Penult (Book Four of The Liminality)

  I stood on that giant lily pad like a jack-lighted deer, gawking as the falcons peeled to engage the dragonfly riders coming at them from both sides. But behind the falcons came three condors, heavily laden and skimming the hilltops.

  My wits returned and I sidled over to the newborn dragonfly with my sword. Its wings were still crumped, but I could see fluid pumping through the translucent veins. It hissed and backed away as I approached, lashing out with its razor-clawed forelegs. Protect it? Who was going to protect me from it?

  I got as close as I could risk and stood facing the condors, still uncomfortable at the prospect of having my back turned to that hungry and quite possibly hungry beast. I couldn’t shed the image of Lalibela munching on that Cherub.

  Viktor had hopped off the pat onto an island of dead and matted vegetation where he had disappeared into a cluster of huts. I thought he had wisely run off to get under cover, but he soon re-emerged with a bulky length of sun-bleached driftwood almost as long as he was tall—his scepter. I could only hope that his prowess at conjuring blasts of plasma matched the size of his implement.

  He found a spot on the other side of the molted nymph that was turning less and less nymph-like with every passing minute. It wings steadily lengthened and smoothed as it transformed itself into a full-fledged dragonfly.

  Overhead, Urszula and the other dragonfly riders had intercepted and were busy jousting with the falcons, taking advantage of the stop-on-a-dime maneuvering ability and speed of the dragonflies. The falcons were not as quick but they were nimble and potent with their ballistae.

  So far only one of six had tumbled into the bog, while one of the dragonflies had suffered some damage to a wing and had to retire from the battle, fluttering down into the reed forest for refuge.

  Urszula was still at it, dogfighting aggressively, unleashing countless varieties of plasma against her foes—some as transparent and unsubstantial as blasts of wind, others alternately fiery or gooey.

  Meanwhile the three lumbering condors came gliding down unopposed, the weight of their burdens stretching their talons earthward. They struggled to remain aloft.

  Dusters on several of the floating islands began to abandon their huts, taking to the open water in craft fashioned from giant leaves and split reed, sun-cured and folded into sleek, little boats with sharp keels.

  A cry rang out among those who fled. I turned to see one pointing into the sky. Another dragonfly had been hit and was tumbling out of the sky, two of its wingtips sheared completely off.

  “Is that … Urszula?” I said, to Viktor. He could only shrug at me and look away.

  The condors got themselves lined up in a neat little queue and came diving in on us one by one. The first dropped its boulder on a set of docks crowding a clearing at the edge of the reed forest. Dusters scattered and screamed as the bomb struck and exploded with a quiet plop. No fire or smoke. But thousands of whirling, screeching whips that flew like self-propelled bolos, slashing and whipping and strangling all they encountered.

  Relieved of its burden, the condor veered and soared away, heading back towards the hills.

  “Jesus Christ!” I said, ducking as a few stray bolos came whistling over our heads.

  The second condor dropped its payload on one of the floating villages, tearing a bunch of huts to shreds, ripping a gaping whole into the island itself, into which the wreckage tumbled. This one stayed low, spraying ballista bolts in every direction as it raked its now empty talons into every lily pad it passed over, slicing them in two, flooding and capsizing them. It too, soared away when it reached the edge of the bog.

  Viktor and I had hit both the deck. Distracted by the tumult I had lost track of the third condor. But now I saw it. It was coming straight for us.

  Chapter 39: Plasma

  The young dragonfly, no longer a nymph, had spread its wing buds far beyond the blunt nubbins they had been when it first molted, but it was still in no condition to fly. Viktor and I stood with staff and sword between it and the oncoming condor, though I was seconds away from bailing on this defense and diving into the bog.

  I didn’t see what we could do about that weird fibrous and snake-like shrapnel if that bomb dropped on our pad. Yet, I remained frozen to the spot, befuddled more than brave. The vulnerability and innocence of that newly molted bug touched me. It would be a horrible shame to have its life snuffed before it could use its wings for the first time.

  And what pretty wings they were, striped like a tiger with broad, coppery bands alternating with membrane as clear and twinkly as diamonds.

