behind the line of ants I was relieved to see Bern and
Lille thread their way behind this arc of defenders.

When I turned back around, the condor
was much closer and I could almost make out the occupants of the
cages. One cage deep within the cluster held a single pilot. Even
with three sets of wings so huge, the device only took one soul to
operate. Another pod, below the pilot held an array of skids and
talons that apparently supported the craft when it was on the
ground. The rest of the cages, as far as I could tell were for
passengers—one holding someone lying limp and prone. The prisoner?
I refrained from signaling Olivier until I knew for
sure.

Kitt and Detmar patrolled above the
Cherubim columns closing their pincers around Olivier and Petros.
The scouts flitted to and fro, maneuvering evasively, harrying,
almost to the point of taunting them.

On the verge of achieving their
encirclement, the Cherubim now seemed in no great hurry now. Their
pace slowed. Their weaponized limbs remained slack at their
sides.

The condor swooped past me and I
wheeled around to follow it in, staying in a position where the
ballista gunner could not get a shot off against me. I found an
angle that gave me a clear look at the passenger cage in question
and glided in a little closer.

As I did, the prone individual sat up
and opened her eyes, piercing me with an utterly calm and sober
gaze. Not a hint of fear or concern modified her
expression.

I knew this soul! This was Victoria,
the master shape shifter who had once roamed the tunnels of Root to
recruit souls worthy of Frelsi. Once, she had even made Luther
believe she was his prisoner to toy with him, making him look like
an utter amateur. No wonder she was not flustered in the
least.

I broke off my pursuit and made
several huge loops, signaling Olivier. I trailed behind the gently
descending condor, which had extended its wings for maximum lift as
it glided gently down to the sandy flat, where Petros and Olivier
remained in wait by the boulder.

The condor pulled up just before
landing and the lowermost cage opened, dropping Victoria onto the
sand from a ten foot height. She twisted around like a cat and
landed on the balls of her feet. She then strolled past Olivier
without a greeting or even a glance, heading straight for the
cordon of ants and mantids.

Two Hashmallim bearing crossbows left
their cages and came forward to assist Petros. Olivier undid the
Seraph’s binds. They shook hands. And Olivier handed over the pair
of wings he had kept strapped on his back the entire
march.

An argument seemed to ensue. I hovered
low to see what was happening. Olivier waved me away
frantically.

“
Go! Get the hell out of
here!” he said. “They want your wings!”

A gooey and elastic strand came
whipping up from the condor. It wrapped around one of my spars. In
a flash, without having to think, I swept my blade and cut myself
free just as I was wrenched out of the sky.

I almost crashed into the gravel but I
caught my balance and darted away, as Olivier struggled with the
Hashmallim who seemed to be attempting to take him prisoner
know.

That feeling in my belly that
sometimes took so long to conjure flared up this time without
effort. My indignation over-ruled any hesitation and cowardice I
might have felt and a blast of blue plasma came swirling out of my
sword tip, carving a deep rut across the gravel, knocking one of
the Hashmallin into the dirt.

Olivier freed himself from the other
Hashmallim and went running after Victoria who strode calmly
towards the Duster lines, oblivious to the altercation. Petros in
the meantime, tucked himself into the vacated cage in the condor’s
undercarriage while the gunner cranked the loading mechanism of his
ballista.

Kitt and Tyler came screaming past,
unloading blasts of their own from their weapons that carved up the
ground and raised dust clouds around the condor. A barrage of
spikes came blasting out of the condor. They converged on Olivier
as he fled and one impaled the back of his thigh, dropping him to
his knees.

I roared with anger and let loose
another blast from my sword. This one smashed into the ballista
cage, shattering its mechanism and scattering its spikes across the
gravel.

The Hashmallim re-boarded the condor
just as its six wings lifted and pumped and thrust it into the air.
Kitt and Tyler circled it, peppering it blasts that tore holes into
the wing membranes that healed almost as quickly as they were
created.

The ground party had now reached the
barricade and I could see Bern clamber on top and help Lille up. A
mantid had leapt forward and its rider hopped down to help Olivier
while the ants rushed forwards to chase the condor which was slow
in gaining altitude and barely kept out of reach of the snapping
mandibles. The other mantids had taken to the air on
pursuit.