Penult (Book Four of The Liminality)

  “That’s it! You got it buddy! Keep it up. Keep on climbing.”

  We punched through the low-level clouds and kept rising. This time I greeted the chill with relief. I was dying for sure now. The end had never been nearer and the higher we got, the better would be my chances of keeping my soul free of the Core’s influence. No one had ever explained to me how the Core worked, but there was no questioning its power. In some ways it was like gravity, though its range was more limited.

  I worried that Tigger, being a mere dragonfly, could not carry me high enough out of its influence. But he surprised the heck out of me. We were already just below the stratum of icy cirrus that Ubaldo and Sophia had taken me before the last fade—wispy things that roamed the sky like lost and lonely ghosts.

  Tigger’s wing beats began to stutter and syncopate. His flight muscles were cooling. With each falter, the dragonfly lost a bit of elevation.

  “Hang on, guy. Just a little longer.”

  Something ripped in my mind. I shuddered, not only from the cold but from the disturbance in my soul. A partition slid from my consciousness and I found myself inhabiting two worlds. Tigger and I swept through icy clouds while I lay swaddled beneath the thick covers of the bed in Mrs. Ambrose’s guest room. The sensations and infirmities of both worlds converged on one body.

  It was not natural to be in two places at once. I only had one soul. One will. Hence, my soul oscillated back and forth. I could not fix my location at first, but my will prevailed to drag most of me back to Scotland. This was not a fade. This was something different. Part of me remained back in the Liminality with Tigger.

  Back in Scotland I was weak and barely conscious. An intense queasiness gripped me, but I had long since puked out all there was to puke.

  Isobel, Jess and Mrs. Ambrose hovered around the bed. I could barely keep my eyes open, so I kept them shut. Someone daubed at my brow with a warm wash cloth.

  Jess placed her fingers against my throat to check my pulse.

  “We’re losing him.”

  Mrs. Ambrose leaned in close, her lips trembling. “James. Can you hear me? Are you still with us?”

  I nodded.

  “Tell me, who should we notify? When you pass?”

  I took a long, deep breath.

  “Nobody,” I gasped.

  “Don’t you have some next of kin?”

  “No. There’s … nobody.”

  “But what should we do with … your remains?”

  “I don’t know. Bury me someplace nice. So if people visit, it’s a nice place to be. Find a willow tree. I like … willows.”

  Jessica started to snuffle and sob. Izzie remained fierce and calm. Mrs. Ambrose kept calm. She had faced more death than any of us. She was closer to it herself than anyone in the room but me.

  “How are you feeling, son?” said Mrs. Ambrose. “Any pain?”

  My soul began to drain away into the Lim, slowly, like a pinhole in a bike tire.

  “I’m not … here.”

  “Say what?”

  A pressure built in my skull. It felt like giant fingers prodding and prying, trying to gain leverage against my soul. And then it happened. My head began to spin, like bathwater spiraling around a drain. The wind vanished. The chill vanished. All went black.

  The end came to me as if like someone had spun a dimmer switch on my consciousness, dialing my senses down to zero. I felt, saw, sensed nothing. I had no attachment to anything physical. All that remained was my consciousness. I had given up the ghost.

  No bright lights beckoned to me. If there was a tunnel, that dark remained dark. It was like walking into through pitch-black basement, feeling my way along, not knowing what spider webs or trip hazards stood in my path.

  This was not the Singularity. I had no awareness of any other consciousness but my own. I was just a bundle of thoughts and memories with no vessel to contain them. And just as I thought they would all blow apart and vanish, the wind came blasting through my hair and I heard the deep thrum of a dragonfly’s wings as we skimmed the underside of a thick bank of clouds.

  I wasn’t sure if we had been high enough away from the Core, but if I was here and not in the Deeps, it must have worked. I had my skin again, and it was unblemished. The scar on my palm when a glass broke and I gashed myself washing dishes? Gone. The crooked knuckle that developed after I broke a finger falling off a skateboard. Straight. My soul was free and I felt great, flush with energy and vitality and alertness I had rarely felt in actual life.

