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  And most of this vanguard did indeed fall, but the mixed column kept coming, bashers bashing, slingers slinging, until it had been used up like a candle burning down past a nub.

  I hovered just beyond the edge of the cliff, watching as a second column followed up the initial attack, trampled the remains of its predecessor, attacking the barricade in exactly the same spot and meeting pretty much the same fate. But then a third column came up and a fourth and they both punched through the center of the barricade like a dagger through a melon, penetrating deep behind the Frelsian lines before turning and broadening their line of attack against the flanks. Their fervor for battle never flagged despite losing more than half their strength.

  The Frelsians manning the barricade had no choice but to abandon the wall or be exterminated. A squadron of ant riders charging down the valley to reinforce arrived too late and found themselves caught up in the mad retreat. Some managed to filter through to screen the fleeing Frelsians from being picked off by surviving Cherubim who continued to fan out to span the valley bottom as yet more columns advanced unopposed through the outer barricade.

  The retreating Frelsians reached the second line of barricades with most of their force intact, but the Cherubim now had access to the cliffs and to my disbelief, began to climb straight up the sheer slides. New Axum had felt so safe. I couldn’t stand the thought of these Cherubim marching on and slaughtering all those unsuspecting refugees.

  Without even thinking, I dove and buzzed them, drawing a barrage from a bunch of slingers arrayed across the valley bottom to protect the climbers from air attacks. Projectiles ripped through my wing membranes, but I was able to keep on flying, this time keeping my distance.

  The climbers were yet another category of Cherub with special limbs adapted for climbing, with bony blades and wedges that could be jammed into cracks, securing themselves to the cliff wall. Another type of mutant lashed onto their comrades with tentacle-like limbs. Together they made a broad human scaffold that the other Cherubim could climb. The top of this ladder was already halfway up the cliff wall and climbing.

  Like an idiot, I had left my sword in the grotto, so I had nothing to focus my energy but my fingers. I tried summoning a blast, and while I had no trouble generating that churning feeling in my midsection, what came out was diffuse, buffeting the climbers with no more than a gentle gust of wind.

  I squeezed my shoulders so hard it hurt and soared back up to the lower terrace. Duster warriors were racing along the forest paths to reach the rim, but they were so few. Once the scaffold reached the cliff rim, Cherubs would pour onto the lower terrace and overwhelm it.

  The seven condors, meanwhile, were still closing in. It was clear now that they were aiming straight for the open ledges directly above the climbers.

  Indecision and panic froze me into inaction. I wanted to go back to the grotto to fetch my sword, but I didn’t want to leave the scene with the condors about to strike.

  Frustrated, I landed on the ledge, unstrapped the wings, and snapped off a bleached and grey branch from a gnarled and stunted tree that clung to life on the bleak stone. If it worked for Urszula, why not me? Why did I even need a sword? We all knew that the power that made these weapons work came from within each of us.

  With the condors coming right at me, I raised that stick, pointing it at the center of the formation and waited for my stomach to churn. Again, I had no trouble conjuring the feeling. In fact, this was going to be a good one. Question was, could I focus it?

  The band of Dusters I had seen running along the paths burst out of the forest and joined me. They smiled broadly at the sight of me, forming a line along the ledge and raising their own scepters.

  The condors were coming in fast. It was now or never. But just as I was ready to release a blast, an array of hands with bony hooks latched onto the ledge. The scaffold had reached the top of the cliffs.

  The Dusters were already unleashing balls of plasma at this threat, allowing the condors to approach unscathed. I kept my focus on the lead condor, and with the most certainty I had ever felt, unleashed a tight ball of plasma from the end of that stick that arced right into the central cage of the lead condor, taking out the pilot. The condor dropped and veered right into the path of the one beside it, talons tangling and hauling the second condor straight down into the valley.

