Penult (The Liminality, Part Four)

Chapter 50: The Stand

The surviving warriors—a ragtag mixture of Frelsians and Dusters—emerged in twos and threes from the cloud forest to make their last stand against the base of the cliffs. Whatever distinctions had separated their units had dissolved in the chaos of battle. I stared agog at how few they were, and how many Cherubim were pressing them through the dense stands of trees.

I climbed atop a heap of freshly fallen talus, pointed my sword tip and summoned my will. For once my spellcraft flowed naturally and without effort. One bolus of energy after another rolled out of my core with no more resistance than a burp. I aimed specifically for the Hashmallim who, like puppet masters, guided and amplified the battle efficacy of their brainless, soulless troops. One by one, with unerring accuracy, my blasts smashed into them and struck them down, leaving them twitching and flopping on the ground like bluegills on a dock.

Something big whistled out of the forest, struck a boulder, bounced off the ground and struck my midsection hard, knocking my wind out and bruising my ribs. Had the projectile struck me directly it would have easily disemboweled me.

The blow only sharpened my focus and intensity. My sword sizzled with pulse after pulse. The warriors cut down these leaderless Cherubim and those that came behind them were held up by their puppeteers while they peeked around the moss-covered boles to see what was doing this to them.

A flight of falcons popped over the rim and were immediately intercepted by a pair of dragonflies that zoomed in out of nowhere to slash and crumple their wings. One falcon made it through and sent a ballista bolt shrieking in over my head. It hovered, maneuvering around to better aim another shot at me when a mantis lunged out of the canopy and ripped it out of the sky with its foreclaws.

A huge beetle landed in the clearing. Frelsian and Duster warriors swarmed it and clambered aboard its back. Its wings exploded into action and it took off from the clearing, heading for safety on the upper terrace.

Our fighters were evacuating. To cover their retreat, I stood my ground and fired pulses into the forest as fast as I could summon them. If worse came to worse I could duck into the grotto and hold out there under cover. I didn’t care what happened to me anymore. Whatever happened, happened.

Another mantid, already partially laden with troops, landed on the talus beside me. Hands reached down. A score of eyes beseeched me.

“Save yourselves!” I shouted. “There’s too many of you. I’ll just weigh you down.”

“Screw that! Get your butt up on this bug, you dumbass!” screamed the mantid rider from his saddle.

The urgency of his request convinced me to scramble onto the board. I latched onto a loop of harness. The mantid’s wings thundered open, sounding like a helicopter as we rose along the cliff face.

***

The sun was mostly set when we alighted on the promenade, only a part of its purplish orb still poked above the cracker-ravaged hills across the basin. Soldiers on the rim were busy rolling boulders off the top to further demolish what was left of the stairways. Seven, battle-scarred mantids had survived and were being attended to, their wings shredded, wounds in their shells weeping yellowish blood.

I went over to the Frelsian officer who had tried to prevent John and I from going down. “That kid I was with. Did he make it up here okay?”

“You betcha. The little bastard was damned lucky we recognized him. Bunch of my guys were ready to shoot him down. Took him for a Seraph.”

Relieved, but feeling depleted, I dragged myself up the central lane which was all abuzz with news of the collapse of our defenses on the lower terrace. Braziers of glowing root flickered all along the avenue. Perceptions were all over the place. Some felt that doom was imminent. Others remained confident that the upper terrace would hold.

The Reapers were moaning in their new pens at the base of the meadow. Their keepers tossed them scraps whose identity I was glad remained obscured in the fading light.

At the War Council’s bunker atop the hill, I found Olivier standing outside the entrance. It soon became clear that he was out there waiting for me.

“Jeez kid. Thank God you’re here. I thought you had faded or something.”

“Nah. I was … just helping out some friends. They meeting yet?

He hauled me aside before I could edge past him. “Before you go in, that replica you made? Anybody asks. For now, we pretend it works. Okay?”

“You want me to lie? What for? If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.”

“Listen. Some in the council might not be too keen to send us on our raid if they know we only got that one column. They won’t let us go if we can’t guarantee we’ll make a big enough impact. Zhang’s already making some noise about surrendering the mesa and negotiating some kind of deal with the Lords. Safe passage to the underworld or whatever. I say fuck that. I wouldn’t put it past these assholes to turn us into Cherubs … or worse. So, anybody asks you, we got three working cracker columns. Got it? We don’t want this expedition to be called off.”

“Three? Do we need three?”

“That’s the number Zhang seems to consider the bare minimum to justify a raid. Listen. You and me know for sure we got one that definitely works, okay? For me, that’s more than enough to make this worthwhile. We just got to be strategic about where we place it. And who knows, maybe we can get that dummy you made up and running. Let’s not count it out yet. Worst case scenario we have one cracker column. Best case? Sky’s the limit. We get one copy working, we can make a dozen. Hey, you did it with the wing joints.”

I took a deep breath. Why was the pressure always on me?

The purple sun had dipped below the horizon and the stars that might not be stars were showing themselves.

“Come on,” said Olivier. “Let’s go see the Council.”