Forty-Two
As I blink and wait for the vertigo to fade, I notice a few more things.
First, not all the lights along the tree are stationary.
In some places tiny clusters of red and green move up and down along its length.
They seem to crawl slowly from my vantage point, but in reality they must be tremendously fast to be visibly moving at all.
I have no idea what they are: Vehicles? Decorations? Parasites? Anything seems possible.
Other lights hang unsupported in the air around the tree, their distance impossible to estimate. I wonder briefly if these are stars, but the books are clear that the stars are points of white, fixed and unchanging. These lights have colors and drift slowly through the sky.
Second, when I follow the Tree to the ground, the base of the endless tower seems to lie almost exactly in the direction of the inner wall of Hod.
I can’t tell precisely, of course, but an obvious interpretation of the geometry leaps to mind.
I picture the Tree plunging still farther downward, through the metal cap that closes off the cavern below, until it ends at last in the opening that rains junk down onto the Heap.
The Asshole—what Ky’s people call the terminus—is the very bottom of the Tree.
I try to imagine people up there tipping their detritus into a vast hole, watching it grow smaller and smaller until it vanishes from sight, and never wondering where it might land or who might be living there.
I always knew my place in the world was very firmly at the bottom. It turns out I was even more right than I thought.
“Hey.” I pry one of Ky’s hands off my arm and take hold of her fingers. They’re ice-cold. “I’ve got you. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Shit.” She still can’t tear her eyes away. “I didn’t think it would be so… so…”
“Big,” I finish.
As her breathing slows, I look ahead at my siblings.
Spike has her face tucked against his shoulder, but Somi’s eyes are drawn upward just as surely as mine.
I can’t see his expression, but I don’t need to.
I know better than anyone the wide-eyed wonder of it, the way he would get when we were kids and Fara would read to us from Little Forest Stories about the stars.
“Okay.” Ky swallows and releases my arm with her other hand, wiping her streaming eyes. “Okay okay okay. Everyone on the Council deals with this, apparently. I can deal with it, too.”
“Right.” I squeeze her hand. “One step at a time.”
“One step at a time,” she agrees.
“If the lovebirds would hurry things along?” Alzimyth snaps, looking back at us. “The sooner we fight, the sooner I can never see any of you again.”
The fight. Stars, I’d almost forgotten what we came up here to do. It all rushes back to me and my guts tighten up again. I look back for the comforting bulk of Star.
Did you imagine anything like this?
[Admission: I did not.] There’s a hesitation in his voice that I don’t like.
What’s wrong?
[Uncertainty: I do not know. But the sight seems… familiar, somehow. I… cannot remember.]
I didn’t think you forgot things.
[Certainty: I do not.]
The guards urge Somi and Spike forward. The Councilors follow behind them, some of them already out of breath.
Alzimyth stalks after them, and Ky and I bring up the rear with Star.
The sky is darkening by the moment, but the big lamps provide an ugly, actinic glow.
I feel wind against my cheeks, cool and wet. Every stray gust makes me jump.
There are runics all around us, labor models with multiple arms. Most of them are idle, but a few work on a damaged section of fence. I wonder how long they’ve been here, and whether they do anything but repair the facility. Maybe they repair one another.
Up ahead a gate leads beyond the fences.
The metal underfoot becomes bare earth, then scraggly grass.
Bushes grow here and there, not positioned according to any particular artistic vision but just wherever they happened to sprout.
It’s a landscape created by no one, by pure chaos, the antithesis of Hod.
It reminds me of the piles and ridges of the Heap.
An arena has been laid out in this disorderly place, the edge defined by a thick-linked chain set with sigils.
It’s smaller than the space we fought in down on Hod, with no obstacles other than a few bushes and a single metal crate in the center.
The box is bigger than Star and sealed with more sigwork.
“This will be the last match of the Ascent,” Alzimyth calls out. Without his sound construct, his voice sounds reedy and thin. “Taj Fara and Star against my champion. If Taj wins, all the honors and privileges of the victor are his. If he loses, Star is forfeit.”
“Yes, yes,” Devon Dreikin complains, hugging himself against the chilly air. “So why do you need us?”
“Witnesses,” Alzimyth says with a smile. “To make certain everything is done properly.”
“I, um, once again note this is far outside the traditional rules,” Hisham says. “I am, um, very unsure what is proper—”
“The boy agreed!” Alzimyth says, and glances toward Somi and Spike. “Didn’t you?”
I pull away from Ky and walk over to the knight. He stares down at me with a mix of irritation and haughty indifference, as though now that we’re here he couldn’t care less about the outcome. I feel my fists clench.
“Why?” I ask him, too quiet for anyone else to hear. “Just because I turned you down? Is your pride that fragile?”
“You think this is about pride?” He scoffs. “You didn’t listen to what I told you, boy. The creations of sigilists are dangerous. That runic of yours could do untold damage one day. As a Hesed Knight, my duty is to defend the Tree and all who dwell on it by whatever means necessary.”
He puts on a cold smile. I get the strong impression that pride has a lot to do with it after all.
“If I win?”
He rolls his eyes. “Then you may do as you like, of course.”
“And either way, my family goes free.”
“I said I would show mercy. You have my word.”
“Fine.” I raise my voice again. “Now what?”