  The remaining five condors came in unscathed, stalling and touching down lightly on the ledges in a widely dispersed row. Cherubim—bashers all—boiled out of the cargo cages, six per condor and came charging at us.

  Three mounted mantids bounded in beside us and pounced on the bashers, raking at their limbs. We advanced behind the mantids. I was too caught up in the moment to even think about the risk.

  One of the mantids snatched up a basher in its forelimbs and tossed it off the cliff. I wash able to conjure a blast every few seconds, though I had lost some of my focus. My force could knock a basher off his feet but could not cripple him.

  Meanwhile, our right flank was crumbling. Three Dusters had already fallen and were pummeled to a pulp by the basher’s club-like limbs. The first wave of climbers came over the rim of the cliff, slashing with their blades of serrated bone.

  The condors turned and took off, abandoning their human cargo to the battle. They plunged off the cliff to gain velocity and lift as a flight of dragonflies came screaming down on them, blasts from their riders taking out two more.

  A large band of Frelsians joined the fray, shoring up the right flank, felling bashers with arrows and blades driving them back to the brink of the cliff.

  The bashers got the better of one of the mantids, cracking its limbs, bringing it down, bludgeoning it till the exoskeleton was cracked like a hard-boiled egg. But two more mantids arrived emerged from the treetops joined by a horde of angry ants.

  Together we managed to work our way to the cliff face where we could send blasts into the scaffold, peeling off climbers several at a time until only a narrow ladder connected the mass of Cherubim trying to climb up from below. With the bottleneck thus created, we gained the upper hand, and a well-aimed blast from a dragonfly rider finally broke the scaffold, disconnecting the ladder from the rest.

  Down in the valley, the Frelsians who had been driven back to the second line of barricades counterattacked with a force of armored Reapers, each bearing several warriors on a fighting platform. They assaulted the base of the scaffold, cutting it off from the main force, causing much of the scaffold to tumble, leaving only a mass of disconnected climbers clinging to the cliff face. Harrying dragonfly riders picked them off one by one.

  The Hashmallim guiding the main Cherubim force below called off the assault. What remained of the attack columns retreated behind the main barricade, which was already defended by a reserve force of Cherubim.

  One of the mantid riders hopped off his mount and approached me, beaming.

  “You are the James?” he said.

  “The James, yup.”

  He grabbed me and hugged me, a little too long and hard for my comfort.

  “It is good to have you.” He stepped back and stared at me like he wanted to kiss me.

  I didn’t feel like I had done much, actually. But if he was happy, I was happy. I went back and found my wings, strapping them on, while the Dusters attended to their fallen.

  More dragonflies had shown up in the meantime and helped polish off the last of the climbers dangling from the cliff face. A team of Frelsians went to work dismantling the crashed condor, extracting the precious wing mechanisms for recycling.

  I fluttered off back to the grotto, whose defenses had been bolstered by another half dozen beetles, each of which it seemed had to come up and give me a sniff before they would let me through. Olivier stood at the entrance looking a little annoyed.

  “There was an attack! I helped fight—“

  “I heard,” said Olivier. “Good going. Now … can we get back to business?”

  Chapter 35: Retaliation

  When I pe
eled myself out of Kitt's wings, I noticed all the rips caused by those slingers' projectiles. Kitt was going to kill me if I didn't get them fixed. I tried fusing the ragged ends together with a little weaving, but my repairs ended up turning large patches of the colorful membranes gray. I hope she wouldn't be too pissed, once I explained the circumstances. Of course, I would have to leave out the part about me borrowing them to chase after Karla.

  “Nice weapon,” said Olivier, admiring at my scraggly twig of a scepter.

  I shrugged. “Had to make do. I forgot my sword. Again.”

  “You don't really need that sword. You realize that, don't you?”

  “I know, but … it’s got sentimental value. And this spell craft stuff seems to go better for me if I have something solid and metal in my hand.”

  “That's all in your head,” said Olivier. “It's a matter of confidence.”

