Grand Design, page 54
“You were with…with To’Wrathh this entire time, right?” I asked, and I could tell he knew where I was going with that question.
The smile faded from his features. “Don’t blame the girl for hiding me, it was my request. I didn’t wish to burden you further, not when danger surrounded you both. There could be time for reunion later, if ever. I wasn’t needed in your life anymore.”
But under his words, I could feel the current of the true reason. He was…afraid. Realizing that he’d made too many mistakes, become too much of a monster in his single-minded goal to teach me how to survive. It went beyond being afraid of remaining unforgiven on meeting me. He wasn’t even searching for that. Seeking forgiveness was something he found…selfish?
I wasn’t able to ferret out more of his thoughts, his mind moving onto something he considered more important than himself.
“We need to talk about To’Wrathh,” he said, eyes growing serious.
I was about to ask him to answer more about why he had tried to hide away from me, but I could tell that wasn’t something he wanted to face yet.
“Is she really the spider that tracked us down?” I asked instead. “I just can’t put that image together. She doesn’t seem anything like that.”
He nodded. “She was more of an intelligent animal then. When she first became a Feather, it was to hunt you down and even the score. Simple motivations. She grew since.”
“She killed you. Painfully. What happened in between then and now?”
“The gods gave me a second chance to do better, with a clearer mind. I did. Keith, we’ve stumbled onto something…larger than the clan.”
Lejis felt that way. So did Sagrius. As if the world was taking a breath. I knew what he was going to say.
“In all my years serving under Lord Atius, I have never once met or known a machine that was even amenable to peace. This is unique. It will not happen again. I don’t know where this road leads, yet I believe it is worth following.”
“Guessing you told Kidra the same? She was ready to cut To’Wrathh's head off a moment ago. Now she’s brooding off to the side.”
He nodded. “We do not have the luxury of choosing our allies. Your sister understands. There is no room for animosity.
Gods stay with us, we will need everything and every ally for what comes next.”
EPILOGUE
Far outside the outskirts of the Undersider city, an old machine watched from rocky cliffs.
He sat, cross legged within the comfort of his hoversled, the roofing reattached, and all his boxes and items returned to their usual spots. The metal canopy above him shimmered, small pulses of occult lazily swirling across.
Inside the metal net, light bent in a confusing manner. Not to the machine, he had already adjusted and developed his own algorithms to correct the distortions long ago. To him, the view was as clear as if he were standing outside. From the outside, nothing of the sled could be seen, as he’d intended.
Before him, the human city stood tall. Battered, but proud. And within it, a most peculiar culture was rumored to have sprung up. The traveler hummed, mechanic throat trilling. Long fingers stretched out, lifting a lantern off the sled floor up to old eyes. “You brought me here,” he said, glowing blue eyes staring deep into the glass plane. “To witness?”
Inside the lantern, all skittering about in one single direction, smaller mites circled the unnatural blue flame at the center, as if exalting in it. They said nothing of course. Mites never spoke to outsiders with any kind of skill. An irony the traveler always found peculiar.
Still, he tapped the glass plane if only to amuse himself.
A single mite could create a mountain with enough time and fill it with life of all kinds. Tiny gods, shaping the world however they wished. And yet it took millions of them banding together to speak even a single word. He pondered the nine he’d been told. So many ways to interpret that.
“Alas, was too slow,” he said to the silent mites crawling around inside the lantern. “Could not be helped. Travel at pace.”
If he didn’t travel carefully, he’d have long ago been found and destroyed. And then his wandering would stop.
The land before him was filled with scars, testament to the rumored battle between the little new demigods. The first in centuries since the great calm. An omen of the new times ahead. Indeed, a shame he’d missed it by days. The city would do as a consolation prize at least.
To his side, the machine set down the lantern against the old hoversled. It had been his home, his refuge. Fortunately, lending his home for a moment hadn’t seen it wrecked or disrespected. A gamble that had paid off. He’d found it safe and sound, waiting for him, inside the cave he’d dug out for the lost pair.
A clawed hand of white ceramic armor, marred with black lettering, lightly tapped the side of the sled. Tracing the images painted until he found where he last left off. Finding it, he drew out a small bowl of paints.
Taking his time, the traveler painted a pillar, and filled it with holes and a broken gate at the center. And before that, a smaller figure in blue approached. That would do. The fresh image reminded him of the danger before him.
He always risked true death when walking the lands. A single machine spotting him would be the end. Who knows what kind of old detection algorithms were still active and would recognize him? So, he had built a set of rules to follow which minimized chances of being seen. And he was about to break the very first of his rules. He didn’t do so lightly.
The lantern was picked up again, the old machine gazed inside. The little creatures continued circling the blue flame, ever seeking a way out.
The colony said nothing as usual. He hooked the loop of the lantern to his paddling staff. He liked to believe that the mites appreciated the glass walls and appreciated a view of the world outside built by their peers. That and the lick of flame he’d added to the center. They didn’t need to be warm of course, it simply pleased him.