  No question about it, I was now a Freesoul. But it also meant I was dead. That realization made my stomach sink. Any fleeting sense of exhilaration over my restored body pretty much evaporated. Needless to say, my feelings were decidedly mixed about the whole deal.

  ***

  Tigger descended leisurely to a much balmier altitude. Once he thawed out a bit, his wings began to purr again. He regained his groove as we cruised over the silvery sea.

  I slumped forward in the saddle and laid my head down on the cushy padding, grateful despite Urszula’s mockery that I had chosen this ‘fat man’s saddle’ built for comfort. I proceeded to spend the next few hours mourning myself.

  It’s not easy being dead, no matter how alive you feel and how conscious you remain. The door out of life is a pretty heavy door to get slammed on you.

  Yeah, I knew from experience that it was theoretically possible to pry it open from time to time, but Karla’s resurrection had been a freak occurrence, driven more by the Horus than anything I did. I’m not sure it was anything I would want to repeat—exposing myself to a destroyer of souls for the off chance of walking the planet of my birth again.

  Urszula’s resurrection had been way more curious and less dramatic. She had simply piggy-backed onto my fade, a much less risky endeavor. Could any Hemisoul fading back do the same to any Duster? Considering that Dusters were essentially a special category of Freesoul who had escaped the Deeps, could I have done the same for any Freesoul? More importantly from my perspective, could any Hemisoul do the same for me? I hoped it didn’t have anything to do with my being ‘special.’

  For the time being, I would have to resign myself to remaining dead. One the bright side, it just meant access to one less realm than before. And from what they tell me, there are scores of realms in the afterlife and though parts of it were quite nice, the Liminality was not even in the top tier. But the realm I had just lost access to was the one I knew best. Losing it stung real bad.

  ***

  A change in the wind brought a resinous note to the air. Trees! I lifted my head off the saddle to find an unfamiliar shore before me, with golden sands and sinuous, wave-sculpted sandstone ledges.

  There were boats on the beach, and a scattering of Pennies surrounding them. No Cherubim. These guys seemed mostly upper management—Hashmallim and a few Seraphim from the looks of their garb. And they seemed to be loading these boats, not disembarking. Where the heck were the Cherubim?

  A lone falcon patrolled overhead but it came nowhere near us. Good thing, because Tigger was oblivious. He acted like he owned the sky. I would have preferred that he detour a little farther away from this beachhead, but he had his compound eyes riveted on a swarm of giant gnats buzzing over a lagoon. He dove abruptly and ripped through the swarm snatching two victims on the wing.

  I had no idea where we were. The trees here were taller and denser than the place our raiding party had bivouacked. And there were many more ponds and creeks. This was all new territory for me.

  I put my trust in Tigger’s sense of direction, however unwise that might be. How much could this bug know? He had only hatched out a few weeks ago? But he sure acted like he knew where he was going, so I let him do his thing. Not that I could ever get this stubborn creature to listen to me, anyhow, even if I knew where to go.

  It was not as if I was in a hurry to get anywhere. I Being dead is sort of like being unemployed with no prospects of ever finding a job. You just went with the flow.

/>   Gripping the struggling gnats in his forelegs, Tigger chomped on them as he cruised. Leg parts and head capsules went tumbling into the canopy as he snacked. I was feeling hungry myself but there was nothing in the saddlebags but a few crumbs of manna, which were mushy and stale. I nibbled them anyway.

  ***

  We had cruised for hours when a dark object just above the horizon suddenly altered its course to intercept us. I reached for a sword I no longer possessed.

  As it loomed ever closer I realized I was looking at a bee. It flew alongside us and offered me a glistening gold glob of nectar, which I promptly managed to smear all over my face and chest. It kept regurgitating more and more until I had all I could stomach had to shove the poor creature away.

  It then proceeded to offer some to Tigger. I never even knew that dragonflies could or would take nectar. I mean, when was the last time you saw one suck on a flower? They don’t even have the right mouthparts. I guess it’s different when you have another bug regurgitating globs of the sweet stuff for you.

