Penult (69 page)

“
I want to go back to the
plains,” said Lille.

“
What plains? There is
nothing flat about them now. If you want to call them something,
call them badlands.”

“
I want to go back to the
badlands. Or anywhere far away from this dreadful
swamp.”

“
It’s not that
bad.”

“
Oh no? Then why am I
seasick every windy day?”

“
It’s all in your mind.
These pads are rooted and stable.”

“
I’m going back, I
decided.”

“
Oh? Back
where?”

“
To my hollow. Last I saw
it, it was pretty much intact.”

“
We’re coming with you,”
said Lille.

“
You’re more than welcome,”
I said. “It’d be nice having you two as neighbors.”

Lille bore a grave
expression.

“
James. Is it true? You are
now a Freesoul?”

“
Yup. That seems to be the
case.”

“
How does that make you
feel?”

To answer them truthfully would have
required many more words and much more soul searching than I was
willing to invest at the moment.

“
I’m okay with it, I guess.
I mean, it is what it is.”

“
We’ll be joining you soon,
lad. Now that the hostilities have ended.”

“
You’re both … still
Hemisouls?”

“
Yes, but arrangements are
underway. We’ve decided to take the plunge. Lille’s not going to be
able to stay in that coma forever. And my own health back in the
prison isn’t what it used to be.”

“
How did you guys get
here?”

“
It wasn’t easy,” said
Bern. “Another hard, long slog. When they gave the final order to
evacuate New Axum we were with one of the first groups out by
ground. The Pennies were about to breach the upper terrace and
Master Zhang was still negotiating surrender terms. It had looked
like they were going to give no quarter so many thought it prudent
to leave.”

“
We were halfway to the
bogs when we got word that the final assault had commenced. The
talks had failed and the Pennies planned to take it all. But the
Old Ones took issue with that. They emptied their crypts of Long
Sleepers, staged a massive defense, drove the Pennies off the
mountain, harried them deep into the valleys.”

I sat up in bed and adjusted my
sarong-like wrap.

“
Hah! And Olivier thought
it was all our little root quake that sent them
running.”

“
Root quake?”

“
Yeah. Didn’t you
hear?”

“
We heard a few of you went
on a little excursion to Penult, but….”

Little excursion? Was that how they
saw our expedition? I smiled but kept my mouth shut. Let the Old
Ones have the bulk of the credit. It was probably well
deserved.”

“
Well anyhow, the land is
full of abandoned Cherubim. They’ve ceased all fighting. They just
seem to be wandering like cows, grazing on anything remotely
edible. Some, I hear just stand around, withering away with no one
to tell them when or how to eat.

“
Too bad there isn’t a way
to get their souls back. I wonder if they would be on our side
considering all that was done to them?”

“
I say let them stay
brainless,” said Bern. We have enough to worry about
here.”

“
But they’re people, Bern.
Human like us. I’m sure many of them are decent folks, they just
haven’t had possession of their own free will.”

“
All the same, I wish they
would just go away.”

Lille shared a knowing glance with me.
“Bern doesn’t like nuance or complexity. Unfortunately, that’s not
how the universe works.”

“
I just want to have a nice
cabin in a place where we can stay put for a change. I’m tired of
being on the run.”

“
One more move, Bernard,
and I promise you, you’ll have your final resting place. Next time,
come hell or high water, we can stay.”

Bern sighed. “If only I could believe
that. Now let’s haul out our root stocks. This boy deserves
something with bacon. We’re not actually going to feed him cat-tail
pollen, are we?”

“
Tea, James? We’ve been
using the real stuff. Actual herbs, harvested from the hills and
moors around the bog. I have to say, that part I’ve actually been
enjoying about this place, even if the food gives Bern the
grumbles.”

She poured me a cup. One sip and it
tasted like a summer evening in Ohio with honeysuckle on the wind,
the grass freshly mown and mom slicing a watermelon on the deck. It
was just like home in a cup.

***

And so we moved. I arranged transport
for the two of them by robber fly and I managed to get Tigger to
land next to me long enough to fix a saddle on his back. Imagine
that?

The pitted plains were becoming pitted
again. Luther and his minions had clearly been hard at work,
sealing rifts, corralling Reapers below ground and putting the
first touches on the surface habitations that I’m sure would
eventually become the next iteration of Luthersburg, at least as
grandiose as every iteration that came before it.

