Penult (51 page)

What the hell was she thinking,
showing up now? I was doing what she wanted, attacking Penult,
however futile the outcome of our piddling raid was to be. Why did
she need to go and butt in now? How was I supposed to concentrate
on anything important with her around?

I kept my head averted and ducked
behind a stone fountain at the base of the meadow. This fountain
been dry last time I had seen it. Someone had recently restored the
flow.

Gravity-fed spring water gushed a few
feet up into the air from the central aqueduct, cascading down six
spillways to the pebble-lined channel that encircled it. It emptied
into a deep groove that slashed across the plaza carrying clean
water deep into the warren.

A bunch of insects came flying in, all
bearing riders—another scarab beetle and several sleek and nimble
creatures I hadn’t seen before, not in the Liminality anyhow.
Whatever they were, they landed close to Tigger and spooked him. He
took off and flew over to the meadow next to the Reaper
pens.

I strolled towards Tigger, not because
I thought I could comfort him, but figuring he was my
responsibility and I should keep him from straying too far. He
preened his antennae as he watched me approach with those huge
compound eyes. He let me come right up to him without threatening
to taste me or attempting to flee. I was impressed.

I climbed up behind his wings and
checked my ‘fat man’s’ saddle, finding it perfectly configured with
the cinches and straps all snugged up tight. Someone had already
gotten Tigger prepped and ready to go for me.

My Tyvek-patched Seraph wings were
folded up and lashed to the base of his abdomen. Water skins were
slung from loops. The saddle bags were stuffed with manna chips and
some gooey, smelly crap wrapped in leaves that I hoped was meant
for Tigger’s consumption and not mine.

Olivier whistled to get our attention
and waved for us to join him. Tigger let me climb aboard, no
problem, but I just sat there in the saddle kicking and stomping
and patting his shell, trying to get him to go.

“
Giddy-up!
Yee-haw.”

I might as well have been trying to
get a boulder to take wing. He remained oblivious to my
commands.

Tigger continued to ignore me, but as
soon as Ubaldo let out a piercing shriek, the damned insect
responded, buzzing us back over to the others on the plaza. My
Duster friends had apparently been getting him trained up while I
was away. I wasn’t sure I was capable of replicating Ubaldo’s
scream with my reedy voice. This was going to be a
problem.

Tigger set down right next to the
three cracker columns. They were laid out on the cobbles like
missiles on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier. Encased in
their shrouds, I had no way of discerning which one was
real.

“
Alright people, we’re
about ready to roll,” said Olivier. “This is how things are gonna
go down. We want three dragonflies to fly point with Iggy on the
lead bug. Three others will take up the rear. Beetles with their
payloads will fly in the center of the formation. Two robber flies
will flank either side in close escort. Yaqob and Ubaldo will roam
free to scout ahead and intercept any threats. No matter what
happens, no one breaks formation unless they want help, and then
it’ll be robber flies out first. If we get attacked by anything we
can’t handle, we abort the mission, and head straight to the bogs.
Understood?”

The assembled party offered various
grunts of assent. I looked over the group and saw mostly Dusters
and only a few familiar faces. There were only two Frelsians
joining us and zero Old Ones. I suppose that wasn’t too surprising
because Frelsians had little experience with bugs. The Dusters
coming along were primarily from the old guard—Yaqob and Urszula’s
generation. Ubaldo was one of the few recent immigrants from the
Deeps.

Out of the corner of my eye I watched
Karla hop onto one of the robber flies. Since when did she know how
to ride a bug? I have to say, those robber flies were impressive
creatures. They looked sort of like houseflies, but way more lanky
and burly, built for speed and predation.

Olivier came up beside me and Tigger.
“Hey James. No offense, but I want you in the rear group with
Zhang’s people.” He clambered up onto a massive metallic-blue
scarab that seemed to have a stripped-down easy chair strapped to
its thorax. “The Frelsians are still a little shaky with their
bugs. It’ll give you guys a chance to much around and practice.
Less pressure.”

