Rojan Dizon 03 - Last to Rise (24 page)

A lull, a gap between attacks and Perak left me slumped against a wall to insert himself between her and the door. She stopped just short of taking his face off with a sword and blinked back to here and now. It didn’t seem to make much difference, because she shoved him back behind her and scanned the outer room for more Storad. There were going to be a lot more.

Perak spoke to her but I couldn’t hear what he said because an odd ringing had started in my ears. If I was of a fanciful nature, I’d have said it sounded like temple bells calling me, but that was ridiculous.

She didn’t want to leave the door, the certain death that was sure to come through it and soon, that was plain. But Perak talked and cajoled and when that didn’t work his face hardened and he ordered. It had much the same effect as the cajoling, to start with. Then he said something that made her flinch back, so I thought she’d just let loose with that sword and hack his face off right there and then. He stood, never wavering, and finally her hand dropped.

Perak took a quick look through the door, slammed it shut and bolted it.

“Rojan? Rojan, can you hear me?”

I was almost beyond talking, but I had a lot to do and I needed to keep my breath for when it mattered, so I just nodded.

“What now?”

Funny how I managed to smile, even then. I beckoned them closer, as though I was about to impart some great plan. Then I grabbed them by the wrists and did the second stupidest thing of my life. It was going to screw me worse even than I imagined, but sometimes you have to say what the hell and do it anyway.

By the time I came to, back in Guinto’s temple under the pain lab, I’d managed to make an impressive pool of blood on the floor, the walls were woozing in and out of focus and shadows were stalking me from every corner. Jake swore somewhere off to the left, but her voice had a hitch of tears in it. Perak helped me up, shaking his head like he couldn’t understand what I was doing, why I was pushing myself like that. I would have explained, but I wasn’t sure
I
understood it, not then.

He helped me to a pew and I rested there a moment, my head on my arms across the back of the pew in front, almost like I was praying. Maybe I was, but it wasn’t to
her
. Not to the Goddess.

“Rojan…” Perak’s voice trailed off into a look of worry that screwed his face up like a paper ball.

Had to look strong even if I felt weak as a kitten, had to be big brother, so I forced myself up. There were still things to do and this was no time to be weak. The plaster statues of the saints and martyrs stared at me, but I didn’t have the energy to hate them.

Jake stood glaring up at the two murals of the Goddess, the Upside one, all flowers and happiness and fluffy Namrat and all that happy horseshit, and the Downside one, blood and death and Namrat with his big, hungry teeth just waiting to eat us all up, knowing he would win in the end. Jake had always fought because she wanted the Goddess to love her, because she’d spent half her life being told she wasn’t loved, that the Goddess expected more. For the longest time, I’d thought Jake was like that Downside Goddess, had admired her for the way she fought, because for a Downsider it wasn’t about shiny promises of an afterlife. No, the fight was the thing, fight with everything you have, even when you know you’re going to lose, that Namrat will get you in the end.

Namrat
always
wins.

But when I saw Jake staring up at that mural, I knew what drove her. Fear. Same as me. But unlike mine, her fear was that the Goddess wouldn’t love her, would turn her away unless she fought, more and more, always. Brought up in violence, that was always Jake’s first reaction to anything. Now she stood there, splashed in blood that wasn’t hers, looking more like that Downside Goddess than ever, and it was the fear that was killing her.

She didn’t take her gaze from the mural when she spoke, and her voice seemed very small in the silence, flat and toneless. “Why didn’t you leave me up there? I wanted to stay.” She scrubbed a hand across eyes that were red-rimmed but dry. “I suppose I’ll have to go to the gates then.”

“You don’t have to,” I said. I didn’t have time for this, not really. I didn’t have the
blood
for it. The Storad wouldn’t stay where we’d lured them; I had to get going, but there was always time for this. I had to, not for me or for Jake but for Pasha. “They say it’s the fight that’s the thing, for her. But you’re giving up.”

She whirled on me, and her hand caught me a ringing slap around the side of the head, which I really could have done without. With that slap still stinging, I shook my head and spat out another mouthful of blood. I was surprised I had any left.

“What do you know about it?” she snarled.

“Pasha once asked me if I would let you go and dice with death every day because it made you happy. And he did, but it didn’t, it won’t make you happy because that’s not why you’re doing it. Look at her, the Goddess, who you want, always, to love you. Always trying to prove to her that you’re worthy, and she says the fight is the thing. To
fight
. But you’re not fighting, even if you’ve got swords in your hands and blood in your hair. You’re not fighting, because you
want
someone to beat you, even I can see that. You’re giving up, and do you think that’s why Pasha put himself on that machine? So that you’d die too? He told me, and I get it now, that a sacrifice has to hurt or it’s no sacrifice at all. Do you want him to have done that for nothing? Do you want to make that sacrifice useless and stupid? Because I won’t let you do that to him. Not to Pasha.”

