Gods of Earth (39 page)

His host’s brother rolled a bit and emitted a moan. Hexus kicked the suffering sphere.

“This dark age of men is over,” he spat. His new voice was strange, different, thin and weak. He felt the killer within him writhe in horror at what Hexus had done to its brother.

“I will remake this whole world. Your kind is soon to go extinct.”

He levitated the unconscious gorilla onto her saddle. Then he rose into the air and settled down onto the other horse. They rode off into the dark, toward the city of gods.

“I must become whole again,” he said to the night, to himself, to the future in which he hoped his sibling gods would look back through time and see him at this monumental moment. “No feat is too daring or costly to make this so. No act too cruel. For only a god can redeem these meaningless remnants of humanity. Only a god can save us.”

CHAPTER

33

“D
id you bring me food?” Sar asked the young engineer. “And water? As I asked?”

“Yes.” The boy eyed the bears lounging indifferently nearby. Three of them sprawled on their backs among thick black power cables. One looked lazily over at him and scratched its stomach while licking its black lips hungrily.

Sar and the bears were in the high room of the power station, set against the crystal wall not far from the northern switchback, which rose to the docks above. Turbines hummed behind them. The Hieroni had done a crude job of disabling this station, hacking away with fierce weapons at the heavy cables that fed power out into the city. With an afternoon of work, and five Engineers helping her, Sar had repaired the cables under the suspicious gaze of wolves and bears. Then Sar had sent the Engineers away, and worked alone now.

Below this chamber, out in the streets, the sea water had flooded only a few feet before most of the citizens of Disthea had surrendered, understanding then that they were trapped. Those who did not surrender died, as regrouped soulburdened forces focused on
the holdouts. The battle was over. Only a few skirmishes continued. The opened pumping stations were all now sealed, so that no more sea water poured into the city, and the turbines that pumped water from Disthea were humming again. Just one day after this victory, the soulburdened were starting to relax. Sar’s guard had shrunk from a dozen beasts to three bears now, each barely able to keep his eyes open.

“Don’t mind them,” Sar told the boy. “They have their commands from the god.”

The boy looked unconvinced, but he handed two tightly wrapped parcels to Sar. “Why do you need them wrapped like this?” He handed her a larger bundle. “And why a coat?”

Sar ignored his questions. “Tell me. What did you see when you rode up? Airships on the wall?”

He nodded. “Three airships. Two parked on this building, the other tethered to the wall.” He looked up at the distant ceiling, as if he might see the ships through it. “They’re idling the engines of the ship on the wall. It looks like they’re ready to go.”

“They are,” Sar said. She had paid close attention to the idle talk of the soulburdened around her. These three ships that would pursue the boy were going to take off any hour now. “Tell the Elders—don’t bother with the Creator—tell Pround that I will not be back.”

“But—”

She held up a hand to silence the boy. “Not back anytime soon. Maybe later. Maybe not. And tell him—this is very important—that Garapan is a traitor, a member of the Hieroni. I saw him with Vark.”

The boy’s eyes grew round with astonishment, but he only nodded.

Sar put the packs of food and the folded coat into a satchel and slung it over her shoulder. She stood erect to her small height. “You stay here, below, with the other Engineers. Help them finish. Wait
till the beasts calm down before you attempt to return to Uroboros. It is still too dangerous to walk the streets. I would not have made you come here if my need had not been great.”

“Elder,” the boy began. “Great teacher.…” His voice choked with emotion.

Sar looked at him. He had been a good student, this boy had. Not a great inventor, but he had passion and he wanted to do things as well as they could be done. That was better than Sar could say for most of their guild in this day. She understood what her leaving would mean to this boy—there was not another teacher in Uroboros with her dedication. She had been his mentor and guide, and now she was going to leave him alone.

She sighed. “I too do not want to leave. And I’m not certain I do the right thing—there is much here that I should attend to. Our guild, our students, the rebuilding of Disthea. You and your studies. Making peace with the soulburdened.”

The apprentice frowned at the bears, unconvinced that this last task needed doing.

“Apprentice,” Sar said. “There are times when you have to act, because you are sure that no other is able to do what you can. Now is such a time for me.” She looked over at the bears. “We have been foolish. I did not know that the soulburdened had such anger, such hatred for humankind. They must have suffered much.”

“Disthea is an open city,” the boy protested. “Any of them was welcome here.”

“Yes, but I think none of these would understand that. They suffered, and we did nothing. And so this is what happens to us. Remember that. Young Engineers like you must find a fix for these problems. Not knowing a problem lurks out there is no help when the problem breaks things down on you. Ignorance is a worthless kind of innocence.”

She put a hand on his shoulder and nodded.

“Thank you, teacher,” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion.

Sar watched him trudge dispiritedly to the exit, look back at her, and then close the door behind himself.

She shrugged the pack, pulled the other strap over her other shoulder, and then walked straight at the bears.

“Move,” she told the lazing beasts. “I need to check the cables above. I’ve got to climb that ladder.”

The bears growled but shuffled aside, dragging their bellies, their black claws scratching the floor stones. Without sparing them another glance, Sar seized the narrow ladder that ascended to the dizzying height of the distant ceiling. She began to climb.

After a dozen rungs, one of the bears grunted. Sar looked down and saw the bear stand and look up the ladder. The bear had second thoughts now, as it wondered whether it should have stopped Sar, maybe interrogated her. Rust, scraped off the rung by her boot, fell into the beast’s eyes. It grunted again, blinking, and sat down, rubbing its face, unsure of what to do.

