Nukilik awoke to the rumble of a surface quake. Smoke and fire seeped through a splintered gap in the main living room floorboards, but most of the clashing came from the girl’s bedroom at the rear of the cabin. Pine logs along the east wall groaned as the wood twisted and then splintered free of the bindings. The rearmost section of the ceiling and roof heaved upward and then drooped but held. Icy winds rushed through fresh gaps in the sod insulation. Everything was breaking apart.
“Essentials, nothing but essentials,” he shouted as his two daughters burst into the living room, already dressed and carrying outdoor clothing in hand. One tall and one short, they moved through the darkness like stick figures outlined by the red haze of an open fire pit.
Nukilik pulled on his winter boots before standing. For a big man, he was quick, but his wife, Amka, was faster. She was already rushing through the open doorway to ensure the girl’s safety. The stink of surface burn reeked throughout the cabin.
Three wrapped and tied bearskin bedrolls dropped from the loft, followed by three boys thumping to the main landing. Running and shouting came from all sides, but Nukilik moved with determined purpose—safety and gathering all things essential to survival.
The boom of overhead thunder shook the timbers, and the dynamic sizzle of nearby lightning gushed through the splits in the walls. Like thieves sifting through flickering light and staggering as the floorboards continued to sway and buckle, the family snatched things out of the food cupboard and off the walls: coats, supplies, and weapons. As they darted out the front door, each one shouted a name in the passing:
"Adlartok."
"Meriwa."
"Cupun."
"Tulugaak," followed by, "I got Kallik."
Nukilik and Amka followed, breaking clear of the front porch just as the entire rear of the cabin vanished into a massive glowing rip in the ground.
Nukilik evaluated their immediate options. Flames and ice battled for control of everything nearby. Winds howled; sleet and snow swirled; molten rock spewed from beneath the ruptured ground. Their closest neighbors, Kanalik and Philip, came running and shouting through the snow, but a sudden parting in the ice sucked them both down like leaves drawn into the swirl of a blazing campfire. Many others were also missing.
Everywhere he looked, the chaos consumed the world. Flames, smoke, wind, thunder, and ice came from every side.
During the scramble from the cabin, Amka had snagged a spider-silk guide rope and several other critical items. Nukilik glanced at her face, saw the calm, then pointed north while grabbing one end of the cordage.
“Make a chain with your hands. We’ll tie off at first opportunity for a pause.” He took the lead.
Amka nodded and stood in place, feeding out the rope until each kid, in turn, had hooked in and wrapped a knot of cord around his or her hands.
For a while, they tramped into the wind on slippery footing over iced stones. But as the highlands came into view, the bulk of the destruction fell behind. They stopped, took the time to make proper links in the chain, then continued the journey. The disruption of the world had not ended; it just moved slower than foot traffic.
The angel of old had declared north as the path to safety. Nukilik followed her instructions and headed toward Upworld—a left-behind wilderness occupied by wild beasts, genetically altered humanoids, and malformed bio-mechanicals, leftovers from the old war.
“Got to find a place with a clear line of sight,” Nukilik said. “Somewhere with less wind. If we get separated, make your way to the bridge at Silla gorge.”
Tied in second on the guideline, Nukilik’s middle son, Cupun, passed the message to his younger brother, who sent it down-line until it reached their mother in the rear.
Nukilik was a big man in mass as well as height. When he moved forward, the rope tightened, and no one lagged. This event had been a long time coming. Many people had ceased believing in the angel and her warning. Nukilik was not among the foolish.
For years, he and his household had slept at the ready for a world on fire. Thus, they had escaped the immediate danger stocked with boots, clothing, and other supplies. Ice dwellers knew how to survive in freezing winds, long nights, and end-world calamity.
The village was consumed inside and out by random hellholes like the one that had taken the cabin. Other survivors might be nearby; perhaps just beyond the spray of ice and fire, their voices lost to the howl of the wind and the rumbles from the ground.
Nukilik banked long-term survival on the skills and training of his wife and kids, but was glad the exit had permitted enough time to snatch his Marlin from above the bed. The magazine contained four carriages. The quake had taken out the shelves along the left sidewall before he reached the living room. Belongings, including the boxes of extra ammo, had scattered everywhere. He would make do with the available loads.
