Fade (24 page)

“There is power in many,” Kah’en said, waving at the village.

“No,” Angela said. “Power’s what I had. I got strength.”

Kah’en furrowed his brow.

“Whether we win or lose, we have to find this Guardian guy. Get home, if there’s one left by now. I can help fight Aern.
We
can help.”

Kah’en’s face fell. “What if the Guardian does not guard anything?”

Her brow puckered. “What do you mean?”

“What if there is no way out if we defeat him?”

“You think it’s just a story?” She asked.

He shook his head. “No. I think the creature is there. But, I wonder if the creature guards anything but his home.”

She stood. “I’m willing to find out,” she said, but her voice lacked the optimism it had started with. She looked around the ramshackle village, at these displaced Fade laughing and working, and her smile returned. There was no spa there, and she missed her step-mother and father, but a part of her didn’t mind all that much anymore. Sometimes she wanted to kick that part of her in the face.

Kah’en said, “The kulls they ride into the hunt...”

She looked back up at him. “Big, smelly Bantha-looking things?”

She knew he hadn’t understood, and was still angry at her father for the Star Wars obsession that made
her
understand, but he continued on anyway. “They have agreed to let us scout the area using them. That we may see what we are fighting. They are swift and need little water or rest. It will only take a few days.”

She thrilled at the thought that home might just be a few days away. All the doubt in the world tried to stand up and lecture her, but she wouldn’t let it. She had to believe home was a Kull-ride away. One of the Fade in the camp walked by them and nodded his head reverentially at Kah’en, saying, “Janar Kah’en.”

“That,” she said, pointing after the Fade. “You sort of explained the Janar thing. But, I don’t know, explain more, I guess. I still don’t really understand how a human became part of the Fade.”

Kah’en considered this, nodding, then smiled. “There is a story, written down by one of the earliest Janar after our Queen rescued them. I will tell you this story as it is always told to the children of my people.”

“Okay. In English, right?”

He smirked. “Except that it will be in your language, yes.”

“And
good
English too, if I haven’t said so lately.” She grinned, letting her sweaty hair down to dry, shaking it, and sat, then nodded. “Ready.”

Before he even began, Angela could tell he was pleased to be recounting this tale. She had never seen him show anything near glee. This made her happy.

“In times past,” Kah’en began, “we were weak from our oppression. We called out with broken hearts:
to the sky
to bring retribution,
to the sea
to cover our people’s enemies,
to the land
to break open and swallow even us if also our enemies whole. But our wait was long and even our great priests lost hope.

“Bir of the Janar escaped in the evening, and was given chase for fourteen days. When our oppressors came back without him we did not dare hope that he had gone free. We made ourselves to murmur that hunger and wilderness had murdered him where our enemy had failed. But he appeared on a cloudless day with our blue goddess, whose many arms did free us and rip our enemy in twain.

“Bir told the story many times of giving up near the end of the wilderness, not far from the mountain we saw each day in our forced work. He was tired and thirsted. He believed that perhaps the end of all things had come when the sky itself ripped open and a blue and beautiful goddess came through. She lifted him up and carried him to the stream to drink. He told her our tale and she became angry and vowed to him that we would be free. In the end, it was the sky that heard our call.” Kah’en finished the story with a breath. “Your people never understood that our Queen is a hero. She brought us power in our weakness and we have never turned loose of that power. This is why she is to be revered.”

Angela didn’t point out the fact that what their Queen had done spat in the face of the Fade’s whole Power-is-king philosophy, but it was a good story and a good day. “So your people were like, slaves or something, and she rescued you. That’s kind of cool.”

Kah’en smiled, his bright teeth showing, bobbing his head up and down like she had gotten at some mystery he had been trying to reveal to her forever. She hadn’t, and she had other questions, but she returned the smile just the same. He was cute when he was happy. She placed a hand on Kah’en’s leg and leaned in, still smiling. “I saw one of the guys bringing in a big food-shaped something earlier.” She pointed toward one of the larger huts with her head and then rubbed her hands together, prodding at him with her knee.