“
That’s fine!” I said,
though it came out louder and more annoyed-sounding than I
intended. Olivier gave me a weird look. Of course it made sense to
have the more experienced Dusters on the lead dragonflies. I was
just feeling agitated.

Everybody climbed aboard their bugs
and made last minute adjustments to their gear. I was not ready for
this raid one bit. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I
wish I was still in the Orkneys, in Jessica’s aunt’s
cottage.

The three lead dragonflies took to the
air first. The robber flies quickly followed. And then Tigger burst
off the plaza without me needing to do a thing. While we circled
overhead, the beetles opened their wing cases and lifted off the
cobbles, swooping down over the cracker columns, latching onto the
shrouds with their claws. The crowd on the plaza cheered as they
thundered off to join us.

Each of the bug riders followed
Olivier’s instructions to a T. All except me and Tigger, of course.
As soon as we got up in the air, Tigger zoomed up over the beetles
and took up a spot just behind the tail of the lead dragonfly, an
impressive specimen with a huge wing span, a golden green body and
eyes of iridescent amber.

I tried every kind of slap and kick to
try and get Tigger to go back, but he paid no attention to me. He
had decided on his own that he was going to be second banana to the
big green bug and that was that. When the leader’s wing men came
over and tried to nudge him aside, he tussled with them, scraping
wings, pummeling their heads with his feet.

I felt deeply embarrassed. I could
imagine Olivier rolling his eyes at the sight. Ubaldo came zooming
down on his hornet and I thought for sure we were in for a
scolding.

He pulled up next to me, his face calm
and unperturbed. “No worries,” he said. “You can stay here. We know
your mount is difficult.”

“
Are you sure?”

He nodded, though there was nothing I
could have done about it if he had changed his mind. Tigger was
determined to follow the leader.

Ubaldo leaned slightly to his left and
his wasp responded like it was wired to his brain, arcing wide
around our flank. And yet Ubaldo was as new to bug riding as me.
Not fair. At least, flying up front, it was easier to keep from
staring at Karla.

My feelings about her remained a
jumbled mess and I expected things to stay that way. I was pissed
at her beyond belief for what she had done. Though, it was tinged
with relief that nothing nefarious had happened to her. I was
worried about the risk of her coming to Penult, but glad she
wouldn’t be in New Axum when it fell. The bottom line was, I still
had feelings for her. They weren’t going away anytime soon, but I
wasn’t near ready to let her know that.

We passed over the wilder and
un-terraced back reaches of the mountain. Here, overhanging cliffs
dropped in one fell swoop to a splintered badland of pointy spires
and deep, dry gorges, terrain so treacherous it required no
defenders. I wondered, though, what one well-placed cracker column
might do to tame it.

We followed the one river valley that
remained under the control of the Dusters. The route was familiar
to me. Urszula had taken me this way to Tigger’s bog. Though, when
we reached the circle of peaks that cradled those wetlands like the
walls of a massive bathtub, we veered eastward, to an area of
savanna that reminded me of the pitted plains before crackers had
torn them up. Here, too, the land was dotted with pits, portals and
vents to the underworld, a place I had no desire ever to
return.

We headed for a range of hills backed
by yet more ranges in the distance. Hours, we flew. Tigger had a
way of flying that forced me to stay alert at all times. Over and
over he would spot something that would interest only a dragonfly
and veer off and dive without warning to inspect it, leaving my
stomach in the lurch somewhere back in the clouds. Then, just as
abruptly, he would dart away from whichever dead tree or rock
formation had piqued his curiosity and rejoin the formation. I no
more controlled this bug than a sack of rice controlled a
donkey.

Staying alert for all of these
herky-jerky changes in direction was exhausting but necessary to
keep from tumbling out of that damned saddle. These things had no
seatbelts. I wondered if I could rig up some kind of life line or
safety tether, whenever, if ever we landed. At least it would give
me some peace of mind.