“No more looking down,” Sar told herself. The bears would not be able to climb after her, even if they realized their mistake. She had noted how they struggled on even the shortest ladder. And besides, the bears were already lying back down, sated and tired. Just as she’d hoped, indecision resulted ultimately in inactivity for these slow beasts.

She fixed her eyes on the distant ceiling, and climbed.

At the top of the ladder, Sar lifted the hatch door in the ceiling a crack and peeked over the roof. As the apprentice had said, two airships were moored atop the station. One floated high from its mooring line, its fans idling. The other sat on the wall, tied down by eight cables surrounding the great inflated body. She could see bears
in the ship above, but the front of the cabin of the ship closer to her was turned away. There was no one on the roof itself.

Sar waited while the other ship drifted until it faced away. Then she clambered up and hurried under the shadow of the ship that was tied down. In the back of the cabin were four low doors. These opened onto storage compartments and a cargo hold. Sar opened each and found one door blocked by only a few boxes. She slid these aside, threw her pack within, and then followed it, climbing into the low space. She pulled the door closed and rearranged the boxes in the dark until they covered the door.

In the front of the storage space was the escape hatch up into the cabin above. She stayed as far from that as she could. She knew she would stink of human to a soulburdened beast. But they should expect the airships to smell of men.

A few minutes later, a shout and growl sounded nearby. Clawsteps went noisily over her. The ship tilted, as mooring lines cut loose, and then it bounced up into the air.

Soon it would leave. She would wait them out, until they got into the air, and then show what a descendent of Threkor—demigod, greatest of Creators, and fiercest enemy of the Younger Gods—could do.

CHAPTER

34

C
hance jumped when the Guardian suddenly shouted, “Turn on the engines!”

“Why?” Wadjet growled. She did not move, but stood by the cabin.

The Guardian pointed. “There. Land. On the edge of the sea there. Lethebion! These whales have waited too long. We can make a run for it, to the island.”

A long morning had passed with choppy seas but halting wind. The sails were up, and they sagged and then snapped as wind came and went. The skysail remained stowed. They did not talk. After the previous evening and Chance’s story, each of them had been quiet, meditating on his own thoughts.

Chance went now to the bow and peered over the waves. He could see nothing on the horizon. “Is, is that where the Well is?”

“No,” Thetis whispered, coming to his side.

“But there is an airship on Lethebion,” the Guardian said. “Hidden by my guild.”

“Eons ago!” Wadjet scowled.

“Yes, long ago. Out here, we wait for the whales to attack. Run for the island, while they dither. They will not cross the Sæwall, the guarding ring.”

Without assenting, Wadjet arose and went below deck. Chance thought, uncertainly, that she might mean to spurn the Guardian, to go below deck and lay on her bunk. But instead in a moment the boat shuddered, and then prowed forward. Wadjet climbed languidly up on the deck and got behind the wheel.

“There,” the Guardian said. “There! As fast as she’ll go.”

“I see it,” Sarah shouted, as land came just visible to a human eye. Seth came up by her side, looking warily down into the inscrutable blue depths of the ocean.

“Ah!” he barked. A whale, huge and gray, was rising toward them, a terrible pale mountain of beast looming out of the blue abyss.

“The whales attack!” he barked. “Lie down!”

The whale struck the ship hard, lifting the prow up and then tilting the boat onto its side so that water splashed over the deck and the boom of the sail swung over and slapped the waves. Chance and Sarah had grabbed the gunwale at Seth’s command. Seth grabbed at Chance’s leg and clenched to his pants, sliding away. Thetis slid down into the water that crested one side of the ship, but was caught by one post of the gunwale. Saltwater soaked her robes. Mimir, the Guardian, and Wadjet somehow stayed afoot as the ship lilted back to an even keel.

“Keep on course!” the Guardian commanded. He ran to the back of the ship and seized a heavy rope coiled in the stern. One end he tied to a bolt eye on the splintered deck. He twisted the other end around his arm and dove into the water just as the ship was tossed high a second time.

Again, it seemed that each of them might be thrown off ship, as it bounced and settled back. They had not yet gotten a good grip before they were nearly thrown again. A wave tossed over them.
Thetis coughed harshly on salt water. Seth, wet through now, cursed and tried hard to cling to Chance with one paw, the other slipping over a line from the sail tackle, his blunt fingers not gripping well and his strong teeth not yet in reach to bite the line.

“I’m losing my grip!” Thetis cried.

The rope that the Guardian had clutched paid out and then jerked taut with a strong snap.

A dull, distant vibration—too low to be a sound—shot through them. Chance lifted his head to see a shimmering ripple explode across the surface of the water, seeming to emanate from their boat. It cast up endless drops of water that bounced free from the surface of the sea and then fell back, rippling. As the agitation spread and dissipated, Chance saw first one, then another of the whales float to the surface, lilting and drifting. Six in total rose.

Then there was silence. They waited for another attack, but none came. The Guardian pulled himself back up onto the ship, climbing the thick rope hand over hand as water streamed off of his stony body and splashed off of his sea-heavy clothes.

“What did you do?” Chance called.

“I howled under the waves—deafening them. They are blind now, for they sound out the world. They’ll be lost, but only for minutes. Speed now, speed for Lethebion.”

Wadjet leaned over the wheel, as if she meant to press the boat forward.

Seth shook off the salt water, spraying all of them, and then hurried to the back of the boat, his nails clicking on the hard deck, to watch the sea behind them warily.

The rest of them crowded by the bow, looking toward Lethebion, the island of lost life. Mountains were coming visible as they sped forward. And then, a white line beneath the black peaks seemed to sprout from the sea as they approached.

“Are those… waves breaking on a cliff?” Thetis asked.

“No,” the Guardian said. “No, that is the white Sæwall.”