  The nectar calmed me. If I didn’t know better, I would say it contained something narcotic or at least analgesic. I was feeling more comfortable and less anxious than I had in a long time. At ease in my new skin. At peace with the universe.

  ***

  I was just telling myself that the appearance of the bee might be a good sign that we were on the right track when a strangely familiar range of hills appeared in the distance. As we flew closer I could confirm that these steep-walled hills were arranged in a ring surrounding a group of weedy and reed-congested lakes. We had reached the bog lands!

  Suddenly self-conscious about my nakedness, I smoothed my sticky hair and fussed with the few bits of clothing I had left. But I’m sure these folks were used to stranger sights.

  The main village had been rebuilt since the attack and some new communities had sprouted up both on shore and amongst the giant lily pads. Thanks to an influx of refugees, the pads and platforms crisscrossing the bog swarmed with many more people than I had seen on my previous visits.

  We landed hard on a large and vacant pad smack in the middle of the main settlement. Two guys just stood there gawking at us from the edge of the pad. I had to keep my hands over my groin, which made for some awkwardness climbing down. One guy, sensing my embarrassment, came over and handed me a strip of cloth that had been draped over his shoulder like a towel. I wrapped it around my middle. It made for an awful short kilt, but it was better than nothing.

  Ubaldo and Viktor ducked out of a nearby hut and came bounding over to greet me. I was glad to see some familiar faces. For a guy who hardly ever smiled, Ubaldo was wearing a pretty wide grin.

  “How did you do this?” said Ubaldo. “Did you fall into the ocean? I’m sorry. I could not stay.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s fine. Tigger caught me in mid-air.”

  “He stayed for you?”

  “I guess so.”

  “And did it work? Are you free?”

  “I suppose so. I got him to bring me up high. The poor bugger almost froze his tail off. But he brought me there. And so here I am. Free … at last.”

  “That is awesome!” said Viktor. “No more fading away for you anymore.”

  “Nope,” I said, though I was feeling so awesome about the deal.

  “How’s Olivier?”

  Ubaldo shrugged. “Fine. He will keep his limbs … this time.”

  “And Karla?”

  As soon as I said her name, I spotted her, watching me from the edge of a giant lily, acting circumspect and shy.

  “Hi,” I said, bearing no grudges. I wasn’t looking for any drama here. I just wanted to tell her about her sister. “C’mere.”

  She approached me cautiously. There was something weird going on in her eyes. I could never read people that well, but it looked like her confidence had been knocked down a peg or two and she even have been a little afraid with just a smattering of hope.

  “Izzie’s in Drumnadrochit. She’s looking good.”

  “You saw her?”

  “Yeah. In Drumnadrochit. I already forgot the address. But she’s just up the road from the Loch. Staying with a lady named Mrs. Ambrose.”

  “You saw Izzy? My sister? And she’s alive?”

  “I told you they had found her. We went to see her. And then … I kinda went and died.”

  Karla winced.

  “James. I’m so sorry. I never meant for you to go on your own. I always imagined we would do it together.”

  “Yeah, well. Too late for that. Drumnadrochit. That’s where you’ll find her. She promised to stay put till you get there.”

  “But … I should stay here for you. You just got here. We have lots to talk about.”

  “I have nothing to say. Go. See your sister.”

  “But we need to talk.”

  “We don’t need to do anything. Go!”

  And it was almost as if I had the power to flip a switch and make her fade. Her skin was already getting blotchy. Maybe she couldn’t hold back her excitement about seeing Izzie alive, or maybe my will just wanted her out of my face as soon as possible. But she was gone without ever a hug or a goodbye kiss or even a goodbye. She was just gone, leaving nothing behind but a beaded necklace a scarf and a plain shift, all collapsing in a little heap before me.

  I turned to Ubaldo. “So what’s the deal? Is there still fighting? I saw a bunch of Pennies loading up their boats.”

  “They are leaving,” said Viktor. “Abandoning every position they had held.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “It is not just our doing,” said Ubaldo. “The Old Ones, all of them, have awoken. They still hold New Axum. The enemy forces there, they were defeated.”