On and on we flew, over hills and
marshes, deserts and forests. I kept hoping we would stop for a
rest. Surely these insects needed some refreshment. Their stamina
astounded and disappointed me.

Finally, late in the afternoon, the
last range of hills rumpling the horizon gave way to a narrow
forested plain fringed by gleaming ocean. Chevrons of breakers
converged on a strand of golden sand lining the broad curve of a
bay. The lead dragonfly led the descent with Tigger close
behind.

***

We touched down lightly on the sand.
The beetles behind us scraped trenches with their payloads and
struck the beach with a thud. I sat there hunched in the saddle,
muscles quivering with exhaustion, still clinging to the handholds.
The other riders had already dismounted and were dipping into their
saddlebags.

Yaqob’s scorpion fly hopped over to
the surf line to nibble on the remains of some fleshy mollusk that
had washed up. The beetles went and huddled over a decaying heap of
giant kelp like cows over a bale of hay.

I took a deep breath and lowered
myself to the ground, grateful to feel solid earth beneath my feet.
Ubaldo came striding up.

“
Remove your saddle. There
is good hunting in the forest. We will let the insects forage
before nightfall.”

“
We’re not gonna tether
them? How do we get them back?”

He looked at me like I was a dunce
before a trace of sympathy entered his expression. “Don’t worry
about yours. He will follow the others. He is a good dragonfly. He
is just young and stupid.”

Yaqob came strolling up. “We can’t
camp here. Too exposed. The Seraphim will spot us.”

“
There is forest behind the
dunes,” said Ubaldo.

Olivier came dragging his chair-like
saddle through the sand. “We should lay low and keep a watch for
the scouts. We should see them patrolling down the shoreline once
they return. Once we have a confirmed visual, we can send up a
guide to bring them down to us.”

“
And if they never come?”
said Ubaldo.

Yaqob sighed. “If they don’t come, we
cross without them.”

***

Our fellow raiders helped haul the
crackers under the cover of the glossy-leafed trees that backed the
dunes. Their canopies spread wide and dense between their narrow,
ribbed trunks, while thickets of shrubs screened us from anyone who
might approach on foot.

Ubaldo went off to take the first
watch atop the dunes, digging himself a foxhole concealed with
hunks of driftwood and strands of dried seaweed. We expected the
scouts to come up from the south where the crossing to Penult was
the narrowest. But that was also where the Cherubim came ashore in
their oar-driven ships.

As the sun hunkered low, I wandered
the fringes of our camp, keeping my distance from Karla. Maybe I
was being immature, but I wasn’t ready to talk to her. I needed
some space. It felt weird, avoiding her, after a week of trying to
hunt her down across half of Scotland and all of the
Singularity.

She pretended not to notice me, making
no attempt to approach or even look my way. Was she respecting my
need for space or did she simply not care anymore? When I spotted
her joking around with one of the male volunteers, a wave of
jealousy roiled my innards.

My emotions towards her remained too
strong, too raw, and I could not handle them any better than I
could handle Tigger. It was inevitable that I would be the first to
break my self-imposed silent treatment. Maybe she knew that. Maybe
she was just being patient and understanding. Maybe she was just a
selfish and conniving bitch.

But I had to stick it out a little
longer. I had to send the message that she had been wrong to
manipulate me and that these were the consequences.

As the dusk deepened, our insects
settled down for the night. The beetles dug shallow burrows in the
sandy loam behind the dunes while the robber flies and dragonflies
perched high in the canopy. From all the cricket parts I found
strewn beneath their roosts, I could tell their hunts had gone
well.

I found Olivier sitting with Yaqob in
a little glade ringed with shrubs and joined them. It was getting
so dark I could barely make out their faces, and the canopy of
broad-leafed boughs overhead only made things darker. Giant
crickets began to creak in the distance, their chirps as loud as
chainsaws.