  “Not to mention, sometimes it's nice to be able to hack and stab at things.”

  “True.”

  He stood at the entrance to the grotto, staring out across the lower terrace where flights of dragonfly riders were patrolling the rim.

  “Things are about to get interesting in New Axum, now that the Cherubim have access to this mesa.”

  “Does this mean we're officially under siege?”

  “Not quite. We still hold the gulches on either side. And as long as we do we have an escape route and a way to get things in and out. But it’s probably only a matter of time before we get cut off.”

  He sighed and pushed through the heavy draperies that now enclosed the entrance. The interior was now illuminated by glowing balls of root held in sconces. He sauntered over to the cracker laying propped over two sawhorses.

  “I've been studying these and I think it’s the same concept as those wing joints … just more complicated.”

  I couldn't help smirking. “So it's the same, but different?”

  “Don't be a wise ass.” He ran his finger down a groove down the length. “I'm not sure what makes it go, but somehow it plugs into the root structure, manipulates it in a broad and expanding arc, three hundred sixty degrees all around.”

  “That's supposed to help me?”

  “Just saying. If we can even figure out how to turn the damned thing on, that would be a big step forward. Of course, we don't actually want to turn it on just yet. Not here.”

  “Well, duh.”

  I ran my own fingers over the knobby surface of the column. It was engraved with ridges and grooves, curling and twining like Celtic knots. Several protuberances were covered with small bumps no larger than goose pimples. The base of the column bore many indentations lined with millions of tiny pores.

  I had no idea where to start. There was nothing on the device that looked like an obvious control.

  Olivier clapped his hand on my shoulder.

  “You take your time with it. Meditate. Do whatever you need to do. I can arrange to have some meals brought down to you. We can even set up a little nap space for you if that helps.”

  I started to feel a little panicky.

  “Olivier. I'm not so sure I can help you out with this one. This might be a little out of my league.”

  “That's what we thought with the wing joints, but you came through, didn't you? C'mon, all we ask is that you just give it a shot. Let the Singularity help you like before. Even if you can't make a working copy, figuring out how the damned things work will go a long way in helping us fight back. I'm sure we can capture more. Just imagine if we could deploy these down in the basin with all those Cherubim lined up like ducks in a row. Of course, we would need to figure out how to do that without taking down the mesa.”

  I just stood there with my hands on my hips feeling foolish. The wing joint design had pretty much come to me in a dream. Perpetual motion notwithstanding, the joints were nothing more that fancy springs with a simple repetitive structure at the molecular level. There was a lot more going on with these crackers. Even if the Singularity could show me how they worked, I'm not sure I was capable of comprehending it.

  Olivier squinted at me. “I can tell you need your space. Too much pressure ain't gonna help you grok. How about you hang out down here the rest of the day and I come back to fetch you? You cool with that?”

  I didn't know what to say. I just stared back at him, befuddled over what he expected me to do.

  Shouts echoed through the grotto from the clearing outside. I strolled over to the entrance and peeked around the heavy, canvas-like drapery.

  A mantid with a shredded wing case came crashing through the treetops and landed hard in a patch of tree stumps. Its rider drooped limp in her saddle, long hair trailing down the mantids thorax. A group of Dusters rushed to her aid as a column of Old Ones crossed the clearing single file and passed into the forest. This was the first substantial force of awakened souls I had yet seen in New Axum.

  A nervous-looking pair of Frelsians in fresh armor came rushing up to the grotto from the base of the stairway.

  “Master James? Olivier? Your presence is requested at the war council.”

  “Tell them we're busy right now.”

  “Master Zhang requires your attendance. He insists.”

  Olivier sighed. “Fine.”

  ***

  We made our way back to the upper terrace on foot as we had only one pair of wings in the armory. I wondered what had happened to mine and what would they planned to do with the joints that had been salvaged from the wrecked condors.