“That sounds acceptable.” He smiled.

***

People with powers, like Jonas, had a healthy fear of the Fade during the war. But as he ran with Lucy in his arms he understood what it must have felt like for the average human. The Fade were stronger, faster and—because of their powered armor—conventional weapons did little but piss them off. Now he was the all but defenseless one, and knew he couldn’t keep running. He would soon have to stop, tend to his little girl. That real fear—like that billions had felt on his Earth—expanded in his chest like a mushroom cloud.

He went down behind a fallen tree, spilling Lucy onto the ground, crawling out of the pack tangled over his arms. He unzipped a side pocket and pulled out a small, plastic container. Even in the low light of the woods he could tell she had almost no color. He was unsure how she’d stayed standing as long as she had. Now he actually questioned whether it was the magnitude of the power she had been using or just the blood loss that had brought her down. He opened the container, scanning the neat rows of pills inside.

There were others captured during the war aside from those with mental powers. When the Fade found out that people like Cynthia’s blood had healing properties they began to take them as well. They would lobotomize them, hook them to machines to keep their bodies alive and milk them like animals. The Fade came up with a way to preserve the healing capabilities of the blood, and stuck the product of their murder into an easy-to-use capsule.

Jonas’ people got hold of a warehouse full of the things and had a hard moral choice to make. Jonas had believed they made the wrong one. Now he popped the case open and pulled one of the brown capsules free of its white, foam holding place with little thought. The process the Fade used to keep the blood vital was supposed to be indefinite. He prayed
indefinite
meant at least a decade and a half as he poked the pill into Lucy’s mouth.

He didn’t hear the Fade warrior creeping toward him. He turned just in time to see the blue light of the blade the Fade wielded a mere inch from his face. Jonas dropped the case of pills and spun, falling back. But the warrior was still, hung suspended before him. The sword’s brightness had been so close it stung his eyes. He would be dead if it wasn’t for… what? He turned and saw Lucy, arm outstretched, but looking woozy. Jonas smiled, standing to finish the warrior off.

Picking up the case, he stuck it back in his pack, stuffing the two pills into his pocket that had fallen out when he’d dropped the case. He threw the pack on again and helped Lucy up. “Stay close. There may be more. I’m certain Aern is not happy with you for what you did.”

She shook her tired head and ground her eyes together. He figured she must have one heck of headache after that show earlier. But they could talk about that later. Besides, he’d feel better after doing a brain scan on her with the gift he’d gotten from Kah’en in the woods earlier.

This time he did hear the familiar cadence of someone trailing them. He palmed the hilt of the blade he’d taken off the last attacker and pulled Lucy closer. Her eyes were wide in the near lightless wood as the owner of those footfalls drew closer. Jonas put a finger to his mouth, afraid she might bring two or three trees down on the guy, alerting anyone else nearby where they were. With reluctance, she nodded her head once.

He pulled her into a coppice and knelt. The
wisp, wisp
of tall grass being walked through was punctuated by pauses. Jonas hadn’t made it difficult for them to be found. Them
and
his shiny, new toy. With the Fade warrior a few feet away, that familiar blue blade shot out of its hilt with a low buzz and he sliced the warrior deep before he had a chance to do more than drop his jaw.

Jonas turned, then stumbled back as a second Fade warrior dropped from a tree in front of him, just missing him. The warrior’s teeth showed bright in contrast to his black skin. His orange, demon eyes flashed.

“You. No powers do have.”

The Fade were quick in picking up languages, but this one didn’t seem to have had much interaction with humans. “No. Me don’t,” Jonas said. He gripped the hilt of the blade with both hands, holding it out in front of him. He considered his options. The warrior gave a growling laugh at Jonas’. If he were the Fade warrior, he’d be laughing at Jonas’ seeming stupidity, too. But Jonas saw what might just be their chance to turn the tide an inch or two in their favor and give Cynthia a fighting chance.
If she still fought at all
. He pushed the doubt aside and, without much enthusiasm about the choice, he spoke to Lucy. “You can hold him still.”

