Authors: Tobias S. Buckell
Crystal Rain (5 page)
“Yes.” Dihana looked down at the grass. Her father had taken her out on this same piece of lawn once and told her about the Spindle. “The two jets that come out of either side have stopped. No one can see that with their naked eye yet.” When Elijah had taken a young Dihana outside, he’d explained that no one in Nanagada understood the stars anymore. All that knowledge had been lost and he couldn’t re-create the science. The Loa had counseled him not to.
But he’d been insistent that she understand something about the Spindle. It wasn’t just something pretty in the sky, he said. It had been the path to Nanagada from all the other worlds, as legend hinted.
“Elijah tell me if the Spindle ever shrink, all hell breaking loose,” Haidan said. “He said Azteca believe gods go come through it when it ‘stabilized.’”
Dihana nodded. “He told me that too.” That was why she had Preservationists scanning the Spindle with telescopes.
“I been preparing all the mongoose for fighting.”
“I increased the size of the ragamuffins.”
Haidan looked back down at the garden. Dihana looked around at the hibiscus bushes and their shadows. They seemed to hide dangerous things now, and she wanted to go back inside.
“I go stay here in the city.” Haidan walked her back toward the building. “We all need to work together. We go need to figure out what the Azteca doing. What trouble they causing.”
“I’ve been ordering more things built,” Dihana said. “Airships, larger guns … ever since I realized.”
Haidan gave her hand a brief squeeze, and Dihana remembered Haidan picking her up and holding her in the air when she was a girl. “I should have come and talk to you sooner.”
“Yes,” Dihana said.
“We probably need the Councilmen too. See if we can figure out what they have the Azteca want.”
“We need more of your men back here in the city. If you can’t contact Mafolie Pass, that might mean Azteca are trying to attack it right now.”
“I know,” Haidan murmured. “Trust me, I know.”
As they reached the steps, Dihana looked at Haidan. “Are you worried?”
Haidan tapped his boots on the stone. “Wicked nervous. Something dangerous going on. I feel that in me bones. But at least we ain’t go work across each other.” He sighed. “Got a lot of thing for me arrange, moving headquarter back this direction, getting more fact-them out the bush, but I go be in close touch, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And, Dihana?”
“Yes?”
“You know me long enough to call me Edward, you know?” Haidan turned around and walked off toward the gates.
“You haven’t quite earned that back just yet,” Dihana said. But he was too far away to hear her.
Jerome was having trouble getting to sleep, so Shanta sat by his bed. “A tale? Is a tale you want?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
She smiled. John melted back into the kitchen and made a sandwich.
“Okay then,” Shanta said.
“I see, I bring, but I ain’t responsible.”
Her voice dropped, and her accent thickened a bit. The way Brungstunners spoke was fluid. It changed depending on whom they talked to, and how they felt. John sounded different. People in Brungstun called him northsounding, yet that wasn’t it. Up north in Capitol City everyone still sounded like people in Brungstun, just not as heavy, whereas John sounded as if he’d grown up away from them all. Though, the longer he was around Shanta, the more he sometimes tried to sound like her. Usually it was when he was relaxed, not trying to.
“I see, I bring, but I ain’t responsible.”
Her voice dropped, and her accent thickened a bit. The way Brungstunners spoke was fluid. It changed depending on whom they talked to, and how they felt. John sounded different. People in Brungstun called him northsounding, yet that wasn’t it. Up north in Capitol City everyone still sounded like people in Brungstun, just not as heavy, whereas John sounded as if he’d grown up away from them all. Though, the longer he was around Shanta, the more he sometimes tried to sound like her. Usually it was when he was relaxed, not trying to.
Shanta began her tale.
“A long time ago, all we old-father them had work on a cold world with no ocean or palm tree. It was far, far from this world. It was far, far from them own world, call Earth! They had toil for Babylon. In return, Babylon oppress many people. And eventually them Babylon-oppress people ran away looking for a new world, a world far from any other world so they could be left alone.
“All sorts of people left. Some pale-looking man like
Frenchi and Bridish come. And there was Afrikan. And there was Indian. Carib. Chinee. All of them had join up for the long, long voyage. All color of skin leave. Year and year and year them travel till they had discover this sweet world we live on, just like all the original island on Earth. Here were some cool wind and easy sun.
