Penult (38 page)

Viktor had hopped off the pat onto an
island of dead and matted vegetation where he had disappeared into
a cluster of huts. I thought he had wisely run off to get under
cover, but he soon re-emerged with a bulky length of sun-bleached
driftwood almost as long as he was tall—his scepter. I could only
hope that his prowess at conjuring blasts of plasma matched the
size of his implement.

He found a spot on the other side of
the molted nymph that was turning less and less nymph-like with
every passing minute. It wings steadily lengthened and smoothed as
it transformed itself into a full-fledged dragonfly.

Overhead, Urszula and the other
dragonfly riders had intercepted and were busy jousting with the
falcons, taking advantage of the stop-on-a-dime maneuvering ability
and speed of the dragonflies. The falcons were not as quick but
they were nimble and potent with their ballistae.

So far only one of six had tumbled
into the bog, while one of the dragonflies had suffered some damage
to a wing and had to retire from the battle, fluttering down into
the reed forest for refuge.

Urszula was still at it, dogfighting
aggressively, unleashing countless varieties of plasma against her
foes—some as transparent and unsubstantial as blasts of wind,
others alternately fiery or gooey.

Meanwhile the three lumbering condors
came gliding down unopposed, the weight of their burdens stretching
their talons earthward. They struggled to remain aloft.

Dusters on several of the floating
islands began to abandon their huts, taking to the open water in
craft fashioned from giant leaves and split reed, sun-cured and
folded into sleek, little boats with sharp keels.

A cry rang out among those who fled. I
turned to see one pointing into the sky. Another dragonfly had been
hit and was tumbling out of the sky, two of its wingtips sheared
completely off.

“
Is that … Urszula?” I
said, to Viktor. He could only shrug at me and look
away.

The condors got themselves lined up in
a neat little queue and came diving in on us one by one. The first
dropped its boulder on a set of docks crowding a clearing at the
edge of the reed forest. Dusters scattered and screamed as the bomb
struck and exploded with a quiet plop. No fire or smoke. But
thousands of whirling, screeching whips that flew like
self-propelled bolos, slashing and whipping and strangling all they
encountered.

Relieved of its burden, the condor
veered and soared away, heading back towards the hills.

“
Jesus Christ!” I said,
ducking as a few stray bolos came whistling over our
heads.

The second condor dropped its payload
on one of the floating villages, tearing a bunch of huts to shreds,
ripping a gaping whole into the island itself, into which the
wreckage tumbled. This one stayed low, spraying ballista bolts in
every direction as it raked its now empty talons into every lily
pad it passed over, slicing them in two, flooding and capsizing
them. It too, soared away when it reached the edge of the
bog.

Viktor and I had hit both the deck.
Distracted by the tumult I had lost track of the third condor. But
now I saw it. It was coming straight for us.

Chapter 39:
Plasma

The young dragonfly, no longer a
nymph, had spread its wing buds far beyond the blunt nubbins they
had been when it first molted, but it was still in no condition to
fly. Viktor and I stood with staff and sword between it and the
oncoming condor, though I was seconds away from bailing on this
defense and diving into the bog.

I didn’t see what we could do about
that weird fibrous and snake-like shrapnel if that bomb dropped on
our pad. Yet, I remained frozen to the spot, befuddled more than
brave. The vulnerability and innocence of that newly molted bug
touched me. It would be a horrible shame to have its life snuffed
before it could use its wings for the first time.

And what pretty wings they were,
striped like a tiger with broad, coppery bands alternating with
membrane as clear and twinkly as diamonds.

The condor loomed, blocking the sun,
engulfing us in its shadow. Time slowed. I could see the bombardier
in his cage, peering through some kind of sight, adjusting the
angle of the talons to find the perfect release point.

It was pretty clear he was aiming for
the cluster of huts right beside us, close enough for us to be
taken out by that shrapnel. If this one was as skilled as the
others, we could expect perfect precision. The other bombs couldn’t
have hit the docks and village any more perfectly.

I loosened my will as best I could,
again searching for that ball of energy swirling in my gut that
would tell whether I had the mojo to summon a potent spell. As
usual, all I felt in my stomach was a bit of queasiness. I was
pretty sure I was about to shoot a blank.

Without warning and a mite too soon,
Viktor let loose a volley of sizzling plasma from his staff. The
power of his burst surprised me, but it went zipping harmlessly
over the condor’s gunnery cage.

I only had a second to react. But the
mojo, it was there! It was now or never.

Two dragonflies came hurtling. I had
to hold my fire. But could I? This was way more painful than
holding back a sneeze. The force trying to rip free of me was far
more powerful than a mere puff of air from my lungs.

The dragonflies converged and slashed
into the side of the condor shredding its right wing. It swerved
and tumbled into the bog with a huge splash, retaining its payload.
The bomb disintegrated on contact with the water, its strands
unraveling like a nest of angry snakes, tearing into the condor and
its crew before the water rendered them inert, drifting like so
many drowned snakes.

I could see Viktor staring at me while
I stood there with my sword outstretched, shaking and convulsing
like someone transfixed by a lightning bolt. I had no choice but to
let loose my blast. Dismayed, I watched a massive bolus of angry
plasma go firing into the sky, narrowly missing one of the
dragonflies as it scrambled out of the way.

The burst corkscrewed into the sky,
leaving a vapor trail behind it. It found a set of wings—a Seraph
observing the fray—and tracked him. The Seraph tried to flee but my
plasma homed in like a guided missile and scored a direct hit,
pulverizing his wings. The Seraph struck the bog like a meteor,
piercing a lily pad, disappearing beneath the surface with a
kerplunk!

