Frelsi (Book Two of The Liminality) Page 13

  But there was something too familiar about that loose gait, the bob of the head with each step. My brain tried to dissuade me, but my heart knew otherwise.

  “That’s Karla, Bern!”

  “You sure?” He was on his knees, acting like a bush. I took off sprinting, swinging my sword.

  “Positive!”

  Karla had climbed atop a boulder, and for some bizarre reason was waving to the Duster, both arms high over her head. The mantis came diving down, a mane of long, stringy hair trailing behind its rider like the tail of a comet.

  The rod extended. A whirling set of bolos came spinning out.

  “No!”

  I burst to my feet and sprinted towards her.

  “No James. It’s not wise. Let them take her.”

  I ignored him and kept on running. Karla leaped off the boulder just before the bolos struck. They glanced off the stone where she had stood and went winging into the shrubbery, raising a flurry of leaves.

  I kept on running as fast as my bare feet would take me. Bern hobbled after me, with surprising speed for a man with one good leg.

  I was only a hundred meters off. The mantis rider came around and harried Karla, playing cat and mouse with her around the periphery of the boulder. Spells erupted from the rod. A small tree exploded into a boiling cloud of dust. Some of these shots were more than liquid bolos. She was shooting to kill.

  Karla dashed from beneath the boulder’s overhang, sprinting across the flat towards a jumble of rock slabs and boulders with cavities beneath offering refuge.

  But then she spotted me. Her eyes went all wide and she swerved away from the caves, dodging through a sparse grove of scrawny willows to reach me.

  “No!” I shouted, all out of breath. “Get under cover!”

  The mantis landed briefly on the boulder and then took off after her. Fifty meters separated me from Karla. I raised my sword, my heart nearly galloping out of my chest.

  The Duster’s rod came up again. An angry looking blob of glowing on its tip and came flying out, casting appendages that whipped out in every direction like lizard’s tongues as it flew. One pseudopod latched onto Karla’s thing and the others sprang into her, wrapping around her torso and dropping her as if she had been shot through the heart.

  A powerful rage boiled up in me. I screamed.

  The mantis slowed to a hover, hanging in the air directly over where Karla had fallen. And its rider had finally spotted me.

  Her rod swung up and pointed at me.

  “Fuck you, bitch!” I pointed my sword at her, but all it did at first was quiver like a divining rod.

  Another glob of energy came blasting out of the rider’s stick and wheeled towards my head. I ducked just in time, but Bern came hobbling up behind me and caught the full brunt right in his chest. It exploded into his Ghillie suit, stripped it of foliage. He groaned and collapsed. The viscous mass drew tightly around his limbs like a constrictor.

  The sword yanked me to my feet and pulled my arm straight as if its steel had been caught in the field of a powerful magnet. An unseen force poured out, concentrating in the grove of willows. A rumbling grew as they as they corkscrewed out of the ground, shooting up rapidly and thickening, darkening, transforming into a row of hemlocks like the ones that used to grow across the stream from our old house in Ohio.

  The mantis pitched and yawed to evade the surging trees. It smacked into the crown of the tallest, tossing its rider from her saddle. She tumbled through the branches, landing hard against the rocks.

  The mantis pin-balled into another tree, fluttered free of the branches and recovered its balance before it could crash into the ground. It turned and flew rider-less back into foothills tinted purple by the setting sun.

  Chapter 18: Urszula

  I hurtled headlong into the grove, careening through a chaos of tilted slabs of hardened soil, broken branches, willows dislodged and uprooted by the giant hemlocks. Karla writhed in the gravel, her arms and legs ensnared tightly in cords of pulsing gel.

  Her face alit when she saw me coming for her. “James!”

  I tripped and stumbled, skittering across the gravel on my knees, crawling the last few feet to her side. I crouched over her, my eyes inches from hers, disbelieving.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine. I just can’t move. This stuff … it’s squishing me.”

  I tugged at her binds, but they slithered and melted away from my fingers, snapping free of my grip.

  Our eyes caught, her pupils penetrating. Chills went swarming through me. I couldn’t believe I was here beside her.