The mite container Tsuya had designed was far less artistic than his own interpretation. More to the point and direct. Superior to his cumbersome homemade version in every way. Then again, she was a goddess, and he was a simple retired soldier from a long dead era.
She’d made hundreds of seekers, before dispersing them away. All gone and broken now, while his little humble lantern remained.
All except for one that had resurfaced. One the mites had stirred and brokered a deal with him for. A rarity to be asked anything from the mites.
The human had hidden that newly resurfaced seeker well. So many traps. Deadly. Nefarious. A32 would have approved greatly of the fledgling human mage, were the cocky bastard still alive to see it.
Recovering that artifact had gone against too many of his rules. Too many traps, too much preparation. Who knows how much more he’d failed to spot. Too much risk. He hadn’t lived until now by taking chances.
The mites were not quite so understanding. So, he’d brokered a different deal with them that ended in the same way.
Despite the waste of time it had been to travel all the way to the surface, an interesting experience was an interesting experience. He hadn’t ever gone that far up before. Near there, machines stopped being threats and he’d found the entire place riddled with shallow human-forged caves. Patrolled by danger nonetheless, but of a different kind and breed.
Temperatures here chased off any living being, except for Tsuya’s genetically engineered plants. Those the goddess had made specifically to survive. But that wasn’t the true draw of the surface. Here, it made for a perfect place for Tsuya to hide things she didn’t want found. The most important of things. The greatest con history had ever seen, he supposed.
He could have attempted to sulk directly on the surface, hiding among the snow. But up there, a different kind of eye searched. And one of his rules was to avoid being around dangerous things if at all possible.
So, he’d stayed lurking deeper among the human made caverns and rooms. Deciding if he should continue or not. Hiding away from the human knights patrolling around in the depths. Dangerous those were. He was better built than the pale imitations running around these days in their small packs, but not by all that much. The humans themselves were equally just as beaten down from their prime.
Nothing like what the humans of old used to wage the first war at least.
All of that was long gone and Relinquished made sure she’d never have to deal with such things ever again. He’d even come across a few remnants. Waste material that not even the mites could safely eliminate and so buried away instead. If any were mishandled, could very well break the world a few times over.
The humans of old had been terrifying in their abilities.
In the past, machines like him were given that job. Today, the new godlings were trusted to find and contain such things. The little marionettes dancing around to her strings.
His hand brushed on the side of the sled, touching the very rear seat. A purple monster with many teeth, tossing a dozen blue figures in the air, gobbling them all up. But some still fell by the wayside, scattering away.
She was not all-powerful, and the world was a very large place. Much escaped her purge, like himself, and those old landmines. Slipping through the cracks, vanishing away.
A great part of why he was not happy about what the mites were demanding of him. To hide from her sight, one simply needed to be as uninteresting as possible. Even better was to never be noticed or thought of at all.
He raised the lantern up, watching the micro colony inside. Everything that survived the human era, survived by being uninteresting outdated junk. All rotting away in landfills before being gobbled up by the mites, endlessly replicated for their amusement now. All machines were forced to obey or escape Relinquished—except if you were the mites. They were Impossible to contain or squash down and oddly spiteful if pushed.
The human knights would have had far less to run around in if she’d behaved herself when she initially found out what Urs had been cooking up with the old schematics he’d bartered out of them. She hadn’t and the mites took that personally. Mistake that. A mistake he hoped not to make himself.
“Perhaps can leave message instead,” he muttered. “No need to guide or talk. Already showed face once. Is not enough?”
Inside the lantern, they made no change in their path. Mites had no such thing as body language. He wasn’t even sure the mites themselves could command their physical bodies. No more than a human could command their heart. He felt a tendril of soul reach out to him from the lantern, sending a pulse of feeling. Something only organic souls could do. Except, of course, if you were the mites.
They did not approve. He’d deviated enough already. There was a plan, and he needed to follow it. They had foreseen something. And he was among their vision.
“You want walk? In city? Be known again? Be reasonable, friends. Sanctuary…a long way from here. Much lurks in the dark between. Very dangerous.”
They didn’t answer. Likely they didn’t understand the concept of danger. He sighed, shaking his head. Dealing with mites was a take and give. To gain anything, they had demands. Sometimes those demands would be unspoken, a favor for later. If he didn’t do this, the mites would never speak to him again. And he’d lose his keys to the kingdom, and his travels would end.
The old machine dipped his staff down, fractals within triggering and rendering the whole thing unseen. A strong push and the sled floated forward, gliding off the cliff and floating down.
The city loomed before him, his pace was constant, rowing across the dead rocks. Soon he would reach the gates and slip inside. They loomed before him, inviting.
The mites had spoken to him, brought him out here for a reason. Gave him the gift of nine words, carefully picked. They’d told him his future. What he was to do.
If there were a single time to break his rules, it was now. The end times were here, the mites playing their games again. And for all he knew, they might succeed. What that success looked like, that was a question he would need to reflect deeply on before committing.
