The Forgotten City (20 page)

“The procedure,” Eli managed to gulp out. “I’m afraid it has been stalled by the current situation. The Omarians attacked us. They’ve taken Silho Brabel and the rest of my team, including my commander, Copernicus Kane, and they poisoned Jude …” Eli paused, feeling another pang of pain that made it difficult to continue speaking in a neutral way. “My first objective is to fly to Duskmaveth-Aendor to follow a lead to try to bring them back – to try to launch a rescue. Once my team has been recovered I can focus on the antidote, until then – I can’t. As a Ravien Zingara is not in any immediate danger, whereas my team is.”

Ismail processed the information then said, “If the Omarians have captured your squad, the probability of their survival is too low to be considered a viable risk. I suggest you write them off as a loss and proceed to the next objective, obtaining the cure.”

“I can’t just write them off,” Eli said, trying to keep himself from slipping into the emotionality, but failing. “They’re my friends.”

Ismail eyed him warily. “I sense you’ve lost perspective, soldier.”

“Well, to be honest I never really had much to begin with,” Eli said, completely dropping his attempt at being military. “I won’t abandon my friends to die and I won’t abandon Ev’r – Zingara – either. I know you must remember Silho – can you really just strike her off as dead?”

Something flickered in Ismail’s deadened stare and Eli thought maybe he shouldn’t be trying to trigger him to switch over again. While he was the soldier he was standing straight and focusing sharply – as the man he’d been hunching, shaking and blurry-eyed. Maybe he should allow him to slowly unravel himself at his own pace, as he felt the strength to do so.

“My objective is clear to me,” Eli said, “first my team and then the cure. My question to you is – will you stay to assist us or will you leave? If you stay we have a better chance.” He posed the question knowing it was a dangerous one, but necessary to begin to convince Ismail he was actually free. He held his breath in anticipation of the answer, scared Ismail would say he was leaving – and then what?

Ismail considered the question, then slung Ev’r’s bag over his shoulders and grunted, “Ready to deploy.”

“Ah …” Eli said. “Maybe some clothes before we start off.”

The scullion looked down at his naked body.

“There’s a barrel full of unused uniforms over there. They were the commander’s. It’s the only thing I have here that might fit you,” Eli told him.

Ismail gave a nod, some confusion behind his eyes, and moved toward the barrel. Eli felt quite sure the scullion was shifting between lucid and lost quite rapidly over and over, but he was keeping most of the struggle behind his military control.

Eli wanted to ask why he was choosing to come with him, but stopped himself in case it made Ismail change his mind.

“Are you okay, Master Eli?” Flintlock asked him. “Did he hurt you?”

“I think he needs mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. I volunteer.” Diamond grabbed him.

“No,” Eli fended her off. “I don’t need resuscitating, I’m fine. He just read my thoughts.”

“Don’t let him go with you,” Flintlock said, her eyes shimmering with fear.

“It’s alright,” he told her. “I think I can contain him, but please, I need you to stay here and guard Jude. Diamond, I want you here as well, be my eyes in the system, help me when I need it.”

He braced, expecting a barrage of complaint and disagreement from them, but Diamond just squealed, “Yippee!” and Flintlock gave a stern nod, clearly still not convinced of Ismail, but not about to question Eli’s judgement.

“I’ll check Jude one more time – can you two please load all the equipment in that pile there into the transflyer.” He pointed.

They moved to obey and he ran to Jude’s side. He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. The skin felt as cold as the metal of his arms.

“I’m going into Duskmaveth to find some information, but I’ll be straight back.” He tried to keep the tremble out of his voice.

There was a chance he wouldn’t be coming back and, if he did, that it would be too late. He imagined what Jude must be feeling, stuck and helpless. He didn’t want him to be scared. Eli felt the sting of tears – he blinked them back, glancing away to the
Gypsy Rose
, trying to compose himself. Diamond was standing beside the craft. She waved at him, then sniffed at her own fingertips and pulled a disgusted face. “Here’s something that might give you a laugh,” Eli said to Jude, trying to sound upbeat. “You know how I’m always talking about finding someone who I have things in common with, who loves me for who I am? Well, I actually met a girl. We’re exactly alike, she loves me – and I can’t stand her.” He gave a small laugh. “It’s highly disturbing to think that what I actually want is someone who doesn’t like me and who I have no similarities to … and even more disturbing that I’m only just figuring this out now … Plus I may have accidently gotten married.” He laughed again, but the sound immediately faded out.