  I swooped down and kissed her, swimming in the scent of her hair, her breath hot against my cheek. “I missed you so much,” I mumbled, sobbing.

  “Are you alright?” she said, as my tears spilled onto her cheek. “I mean, on the other side?”

  I sat up and sighed. “Your father has me. He’s got me locked up.”

  Something died in her eyes. “Where?”

  “I don’t know. Some church basement somewhere.”

  “But where? Glasgow?”

  “I’m not sure. He drugged me. The place … it’s like a dungeon. What about you? I hope you’re safe?”

  “We are in Brynmawr. At Renfrew’s farm.”

  “Oh my God! Really? You mean, if I had just stayed put—?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fuck!”

  Something groaned and rustled at the base of one of the giant hemlocks.

  “That creature!” said Karla. “It’s alive. Help me get this gunk off of me.”

  “She got Bern, too. He’s back there, somewhere.”

  “I’m right behind you,” said Bern, about ten paces back.

  “Are you okay?”

  “You worry about Karla; I can take care of myself.”

  I took the point of my sword and worked it carefully under one of the strands. It sliced through without much resistance, but the severed ends immediately re-annealed.

  I repeated the action, this time grabbing on before it could melt back to together. I unwound several feet of it, freeing Karla’s arm.

  When it started to wind back around her, I slashed it free. The severed segment whipped around like a headless snake before disintegrating into ashes.

  “Something tells me this stuff isn’t made of roots.”

  “These creatures,” said Karla. “What are they?”

  I peeled the rest of the goop from Karla and tossed it onto a bush. It slithered away and slinked off into the shadows.

  Bern came hobbling up, his Ghillie suit denuded of leaves, looking like a plucked chicken. A thick cummerbund of gelatinous coils swelled his midriff.

  “Bern! How did you get free?”

  “I’m not exactly free, am I lad? The damn stuff is pressing on my bladder. And I can hardly breathe.”

  Karla rushed over and gave Bern a long hug. “Easy girl, not so tight.”

  “Where’s Lille?” she said.

  “Um, I take it James didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  He averted his gaze. “The bug riders took her. Haven’t been able to find her.”

  “Oh, you poor thing! But I’m sure she is okay. That Lille, she is very resourceful.”

  “We’d better get back to the cottage forthwith,” said Bern, his voice tinged with stress. “It’s getting dark.”

  The Duster whimpered and groaned from behind the trees. There was a plaintive edge to her cries that cut to my heart. She was really suffering.

  “Hang on a sec. I’m gonna have a look.”

  Bern put his hand on my arm. “Leave her be, son. Those things are dangerous.”

  I ignored him, pulling away and climbing over a heap of soil pushed up by the hemlocks.

  It was even darker beneath the hemlocks. I grabbed a stick and set the end aglow, fashioning a sort of flameless torch. I found her trapped under a heavy bough.

  She was half-conscious, drifting in and out. I passed the torch over he
r, recognizing the butterfly-like blotching on her face. She had been one of the Dusters that ambushed me in the canyon, whose mantis had carried me to the pit.

  Up close, she looked like a fleshed out version of that mummy. Her bluish-grey skin had a texture like acid-washed, sandblasted stone, pitted with fine pores. She had long, kinky hair, dry as straw and devoid of sheen. Her clothing seemed part of her, clinging like scales and gummed up feathers.

  She had a nasty looking knot and contusion on her brow. Blood trickled into one eye. She had a broken arm as well and a badly twisted ankle.

  “Well, what do you know,” said Bern, coming up behind me. “They bleed red, just like us.”

  Karla peered meekly around his shoulder. “Be careful, James.”

  “Can you help me get this branch off of her?”

  “Maybe we should just leave her be,” said Bern.

  “Come on! Let’s get this off of her, at least. We can’t just let her lay there and suffer.”

  Bern hesitated, but then relented, limping over to help. The wood was much lighter than I expected, as if the scrawny willows I had transformed had simply expanded their mass into a larger space.

  “I’m just going to say it once,” said Bern. “No good deed goes unpunished. And I dare say, neither will this one.”