“Step into the circle. When I activate it, it will project a barrier protecting everyone on the outside.”
“What about your champion?”
“It is already within.”
It. Not a runic and its master. I eye the metal box suspiciously. “That?”
Alzimyth shrugs.
Let’s go, I send to Star. Keep your optics on the box. I’ll watch your back.
[Analysis: our opponent cannot be large, then.]
True enough—Star would fit in that crate, but not Bitey or Vripiai. The runic in there—if it is a runic—can’t be on a completely different scale.
Star and I step over the chain together.
Once we’re past there’s a gentle hum, and blue light stretches upward from the sigils to form a shimmering translucent wall separating us from the spectators.
I have no idea what combination of sigils can produce that effect, and I fight the urge to bend down and examine the chain more closely.
“Other runics are not the only challenges a champion of the Ascent must face,” Alzimyth says. “Some would say they are the least important. There are monsters in the world about which you children know nothing.”
Sigils flare on the box, then shatter in sprays of sparks. It starts to shake, metal-scraping-metal sounds coming from within.
“This one is fresh caught, half the world away,” Alzimyth says, clearly enjoying his dramatic moment. “We call them… Twisted.”
I start laughing.
I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. It’s too much, the buildup, Alzimyth’s self-satisfied drama, all to tell me something that any child of the Heap learns before they’re three years old—there are monsters in the junkheap.
However ignorant I am of his world, Alzimyth knows equally little about mine.
Outside the barrier, Ky is grinning to herself, and the Council members are looking at one another in confusion.
Even these Hod grandees have at least heard rumors of the Twisted below.
[Query: what is so funny?]
Just… I shake my head. We come all this way, all the way to the surface, and the last fight is just another bug hunt.
[Observation: Rotwurm was a Twisted, too.]
Fair enough. Just because something is familiar, doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous. But whatever’s in the box is a lot smaller than Rotwurm.
You’re right. Stay sharp, and make sure Bug Zapper is ready.
I’d almost taken the Bug Zapper off the Mark 6; since it’s ineffective against runics with a proper core, for the Ascent I figured it was just taking up space.
But I’d had one ready, so I’d left it in just in case.
Now I’m very glad I did; I’ve only managed to rebuild one of the BLAST weapons, but Bug Zapper should be even more effective.
Alzimyth, irritated at my reaction, folds his arms and glares.
The box’s shaking grows more violent, bolts along its sides coming loose as the Twisted within throws itself back and forth to escape its prison.
Another few seconds and one wall gives way, the metal plate caroming off the blue-white barrier field in a spray of sparks.
Something tumbles out, a curled-up mass of spikes and steel and hatred.
It unrolls, limbs unfolding in a clicking ballet of joints and blades.
It’s not quite the same as the Twisted I’m familiar with.
Those tend to take on simple, repetitive shapes, their long bodies built from many similar segments.
This one is more purposeful, almost like a runic, though it’s still an asymmetrical mess of mismatched pieces no human designer would ever produce.
It has a low, centipede-like body, studded with limbs at odd angles, but an upright trunk juts up from the front end.
This torso has four scythe-shaped claws, like a mantis.
There’s no head, just optics scattered all along its length at random.
Okay. Same as always. Start picking it apart and look for a chance to get in close.
[Affirmative.]
Star leaps forward and I hang back against the barrier field.
The Twisted lashes out with all four claws, but Star shifts nimbly to one side, skittering down the monster’s length.
Limbs strike at him as he passes, but his shield-arm intercepts the blows while two of his own legs slice scissorlike through the jutting appendages.
At least three of the Twisted’s limbs lie twitching and sparking on the ground by the time Star skids to a halt; the thing twists round to face him, claws clattering, and he takes off again.
If Alzimyth thought sheer surprise was going to make Star miss a step here, he’s badly mistaken.
Twisted can be faster than the runics and certainly a lot more vicious.
But their armor doesn’t have the layered RESISTs reinforcing it that the Hod runics do, which means Star’s blows are far more effective.
I watch with satisfaction as he dances down the Twisted’s other side, removing its limbs as he goes.
A bit more of that and it’ll be slowed enough that he can get up close with Bug Zapper, and that’ll be the end of it—
Star stumbles, his legs locking up. The Twisted whips around and one scythe arm swings down to land a heavy blow.
Star spins across the grass; he seems to come back to himself in midair, legs digging in and bringing him to a halt in a spray of dirt.
The Twisted comes on, and he jumps away with his normal agility.
Are you okay? What was that?
[Confusion: I do not know. I lost a moment. There is something—]
He freezes again, missing the landing and tumbling end-over-end. The Twisted is on him at once, pinning him down with its bulk while its scythes descend to pry him open.
Star, REPEL, now!
He slams the shield in the monster’s face and I trigger the EXPLODE. The energy pulse flings the Twisted away to crash against the barrier field, which sparks wildly as the thing writhes. Star struggles back to his feet, but he’s wobbling like a drunk, as though his limbs won’t bear his weight.
What’s happening?
[—nfusion: feel strange. Hear it. Won’t. Stop.]
Star!
Alzimyth is smiling.
[—alysis. Nalysis. Analysis.]
The Twisted stalks back across the arena, slower now, as though sensing its prey is weakening.
Star’s mental voice slurs. [It is… talking to me…]