James Scotson - Planets Falling

“I did. Let’s head up and greet them. You also might like to meet my father and husband.”

Gorian struggles to her feet. “Holy cow.”

“Is there any ale left?” Wenn’s arm is wrapped around Theo’s neck. They’re quite tittered.

“No, my boy, we’ve finished it.”

“Dammit.”

Bets sips the last of the honey wine, looking relieved. I’m unsure whether she’s happy to have defeated Thresh or that Wenn’s come back to me, making Theo unattainable. Perhaps a little of both.

I’m in shock. We’re all dealing with the aftermath of the attack differently. Instead of drinking, Gorian’s sleeping soundly and Iggy’s trying to repair Sam’s damaged systems. Fromer’s sent the wild animals back to their business in the forest and lumbers in the frozen mud piling bodies onto a huge fire. Father helps him. For me, the alcohol’s a tempting path, but I’m wondering why we’re letting Thresh and Jonah go.

After contemplating the acrid, black soot billowing from the carnal pyre, I decide to act, my face burning. Wenn and Theo are lolling about, while Bets looks on in amusement.

I pour the ale on Wenn’s head. “Wenn, after all this time, you decide to drink yourself into a stupor rather than pursue the bitch that stole your daughter and killed our kin? Look at the three of you — pitiful. The least you could do is to help father and Fromer’ cleanse this place.”

Wenn’s dripping and suddenly sober, a hardness I’ve never seen on him scored across his clenched jawline. He grabs a cloth and wipes his face. “What the hell is wrong with you woman? Take a moment to think. If you had an inkling of what Ansam and I went through for the sake of you girls — all of you — you’d think more about jumping down my yapper. We’ll pursue at dawn, although our pace will be slow. We can only hope that Thresh’s horses are slowed by the conditions as well. We have no horses left. They perished in the mountains.”

“Where did you go? Why did you abandon us? Fromer can be convincing but I’d never leave Eliza. Yet you did.”

Wenn’s glass of ale flies across the room, shattering on the stone floor. “The beast, god, Fromer, whatever he is appeared one night while you were in the garden. He showed us images — the fate of you and the baby — Eliza — if we’d stayed.” His eyes are dark and distant. “Fromer can see the future and knows the paths. I had to leave you to save you, which was the most horrible and unfair thing that could fall on a man.”

“Did you consider that Fromer was lying?”

“Gods, woman, he can travel in animals, place thoughts in your mind, make pictures from darkness. Just look at him. There’s no denying. I had to leave my unborn child for him. That’s sacrifice.”

I’m unconvinced. I think he never had the chance to bond with the child. She’s abstract to him. He’s trying to mask his guilt.

Theo stands, unsteady. “Amy, easy on us. It’s dark and dangerous. We need to gather provisions and weapons before going after Thresh. No telling if she’s got troops downhill. For all we know, she’s coming back.”

“Theo, I have a link to that woman. I can tell she’s not coming back, especially if Fromer’s with us. She’s outmatched by the natural world. If I could only do a little bit of what he did to those animals—”

“Oh, Amy. You can and you will.” Fromer stands in the doorway scratching his patch of hair.

I run to the beast and punch his chest. He’s real, cool to the touch. His enormous heart pounds, just like mine. How can he be alive if he left this world? “Why are you doing this to us?” I yell.

“If they’d stayed in the village, events would have been very different. You’d be dead and Eliza would be lost. I can only ask that you trust me. Ansam and Wenn have played their role very well. When Thresh arrives at the portal, she’ll find a measure of resistance that she never would’ve expected.”

My father appears, wiping his hands his coat. “What a damned mess out there. Amy, Fromer’s right you know. We had no choice. We followed him across the mountains to a village. The people had been watching the fog seep out of the lake — the portal as you call it — for years. They were terrified. Horrid things they saw, dead walking, creatures like the grubs — but bigger, nastier — and weird storms. People were disappearing. But the worse for them was the voices of their kin and friends, long in their graves but risen again. Was like the veil between our world and that of the dead was ripping. People weren’t just fearing for their lives, they was lamenting the fate of their souls.”

Wenn gazes into the distance. “With Fromer’s urging, we built a foundry in the town. Fromer brought strange metals to use which we forged into blades and other weapons. The villagers discovered these tools were effective against the creatures crawling out of that mist. They got their lives back.” He pulls his sword from its scabbard, the blade gleaming white in the darkness. “The name of the town is Yellow Stone. It’s the best hope we have to stop the things from completely passing over here to earth.”

Theo takes another gulp. “We all need to rest before we decide what to do next.”

We all retreat to sleep, while Fromer resumes clearing the grounds and stoking the fire. I’m trying to settle my mind when Wenn settles next to me and grabs my breast, his hot breath on my neck. I pull away, drawing my body into a tight ball. “Wenn, I know. I know. But under different circumstances. I can hardly lift my head.”

He turns away with a boozy huff.

Morning arrives too quickly. Fromer’s vanished again, as if he can’t abide by the daylight. Bets, Theo, Wenn, and I start down the mountain. Thresh left a huge swath of mayhem, with trees broken, bodies strewn, and debris littered. It’s not difficult to find our way to her camp, which is mostly intact. The sight of the tents and fire smoke from a distance lifts my hopes. Perhaps they haven’t left and we have a chance to confront her and Jonah. I’d relish the opportunity to blast Thresh in the stomach with my rifle. When we reach the grounds, it’s clear that they’ve recently left. A few bodies and a thin, slimy residue of fog remain. Most of the soldiers’ supplies still sit in sacks in the tents. From the tracks, we surmise all of Thresh’s surviving army departed quickly and on horseback. I run to the tent where Eliza and Margarat stayed, holding onto a whisper of desperation that they were considered liabilities and left behind. No one’s there.

I look behind me to see Wenn. He says quietly, “This is where she was.”

“Yes, Wenn, how’d you know?”

“Saw it in my dreams.” He walks to Eliza’s cot and finds a worn ragdoll on the floor. He shakes. “This is so, so wrong. I’ve got no idea what she looks like.”

I laugh hoarsely. “I only get to see her through that madwoman’s eyes. Makes me want to tear her eyes out when I find her. She doesn’t deserve our daughter.”

Wenn kicks the cot.

“Shit,” Theo exclaims. We both emerge from the tent to see that the divine rain from the previous night has now become our own version of hell. Sleet falls, encasing everything in slick ice. “We need to return to the lodge fast.”

“Not under these conditions,” Bets says. “We need to stay put until this works itself out.”

We retreat to a large tent with the remnants of a cooking fire. We stoke the flames and raid the abandoned supplies. The soldiers ate surprisingly well, allowing us to assemble a nice meal. The other tents accumulate ice and begin collapsing. Our tent remains warm and comfortable, although none of us want to be there. During the entire night, trees snap under the weight of ice as dollops of slush hit our roof and melt away.