  As we walked the stairs, we now walked among refugees headed up to the upper terrace. I had no reason to expect to find Karla in this crowd. It was not rational, especially if it was really her I had spotted earlier. But I looked for her anyway, not surprisingly without success.

  We were lucky we reached the stairs when we did because a whole flood of new arrivals swarmed the base of the cliffs right after we started to ascend, convinced by the morning's events that the side valleys were no longer havens.

  When we reached the upper terrace and the bunker at its heart, the war council was already convening. The chamber was packed. Many lesser officers were in attendance along with the big shots like Zhang and Yaqob.

  Three old ones sat at the main table, a different bunch than were there last time.

  “Who are they? What happened to the other guys?”

  “Doesn't matter,” said Olivier. “The Old Ones share leadership. Whoever's awake at the moment is who shows up. They're nameless, the whole lot of them. I guess communing with the Singularity doesn't do much for your individuality.”

  “I'm ready to ditch my name,” I muttered.

  “Too late. Too many people know you in these parts.”

  I looked around for Kitt and Tyler but they were nowhere to be seen. They were either out scouting or had yet to return from their fades.

  “Where's Victoria?” said Olivier, noticing the empty spot at the table next to Zhang.

  “We can't seem to locate her,” said Zhang, shrugging. “She's probably exhausted and settled in somewhere to rest. Understandable.”

  “We need her … here,” said Hailay, a sharp-eyed young Duster and one of Yaqob's lieutenants.

  “We have a patrol out looking,” said one of the Frelsian junior officers—a Freesoul—based in his perfectly sculpted and unblemished face.

  “Bah. Let us talk on our own,” said Yaqob. “She is gone a month and we do fine without her. Your right flank, does it hold?”

  “For now,” said Zhang. “But the Cherubim now control the main barricade.”

  “We cannot hold back what's coming,” said one of the younger Frelsians. “We will be evacuating the ravine. We will leave behind some skirmishers to delay them, but we're moving most of our force up to the lower rim.”

  “This is bad news,” said Yaqob. “They own us.”

  “We can beef up our defenses on the lower rim,” said the pretty-faced Frelsian. “We have the necessary forces.”

  “We can continue to harass them fro
m the other ravine,” said Hailay. “Our wall is strong and we are making it stronger. They have not yet dared to take us on.”

  “They're gonna pick away at us,” said Olivier. “Bit by bit. They're gonna keep hammering till they can come up here and get us.”

  “Our forces continue to grow,” said Zhang. “Many of the new refugees are volunteering for service.”

  “How will you feed them once we're cut off?” said Olivier. “As far as I can tell you don't have any significant stores. Your root supply is limited and once they chase us out of both valleys there goes all access to new stocks. We can't handle a full-blown siege.”

  “Ah, but we have the bees,” said Yaqob. “The bees will keep us fed.”

  Hailay seemed less sanguine about the situation. “They are already preparing new columns in the basin for the next assault, including hundreds of newly modified climbers. Condors and falcons are amassing in the far hills. And more Cherubim have been spotted crossing the plains from the beaches.”

  “Their capacity to mobilize reserves seems unlimited,” said Olivier. “How can we win a war of attrition?”

  “Mr. Moody?” said Zhang.

  “Yeah?” The mention of my name startled me. I had been hanging back behind Olivier, observing. I didn't consider myself part of this council.

  “Any progress with those devices?”

  “I … uh … we … uh ... had a close look at them,” I said. “They're … uh … complicated.”

  “We had a few distractions this morning,” said Olivier. “First the assault, now … this.”

  Zhang cocked an eye. “Are you suggesting this war council is a waste of time?”

  “Not at all,” said Olivier. “Just … explaining our lack of progress.”

  “I see. Well, no worries, we'll adjourn soon and let you get back to work. But first, we need some suggestions as to how to proceed. Anyone? Is it really wise that we abandon our right flank? Is a counterattack possible?”