Authors: Andrea K Höst
"In each clan there are five Reborn. Most of the rest are the offspring of the
last cycle of primacy. When the cycle
ends, they are ordered to leave their hosts, and, because the Reborn do not
give them time to recover strength, with a tiny number of exceptions who are
strong enough, they die."
"Why?" The
redhead, Claire, was staring in disbelief. "You mean they kill themselves? Why would they not just stay?"
Noi made a query signal whether they should start over, but
Fisher shook his head and went on.
"They're not given a choice. The Moths' reproduction, the splitting off of
part of their self, leaves their offspring bound to them – and to their
progenitors. Every single Moth is in a
direct line of descent from the Cores of the thirty most powerful clans, and
subject to their commands. Even the
Cores of lesser clans can only partially mitigate the orders of those
originals, and some edicts – such as the ban against reviving discarded Blues –
are absolute. Every cycle the overall
number of En-Mott increases, but the cycle's pace is dictated by the needs of
the Reborn, who sacrifice each generation in turn to increase their own strength.
"The only hope for a member of a new generation is to
grow strong enough to survive separation, and the Reborn facilitate this by
rewarding the most loyal with exemptions from reproduction, which greatly
increases their chances – and can even lead to joining the Reborn. To describe what this does to the En-Mott –
born with a potential life-span of centuries, and told to kill themselves
within one or two decades, with a vicious competition to gain an exemption, to
become one of this privileged class... A whole race driven by a combination of hate and hope. Hatred for the Reborn. Hope that they might join their ranks."
Fisher's frown had grown heavier with every word, and he
stopped to take a deep breath, visibly upset. Looking directly at Madeleine, he forged on.
"Théoden, the Moth who possessed me, loathed the cycles
of death. There is very little each new
generation can do about their situation, and it was not until the
Ul-naa
Core was injured by a Blue strong enough to
instinctively defend against possession that Théoden saw any way forward. While ostensibly searching for a way for the
Core to overcome that instinctive defence, he worked to create an opening, a
chance to end the cycles. For his
apparent success in finding a way to disarm that Blue, he was rewarded with an
exemption by the Core. Perhaps in other
circumstances he would have taken it, despite his fury and disgust. He did so very much want to live."
Expression easing, Fisher took a moment to meet the eyes of
each of the Musketeers in turn.
"But during the time Théoden spent carrying out the
Core's task he found a source of strength. A cause is a cold thing to die for. To die to protect the people you count as friends, people you have
laughed with, and grown to cherish, that is a gift.
"In an hour it will be dawn, and we will try to bring
down the Spires. We have recorded
separately the methods of fighting. There are countless selfish and obvious reasons for the people of Earth
to fight back against the Reborn. But
another reason is for that one person who found a way, who put our future above
his own. We mattered to him, and so he
bought us this chance. Honour him."
Turning abruptly away, Fisher walked back to the opposite
couch and sat down, looking as drained as Madeleine felt. Noi lowered the camera, and the room sat
absolutely still. Then Emily uncurled
from the ball she'd maintained since she'd been freed, and crossed to tuck
herself by Madeleine.
Pan broke the silence. "You expect me to follow that?"
Fisher gave him a dry glance. "You've never been short of something to say. Why start now?"
"Ha. Hell." Pan scrubbed his hand
through his hair. "Okay. Make sure you get my best side, Noi. Nash, stop me if I start ranting."
With a shamefaced grin, he stood, studied his feet, then
momentarily was the exact image of the sketch Madeleine had given him: Lee
Rickard as Henry the Fifth. The young
King. Then just as quickly he was a less
grand figure, a boy with the face of an imp, but no smile.
"So we're about to go try to bring down the Spires, and
if we fail, someone else gets to have to do it. Even if we succeed, there's going to be a lot of fighting ahead. After all the people who have died, all the
friends I've lost, the last thing I want to do, really, is risk any more. I'm betting most of you feel the same way.
