Deep magic second coll.., p.47
Deep Magic - Second Collection, page 47
part #2 of Deep Magic Collection Series
Voices shout, and I look across the way to see soldiers surrounding Charlotte’s wagon. It shakes so badly I fear it will dislodge itself from the door to her quarters. The soldiers are aware of that. Their rifles are up and they yell for her to stop. In response she shrieks so loud I can hear her inside my airtight enclosure.
Charlotte refuses to come out, and she cannot be forced. Even though the soldiers are suited, her poison is too strong. The smallest mistake could cause a breach, and no one wants to die simply to drag Charlotte into her room.
“Shut her up in there!” says one of the soldiers. “If she wants to stay inside, let her. She’ll tire out eventually.”
I pound on my door to get their attention. “You can’t leave her like that! She’ll suffocate if she’s sealed in too long!”
The soldier who spoke turns to me and shakes his head as if reminding himself that’s true. “We’ll check back before that can happen. What’s gotten into you all today? The whole squad’s been making a fuss.”
“We need to talk to the colonel.”
“You can’t just ask for the colonel. He’s a busy man.”
“I know, but it’s important. That’s why we have to be loud, because if we’re not, then you don’t listen.”
He stares, surprised, then looks back as Charlotte has started banging on her door. I don’t think it’s in regards to being let out.
The soldier curses, apologizes as though he’s forgotten he’s in front of women, and then says, “I’ll see what I can do.”
It is quiet after they leave. There isn’t a soldier in sight, but I am sure there are a few just outside the door to the common area, standing guard.
Just as I resolve to sit and wait, I hear Susan’s voice through the adjacent wall. “Edith, is Olivia inside, or is she still in her wagon?”
“I think she’s in.” Olivia is my other neighbor, and though she hasn’t said anything, I haven’t heard any racket from next door. “Charlotte’s not though.”
“I figured as much. Henrietta and Katherine are in too. I’m taking a head count, but I think most of us are. Can you ask Olivia about Mary?”
In a few minutes we’re able to determine that all of us are in our rooms, save for Charlotte.
“If she’s still in her wagon, then she has her rifle,” says Susan. “They won’t consider opening it if they think she’s going to shoot them.”
“They have to open it,” I tell her. “Otherwise she’ll run out of air.”
“I’m not certain that concerns them. We’re not unique anymore. They might want someone more controllable, and a little less poisonous.”
Though she can’t possibly hear us, Charlotte starts another row.
* * *
Colonel Bradshaw arrives two hours later, after the group of us refuse our physicals. I think that, on top of our earlier ruckus, is what gets his attention. Charlotte’s wagon is quiet. They haven’t opened it yet, but she should have air for a little while longer.
Thomas is with the colonel and his escort, and that forms a pit of fear in my stomach. I am certain that Charlotte is not done, and if she escapes, she might not care who receives her anger. And there is another part of me that is afraid, that Thomas might have known about Henrietta and the creation of additional Maidens. I want to trust him. He is not like the man that Charlotte used to love.
The colonel stops in the space between our rooms and the four soldiers with him fan out. Their rifles are unslung, though the barrels are pointed down. All six men are wearing thick, full body suits for protection. They open small slots in our doors so all of us, save Charlotte, can hear without effort.
“Ladies, I think I have the measure of your situation.” Bradshaw’s voice is stern. He expects to be the final word. “You must understand that discovering the process that created you is the key to reversing it. That requires experimentation.”
I’m not sure that is required, but I’m not the one who calls him out on it.
“You don’t infect a person with a disease to figure out how to cure them.” Susan’s voice is cold, pragmatic. “That girl hid that she was a volunteer, and she would have had no reason to do so unless you asked her. How many squads are there now? How many really?”
Bradshaw ignores her and turns to Thomas. “Doctor, you can explain.”
Thomas lifts his head and half-turns to me, but averts his eyes before they can meet mine. “We are working on a treatment. Please, believe me. You all have met me before. You know Miss Edith Yance is my fiancee. There has been a lot of progress, but we are not done yet. We know things now.”