She stepped back and I thought then she might cry at last, but no. No tears, or not in public. Maybe she’d cry later, but not now.

“Bastard,” she whispered at last. “What you know about it, about Pasha and me, eh?
Bastard
.”

“Technically no, but I can see why you might think so. You’re probably right too. But I can’t go and do what I have to up in the lab unless I’m sure about this, about you not trying to get yourself killed. I can’t let Pasha dying mean nothing.” Or perhaps I was kidding myself, trying to put it off, and that sounded more like me.

Jake’s glance flicked upwards, towards the lab, and she flinched. “You’re scared. I never thought you were scared. You were always Rojan, who helped us when no one else would, or could. I never thought you were scared.”

“I’ve always been scared. Scared to be alone. Scared to be with anyone, because I’ll fuck it up. I thought I loved you once. I still do, in a way. I loved you for Pasha. I loved you because you were safe – I knew I’d never get the chance to fuck it up. I’m scared, but I’m going to do it anyway. I have to. And then I won’t have to be scared any more.”

I hadn’t said what I was going to do yet, but I think she knew. She shut her eyes against the tears that threatened, but even then she wouldn’t cry them. “Then you and I are the same – that’s why I fight like I don’t care, because I don’t want to be scared any more.”

I wanted to say something – that there was hope, for all of us perhaps, even her and me, screw-ups that we were. But I couldn’t because I don’t think I’ve ever really believed in hope. Hope is a crock of shit and never gave anyone a damned thing except a buffer against just throwing themselves down a gap and having done with it. Sometimes it made it more likely. Not the most helpful of things to say, so I didn’t.

She turned away, her back rigid, hands on the hilts of her swords, and made for the door. I wanted to stop her, I wanted to tell her… what? I didn’t know, only that I didn’t want it to mean nothing, any of it, Pasha, me, her, everything. But by the time I got my tongue and brain in gear, it was too late. She was gone, and I never saw her again. And funny, I didn’t mind, or not much. It wasn’t her that drove me after all. All that time, all that mooning as Erlat called it, and it wasn’t her. So funny I almost laughed, and instead choked on the blood in my throat.

Perak stared at me, his face as pale as the snow that still piled up in the streets, wherever it could find a way through the warren of walkways and buildings and too many people squashed together. I wanted to say something to him too, but again I couldn’t think what and I needed to save my breath so all I said was, “Help me upstairs, Perak.”

He wavered, and I looked about at the statues and wondered, were the saints ever afraid? Did the martyrs crap themselves before they did what they’d done? Did they dream of Namrat coming to eat them?

And there, the statue of Namrat himself, his face covered with a black and gold cloth as was proper. I’m not sure what possessed me, to see the face of the thing that haunted me, but I pulled the black cloth off and let it drop. A hungry, snarling face, all eyes and teeth. Namrat always wins, in the end.

Perak got hold of my arm and without another word we made our way out of the temple, away from the silence, from the statues’ eyes, away from Namrat. It took a while to get to the lab – walking wasn’t getting any easier, and the snow had turned to slushy ice which coated the stairwell, the walkways, every available surface. The air seemed cold enough to snap my nose hairs, but I barely noticed.

We reached the level of the lab, the area where a huddle of dead Storad lay mercifully cloaked by the snow. It seemed quieter than graves. A faint sound echoed in the crystal air – the gates. They were fighting at the gates, in the streets, on the Spine. They’d all risen, but it wouldn’t be enough, not to beat them back for good. Because there was going to be more Storad, more machines. More everything, if we didn’t do something right now. Of that we could be sure.

“Rojan…” Perak’s voice, worried and small, like when we were boys and he looked up to me.

I shook my head – saving my breath, and the blood that seemed to float out in misty little droplets with it. I only wanted to say it once, and there was someone else who needed to hear it too.

A shout went up from behind the rough barricade, the door opened and light spilled out. Warm hands grabbed me and took me inside, set me down on a chair by Lise’s desk.

Perak crouched opposite me, while Erlat helped me sit up. Even that little thing was hard and I leaned against her, taking a bit of strength from her while she mopped at my face with a cool cloth that seemed like bliss.

“Rojan, what —” Perak said, but I shook my head at him. No words or breath spare to explain.

Instead I used them for Erlat. “Lise’s desk. Bottom drawer, at the back. Green.”

They both looked at me like I’d gone mad, and perhaps they were right, but Erlat went and got the vial and the syringe that went with it. For once I was going to voluntarily get a jab.

