I turned back to Valasca; her hands were painted red with blood, terror in her eyes. Cotta fell to his knees, knife plunged deep in his stomach. His eyes closed, and he fell asleep.
Valasca screamed at the top of her lungs, clutching Cotta in her arms as dozens of Newburyians rushed toward the Nanashi, striking with their swords. The dance floor turned a dark red, as the Nanashi leapt to their feet and struggled disarming the attacking Newburyians.
Bodies fell to the ground, forming large puddles as the blood from both Nanashi and Newburyians joined as one, unified beneath the battling soldiers.
I hurried to my fallen friend who was sleeping in Valasca’s arms. She screamed over and over. Gunnar appeared, claws attached to his fists. He handed Valasca her pair. She took one last look at Cotta before strapping them on. She turned and spotted a young Newburian slicing with his sword. Valasca dug her claws into the ground and took off running toward the boy. She jumped into the air and lunged the metal deep within his chest, punching him over and over until he disappeared beneath the puddle.
I looked over at Cotta. I pressed my hand against his chest, but his heart was no longer beating. I looked all around, at the chaos that surrounded me, at the anger that had always existed but only now had been unleashed.
“Spec!”
I looked through the madness and spotted Kaolin, James’ arm around her as he swiped at a Nananshi. He dragged her through the crowd, away from the madness. I leapt to my feet and hurried toward her, cutting through the screams and slicing through death.
“Spec!”
I needed to get to her. That’s all that mattered. I needed to reach her before she was taken and lost forever.
I weaved past the clashing of sword and spike, moments away from reaching her when the butt of a sword struck my head.
I stumbled to the ground and gasped for breath. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. All I could do was lay there as her screams for me got more and more faint. Above me, sparks leapt from swords as they connected with claws. They twinkled and disappeared.
Another spark. Another twinkle. And then, I could no longer hear her voice.
SECTION FOUR
Ablaze:
“I sat in the dark and thought: There’s no big apocalypse. Just an endless procession of little ones.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Valasca:
The Earth shattered and I stood unscathed amidst its ruins.
I overlooked bodies without breath, one of which was my only. Cotta was the first to die in the bloody battle, but he wasn’t the last.
My people lay scattered. Those who had vanquished were gone while those who survived were incensed, entrenched deep within their anger.
Life happens. Then it ends. There’s beauty in its brevity. But we yearn for longevity. We yearn for the forever which we are inevitably denied. It is a natural part of being, for there could be no life without death. Every beginning needs an ending — there would be no start were there no finish. The middle is the buffer. She separates the two, for if they touched, they would be one, and if they were one, they would be none.
I scanned the Zone and took in the destruction. Gunnar had already begun lifting the bodies and moving them toward the cages, several at a time. I counted 34 dead, 22 of them ours and 12 theirs. The numbers would not be so skewed had we been aware of the attack. The Newburyian cowards could only defeat us when we were defenseless.
Gunnar picked up a body. “This one’s still alive.”I looked over and spotted Spec lying in his arms, unconscious with a gash on his forehead and breathing slowly, but breathing nonetheless.
“Put him down and finish collecting the others. We need to cook them before they spoil.”
Gunnar put Spec back on the ground. “What about Cotta?”
“Put him in my hut.”
It didn’t take long for the bodies to be cleared away. Beadurinc created a large pit which we filled with hot coals, slowly roasting the fallen soldiers. There’s no way we could eat it all, but we would eat as much as we could for as long as we could.
Cotta was different. I took him to the edge of the village and siphoned out all of his blood. He had already lost a lot on the battlefield, but I took what was left and drank it. I tried to keep it down, but the sheer volume of blood left me vomiting. Still, I drank every last drop.
Next, I sliced open his stomach and pulled out his organs and carefully placed them on hot coals. I inserted a sturdy metal rod up his nose until I cracked through to his brain. I churned the rod, draining the organ through his nostrils. I placed a large bowl beneath the nose, collecting every last remnant, then put it atop the hot coals.
I sat beside my hallowed Cotta, empty but free and soon to be a part of me. I drank the brain and started on the innards. It was more than any person could consume in one sitting, but I ate it all. Until I couldn’t move, like Cotta.
I lay beside his pale body, immobilized by his presence, consumed by his spirit. My stomach ached as did my heart. I placed my hand atop his lifeless fingers and imagined a world where we had lived until wrinkles plastered our skin, a time when most of our memories had faded and all we could rely on was each other. I could see it as clearly as I could feel his cold fingers.
But that future was gone. That possibility was slaughtered along with Cotta and now, all I had was my hatred. All I had was my anger. All I had was my vengeance.
We gathered everyone to the Zone where Toril led the village in a memorial service. I waited for my time to speak. I waited for my time…
I stood before my people. They felt what I felt. We were one and as one, we would conquer.
“The Bungs have attacked us for the last time! They come into our village and take the lives of our people. They are destroyers, merciless and unyielding. They kill for pleasure and suffocate the dead beneath the ground, torturing them for all eternity. They take refuge behind their technology, behind the hard labor of those from the past. They are a plague in this world, an unruly, unsatiated beast. They’ve tried to decimate our tribe twice and both times they have failed.”
I held a piece of Cottas rib I had sawed off. Squeezed it tightly.
“We will no longer wait. We will no longer remain stagnant as they flood our caverns and wash away everything we hold dear. We will no longer allow them to force their will. They will no longer take our lives. They will no longer instill fear in our people. They will no longer thrive!”
I looked down at the piece of bone and remembered what I had lost.
“We are going to kill them all. Every last one of them! We are going to tear down their buildings and demolish their futures. We are going to take everything from them! Everything! And with them, we will extinguish our fear. In one swift move, we will wipe out the Newburyian threat and mollify our wounds.”
I looked out at the enthusiastic crowd and then noticed the only person not riled up. Spec stood at the edge, watching me with solemn eyes. I turned back to my people and raised my spikes to the sky.
“We will burn their city to the ground!”
CHAPTER TWENTY
War:
I see the world through stained-glass eyes, a hollow projection of the person I am, of the woman I could be. I see the pain and the suffering and the torment of all, the average the big and the small. I feel the breaths of those left still and dry, their whispers that trickle and tickle inside, they mute in the darkness, lying quietly as they wait to resurface and take their vengeance. And I am their leader.