Frenchi and Bridish come. And there was Afrikan. And there was Indian. Carib. Chinee. All of them had join up for the long, long voyage. All color of skin leave. Year and year and year them travel till they had discover this sweet world we live on, just like all the original island on Earth. Here were some cool wind and easy sun.
“Them old-father had some massive power. They find a worm’s hole in the sky between all them other world to get here. And when they wiggle through them hole, they had fly down from the sky to land here and begin a new life, free from oppression.
“But the evil
Tetol
come in from other worm’s holes that had been all around for long time. You see, the Tetol is dangerous, nasty things, who want to rule and own we all. But some other great being, the Loa, weren’t evil, but help and guide we against the Tetol …”
Tetol
come in from other worm’s holes that had been all around for long time. You see, the Tetol is dangerous, nasty things, who want to rule and own we all. But some other great being, the Loa, weren’t evil, but help and guide we against the Tetol …”
The
original
ragamuffins would save the day, John knew. The ancestors of the ragamuffins of today who policed towns and kept civil order. The ragamuffins flew out in giant airships to destroy the worm’s holes and cut this world off from further Tetol invasion. Yet the ragamuffins had not been able to destroy the Tetol on the ground. The Tetol created the Azteca and made them a fearful warrior race.
original
ragamuffins would save the day, John knew. The ancestors of the ragamuffins of today who policed towns and kept civil order. The ragamuffins flew out in giant airships to destroy the worm’s holes and cut this world off from further Tetol invasion. Yet the ragamuffins had not been able to destroy the Tetol on the ground. The Tetol created the Azteca and made them a fearful warrior race.
Thinking about the Azteca’s masters wandering unchecked over the world disturbed John. It reminded him of their airships flying near Brungstun. He stepped out onto the shaded porch and watched the sun slip behind the brown boulders.
Shanta tiptoed out behind him and lit a lamp. “Good day?”
John nodded and slipped an arm around her waist. “Yeah. Looking forward to carnival tomorrow.”
Shanta chuckled. The final sliver of sun slipped behind the boulders in time with a faint scraping noise from behind the house.
“Thunder?” John asked. The eaves blocked their view.
Shanta shook her head. “No.” She stepped off the porch and lifted her skirt above her ankles. “Something different. Come.”
John followed her out and around behind the house,
where the Wicked Highs loomed large over the tall trees. The sound got louder. Branches snapped and cracked. Three seagulls flew away with loud protests. John wondered if he should get a machete, or maybe one of his guns from the cellar.
where the Wicked Highs loomed large over the tall trees. The sound got louder. Branches snapped and cracked. Three seagulls flew away with loud protests. John wondered if he should get a machete, or maybe one of his guns from the cellar.
“Shanta,” he yelled. She’d already reached the edge of the bush around the house. Her determined form stepped barefoot around the pricker bush and hibiscus. “Damn.” He picked his way around the same bush. Mud oozed up between his toes.
“John. Up in here.”
He followed her voice to a large mango tree and looked up. Silver fabric draped between the branches. A small airship lay spread over several mango tree canopies, the tip poking out through the tree closest to their house. A harness dangled from between a nook in the branches farther back, a man struggling in it.
“Is he Azteca, or is he one of ours?” John asked.
Shanta gave him a withering stare. “That don’t matter.”
Chagrined, John looked up again and saw the man turn in his harness to face them. He had tight curly hair, and a black face. Not an Azteca spy, then.
“Hey,” Shanta yelled upward. “You have to hang on. We coming.”
John shuffled to his left. “The branches up that high look weak, but I bet I can reach him.”
“I go get a machete. We could hack he out—” Shanta got halfway through saying that when the man groaned. He fumbled at his waist.
“Hey!” John and Shanta warned together. The clasp clicked open and the man dropped. His leg caught on a branch. It spun him around and he hit the ground by the mango tree with a thump that scattered leaves.
“Shit!” They rushed forward. The man wore heavy clothing to keep him warm in the high air. He had an air bottle strapped to his thigh, and the hose ran up to his neck, where it was fastened to a necktie soaked in blood. The man had been shot. In the chest, and in the side, maybe some other places, it was hard to tell.
The aviator groaned and stirred. He opened bloodshot eyes. The skin around them creased with crow’s-feet. “Help,” he whispered.
“We go do what we can,” Shanta said. “But it look like you done lose plenty blood, and you fall …”
The man slowly turned his neck to look at them. “I dead,” he said, words just audible. “Been shot seven time. I come for warn you, and any mongoose-men here, any ragamuffin that near.”