My friends went to work immediately,
just outside my hollow building yet another iteration of their
favored cabin/cottage, this time including a root cellar as well as
a small wing containing a guest bedroom. I helped them with the
weaving, but Lille was very painstaking about the details and we
had to let her do the final textures and such.

In these heights of the dry season, I
needed no roof and slept many nights out in the open along the
banks of my little pond in the hollow. The land here, in many
places, had already healed itself. Yes, the plains were much more
rumpled than they had been with the collapse of so many sinkholes,
but it was taking on more and more of a natural look as time went
on, and even the mountains were looking more like mountains and
less like slag heaps with each passing day.

There wasn’t enough left of Frelsi or
the mesas to restore, so a new settlement was established in a deep
and verdant valley tucked among the least ravaged hills. Much to
his surprise and chagrin, Ubaldo was elected unified leader of this
community, his popularity no doubt influenced by our exploits in
Penult. Reznak came to speak for the Dusters in the coalition while
a quiet woman named Jill became the primary advocate for surface
dwellers who had never gone through the Deeps. Nobody called
themselves a Frelsian anymore. Hemisoul. Freesoul. None of that
mattered. We were all just ‘Surfies’ now.

Olivier had retreated back underground
to hang with his old friend Luther and serve as our emissary to the
underworld, which once again began to provide a steady flow of
recruits for the surface communities.

Urszula and Mikal never returned from
Penult. Ubaldo thinks they were taken prisoner. Olivier doesn’t
think they would be executed, just turned into curiosities in some
Lord’s menagerie, used for entertainment and propaganda to sate and
sway the masses languishing in that semi-pseudo-Heaven of
theirs.

I’m pretty damned sure that Urszula
would rather be sent off to the Deeps or worse than subject herself
to that kind of indignity. I’m also pretty sure that if there was
any possibility of breaking out and getting back to the mainland,
she would figure out a way. I pitied the poor Hashmallim who had
the task of keeping her confined.

So far Karla hasn’t come by since she
faded. Either she’s so damned happy about being re-united with her
sister that the roots don’t dare touch her, or she’s keeping her
distance from me on purpose.

Whatever I feel happy for her. I
really do. I don’t blame her for what she did. She thought getting
free would be the best for the both of us. Turns out she didn’t
know me very well. Not as well as I understood her.

I only wished I could be by her side
when she went up the drive of Mrs. Ambrose’s place and Izzie came
dashing past the rose bushes and into her sister’s arms. They
probably had a lot of catching up to do.

She would make it back here someday.
Happiness is always ephemeral in the real world, especially for
dour and pessimistic souls like us. The powers-that-be in this
universe find us expendable. That’s why they attempt to terminate
our lives prematurely and stash us deep in the pods of Root for the
Reapers to harvest and dispose of our souls.

And when she came back, Karla knew
where to find me. A place untouched by war and root quake. A place
that had never failed to provide solace and sanctuary whenever I
needed it most.

***

Across the pond, a willow dances for me,
branches twisting and swaying despite the absence of any breeze.
The water’s stillness and sterility annoy me. Surface un-creased,
depths devoid of fish or worms or even plankton, it may as well
have been a pool of mercury.

I toss a pebble. Ripples expand and rebound off
the shore, distorting the mirrored sky, cloudless yet grey. I toss
another stone before the ripples can fade.

On a throne carved into the muddy bank, I wait,
hopeful and calm, stable at my core. How much I’ve changed in the
few years I’ve been coming here, as if all the neurons in my brain
have been ripped apart and reconfigured. I’m only twenty-one, but I
feel incredibly ancient.

A familiar shape appears in the air high over
the plains—a dragonfly and rider coming my way. One wing tip is
truncated, another tattered, old patches flapping as it corkscrews
through the sky like an unbalanced arrow, the damaged wing dipping
low. Clearly, this was Lalibela and Urszula!

I rise, befuddled, questioning my eyes. My all
but vanquished hopes rally to flood me with relief. No more
grieving.

I clap my hands and whistle for my bug. Tigger
erupts from the ledge where he had been sunning himself. Wings
pumping, he rockets right over me and keeps on going, heading for
the open spaces of the remodeled plains, off to intercept the
intruders like he always does. And always without me, of course.
Why should this time be any different?

So I leap from my throne of mud and sprint
towards the gap in the hollow, bare feet pounding the gravel. I
make for the open lands where she can spot me more easily, my heart
bounding, bursting with incredulity and joy.

*****

THE END

The Liminality, Book Five:

Loom

[email protected]