  The condor loomed, blocking the sun, engulfing us in its shadow. Time slowed. I could see the bombardier in his cage, peering through some kind of sight, adjusting the angle of the talons to find the perfect release point.

  It was pretty clear he was aiming for the cluster of huts right beside us, close enough for us to be taken out by that shrapnel. If this one was as skilled as the others, we could expect perfect precision. The other bombs couldn’t have hit the docks and village any more perfectly.

  I loosened my will as best I could, again searching for that ball of energy swirling in my gut that would tell whether I had the mojo to summon a potent spell. As usual, all I felt in my stomach was a bit of queasiness. I was pretty sure I was about to shoot a blank.

  Without warning and a mite too soon, Viktor let loose a volley of sizzling plasma from his staff. The power of his burst surprised me, but it went zipping harmlessly over the condor’s gunnery cage.

  I only had a second to react. But the mojo, it was there! It was now or never.

  Two dragonflies came hurtling. I had to hold my fire. But could I? This was way more painful than holding back a sneeze. The force trying to rip free of me was far more powerful than a mere puff of air from my lungs.

  The dragonflies converged and slashed into the side of the condor shredding its right wing. It swerved and tumbled into the bog with a huge splash, retaining its payload. The bomb disintegrated on contact with the water, its strands unraveling like a nest of angry snakes, tearing into the condor and its crew before the water rendered them inert, drifting like so many drowned snakes.

  I could see Viktor staring at me while I stood there with my sword outstretched, shaking and convulsing like someone transfixed by a lightning bolt. I had no choice but to let loose my blast. Dismayed, I watched a massive bolus of angry plasma go firing into the sky, narrowly missing one of the dragonflies as it scrambled out of the way.

  The burst corkscrewed into the sky, leaving a vapor trail behind it. It found a set of wings—a Seraph observing the fray—and tracked him. The Seraph tried to flee but my plasma homed in like a guided missile and scored a direct hit, pulverizing his wings. The Seraph struck the bog like a meteor, piercing a lily pad, disappearing beneath the surface with a kerplunk!

  Urszula landed Lalibela hard beside us, rippling the floor of the lily pad like a bouncy house.

  “You idiots! You almost hit me.”

  “Sorry. I … uh … I was aiming for the condor.”

  “Both of you … you are terrible. You really need to practice.”

  Viktor was too stunned to speak. I followed his gaze. He was staring out towards the hills at the three falcons and two condors that survived this encounter.

  I had another bowling ball of energy winding up deep in my core. I extended my sword, lining it up against the rounded summits of the low mountains that hemmed the bog lands. I matched the point with the lead condor in the formation and let it rip.

  The shock wave that erupted sent Viktor stumbling to his knees and caused Urszula to stumble.

  I had never conjured anything close to this. A blue ball of cold fire spun into the sky, accelerating like a supersonic fighter. It caught the lead condor just as it was about to disappear over a ridge and engulfed it, shattering its frame to splinters. There was nothing left to fall but a heap of limp membrane with lumps of embedded Hashmallim. It collapsed like a limp kite, draping some tall conifers o
n the hilltop.

  “Wow,” said Urszula. “I stand corrected. Like riding a bicycle. Yes?”

  Dusters in sharp-keeled boats swarmed the area where the condor had gone down, extracting what was left of the crew of the condor from the wreckage in the bog. None of them had survived the effects of their bomb, and neither had the lone Seraph that I had brought down. I wondered where souls like them ended up now. I could only hope it was no place good.

  Chapter 40: Tigger

  While the bog people recovered from the aftermath of the battle, we flew back to New Axum, me again in front of Urszula on her saddle. The young dragonfly trailed behind Lalibela for the most part, darting off to investigate various bugs he spotted on the way.

  He was meant to be my mount, but Urszula wouldn’t let me fly him just yet.

  “You don’t just jump on a new insect,” she told me. “They need learn to fly with a rider. They turn too fast, shake you off, break your leg, if they fly like they want, like natural. They need learn to fly gentle, with rider. They must be tamed. Broken. Like horse. And besides … we have no saddle.”