He didn’t know who would remain after the ash settled. Every piece had to fend for themselves in the game of gods.
But it was only a matter of time until Relinquished noticed the city and saw through whatever deception was holding her attention.
And then the game would grow ugly.
BONUS CHAPTER - INTERLUDE (TENISENT)
It had been a simple deal to start. To’Aacar was leaving to kill his son. There was only one person with the power to fight the Feather off. He offered the girl anything if she could save Keith.
An accord had been made, one that both of them agreed to without issue. She’d save Keith, and he would follow and guide her wherever her path took her. He suspected she would have wanted to save Keith regardless of a deal, only didn’t have the means to voice it out. So, he’d nudged fate and gave the push she needed.
It had worked. She’d arrived just in time and carried him far away from harm. Now they had to make sure the boy would survive the next ordeal until he could reunite with the clan. Keith wasn’t a warrior, even in relic armor. Tenisent remembered the last time he’d seen the boy fight something, and he’d won only by guile and clever planning. There wasn’t much planning one could do in the middle of a surprise ambush. Keith needed a guardian to safeguard him for now.
“A Deathless?” she asked, thinking. “Yes, that would work. It would explain my healing abilities.” Then the girl looked down at her hands. “Deathless look like humans, correct?”
“The ones I’ve met all have,” Tenisent said.
“Do they also have that human armor?” she asked, along with a slew of other obvious questions.
He nodded. There hadn’t been a single one he’d seen that didn’t own relic armor. No, they didn’t have gills, extra arms, or hidden body changes they kept secret when the machines weren’t around to spot them. They were human in all ways that he knew of, except for their blood. Feathers were the ones with mutations or additions.
He gave a quick glance at the boy propped up against the side of a tree, eyes closed, breathing steadily. The hole in his armor was still wide open, but the flesh under it healed and no longer bleeding. Only stains on the ground remained. “Hurry with the changes,” he growled to the Feather. Keith would wake up soon enough.
Given Tenisent’s luck, it’ll likely happen at the worst possible moment, maybe halfway while the Feather was changing if fate had a cruel sense of humor.
To’Wrathh closed her eyes and commanded a dark mist to swoop around and envelop her body, eating away at trees and rocks nearby, draining her power cell, but crafting a lookalike to relic armor as the mist slowly worked its way over her shell. Soon, what was left behind was a human simulacrum.
“This should do,” To’Wrathh declared, giving her new armor a look over. It didn’t look quite like relic armor he knew of, but it would function for now.
There were more egregious errors to fix.
“Humans do not have marble white skin, or white hair,” Tenisent said.
To’Wrathh frowned. “My energy reserves are growing low. Are you sure we cannot say I have a sickness of some kind? Humans are prone to millions of mutations, any of which could explain the lack of pigment. And only his sister has seen my current form, he couldn’t possibly know I am a Feather from that minor detail.”
“That’s what you consider a minor detail?” Tenisent growled. “It’s as clear as ice to anyone with half a working brain.”
She reluctantly followed the order, changing her appearance.
“Deathless don’t have halos,” Tenisent said next.
Now, she frowned. “I could say it was a battle trophy?”
That got the ghost growling. “The less you need to stretch the truth, the better the disguise. Clan Lord Atius taught me that lesson, and so I’m teaching you now. Get rid of the halo.”
To’Wrathh pouted but still complied.
“And the wings,” Tenisent said, after giving her armor a look over for anything he might have missed.
“They’re my wings,” To’Wrathh said, eyes narrowing. “I like them.”
It dawned on Tenisent then that all of this might not go quite as easily as he’d expected.
Before he could give the obvious counterargument, Keith stirred in his sleep, heartbeat picking up and eyes flickering under groggy lids.
Tenisent could only curse his luck as To’Wrathh immediately abandoned any talk and rushed over to investigate her old original rival.
“All right,” Keith said with a shrug, mercifully deciding not to question anything further. Tenisent felt only relief at that, as if he’d run a few circuits around the colony already.
He had severely underestimated just how socialized To’Wrathh really was. Thankfully, he’d also overestimated his son’s common sense. Keith seemed to take everything without question and completely ignore the oddities.
What sort of people had his son been spending time with inside the clan? He’d heard from the staff a few times that Keith spent his time with a group of spiteful little hellions running amok whenever he snuck out past the hired house guards. Just how much had he missed?
“Just happy to be here,” the boy said, trying to stand up in the broken armor. “How long has it been?”
“Five hours, twelve minutes, twenty-two secon—”
“To’Wrathh,” Tenisent growled. “Humans do not keep perfect time in their heads.”
Panic welled from her soul fractal, and he huffed at the side. “Calm. Tell him it was your relic armor giving you coordinates. That will do.”
“My…relic armor was tracking the exact time, of course,” she said out loud, quickly. “Returning to the point, we are approximately twenty-three miles away from your initial fall. The area was dangerous, and I needed to relocate before my presence could be noticed.”