Urszula landed Lalibela hard beside
us, rippling the floor of the lily pad like a bouncy
house.

“
You idiots! You almost hit
me.”

“
Sorry. I … uh … I was
aiming for the condor.”

“
Both of you … you are
terrible. You really need to practice.”

Viktor was too stunned to speak. I
followed his gaze. He was staring out towards the hills at the
three falcons and two condors that survived this
encounter.

I had another bowling ball of energy
winding up deep in my core. I extended my sword, lining it up
against the rounded summits of the low mountains that hemmed the
bog lands. I matched the point with the lead condor in the
formation and let it rip.

The shock wave that erupted sent
Viktor stumbling to his knees and caused Urszula to
stumble.

I had never conjured anything close to
this. A blue ball of cold fire spun into the sky, accelerating like
a supersonic fighter. It caught the lead condor just as it was
about to disappear over a ridge and engulfed it, shattering its
frame to splinters. There was nothing left to fall but a heap of
limp membrane with lumps of embedded Hashmallim. It collapsed like
a limp kite, draping some tall conifers on the hilltop.

“
Wow,” said Urszula. “I
stand corrected. Like riding a bicycle. Yes?”

Dusters in sharp-keeled boats swarmed
the area where the condor had gone down, extracting what was left
of the crew of the condor from the wreckage in the bog. None of
them had survived the effects of their bomb, and neither had the
lone Seraph that I had brought down. I wondered where souls like
them ended up now. I could only hope it was no place
good.

Chapter 40:
Tigger

While the bog people recovered from
the aftermath of the battle, we flew back to New Axum, me again in
front of Urszula on her saddle. The young dragonfly trailed behind
Lalibela for the most part, darting off to investigate various bugs
he spotted on the way.

He was meant to be my mount, but
Urszula wouldn’t let me fly him just yet.

“
You don’t just jump on a
new insect,” she told me. “They need learn to fly with a rider.
They turn too fast, shake you off, break your leg, if they fly like
they want, like natural. They need learn to fly gentle, with rider.
They must be tamed. Broken. Like horse. And besides … we have no
saddle.”

Honestly, I just think Urszula wanted
an excuse to have me near her. I swear, sometimes she fondled when
I was in front of her on that saddle. She would never admit it, but
I was pretty sure she had a big crush on me.

I never thought I would be her type of
man. Physically, there’s no way I could impress her. I’m not
anywhere near rugged. I have a thin skin. I take things
personal.

And yet, she liked me. I guess we had
been through a lot together. She had an odd respect for me. Or
maybe she admired my skills.

I couldn’t imagine having a
relationship with someone like her. She was just too weird, so
different from anyone I knew. She had died really young, and had
never really gotten a chance to mature normally. She was basically
a twelve year old who had a hundred years’ experience in the after
lands, most of it spent in the Deeps. That alone had to warp one’s
personality in a major way.

She took her time descending into New
Axum, making a wide circle around the upper terrace. I was relieved
to see no fighting going on near the cliffs. All was quiet for the
time being.

We landed on one of the larger plazas
that had been cleared of overgrowth and rubble. We were just
outside the warren.

“
So, do you need me to take
you home or can you find your own way??

“
Nah, I’m good,” I said.
“Thanks … for the ride.”

The young dragonfly hovered down
beside Lalibela and proceeded to groom its antennae.

Urszula flicked her head. “Your beast.
Touch him.”

“
Touch him?”

“
He is your beast. If he is
to bond with you, you must touch him.”

“
Touch him
where?”

“
Between the eyes is best.
Move slow and keep your palm flat.”

I went around Lalibela, keeping well
out of range of her claws. I always walked around the business ends
of these big dragonflies like they were jets, only it wasn’t
engines I was worried about getting sucked into.

“
Now approach him slowly.
Palms up and flat.”

I did as she said and the dragonfly
ceased grooming and watched me. A hundred images of me reflected
off its many and mirrored eye facets. I placed my palm on the
hinged plate, fringed with bristles, between its eyes and below its
antennae. It looked kind of like a big-eyed manatee up close. The
plate was waxy and firm, and much warmer than I
expected.

The dragonfly rose up and engulfed my
forearm in its dangly mouthparts. I gave a shout and tried to pull
away, but it had me gripped. Images of that dismembered Cherub came
to me.

“
Relax,” said Urszula,
laughing.

I winced and gritted my teeth. “Relax?
The damned thing … is … it’s … eating me.”

“
This is not eating.
Believe me, you would know if he is eating. He is only tasting you.
Remembering you. It is how we bond.”

“
Jesus Christ!” I stood
there, hyperventilating, as all those dangly appendages fondled my
arm. I could there its sharp and powerful mandibles close just
enough to make contact with my skin. But the creature was gentle,
and gradually my fear dissipated.

When the fondling stopped, I kept my
arm in place.

“
Is he done?”

“
Yes. He is finish. You may
have your arm.”

“
Sheesh.” I yanked it out
and rubbed it. It was tingling slightly but no worse for the wear
and completely dry.

“
I will tether your beast
in this meadow overnight and tomorrow we will go foraging for prey
on the lower terrace. Come here at midday tomorrow and I will give
you some flying lessons. You will need to bring a saddle from the
armory.”

“
Armory? You mean the
grotto?”

“
Yes. There we put many
saddles we salvage from those who fall in the fighting. Any one you
can pick. It is yours.”

“
Alright. I’ll bring
one.”

She sat there, tall in her own saddle
and smiled down at me.

“
Now is time for special
fun. We need a name for your beast. It is tradition to name on
molting day.”

“
Name?”

“
Yes. Your beast needs a
name. How else will you call it?”