There is a tenor in his voice that shouldn’t be there. I don’t think he’s lying, but there’s something else.
Thomas continues. “The gas that comes off your bodies is the same one created in the explosion at your factory. It’s part of the transformation process, but that alone is not enough. In addition to the heat from the factory fire, it needs a catalyst, to speed the process along before it becomes lethal. That is why most people die when exposed, but you have not. We will be able to help you. I promise, as soon as the war is over, you’ll be taking your first steps to going home.”
A sob comes out of Olivia’s room. It has already been three years. Who knows when the war will end.
But Thomas’s words bother me. I think he is telling the truth, but he’s also hiding something. Then it dawns on me; the reason he can make that kind of promise. He has no idea if the war will end tomorrow or five years from now, so the only way his words could be true is...
I open my mouth, and my voice comes out sharper than I expect. “How soon can you begin the treatment?”
Thomas replies immediately. “As soon as we have permission.”
“It’s not that simple.” Bradshaw’s voice cuts like a knife. “It’s not as though our team hasn’t tried it already.”
“Those people never finished their transformation.” Thomas does not raise his voice, but he speaks firmly. He is angry now, and I fear for him. “The other volunteers became sick because we gave them medicine that was poison to them, but it shouldn’t be to a fully developed Poison Maiden. If you had used Miss Wells to test the treatment instead of deploying her into battle...”
What he says is not anything the colonel wants us to hear. We know the truth, and for that I’m grateful, but I see Bradshaw’s gesture and how the soldiers move. They are going to arrest Thomas, and then I won’t see him anymore.
The door won’t yield, though I wrench and pull at the handle. A loud crack sends a shudder through me, but it’s not my doing. Charlotte’s wagon topples on its side, torn free of her quarters. The door slams open and she screeches as she leaps out, rifle in her hands.
Bradshaw steps back and immediately the soldiers turn to face her. “Stand down or we’ll open fire!”
She doesn’t shoot, but the soldiers crowd in front of my door, blocking her from view. I think quickly and grab the canteen on my desk. A little water poured on my hand will be enough to make acid, and then I might be able to eat through the lock. My greatest fear is that I will be too slow to help her.
The door handle turns before I can begin, and I look up to see Thomas. He motions for silence and steps to the side. I’m not sure what to do next, I haven’t thought this far ahead, but I know I can’t stay.
“Hey! Back in your room!” Bradshaw has spotted the open door. “And you,” —he points at Thomas— “step away.”
Thomas moves back, hands raised, and I am fine with that. I don’t want him hurt. But I refuse to return to my room. Two of the soldiers have turned to face me, and the others remain focused on Charlotte, who calls out to me.
I lift my hands to show that I am unarmed. “You can make more Poison Maidens now. You don’t need to keep us anymore, let alone at gunpoint. And if the treatment doesn’t work, we will fight harder knowing you have acted in good faith.”
“It is too late for that,” Charlotte growls.
Glass shatters with the sound of a bullet. I don’t know who fired, and I’m not sure it hit anyone, but the soldiers twitch, rifles up, and for a terrifying moment I think about I’m to die.
Then Susan drives one of them to the floor. She is out of her quarters and I realize that Thomas must have released her. The soldier beneath her struggles to throw her off, but she is fighting unencumbered while he is in a thick protective suit.
When the other soldier watching me turns to help his companion, there is no question what I need to do. I hook my arm around his neck and squeeze the fabric of his hood tight, giving him less air to breathe.
More gunshots fire.
Katherine is out. I see Rebecca as well. Thomas must be freeing them, but I can’t catch another glimpse of him. The man I am choking is struggling too hard. Rebecca grabs his rifle and throws down with all her weight to wrench it out of his hands.
An alarm sounds, notifying everyone that there has been a breach in the Poison Maiden compound. Soldiers will evacuate from facilities nearby to avoid being poisoned, but an emergency team will arrive to contain the problem.