This was normally where Jude would say something wise and reassuring. Eli stared at his friend. He just wanted him to open his eyes and be okay – and he wanted the others to walk through the door … but neither was going to happen unless he made it so.

Eli stepped back and activated a security shield over Jude, SevenM and Penman. Before Nelly could react he shut the door to her enclosure. She stared at him through the glass, her whiskers drooping.

“I’m sorry, girl,” he whispered to her. “It’s too dangerous. I love you.”

He forced himself to turn and run to the
Gypsy Rose
, where he gave final instructions to Diamond and Flintlock.

“Don’t worry about Nelly,” Diamond said. “Me and Mr Nimbles will take good care of her.”

Eli gave a small laugh while Nelly glared at him with a look that said
not them, anyone but them
. He understood her reluctance, but at least they were enthusiastic. Diega had always called Nelly an overgrown rat and the commander had almost thrown up in his mouth every time Eli had let her eat from his plate. Thoughts of the others spurred Eli to move, when all he wanted to do was drop. He jumped into the pilot’s seat as Ismail climbed warily into the passenger’s side. For a moment Eli was shocked to silence. Washed and clean-shaven, wearing a uniform, Ismail looked like the military commander he had been. Eli was curious about the reason for his dishonorable discharge, but now wasn’t the time to ask too many questions.
Too many questions – too soon
… That would be the title of his autobiography – if he ever wrote one. Ismail held Ev’r’s bag against his side.

“How’s the external attachment feeling?” Eli asked the scullion as they buckled up.

Ismail touched a hand to his shirt, where the outline of the robotic heart could be seen.

“It’s functioning,” he replied.

“Good,” Eli said. He held out two formula vials with slow-release syringe tops. “These are refills for the ones you currently have implanted in your He-Ro. One is a pain-cancel and the other is regenerative. You’ve already had significant muscle and weight gain since the escape, but I’d like to see even more. I’m giving these to you so that you’re in charge of changing them,” Eli said, wanting to give Ismail at least the impression of having control over his health.

He held them out to Ismail, but the scullion just looked at his hand and when he raised his eyes to Eli’s the soldier was gone and the man was there.

“There’s no point, imp-breed. I’ll never be free of her,” he said, his voice low, defeated. He dropped his eyes to his ankle, where the shackle was still firmly attached beneath the pants.

“Well you’re free now,” Eli tried to keep his tone positive, despite the anxiety squeezing his insides. “And we’re going to keep you that way.”

“She’s hunting me … I can sense it.” He touched a hand to his chest – to the zombie heart beneath the He-Ro.

“Doesn’t mean she’ll find you – or recapture you.”

“No, she won’t retake me,” Ismail replied, darkness in his words. “But I won’t be able to escape her alive. That is a certainty.”

“Have you had a vision? Are you a seer?” Eli asked, feeling even more rattled.

“I am, but I see no visions, because there is no future,” Ismail replied.

“I’m not – I mean – I
am
going to help you,” Eli promised him. “I’ll make sure you and Ev’r are reunited.”

“We will be,” Ismail said, “in paradise.”

He started to tremble again, the shock resurfacing, and as soon as it did, he visibly switched over to soldier, his eyes blanking out. He sat in the seat, staring directly ahead of him – the purely procedural side of him, waiting to execute unquestioningly whatever mission the emotional part of him had set in motion. Eli swallowed his unease. He triggered the opening of the hangar roof and looked up as it opened into the darkness above. He shivered, feeling exhausted and frightened of what lay ahead. Ev’r spoke in his mind,
No rest for the wicked
.

D
iega resurfaced in an isolated pond, the waterfall and city nowhere in sight. She swam to the edge of the pool where Shawe was hauling himself out. Tickleback’s voice echoed from somewhere ahead of them.

“Come on! We’re close to the Wishing-Well Woods.”

Diega clutched handfuls of grass and dragged herself up, surveying their new surroundings.

“Great, more trees,” Shawe muttered at her side.

The ground suddenly shuddered and they both stumbled, losing their footing. A colossal spider stepped into their path, standing taller even than most of the towering trees. Diega’s gaze followed eight extremely long, thin legs up to an oval body far above. The spider was bobbing with frustration, trying to navigate several thousand small offspring through a white picket gate up ahead in a clearing.

Shawe’s face paled and he stared up at the monstrous arachnid, wordless for once.