  “James. Come see. I found her stick!”

  “Careful with that,” I said. “That thing can turn you to dust.”

  “How do they do it? Is it like weaving?”

  “Don’t think so. I think it’s something different.”

  She rolled the rod in her hands. It looked aged and worn, like an artifact unearthed from an archeological dig. It was a stout rod studded with thick thorns, padded with something leathery at the base, flaring open at the tip like a blunderbuss.

  “What do you think? Should we smash it?”

  “No!” said Karla. “Maybe we can figure out how to use it.”

  “Just keep it away from her. If she gets her hands on it, she’ll turn us all to dust.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it safe.” She pulled a square of cloth from a pocket and expanded it in all dimensions until it was large enough to wrap the weapon.

  “Pratisamaa Daa!” said the Duster, in a voice as raspy as a great grandmother’s. Her eyes remained closed.

  “What did she say?” said Karla.

  “Beats me,” I said. I stuck the torch in the ground and stooped down, slipping one hand under the Duster’s back, and one under her knees. I lifted her into my arms. She was surprisingly light for her size, her body all wiry muscle and sinew. She smelled like wood smoke and rosin.

  “James! Be careful!” said Karla.

  “What in heck are you doing?” said Bern.

  “Bringing her back with us.”

  “Good Heavens, boy. Whatever for?”

  “She’s hurt,” I said.

  “Let her fend for herself. No one asked her to attack us. Her kind will come fetch her by first light.”

  “What if the Reapers get to her first?”

  “Reapers?” said Karla. “Here? Above ground?”

  “Afraid so,” said James.

  Karla sighed. “Is there nowhere safe in this world?”

  “I can already smell them,” said Bern, his eyes panning the darkening plains. “You might want to extinguish your glow.”

  I dimmed the torch with a glance.

  “Are you serious about bringing her back with us?” said Bern. “Do you really want to be around when she wakes up? “

  “Bern, she’s badly hurt. As long as we keep that rod away from her, she’s no threat. Karla, are you good with this?”

  “I suppose … it’s the right thing to do,” she said. “Just be careful.”

  Bern took a deep breath. “Mark my words. No good deed.”

  I shifted the Duster to a more comfortable position in my grasp and started out of the grove. “Which way, Bern?”

  He flicked his hand towards the residual glow on the horizon. “Follow what’s left of the sun … for now.”

  ***

  This time, I was the one who had a hard time keeping up. Bern seemed anxious to get back, and my burden slowed us down. Karla tried to help me carry, but the Duster was so limp in my grasp, it was awkward for two. So I just slung her in my arms and let her dangle. She remained unconscious but each jarring step evoked a grunt.

  “Bern, can we take a break?”

  “Sure. But let’s keep it brief. I thought I heard something snort.”

  I laid the Duster down gently among some tufts of grass. Karla came over and dug her chin into my shoulder.

  “She’s so still. Is she breathing?”

  I put my hand over her slightly parted lips. A puff of air caressed it. I touched my finger to her neck. Her pulse was soft and slow.

  Her torso heaved upright. She shrieked and spat at me like a feral cat, hissing and biting. I scrambled back, but she rolled onto her knees and came after me.

  “Pratisamaa Daa! Karchikaa!”

  Bern set his cane aglow and brandished it against her. “Back! Back! You nasty thing.”

  She tried to stand, but crumpled to the ground. “Aack! My ankle is snapped.” She clutched her arm to her bosom. “And my arm, it’s broken. Who has my scepter? You! Mend me!”

  “I am sorry?” said Karla.

  “Mend me! Now!”

  “I am afraid, I don’t know how.”

  “Give it and I will mend myself.”

  “Nuh-uh,” I said, moving between her and Karla. “You’re not getting that rod.”

  “Mennnnd meeee!”

  Bern sighed. “Oh, what the hell. I learned some first aid on the oil rigs. Let me see what I can do.”

  “I promise. If you mend me, I will leave you be.”

  “I must admit, that’s quite the incentive,” said Bern, wincing as he knelt. “However, the most I can promise is to stabilize your breaks. When I get done, you may be a little more comfortable, but you won’t be able to use your arm and you won’t be able to walk. Understand?”