We will not let them. If they drive us back now the noose will only be tighter. I don’t want to kill anymore.
Bradshaw calls for his men to fall back and Charlotte crows with delight as she shoots her rifle. I let go of the man I’m holding so he can run with them. He shakes with fear and Rebecca has his gun.
The soldiers flee, following the colonel out the door. Most of them anyway. One man groans on the floor and I can see blood leaking from his suit. Without turning him over I am certain he is dying.
“We need to get out of here,” says Mary. “Where is Henrietta? Did she not come out?”
All the doors are open.
Thomas. “Where’s Thomas?” I didn’t see him run. He has to be here.
My heart pounds, and I spot a crumpled shape against the wall at the end of the row. There’s no blood, but...
“Thomas!”
There is a hole in his suit. It is small, it must have been from an errant bullet in our fight, but it is enough. Our poison... My poison...
He stirs at the sound of his name and I can see him through the faceplate of his suit, already deteriorating.
No.
“Edith, we have to leave before reinforcements come.” Susan’s voice comes from behind me. It is not a command, but I know she and the others will leave without me if they must.
“Thomas.” I kneel beside him. “Can you tell me how the transformation works? Do we have any of the catalyst nearby?”
He is confused, I can see that on his face, and when he speaks, his voice is pained and dry. “My lab. There’s a jar on the second shelf... next to my desk... Why...?”
Thomas stops. Understanding dawns on him.
“You’re going to die if we don’t try. Even if the odds aren’t good, there’s still a chance...”
That he’ll live, and become like us. I know it’s not a good choice, but I can’t say that I would rather have died. We survived. God willing, Thomas will too.
I hold out my hand. Though he is pained, he takes it, and I pull him to his feet. We don’t have much time.
Before I even ask, Susan stands opposite me, and drapes Thomas’s other arm over her shoulder. She shouts to the others. “Start heading to the lab. Clear a path!”
Charlotte springs ahead, rifle ready, soldier’s pack with ammunition still slung over her back. Katherine and Rebecca follow close behind. Henrietta is out of her room and looks ready to sink into the floor, but she moves with us. She has little choice. There isn’t much chance they will spare her after what happened here.
“Thank you,” I tell Susan.
“He knows the most about curing us,” she says simply, “and he is on our side.”
We move as quickly as we dare. I hear gunfire ahead and pray to God we’ll make it outside. Each step is a victory. Every encounter where we do not die.
I will not leave Thomas. In sickness and in health. I will not leave him without a fight.
* * *
Our escape is treacherous, and not all of us survive. The seven of us who do carve out a space for ourselves in the middle of no man’s land. There is no other place for us. To go away from the front would endanger civilians. To stay in between endangers ourselves, but we make do.
We find one of the widest spaces between trenches and line our territory with stakes and barbed wire, using whatever supplies we can find. The British stop trying to recapture us after a while, and once the Germans figure out we have no intention of invading, they leave us as well. It is not worth the manpower to force a confrontation with us.
Or so we hope. We have no idea what is happening with the other Poison Maidens, if they will one day be sent after us, but it is almost Christmas, so we try to think of better things.
Charlotte is the one who suggests decorating a tree, and though it is no fir, there is a tall and barren one with hardy bark that has yet to wither in our presence. We cover it with the things we scavenge; canteens, shovels, and broken bits of weapons. I wrap it with stretches of utensils hung from wire and Susan tops it with a spiked helmet for a star.
“It is not so bad,” says Olivia. “But I wish we had candles.”
Mary wishes we still had Katherine and Rebecca.
Henrietta is with us too, more out of fear than anything else. She rarely speaks, though she eats whatever food we feed her. We escaped with enough rations for a few weeks, but after that we will have to steal.
“Is that supposed to be a garland?”
Thomas comes to stand beside me and hunches over, out of breath. He is still recovering from his transformation, but he survives, and God willing, his stamina will return until he is as fit as the rest of us. We haven’t the materials to work on a treatment out here, but he remembers his research. Perhaps if we get lucky, we can eventually find what we need.