“Scared, princess?” Diega whispered to him, and he spat a mouthful of curses at her. She chalked up one point to her.

Tickleback appeared from the trees ahead and said, “Don’t be fearful. Followmont Longfellow is not dangerous.”

As though to verify this, the frazzled spider, who apparently had a name, lifted one foot and ripped out the only small tuft of hair still growing on his head. The strands floated to the ground like feathers while his children continued to jump around making yipping sounds, refusing to obey.

“Morning greetings, friend.” Tickleback flew up to the spider. He returned a moment later to say, “He says we should go first. He’ll be a long time.”

Followmont Longfellow stepped aside, wearily gathering his children around him, while Diega and Shawe moved by. Neither ran, but only because the other one was watching.

They passed through the picket gate, and immediately Diega felt a change in the atmosphere. While Rambeldon Forest had seemed almost dream-like, these Woods felt darker, as though many predatory eyes had now turned their way. Beyond the gate, the land immediately dropped into steep, dirt steps and a path cut through the middle of a tangle of thorny shrubs, dotted with miniature pink, white and yellow flowers. Multi-colored pebbles covered the ground.

“Take a stone, throw it into the Well and make a wish,” Tickleback said, propelling downward so that he could pick up a rock.

Diega and Shawe glanced at each other.

“I don’t believe in that trutt,” Shawe grunted. “Keep moving.”

“Take one,” Tickleback insisted, pressing a stone into each of their hands.

“We don’t have time for games,” Diega told him.

The dragonfly regarded her with his deep-seeing eyes. “This is no game.”

He turned and led them out onto a small wooden bridge arching over a stream. As they walked, Diega glanced over the railing into the waters and saw, staring up at them from below the surface, the faces of aquatic nymphs, riding eels and loaches. One of them jumped up and spat a mouthful of water into Shawe’s face, then darted away, laughing bubbles.

“Little gadfly!” Shawe tried to vault over the railing into the water, but Diega grabbed his arm and managed to drag him back.

“Leave it, we don’t have time!” she reminded him.

“Once I ruled the streets, now they’re spitting in my face?” he shouted.

“We’re not on the streets anymore, if you hadn’t noticed,” Diega said.

His furious gaze dropped to where her hand was clutching his bicep. A cocky smile replaced the anger and Diega dropped him like fire.

“Don’t be shy,” Shawe said. “I know you like what you see.”

She tried to think of words strong enough to reject the notion on every possible level, but took too long and ended up just looking caught out. Another one for Shawe. He laughed and swaggered away.

Soon they reached the other side of the bridge and a thatched-roof well. Tickleback paused to make a wish and threw in his pebble, while Christy belched and walked past without a second glance. Diega chucked her stone in, and, despite herself, made a wish to find Copernicus alive.

The bridge dropped to a path that led them from the Wishing-Well Woods into the Blackwater Forest. It was even gloomier here, the black-trunk trees growing closer together, blocking the light. Diega noticed there were no insect noises – no noise of any kind, in fact.

“Oh my!” Trilly’s gasp broke the silence and Tickleback stopped suddenly.

Diega looked around and saw they’d walked out into the middle of a clearing full of wax sculptures.

“We have to go back,” Trilly hissed, then started to tremble, tears misting her big, black eyes. “Oh me.”

Tickleback eyed the sculptures of what looked like giant bees and said, “This is where we must leave you, my friends.” He lifted his top hat. “I would come with you into the Hive, but they’d kill me on sight. You have a far better chance alone.”

“Wait,” Diega said. “Are these … bees?”

“Shhh,” Tickleback hushed her. “Their Queen Alphra calls them the Neridori. Be very careful. Should they take you to her, do not say anything unless she asks you.”

“Wait!” Diega called him back. “What way do we go to find the Hive?”

“You won’t need to find it,” the dragonfly said. “It’ll find you. Good luck, friends.” His emerald eyes fell on Diega. “Don’t forget us.”

He waved and they were gone in a whirlwind of gangly harlequin legs and black and red dots.

Uneasy, Diega scanned the wax sculptures, with their long spears and pointed stings. Shawe drew his blade and sniffed the air.

“It smells like —”

“Honey?” Diega suggested.

“Rot,” he growled.

A faint hum began in the distance, growing rapidly louder. Diega looked toward the sound and her heart gave a loud, jolting thud. A fast-traveling mass of gold and black was closing in on them.

“Trutt,” Shawe swore.

They glanced at each other, then straightened and faced the oncoming army.