  He snapped some branches off a nearby bush.

  “Hmm. No good deed, indeed. Alright then, let’s take care of your arm first. I am going to try to do this as quickly as I can. He positioned his hands under her snapped forearm. “I have to warn you, this is going to hurt. A lot.”

  “Pain means nothing. Just mend my bones!”

  “Well … again, that’s a little beyond the scope of my job description. I can get them back in place, but it’ll be up to you to heal, if you can. Perhaps, if Lille were around, she might be able to help you more for you, but….” Without warning, he jerked and twisted her arm, realigning her forearm. Her eyes rolled back and she gasped gently.

  Bern fitted a splint of long twigs against her arm.

  “Someone, help me wrap this, please. There are some lengths of twine in my bag.”

  I pulled out a short piece of string.

  “Er … Bern?”

  “Just slide your fingers along it and it will lengthen.”

  I did as he said, and it worked like a second-rate magic act, except this trick was real. Each slide added another foot. I repeated the act until I had a decent length, tied a loop at one end and hooked it over her thumb, wrapping it around and around the length of her arm to secure the splints.

  “What is your name?” said Karla, stroking her hair, smoothing it, extracting bits of leaf and bark.

  “I am … Urszula,” said the Duster, sullenly. When I was done, she examined the crude splint on her arm. “What is this? You call this mending?”

  “I call it first aid. The healing is up to you.” Bern sighed. “Alright, you little ingrate, let’s have a look at that ankle.”

  ***

  As night settled in, Bern forged ahead with confidence, sighting the stars with a device he had fished out of his haversack—an astrolabe, he called it. But his pauses became more frequent. We veered hard left, doubled back and doubled back again. Clearly, we had lost our
way.

  Staying well away from the rim of a black hole whose exhalations reeked of the tunnels, we pushed into a dense patch of shrubs. I stumbled over a rock, jarring Urszula. She grunted and cursed in that unrecognizable native tongue of the Dusters.

  A Reaper bellowed several hundred meters off.

  “Bloody hell,” said Bern. “That’s the way we wanted to go.” He paused to take another sighting with his astrolabe. I set Urszula down gently. She was alert and cooperating now, latching onto my shoulder with her good arm, which took a load off my arms and made her a heck of a lot easier to carry.

  “Oh dear,” said Bern. “I have to apologize. I’m afraid my assumptions were wrong. What I took for a star appears to be a planet.”

  “What does that mean?” said Karla.

  “It means, we are lost, my dear. I’ll need to adjust my charts.”

  “So how do we get back?” I said.

  “We don’t. Not tonight, anyway. When daylight comes and we can see the lay of the land, I should have no problem. If we pressed on in the darkness, I’m afraid we might only go further astray.”

  “That’s alright, Bern,” said Karla. “Morning will come soon enough. Shall we camp here?”

  “It’s a good a place as any,” said Bern. “We’ve got a pit protecting one flank. And these shrubs might be thick enough to divert a Reaper, unless we gave it a good reason to come after us. If we lie low, we should be safe.”

  Rocks crunched and clattered as the Reaper traversed a stretch of stony rubble. I could barely make it out as a darker blotch against the star light reflecting off the terrain.

  “You are wrong,” said Urszula. “It will find out scent. It will come for us.”

  “Then let it come,” said Bern. “We are three Weavers here. We can handle a Reaper.”

  “Give me my scepter and you will have no worries,” said Urszula.

  We moved to the center of the thickest patch of shrubs and cleared out a space in the center. I slashed some stems at a sharp angle and twined them in among the branches pointing out to make a sort of crude stockade. I don’t think it would have kept out a cow, but it was better than nothing.

  We sat in a close circle, facing outwards. I took Karla’s hand and she rested her head on my shoulder, sending ripples rolling through my insides. To have her beside me felt surreal, like a dream I never wanted to waken from.

  “This Papa has you, can you describe it?”

  “There’s not much to say. It’s just a tiny room down the end of a hall. Stone walls. Three bolts on the door.”