Steph Swainston - Dangerous Offspring

‘We have tales of god coming back!’ Lightning cried. ‘And this thing appears!’

‘It isn’t god,’ I said. ‘It’s a Shift creature.’

The effigy of San chorused, ‘You told them what? You told them there’s a god? You…’ Its contempt knew no bounds. ‘You gave them the idea of god?’

‘There is always a god in the minds of men,’ the Emperor said quietly.

The Vermiform said, ‘Have you used that for your own ends too? No wonder this world is about to be lost to the Insects, if you are waiting for god to help you. Your people will all die as they wait!’

‘We are not waiting,’ San said. ‘We are fighting.’

The mask bobbed. ‘They’re being slaughtered! Do they know of the Shift?’

Lightning muttered, ‘Is this mountain of livebait saying there is no god but the Shift exists?’

‘God isn’t here but a Shift creature is,’ I said.

The Vermiform said, ‘San, your Fourlands are lost. Your Circle will break and your Castle will fall. I must warn Dunlin that this world does not have much time left, and I must arrange defences. The Insects here will soon build bridges to other worlds. We hope they will act with more intelligence than you did.’

‘Leave the Empire, you foul thing,’ said San calmly.

The eight tentacles that joined together above the Emperor, caging him in like the struts of a tent, sent out a thick strand into the air. We could see worms streaming up to its tip, which looked truncated; they were vanishing there. The thick rope was pouring into nowhere-an area as big as a buckler that looked the same as the rest of the sky.

The trunks thinned, the caricature of the Emperor dissolved as worms left it and joined them. The trunks shrank to strings, then their bases lifted up from the earth as if being reeled in. They looped into the hole in thin air, twisting together into a rope as they did so. The end of the rope vanished. The Vermiform had gone. I knew it would be appearing like a cable in another world.

The Emperor looked directly at me accusingly. So did Lightning-he had been gaping at the worm-arc, as had all the soldiers standing or on their knees in traumatised silence around us. Streams of retreating riders and men-at-arms coming off the flank were passing us, back to town. The Emperor looked at them and sighed.

Lightning said, ‘That was a throng of earthworms, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Mmm. From the…’

‘From the Shift, yes.’

‘Right. Uh-hum. It said flying Insects will lay eggs in every lake. Not in Micawater lake they won’t.’

I accidentally put my weight on my bitten foot and yowled. Lightning shook himself. ‘Are you injured?’

I honestly could not tell whether I was seriously hurt or not. I had my arms crossed, hands clasped desperately around my shoulders. I said, ‘I’ll go to Rayne.’

San began to turn his horse but Lightning ran across and grabbed its bridle. The horse, true to its training, stood still. San glared down at the Archer. Lightning, from force of habit, lowered his gaze, then rallied and looked the Emperor straight in the eye. ‘My lord,’ he said. ‘Where are you from ?’

I knew what he meant, and so did San, but he didn’t deign to answer. The thought of a Shift world full of potential Emperors was enough to make me shiver worse than the horses.

‘Where are you from?’ Lightning repeated. ‘Not from the…From the…You’re not like that thing, are you?’

The Emperor closed his eyes and shook his head gently. ‘I am from Hacilith…From the place where Hacilith city now stands. I am a man. A man like any other Morenzian. Believe me, Archer.’

‘My lord.’ Lightning let the bridle go.

A thought occurred to me. ‘ When are you from?’

The Emperor ignored me, but Lightning took up the question, frowning. ‘Yes. That thing said millions.’

San gave the clear impression that he neither knew nor cared what the Vermiform said. He was regarding Lightning closely. He stated, ‘No, I am not that old. Yes, I am older than you think.’

Lightning swallowed hard, pressed, ‘Then how old?’

San was still scrutinising him. ‘You must dine with me tonight, Archer.’

We were astounded. ‘Yes, my lord,’ Lightning mouthed. ‘Yes-certainly.’

‘Now you must return to your fyrd. You have my full authority to supervise the withdrawal.’

Lightning bowed, white-faced. San glanced at me. ‘Messenger, put aside your pain. Find the Architect. We must discover a way to drain the lake. Everything depends on this now, it seems.’ He looked slowly around him. ‘Everything.’

I struggled into the air. My wing muscles were tender from the assault and the constant take-offs. If I kept using them now I knew I would be grounded for days. But I had to carry out San’s request, and I was anxious to escape from the curious queries of the fyrdsmen still gawking at the air where the Vermiform had vanished.

I soared up above the devastation and circled, looking for Frost. The Imperial Fyrd were now toy soldiers beneath me. Lightning was tiny on horseback as he galloped away from them. The host’s advance, seemingly so inexorable only an hour ago had stopped and it was ebbing away.

I searched in vain for Frost. I looked among the east wing that she would have to pass through. It was a wide stream of men in full retreat. If Frost was heading the other way, her small group would be battling against the current and I’d see the flow of men dividing round them like water cleaving around a rock. But they seemed in good order with no stragglers-Hayl’s cavalry was carefully screening the withdrawal. From the lack of agitation in their ranks they seemed to be still ignorant of the larvae.

I climbed, widening my search. The reserve had formed into a solid shield wall with archers in tight-packed shooting positions behind them. Lightning’s orders reached slow actualisation in the movements of tens of thousands on the field. The archers resumed shooting and arrow volleys sailed by below me, rippling the air. Already the rear echelons were beginning to form into columns, ready to pull out following the east wing. The real battleground was in front of the shield wall. But I didn’t have time to look-I had to find Frost and, even in her recently disturbed state she wouldn’t have been stupid enough to go that way, surely?

I circled again, and cast my gaze towards the periphery. A motion caught my attention, so fast I thought it had to be Insects. I angled towards it, and saw it was the orange Riverworks banner accompanying Frost. Her horsemen were out on the east flank, far beyond the retreating troops and moving at a full gallop, something I wasn’t expecting in the mud soup. I dived towards them and saw they were heading rapidly towards the river bank, following a narrow supply road of quarry chippings. It was a causeway over the sodden ground, built at the same time as the plunge basin. Frost knew the valley like the back of her hand and was taking a quick detour around the chaos. I scanned the route ahead. Near the diminished river the track met the road, wide enough for wagons, that climbed the ramp to the dam and formed the walkway on top.

I shed height quickly and checked for larvae. Along the entire length of the lake margins they were crawling up the shallow slope, long bodies twisting from side to side. Their claws pushed trails in the gravel. Some turned on each other, and on the carcasses of Insects littering the lakeside.

Scores were emerging onto the dam’s face where the lake lapped up against it. In ragged lines they climbed its nearly sheer wall, finding purchase where it would be too steep for an adult Insect. Ripples broke over them, but they hung off its cobbles, moving up with mindless persistence; six legs and hooked feet scrabbling slowly.