“Perak, open the door.” I nodded towards the room that I didn’t really want to see again, but had to.

“What? No, Rojan. I won’t allow it. I
won’t.
”

I levered myself up, and Erlat shifted under my shoulder so I could use her as a crutch. The room swam, colours blurring into black around me, but I managed to stay upright. Just.

“You don’t have a choice,” I said. “Why were you going to blow Top of the World?”

He looked bewildered at the change of tack, but I needed him to understand even if I didn’t.

“I – I —” He pulled himself together. “It’s not about the individual man. One man couldn’t change Ministry, not on his own, not for decades, unless I wanted to assassinate all the cardinals and… the opportunity presented itself. I could have sent Jake away, or tried to and then Top of the World would be empty except for me and the Storad. You gave me the idea, you and Allit when he saw them there, I knew what needed to be done. Take down the whole lot, Top of the World, Clouds, scour Ministry from the positions of power and start again. Most of the cardinals have gone to the Mishans, or tried, and frankly the tribes are welcome to them. I hope they find more use for them than I did. Top of the World is empty, Clouds is a ghost town, except for the Storad. I thought we could topple both, Ministry and Storad, only we can’t now. I thought you were going to blow it all up, not bring us down here. If you’d left me up there I could have rigged something, fixed the ignition switch. Could have blown the whole mess into the Slump. Why didn’t you leave me, why
do
this to yourself?”

I had to pause in my answer because more blood came up. If this carried on, I wasn’t going to have any blood left, but even that didn’t matter much.

“You’ve got a daughter, and she’s already without a mother. Even I wouldn’t make her an orphan if I could avoid it.” Little Amarie, whose kidnap had started this whole sorry mess. A niece I’d never met, who laid flowers at the feet of the saints and martyrs for me, who prayed for me. “Besides, it’s not just Top of the World, is it? Machines, down there. More Storad. On way. Just taking out Top of World not going to cut it. Open door. Big brother will sort it.”

Perak’s gaze went to the windows, to the ominous orange flicker that said everything that needed to be said. Storad in Top of the World, more at the gates, more in the tunnels too, probably, mining, cracking. We had men, we had everyone now, fighting for us. But against those machines, with Storad in place up high, perfectly placed to rain down death on anyone and everything…

This was a chance. A chance to put everything right, make a fresh start, do it properly this time. It was the only chance we had and he knew it.

Perak went and opened the door.

I shuffled over, not wanting to look inside, at the machine that I’d last seen with Pasha’s body on it. I didn’t want to die. I still don’t. I had no choice, not really, not if I didn’t want to drink myself to death over what-ifs. I wished I’d taken the time to ask Lise if she’d fixed the machine.

Erlat helped me, and I leaned on her. Funny, I’d always admired Jake because she fought back against all that happened to her, fought with everything she had until this last, when it had become too much. She’d refused to stay broken. But up there, in Top of the World, when I’d seen the world clearly, like glass, I’d realised.

I admired her, thought I loved her, because I’d thought she was strong. Then I’d seen, at Erlat’s, that perhaps I thought I loved her because she was safe, because Pasha was always there so I wouldn’t have to try, and get it wrong in my usual style. Now there was no Pasha, the illusion crumbled.

When I fall for a woman, I always fall hard. But this time, I hadn’t realised I’d fallen. Not until now, when there was piss all I could do about it. At least that meant I wouldn’t do my usual sort of screw-it-up. No, I was going to do a
different
sort of screw-it-up.

“Rojan, are you sure?” Her voice. Erlat’s, soft and smoky, no teasing now but still pushing the black away for me, letting my mind back.

I fell into the chair attached to the demented machine that was going to save everyone. Had to keep my breath for the words that mattered, so I only nodded.

Funny how she always knew the right things to say and do. She held my hand, and I gripped it tight enough I probably almost broke her fingers. She didn’t flinch. Strong inside and out. I hoped so, because she was going to have to be. Strong enough for us both.

Enough breath for a few words. Not many. “Perak, first Top of World. Next lot, gates. You’ll have to sort the tunnels, I’m not sure I can manage that too.”

“Twice? You want to use this
twice
?”

Again, only a nod. Last few words. Make them count. “Erlat.” She looked at me, her face dim in the faint light, but I saw. She’d tried to hide behind teasing, behind making me blush, and I’d hidden behind Jake, behind thinking I loved her. Out of fear. But right then there was no hiding. There was no fear, or not of that at least. I was out in the open, not even any scathing words to hide behind. It was just me, and her.
Use the right words
.
Don’t screw it up. “
You ruined me for other women.”