The warrior spun to find the girl he most likely imagined dead considering the shape she was in the last time he saw her. Paralysis struck every muscle at once and he gave a final grunt of surprise. Jonas crouched next to the warrior for a moment, fiddling with something near the warrior’s waist, giving a satisfied noise and standing at last.

“You might want to close your eyes,” he said to Lucy, aiming for the neck, not wanting to damage the now deactivated powered armor the warrior wore.

NINETEEN

T
he ride was as swift as Kah’en promised, but he had never assured comfort. Angela grunted with each thud of the great beast’s hooves, hoping one of them would have to take a piss or need a drink of water soon so her butt could regain some feeling. Five of the men from the camp had come with them. They were only curious and had no desire to fight this guardian they had heard so much about.

On the second day, they encountered an animal. It was almost three times the size of the kulls, which could carry four of the over-sized Fade if need be. The group halted and dismounted, drawing their bows, readying their staves. The animal sat on its haunches. The muscles under its greenish skin tightened; it bared long, sharp teeth as it waved its round head. Three, sharp horns that worked their way up the side of its skull moved back and forth in warning.

The leader of the group held up a steady hand. “Be ready,” he said to Kah’en. “It will not turn away.”

Angela looked at Kah’en, hoping for a translation, biting her lip. She gasped, sliding off her animal as the giant pounced. Arrows flew. Long claws tore into the nearest kull. It called out in pain, red painting the cracked desert floor. One of the warriors threw himself at the beast, pushing his stave deep into the animal’s flank. It released the kull, whipping its great head about, goring the warrior; shaking him loose and charging at the rest.

A dozen arrows wavered in its flesh as it came at them. A dozen more, another stave, found purchase. It did not slow. Angela found her shot, and flames rushed at the beast’s side. It fell, slid, rolled several feet away from the men, squalling in pain. Angela shouted to the men to stand back as she ran forward. Kah’en repeated her command in their language. The animal attempted to rise; a loud, pained roar called out its intended vengeance. She lit the air about the beast aflame and it seemed to scream, writhed, and then no longer moved. The smell of flesh burning filled the air. Angela paused, catching her breath.

The remaining two kull carried the extra burden of men with little effort. The hills behind them, the dry, flat land spread before them like forever. They had built a pyre for the fallen warrior. Crisp, flowerless bushes and long dead wood served as his last bed. Angela could not bring herself to set the fire under the man. But she would light the pieces as they brought them to her until there were enough.

The third and final full day was without incident. They were all but silent that morning. The heat would have been enough to keep their talk low, but the attack had reminded them of what they were moving toward. It was, if the stories were true, a small taste of the violence they strode headlong into. Angela considered this too. Before, she had almost bragged to Kah’en that she was ready to face the thing. But now that she had seen battle, true battle where no punches were pulled and one’s next day was a laughable theory, she regretted herself.

Dusk came, but a light radiated in the far distance. Angela looked to Kah’en. She knew he recognized that light as well as she. It was the light of the Wraiths, the light of Aern’s staff, the light that must have signaled the end of the world as the people on that other Earth knew it when Kah’en’s people had arrived. It was also the bright blue promise of release that had brought so many to their deaths in this world. And, without pause, they rode toward it.

***

A rare rain came that evening and some of the men stood, heads back, catching it in their mouths. Others held their helms high and smiled, drinking it with greed as it began to spill over the sides. One of them grew sick from so much and began spewing it out in great heaves, laughing like a madman in between belts of vomit.

Angela stood, arms out, eyes closed, letting it soak her. The dust from the ride slid from her alabaster skin, and Kah’en watched her, drinking lazily from one of the three, small animal skulls which hung from his neck like jewelry. He tipped it up, taking the last drop and then held it aloft again to be filled. The whole landscape changed within minutes. The bleached ground hoarded each uncommon drop, growing a deeper shade of brown. The scarce patches of dried brush, like markers to a dead land, waved like newly haunted bones with the bustling wind. The sky was the beautiful gray of bursting clouds. But his eyes stayed on this human girl.