Or perhaps, we aren’t meant to be cured.
I don’t know God’s plan for us, but right now, this feels right. The group of us stand around the tree, away from armies, away from other people, so they do not have to die.
“Yes, it is,” I tell him.
His hand is warm to the touch. We no longer need a suit between us.
“I never thought this is where we would end up.”
“But it’s better isn’t it?”
We have no candles for the tree, but we can see the stars above. However long this lasts, we have a place outside, where there are no walls and the ceiling is just the sky.
ABOUT LAURIE TOM
Laurie has been entranced by science fiction and fantasy since childhood and has been writing ever since. When not visiting other worlds she can usually be found gaming, reading books, or watching anime. Her short fiction has appeared in venues such as Strange Horizons, Intergalactic Medicine Show, and Galaxy's Edge.
Facebook: facebook.com/laurietom.writer
Twitter: @writerrat
AN EMPTY CUP
By Jeremy A. TeGrotenhuis | 8,100 Words
1. Eshi the Boy
AS WAS THE case for every child of the islands, when Eshi was born, a zephyr descended from the Upper Air to alight on his shoulder. Grandmother Sul burned precious driftwood, inhaled its cinnamon scent, and begged the zephyr to give her grandson the gifts of a Healer. There were never enough of such gifts on Eastwind Island, and Healers were well regarded and well positioned in life.
Eshi’s father, a less ambitious and more realistic man, burned driftwood of his own, but asked only that his son’s zephyr grant a talent for fishing or for hunting, or even for whipping the wind. More common talents, but practical. Talents the community could use.
Eshi’s mother, too, burned driftwood. Her prayer was the simplest. She asked only for her son’s happiness, and that his zephyr would give him a talent to match his soul.
If not for that prayer, perhaps Eshi would have lived an easier life.
* * *
Eshi was tall, with dark hair and long limbs. A quick boy, and strong. Not the quickest or the strongest on Eastwind Island, but quick enough and strong enough that everyone said he would have a good future. He played the games that small boys play to learn how to be men. Throwing games and chasing games and fishing games. He was good at all of them. Not the best, but good enough that people began to wonder what his talent would be when he came of age.
Other children were better swimmers, or quicker on their feet, or more skilled with their bows and arrows. Everyone knew what their talents would be. A child’s zephyr began to shape them well before they came of age. Tora, a girl a few years older than Eshi, had always been an excellent swimmer. No one was surprised when her zephyr gave her the talent of Diving Breath. In the first year after her coming-of-age, she had gathered more pearls than anyone else and could reach the oysters that hid in the deep channel of the bay.
Eshi’s father said time and again how proud he was of his son’s promise at swimming, running, fishing, and hunting. Surely, he thought, Eshi’s zephyr would give a talent for one of these things. He speculated with the other men of the village, and some placed wagers.
Solla, the greatest hunter in the village, whose zephyr sent her arrows fast and true, wagered a necklace of boar’s teeth that Eshi would be granted the talent of Archer’s Wind, as she had been. Eshi’s father bet a knife he had made from obsidian that Eshi would have the gift of Seawind’s Whip. The last man with that talent had been Old Yano, who for years had been too ill to guide the deep-hulled sailboat to neighboring islands. The Upper Air would send a new Seawind’s Whip soon, everyone was sure. The Upper Air always sent what the island needed.
For that same reason Grandmother Sul said—though she did not wager; she was too old for such silliness—that Eshi would be a Healer, as she had prayed. His gift would be Rotkilling Breath, or Soothing Voice, she said. Eastwind Island had wanted for a Healer of its own for a generation. When someone took ill with a sickness that Grandmother Sul’s and the other elders’ herbs and potions could not remedy, a canoe had to be sent to Coralrock Island to fetch Madam Saro, who had Soothing Voice. More than anything else, Eastwind Island needed a Healer. Besides, Healers were always great men and woman, skilled in many things.