"For the Blues out there: we've a lot of advantages you
probably won't have. Strong people,
smart people, a team. It makes such a
difference when you know someone's got your back, who'll try to bring you up
when you're down, or tell you to stop when you're going the wrong way. There might be hardly any free Blues in your
city. You might be alone. But we're passing on Théoden's gift. Take the knowledge, make the
opportunity. Find your strongest Blue,
your tactician, your strategist. Rescue
your leeches. And stand together and
try. Even if the first attempt fails,
even if they take you, don't lose hope. Someone else will come for you, will bring you back like I was brought
back.
"For those of you who aren't infected, those who are
going to say, no, we can't fight, they'll release more dust, they'll attack us,
that it's better to wait it out like a bad storm. Let me remind you: they come back. They'll take all us Blues, and use us up, and
throw us away, and then they'll have a little breather and start all over
again. No-one can think that's a good
idea. This is a war. And they tricked you into not fighting."
He darted a quick look at Fisher, and took a deep breath.
"Moths. Because
I'm only talking to you thanks to Théoden, I want to make an offer to others
like him, those Moths who don't want, never wanted this...slaughter. We are going to hunt you down. Those bodies you're wearing belong to someone
else. But if you turn yourself in, if
you surrender to us and take that huge risk of dying so that the Blue you're
riding can be free, then we won't attack if you survive. I don't know what the hell we'll do with you
after – put you on an island? But...anyway."
His chin jerked up, as if he was still unravelling the
implications of his offer. Then his
stance shifted, not the king returning, nor Pan, cocksure and defiant, but a
cold, angry declaration.
"Finally, for those of you who did this to us, for the
Remade. Fuck you. We'll dance on your graves."
Half an hour before dawn Madeleine was trying not to break
her ankle. Even though they'd circled
around to the relatively clear eastern side of the park, entering from College
Street, the debris of the Spire's arrival formed a black obstacle course of
tree trunks and torn earth, to be navigated by touch and hope.
"Team Dragon and Defenders, stop around here," Noi
called in a carrying whisper. "Spire Squad, you get into position first, then the Defenders will
shift into place around you. Good
luck."
Madeleine's searching hands encountered a metal face, and she
bit back a gasp even as she realised it had to be one of the statues from the
Archibald Fountain. She slid down to sit
in a small depression behind it, glad to be out of the rising wind. Sydney nights in early May were jacket
weather, cool not icy, but her fits of sleep hadn't fully balanced excessive
spirit punching, and the urge to curl into a ball and sob was rising.
During the last half hour Fisher and Noi had worked rapidly
through endless pre-battle issues which would never have occurred to
Madeleine. Release timers and
mirror-sites for the four videos, drawing on Nash, Min and others to write
quick introductions in multiple languages, asking viewers to redistribute and
subtitle. Choosing the north-east corner
of the park because it was not bordered by residential buildings, and the bulk
of the Spire would hide them from early risers in the hotels. Escape routes for those staying on Green
guard duty, and transport strategies for the fighters, should running become
the only option. Distribution of laptops
to watch the progress of the challenge, and spotters with torches to signal if
the Core came through from the south-west side. Rope, for those standing at the edge of what would become a huge
pit. The need to remove the webcam in
Saint Marys Cathedral.
Haron
was in charge of the Spire
Squad: fifty Blues who were going to try to give an alien tower a heart
attack. The Defenders, led by Sarah,
would do everything they could to keep attacking Blues and Greens away from
Haron's
team. A trio
with varying levels of medical knowledge waited with first aid kits out on the
footpath, and there was even a pair optimistically cooking up enormous vats of
soup back at the hotel. The Musketeers
and leech Blues, forming the majority of Team Dragon, would try to deal with
the returning Core and his large glowing mount.
Emily, who had been following close behind, tucked in beside
Madeleine in the shelter of the statue, and whispered: "I'm sorry for
being angry with you."
Having completely missed Emily being angry, Madeleine shifted
in confusion, then shrugged mentally and curled an arm around the girl's
waist. "I'm sorry for making you
angry." She also wished she could
send Emily off to safety. Thirteen was
so young. But there was a drive in the
girl to fight which held little of bravado, had a level of necessity.
