New Enemies

  Chapter 43

  “Don't try to stop me,” Snow said when Catch entered his tent. “I'm going to Tenth.”

  Catch remained at the tent's flap, looking in. “Snow, all we know is that a firework was set off.”

  “A red firework, Catch. A red one.”

  He nodded. “Exactly. So send Certainty. She is yours to command, primed and ready.”

  “I bet she is,” Snow said, tightening his jerkin. The fit felt awkward, but he wasn't going to waste time by tracking down someone to fix it. “I'm not dense. I know you went to her, told her to prepare for when you talked me down. But you've wasted Certainty's time: I'm going.”

  The old Shield slapped the back of Snow's head, almost knocked Snow over.

  “Ow,” Snow hissed as he stood straight. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Catch?”

  “No, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Catch roared, bright red with rage. “You will be a Shield-General, you can't abandon your duties and get involved in every battle. This is one tower. Maybe we've lost a cadre, perhaps two, but there would be more fireworks if this were worthy of your time.”

  The old Shield had a point, one Snow couldn't argue with common sense. “You are right. I take your point and I promise, I swear by Sol, that this will be an exception rather than the rule.”

  “Why? What makes this one different?” Catch asked, a little disarmed by Snow's honestly. “Forgive me, but I can’t see why I should trust you.”

  “A childhood friend is at Tenth. A Contegon named Element.”

  “Contegon Insight, the one who visited you?”

  Snow should long ago have ceased to be surprised by Catch's ability to know everything that happened in New Call. But he hadn’t learned yet. “Yes, that would be the one,” he replied.

  “And she means that much to you? More than everyone in your Front?”

  “That's unfair, Catch: I'm not abandoning everyone for Element. I'll be an hour at most.”

  Catch eyed Snow slowly, looked him up and down, and then tutted. “It's a red firework, Snow: do you really think it'll just be an hour if the worst has happened?”

  A green firework denoted a successful battle, yellow a wounded Contegon, blue warned that the tower would be overrun. But a red firework meant something worse. “I can kill whatever it is.”

  “And if it's new behaviour, a new Disciple?” Catch asked. “You'll be gone for a day, maybe more, and I'll be covering for you when New Call should be getting used to your presence! This is negligent, Snow.” He paused. “What makes this person important? What makes her matter more than your duties to this Front?”

  “She was one of the refugees from Call,” Snow said, his voice low. “I fought with everything I had to keep her and the others alive. We saw so many die, so very many, and we huddled together in a decaying ship to bring a message of fear. I don't know what I'd do if...”

  Catch took a deep breath and looked away. “Alright. Go. But you must reassign her to New Call, so you don't have to do this again.” A hint of a smile wafted over him. “If she compromises your sensibilities and judgement like this, you should never have let her leave.”

  Snow wiped his eyes and nodded. “You're right. It's too risky to do anything else.”

  “She might hate you for it. The Contegons won't appreciate it either,” Catch said as he turned to leave. “However, that is the price for your attachment to her. Not that I blame you: I shared a cadre with my cousin. He earned me half of my scars.”

  “Thank you, Catch.”

  “Don't thank me,” he said as he left. “Just get back here as quickly as possible.”

  Snow threw his Acolyte robes on and tied them taut. He looked like an Acolyte, ready for battle. Sigil materialised behind him then. Snow nodded at the Servant. “I know. Let's go.”

  He ran to his landing area and launched himself with a burst of energy. His robes and cape flapped behind him as wings grew from his shoulders. New Call sent their emotions after him, awe, fear and doubt: he used this power to propel himself, zooming across the bright day.

  After perhaps fifteen minutes, he was running into Tenth's Doctor's tent. “Excuse me, what the Lun do you–” a Doctor said before she realised who had burst into her tent. “Sire, I... Sol, what are you doing here, sire?”

  The Doctor's tent was filled with wounded Shields, bleeding and moaning, the dozen or so beds filled. Three cots held Contegons. One was Element, bandaged up, but looking healthy otherwise. Shock burst onto her face when she saw Snow. And, he noted with a strange flutter, a small measure of joy.

  “A red firework was sent,” Snow said calmly. He hadn't realised how tight his chest had been until now. “I am not yet a Shield-General, Doctor, so I’m here to investigate matters as an Acolyte.”

  “Contegon Wing was right to issue the red firework,” another Contegon said. Her dark skin was pale from blood loss, but fire and fury shaded her eyes. “I can't believe the things we were attacked by, sire. Now that it's over, I can't believe it.”

  “Things? What do you mean, things?” Snow asked.

  “They weren't normal Disciples.”

  Snow felt his face harden. “A new kind of Disciple?”

  “No,” Element said, getting to her feet, “not Disciples in the proper sense. Here, I'll show you: the surviving Shields carried one out here.”

  She winced past him, left the tent. Snow followed her a little way north: quite sensibly, they'd kept the corpse well out of town, to not frighten the supporting Stations and to protect against any secondary chemical properties of the corpse.

  “Should you be walking?” Snow asked.

  “Should you be here?” Element fired back, sounding annoyed by the question.

  Snow winced. He stopped, put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? Please?”