  “But I thought they were getting overrun?”

  “They were,” said Viktor. “But they turned the tables. They brought every old soul on that mountain out of their long sleep. And there were many more than we ever knew buried in the overgrowth of the lower terrace. Vicious fighters. They never give up, those Old Ones.”

  “So what happened?”

  “They … prevailed.”

  ***

  I went to see Olivier who was under the care of a top notch Frelsian flesh weaver. The guy had apparently had a lot of work done on himself as he had the abs and shoulders of an Olympic athlete/male supermodel. Olivier had not let him touch his knobby face or balding head, but he had no problems allowing the healer to reattach his nearly severed leg.

  Olivier’s eyes brightened when he saw me. He was under orders not to walk but he lurched to his feet anyway to give me a hug.

  “Urszula? Mikal?”

  “They never came back,” I said, looking down.

  “Oh, that’s a damned shame. But, did you hear the news? We did it! Chased those fuckers right off the farm.”

  “They’ll be back,” said Ubaldo, sneaking in behind me.

  “Yeah, maybe. But at least we’ve got time now to get ready for the next invasion. With Zhang gone, we’ve got a chance to do things up right.”

  “What happened to Zhang?” I said.

  “They tell me he disappeared when the Pennies overran New Axum. He was negotiating for a surrender that never happened. My guess is, they took him as a hostage.”

  “The Pennies can keep him,” said Ubaldo.

  “Yeah. That’s a pretty popular sentiment, from what I hear.”

  “So who’s leading the Frelsians?”

  “Frelsians? There are no Frelsians. That doesn’t mean anything anymore. We’re all just … people.”

  “So are people gonna head back to New Axum?”

  “What for?” said Olivier. “The war’s over. Folks can go wherever the hell they want. Make new settlements. It’s a whole new world.”

  “You think Luther will come back up top?”

  “Who cares?” said Olivier. “I’m gonna find myself a nice hilltop with a good view and a trout stream. Weave myself a nice little villa. With all these roots exposed it
’s gonna be real easy to rebuild stuff. We’ve got to work fast, though. I hear the exposed parts are already repairing themselves, turning back into stone.”

  “Where will you go?” Ubaldo asked me.

  “Who me? I don’t know. Maybe go hang out in that little hollow in the foothills, if it’s still there.”

  “I hope you can stick around a while. We’ve got some planning to do. Word is, Ubaldo and I have been tagged to work on creating a little defense force. I’m hoping you can help out.”

  “Sure. Why not? It’s not like I’m in any hurry to go anywhere.”

  “We’ll start meeting as soon as this Nazi clears me for walking. I tell you he does some slick work, but he’s a bit too anal retentive for my taste.”

  “Deal,” I said, my eyes drifting to the ring of hills, drawn to any speck in the sky that might pass for a young woman on a dragonfly.

  ***

  I asked if there was a place I could stay and maybe take a nap. Ubaldo had a young Duster lead me to a vacant cabin with a thatched roof that looked suspiciously like one of Bern and Lille’s places. It had two tidy little beds along the wall, a small table set with tea cups and saucers for three.

  “Who lived here?”

  The Duster shrugged. “I don’t know. Some Hemisoul refugees.”

  “Do you know their names?”

  “No.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “Who knows? People move around a lot.”

  He left me with a flask of nectar and some cakes made of yellow pollen. I nibbled a few chunks, which tasted kind like chalk and laid down on one of the beds, letting the thousands of thoughts and emotions and experiences of the past few weeks wash over me. I had a lot of sorting out to do, and what better way than to sleep?

  My nerves were so jangled that it took some time for sleep to claim me. I did eventually enter a deep slumber marked by ordinary dreams intermingled with bouts of cruising consciously in the Singularity. The difference between I could tell the difference because the latter always was an intensely social experience. One is never alone in the Singularity.

  As I lay there drifting between dream states, I became aware of a man and woman bickering over what to make for dinner. This was not part of a dream. These two of my dearest and very real Hemisoul friends in their own imperfect flesh.