  Honestly, I just think Urszula wanted an excuse to have me near her. I swear, sometimes she fondled when I was in front of her on that saddle. She would never admit it, but I was pretty sure she had a big crush on me.

  I never thought I would be her type of man. Physically, there’s no way I could impress her. I’m not anywhere near rugged. I have a thin skin. I take things personal.

  And yet, she liked me. I guess we had been through a lot together. She had an odd respect for me. Or maybe she admired my skills.

  I couldn’t imagine having a relationship with someone like her. She was just too weird, so different from anyone I knew. She had died really young, and had never really gotten a chance to mature normally. She was basically a twelve year old who had a hundred years’ experience in the after lands, most of it spent in the Deeps. That alone had to warp one’s personality in a major way.

  She took her time descending into New Axum, making a wide circle around the upper terrace. I was relieved to see no fighting going on near the cliffs. All was quiet for the time being.

  We landed on one of the larger plazas that had been cleared of overgrowth and rubble. We were just outside the warren.

  “So, do you need me to take you home or can you find your own way??

  “Nah, I’m good,” I said. “Thanks … for the ride.”

  The young dragonfly hovered down beside Lalibela and proceeded to groom its antennae.

  Urszula flicked her head. “Your beast. Touch him.”

  “Touch him?”

  “He is your beast. If he is to bond with you, you must touch him.”

  “Touch him where?”

  “Between the eyes is best. Move slow and keep your palm flat.”

  I went around Lalibela, keeping well out of range of her claws. I always walked around the business ends of these big dragonflies like they were jets, only it wasn’t engines I was worried about getting sucked into.

  “Now approach him slowly. Palms up and flat.”

  I did as she said and the dragonfly ceased grooming and watched me. A hundred images of me reflected off its many and mirrored eye facets. I placed my palm on the hinged plate, fringed with bristles, between its eyes and below its antennae. It looked kind of like a big-eyed manatee up close. The plate was waxy and firm, and much warmer than I expected.

  The dragonfly rose up and engulfed my forearm in its dangly mouthparts. I gave a shout and tried to pull away, but it had me gripped. Images of that dismembered Cherub came to me.

  “Relax,” said Urszula, laughing.

  I winced and gritted my teeth. “Relax? The damned thing … is … it’s … eating me.”

  “This is not eating. Believe me, you would know if he is eating. He is only tasting you. Remembering you. It is how we bond.”

  “Jesus Christ!” I stood there, hyperventilating, as all those dangly appendages fondled my arm. I could there its sharp and powerful mandibles close just enough to make contact with my skin. But the creature was gentle, and gradually my fear dissipated.

  When the fondling stopped, I kept my arm in place.

  “Is he done?”

  “Yes. He is finish. You may have your arm.”

  “Sheesh.” I yanked it out and rubbed it. It was tingling slightly but no worse for the wear and completely dry.

  “I will tether your beast in this meadow overnight and tomorrow we will go foraging for prey on the lower terrace. Come here at midday tomorrow and I will give you some flying lessons. You will need to bring a saddle from the armory.”

  “Armory? You mean the grotto?”

  “Yes. There we put many saddles we salvage from those who fall in the fighting. Any one you can pick. It is yours.”

  “Alright. I’ll bring one.”

  She sat there, tall in her own saddle and smiled down at me.

  “Now is time for special fun. We need a name for your beast. It is tradition to name on molting day.”

  “Name?”

  “Yes. Your beast needs a name. How else will you call it?”

  I looked again at the young dragonfly. It was the prettiest thing, its body all rust and blue with opalescent eyes. It had wavy copper bands on its wings with clear patches and black accents. That striping was unusual for the dragonflies around her. He was a rare species, apparently. Less common, anyway, if not a mutant. Like me.

  “Um … how about … Tigger?”

  “Trigger?”

  “No, Tigger. As in … Tiger. As in Pooh.”

  Urszula looked puzzled, but she nodded nevertheless.