  The Contegon smiled slightly at the hand on her shoulder. The gesture made Snow feel awkward. “I was lucky: my wounds are from my Baptism. Contegon Wing died. Contegon Fresh is critically wounded and might not make it after the things bit her, and Contegon Divine will be unable to fight for at least two weeks. On top of that, we lost a cadre and five more Shields, as well as all the wounded. The Towers are reorganising, with Contegons lower down the pecking order now covering them.”

  “At least you're okay,” Snow said. It felt odd to get a Contegon's report from Element, a sort of proud surprise. “But bit? They bit Contegon Fresh? What are we dealing with?”

  “See that green blanket?” Element asked, pointing north. “Look under it. I'd come with you but, frankly, acid melted parts of me, and I don't want to exert myself any more than required.”

  Snow smiled. “Of course.”

  He went to the light green blanket hidden amidst grass. He had flown over this corpse without noticing, which was the point: these green blankets covered casualties, protecting people from such horrors. Presumably, he had flown over the dead Shields and Contegon too, which was a sobering thought.

  Snow took two deep breaths and lifted the blanket. Underneath was an eight feet long, twisted feline. It was so horrific his battlemind sparked up. No, his Shield-General mind, a state of cool calculation. He noted the scales, extra legs, and bright eyes bifurcated by the battle. If Element had used her Baptism, this creature was likely the only one killed by normal means: it was heartening to know such horrors could be ended with conventional weapons. Perhaps the strangest thing about the creature was how rapidly it decomposed: already its form was liquefying, and thick carpets of flies covered its flesh. The grass beneath the blanket was turning silver. Whatever he was looking at was unstable, a temporary measure. Unnatural.

  Looking through Sol's Gift, he saw the weak emotional energy invested into the corpse by whoever carried it from the Front. Just what you'd expect from a corpse: this 'lion' had been alive, not a construct.

  Snow let the blanket drop and turned, his hand on his chin. Of everything they had expected from the Disciples, living weapons had been the last. The Fronts were set up
to combat artificial soldiers, so a sharp shift was a great tactic: only three of these creatures had wreaked havoc, killed almost twenty people.

  If there had been more beasts, more red fireworks, he would have guessed the lions were being let loose before a marching army. This small a number must be a test of their combat abilities. With so many dead, the Disciples would surely deem this a successful trial.

  “They're quite something, aren't they?” Element asked. “Those scales were too thick for my sword to cut.”

  “They are horrible,” Snow said. A shudder forced its way through his spine. “Was there any sign of their arrival, any hint or howl or... anything?”

  Element considered the question. “The survivors didn’t say there was. Not for the attack, anyway: Contegon Fresh found some tracks a couple of days ago, but Contegon Wing said that, as it was the first time anyone had seen anything like it, we wouldn't report it higher. Not until we had proof.” Element tutted, looked away. “It made sense at the time.”

  “These things always do,” Snow said. He also withheld information from his superiors to project calmness and control, removing facts that contradicted that image. It’s what one had to do to gain respect, and to give weight to problems you did report. “I want to search for these creatures’ lair. Is anyone who can track them available?”

  Element shook her head. “I can check, but Shields aren't trained to track animals. We have some spare Contegons, but Contegon command will want to double up on every tower across the Front after today. Our manpower surplus just became a deficit.”

  Snow tutted, looked away. Every hour they waited, the trail would become more blurred, a wide and scattered mess. He wanted so much to run after it, follow the creatures back to where they had been spawned for short, violent lives.

  “What about you?” he asked. “How bad are your wounds, truly? I mean, you obviously can't command a Tower, but maybe you could track these things for me?”

  “I fought for my life, and was splashed with acid,” Element replied flatly. “I am in no condition to track.”

  “I get that. I do. How about tomorrow? After some rest?”

  Element examined him, surprised and a little disappointed. Before she could reply, he felt he had to explain his logic. “I need to know more about these lions as soon possible so I can disseminate the information through the Front, potentially save other lives. I wouldn't ask if it weren't vital, Contegon Insight.”

  Referring to her by her Station earned him a smile. “You're already thinking and acting like a Shield-General, aren't you, Snow?”

  “I wasn't when I came here,” he said. “Element, I will need your help in producing a report for New Call. We need warnings to filter through the Fronts. And in the morning, if you are well enough, we will find what we can of these monsters.”

  Element nodded. “I can't promise anything, Snow, but I'm willing to try.”

  “That is all I can ask,” Snow said, grateful. It wasn't a brilliant compromise, but it would suffice. “Is anyone in Tenth an Artist?”

  “Cleric Silver is a Cleric Artist,” Element said after a few seconds of thinking.

  “Take me to them,” Snow said. “I'll want a sketch of this lion. And, as you take me, tell me about your fight in as much detail as you can.”

  “It'd... it'd be easier for me to walk if you gave me a hand, Snow.”

  Snow slipped her arm across his neck and used it to support her. “Is that okay?”

  She looked into his eyes, making him feel warm and soft. “Yes, that's fine. Thank you.”

  “Don't thank me yet: I might drag you out into the Moenian Forest tomorrow.”

  Element laughed. Together, they returned to Tenth, to prepare a report that would spark controversy and panic across Geos.