“We’ll get someone,” John said, trying to calm the man and get him to relax. “What’s your name?”
“Allen.” The low hiss of his voice turned urgent. “Listen now. Or you all dead. All of you. Hear? Dead.” The man took a long, deep breath, shuddering as he did so. “Azteca coming down the side of the mountain. Understand? Azteca. A lot of Azteca.”
He closed his eyes.
“He still alive?” John asked.
“I think,” Shanta said. “I won’t go move him like that, though. He need a stretcher. And Auntie Fixit.”
John stood up. “I’ll wake up Jerome and have him run for your aunt, then. I’ll come back with a piece of board we can strap him to.”
“Yeah.”
When John stood up and looked around, he realized it had gotten much darker. The bush and the trees around him hid in shadows and shifting leaves. They rustled in the dark and threw shadows all around him. Too many scary stories, he thought. Most by Shanta.
Jerome tried to get back under his blankets and pretend to be asleep. John didn’t bother berating his son. He pushed the lighter button on the gas lamp. It took three tries before the spark caught and the room slowly filled with yellow, flickering light.
“I need you to fetch your aunt Keisha.”
Jerome’s eyes widened. “Auntie Fixit? What happen? Mama okay?”
John nodded. “She’s fine. Just go for your aunt.” Keisha’s house lay a mile between town and John’s house.
Jerome could make it in seven minutes. He could sprint like the wind. “Be careful, it’s dark.”
Jerome could make it in seven minutes. He could sprint like the wind. “Be careful, it’s dark.”
Jerome nodded. “I gone.” He reached under his bed for his shoes.
Azteca coming down the mountain … “And Jerome?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell Harold to bring any Brungstun ragamuffins he can get with him.” John debated for a second whether to tell Jerome to stay at Harold’s house, closer to town and safer, but then realized that the safest place would be next to Harold, a ragamuffin himself.
“Okay.”
“Go then.”
John jogged down the steps to his basement. He found a plank he’d planned to use for a bench but had never got around to building. It would do. He held it with his good hand and steadied it with his hook. He hurried back through the rear door into his yard, stopping by the kitchen to grab some linen strips.
“Here,” Shanta called. She squatted in the muddy ground next to ripe, red mangoes and dead twigs. John handed her the board. “Careful.” They grunted and slowly rolled the aviator onto the plank, John careful not to gouge the man with his hook. He handed Shanta the linen. She ran the straps under the board and tied the man down as John lifted first one end, then the other, with his one hand.
“Okay.”
John had gauged the board’s length just right; they each had a good two inches on either end. They picked up the makeshift stretcher and walked back toward the house. They paused halfway there while John shifted his grip, using his other forearm to rest the weight on.
“Kitchen?” John asked.
“Yeah. For now.”
They got the stretcher in, placing it on the kitchen table. Shanta washed and dried her hands, opened the valve on the gaslight, then pushed the lighter button. It clicked. Darkness fled from the room, remaining only in the corners and behind cupboards.
“Come.” Shanta took out a pair of scissors and began
cutting away the man’s thick overcoat. John removed the man’s air canister and necktie. When Shanta cut away the shirt, she sucked her teeth in annoyance. Neat, round holes punctured the skin. Blood oozed from them. “He lucky he still alive.”
cutting away the man’s thick overcoat. John removed the man’s air canister and necktie. When Shanta cut away the shirt, she sucked her teeth in annoyance. Neat, round holes punctured the skin. Blood oozed from them. “He lucky he still alive.”
Lucky, John thought. Or determined. He remembered the Azteca airships flying over the sea and wondered what had happened.
He looked at the bullet holes. Azteca coming? How? In airships, or maybe they’d shot this man before he’d gotten in an airship?
John left Shanta with the dying man and went down into the basement. He paused in front of the large oak chest, then walked under a large beam. With a hop he jumped up and grabbed the brass key off the top of the beam and knelt down at the chest.
The large padlock snapped open, and John tossed it aside. He opened the lid and looked inside at two rifles and a pistol.
He took the gun out with his good hand and looked it over. Then he put it down. He broke open two airtight cases of ammunition, using his hook to pry open the edges, and awkwardly loaded the breech, swearing silently as he almost dropped the gun.
If Azteca came and he had to defend his family, it would not be much of a battle, but at least with the aviator’s warning he could get ready.
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