"I think it's a bad idea, what Pan said," the girl
added. "Letting any of them
live. E-even if there are a couple of
nice ones, how will we know? It could be
one of the horrible ones, just trying to get away with it."
"Their – the Blues would be able to tell us that,
wouldn't they?" Madeleine had been
dismayed by Pan's offer of amnesty, and yet glad of it. "So far it's been very rare for any of
the non-Reborn to survive separation, anyway."
A scrambling noise rescued Madeleine from a subject she
wasn't certain she could face, and Noi, only a few feet away, said: "Any
problems?"
"Do stubbed toes count?" Min, who had been sent to take care of the
webcam, eased into a spot near Madeleine and Emily. "I just shifted the angle upward, rather
than turning it off. Can't guarantee
those two kids will stay there though. It's mad the number of people round here who want to play hero."
"You say that, but I remember you running back trying to
rescue me," Noi pointed out.
"Heat of the moment," Min's voice was
dismissive. "And not exactly
effective."
"Does that make a difference? I hope those two stay put – maybe we should
send someone back in there to keep an eye on them."
Ari and Tia, their youngest Blues, had been assigned camera
duties, filming the battle in the hopes of passing on dragon-fighting
techniques – and keeping the pair out of a fight they were keen to join. Madeleine's primary feeling about her own
involvement in the coming battle was dread combined with resignation, and an
impatience for it to be done. To know
whether the Spires would fall, and what that victory would cost them.
"Challenge is finishing up," Noi said tersely. "They'll keep to the pecking order
heading back, so we're on schedule. Millie, come keep an eye on the feed for me."
Emily clambered over to the shielded hollow Noi was using to
hide the glow of the laptop. Once she
was there, Noi balanced on top of a fallen tree trunk, and held a torch high,
turning it on and off three times in rapid succession. After a pause, she jumped down.
"
Haron's
team's in place. Defenders are heading in. Count off the entries that you see, Millie,
and let me know when you get to fifty, and then eighty. And everyone eat something."
The
Ul-naa
were hundred and fifth
in the primacy. That was a lot of
dragons to fly on home, and Madeleine doubted Sydney's Core would return before
dawn. She sighed, and tucked her hands
into her armpits as Noi curled down beside her.
"I said eat."
"I have been. Everyone keeps trying to feed me."
"Yeah. Well." Noi evidently chose
not to point out that Madeleine had spent most of the last few hours either
unconscious or trying to hide in her cousin's armpit.
"Why was Emily angry with me?"
"Because it didn't happen to you. Because you escaped it."
The certainty of
Noi's
answer meant
she'd probably already discussed this with Emily. Or perhaps felt the same way.
"Was – was it very bad?"
Noi didn't answer immediately, and Madeleine again felt the
new gulf between them.
"It hurt all the time." The words came slowly, each an obvious
effort. "Almost like
shield-paralysis combined with the pins and needles afterwards. Not so sharp, but never ending. This – this constant, swooping distress of
trying to move, to speak, and nothing. And suffocated by
its
presence. Sat on. That without even
considering what your
it
is like, and what it's doing with you."
Regretting asking, Madeleine slid closer, and Noi leaned
against her, shaking. But then, in an
exhibition of sheer determination, the shorter girl's breathing eased, and she
straightened, taking Madeleine's hand instead.
"Fifty," Emily said, and all around them came the
faintest rustle of anticipation. Soon. Fighting, killing.
"Do you think Pan was wrong?" Madeleine asked. "To offer amnesty?"
"No. I hate the
idea, but the alternative is..."
Genocide. A hard word
to link to your own goals.
"Pan says his Moth was mostly frightened," Noi went
on. "Not someone who'd put anyone
before himself, just a scared
squit
trying to keep
his head down. I'd still kill every
single one of them to free the Blues they're riding, but...well...there's a bit
more nuance to my attitude thanks to Fisher's little speech."