  ***

  The bluish sun had disappeared from the horizon by the time I entered the warren. I thought I knew where I was going this time but I soon proved myself wrong. I kept doubling back to the same little triangular park where a group of Old Ones sat staring at each other like statuary. I could only imagine what they thought of me the third time I went by, if they could even see me.

  I couldn’t ask for directions because this place had no addresses. I could not even identify a suitable landmark nearby to help folks help me navigate. It was just another living space in a maze of identical living spaces. I never should have let Urszula leave without showing me how to get there.

  As I wandered, longing to collapse onto that dense heap of mats that served as my bed, a familiar tingle scuttled down my arm, sending pins and needles into my fingertips. I looked down at my mottled hand in the early stages of a fade. Patches of translucent skin revealed nerves and tendon and bone. Finding my living quarters seemed a moot point now. I sat down on a plinth like some Old One and awaited my fate.

  ***

  Wherever I had come, it was way cozier than my little hooch in the warren, high thread count cotton encasing a cloud of down and a mattress topper of rapid-reacting memory foam that gave way to any pressure point before it ever had a chance to form.

  I could hear a broadcaster talking about shootings and terrorists. British accent. This was not Heaven. It was not prison. Some place in between.

  Glasgow.

  If this was a hotel, it was much fancier than any room I had ever booked, fancier than Wendell’s place in London or the Hilton Karla and I and stayed at in Inverness on Wendell’s dime.

  I surged up out of bed and nearly fell flat on my face. A swarm of ghost moths flew up to clutter and cloud my brain. I was hungrier than a goat tethered in a parking lot.

  I stumbled out the door of the bedroom, following the sound of the television. Four sets of female eyes popped wider than nature even intended and all four women sprang into action, catching me before I could collapse, leading me to a small sofa where they sat me down and took my pulse and checked the temperature of my brow.

  “Where are we?” I said. “What happened to the train?”

  “The train? That was yesterday,” said Helen. “We’ve been here a full day now.”

  “You went away to that place you go,
didn’t you?” said Fiona.

  “He hasn’t eaten a shred in two days,” said Helen. “He must be famished.”

  “I’ll go get some takeout,” said Britt, rushing to the door. “Indian? Chinese? Any preference?”

  “Fish and chips,” I said. “With those mashed green peas.”

  “You got it,” said Britt, slamming the door.

  “Did you see Karla?” said Helen. “How is she?”

  “I … uh … no. I didn’t see her. At least I didn’t think so. I’m … not sure.”

  “Jessica’s been sharing some of your stories with us,” said Fiona. “Just fascinating. Gargantuan insects. Killer angels. Really?”

  “Um … yeah,” I said. “Can we change the channel, please?” The explosions and bloody scenes on the streets of some nameless Middle Eastern city disturbed me.

  Jessica switched over to that talk show where some middle aged guys goofed around and talked about cars. That, I could handle.

  “We’ve been out looking today, James,” said Helen. “Scoured the streets of Glasgow.”

  “Did you know there are three fundamentalist Catholic sects in this city?” said Jessica. “Some of the parishes are tiny. A few families each.”

  “I never would have imagined,” said Helen. “In Scotland of all places.”

  “Sedevacantists. You want Sedevacantists.”

  “Yes. None of these recognize the Pope,” said Jessica. “That’s the definition, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but there are other sects. SSPX. SSPV. They’re different.”

  “Karla’s dad. Edmund. You were right, James. He is out of jail,” said Jessica. “We found a news report on Google saying he got time off for good behavior. After less than one year. And the man was convicted of manslaughter!”

  “We’re not sure yet if he’s actually in Glasgow,” said Helen. “I couldn’t get those church people to talk to me. They kept acting like I was from Mars. And I was dressed quite conservatively. Used my best manners.”

  Fiona fetched me a glass of water. I thanked her and drained it, and so she fetched me another.

  “What’s the trick James?” said Jessica. “How do we get ourselves into those churches?”

  “You don’t. Stay away. Those people are nuts. They’re dangerous. I wouldn’t go anywhere near them. I would watch the entrances maybe. See who goes in and comes out. They might have drugged her like they did to me and Linval.”