Both girls had snatched ready-packs from the hooks near the doorway. Kallik, his youngest son, had saved an aged Gransfors mini hatchet. It was the lad’s favorite tool. No one, not even Nukilik, was more accurate with a hatchet than Kallik.
Adlartok, the oldest girl, had salvaged a bow with arrows, as had Nukilik’s wife. No doubt, Cupun had laid hold to his Heckler & Koch P7. The kid slapped leather quicker than raindrops in a nighttime lightning storm and always slept with the piston near his bed.
Tulugaak, the oldest boy, had a knife and the only electronic fiber-spear in the village.
For the moment, the supplies at hand would have to work. Everyone in the household was competent at defense, hunting, and long-term survival. But without an exact plan, they could still end up short on supplies.
In some places, waist-deep snow slowed their pace. In others, the ground laid bare, wet, and spotted with a surface burn. Even the winds thrashed before the rapid environmental changes, sometimes blowing snow and ice and other times gusting with the choking stench of a timberline forest fire.
But the further north they traveled, the more they gained on the calamity. Nukilik was surprised it had caught so many village people off guard. They had watched it coming but had also expected months of ready time. Now the group plans for a well-ordered departure were worthless. As an act of midnight revenge against all things known and trusted, the destruction was here. And it was getting worse, just like the angel had prophesied.
None of them knew they were on the outskirts of the most potent cleansing catastrophe in the history of the planet.
Bjorn awoke before the first glint of sunlight angled up from beneath Kabutar, the easternmost of the seven floating nests. Disorientation sent a wave of excessive sensory surges rippling along the pedicel of his antennae. Although now receding, the remnants of a tangled, irritating dream stirred in the back of his mind.Surface dwellers gathered before a waterfall cluttered with flowing symbols, calculations, and worms. Grass slimed over with yellowed muck splotching a circle of sunbaked dirt. Behind the cascading veil of oddities, a woman—his mother as best Bjorn could remember her—The reoccurring night-phantoms gave way to his anticipation of the coming events. Today was special. Night moisture lingered near and comforting, and Cloud’s gray honeycombs promised fair weather to Kabutar.Bjorn remained perched on the stiff, shiny curls of transport vines that served as a natural roost throughout the city. Gray and greenish shadows shi
Bjorn’s father, Captain Radoon Gydlin, head trades delegate to Below, was among one of the few citizens the imperial council authorized for negotiations with surface folk. Today the Captain would travel to Below. Today he would also introduce Bjorn to the process of trading. Bjorn had never been on one of his father’s trade journeys, not even when the Captain had but sailed to a neighboring nest. Just two seasons back, Captain Gydlin visited Ulou to meet Bjorn’s aunt and enjoy a festival. He had refused Bjorn an opportunity to partake in that journey. “Increased burden on the security team,” his father had said. “The intensity of current political disagreements stirs a strange and brooding rage between parties.” Bjorn flew on, pondering the angles of governmental disputes, the mystery of dreams, and wondering what might be yet to see in Below. Otherwise, he would have noticed the attack that came in from his rear. A shadow darted out from the above ri
Diving to the nearest base level, Bjorn hastened toward the docks. A crackle in the morning breeze flowed through the air. Another storm was near. Citizens clustered under shelters, taking cover from what could come. Massive long-sloped loading ramps descended in a spiral wave toward the outer edges of Kabutar. Hand trimmed by the city’s best carp-masters, the buoyant Oxygen Infused tube-vines could have taken any shape necessary, but the lower ramp’s design encouraged walking rather than floating. According to Bjorn’s father, Below’s air pressure made it impossible for Airbornes to hold aloft by pectoral alone. Thus, he needed to practice walking on unaided leg muscles. Horns signified the air fleet’s arrival. Departure would come quick enough. Even here on the outer edge of Cloud, some rain could fall. No one cared to labor in such slime. Hurrying along, Bjorn soon reached the dock’s bottom level. While angling away from the ramp, he noticed
As they neared the upper side of Silla gorge, Nukilik and his people marched single-file through a near-blinding downfall of rain and sleet. Complicated by icy mud-slicks, slush-bottom washouts, and high-heaped rockslides, the nasty goings never let up. The quakes were now far behind, but the associated sounds and effects had not ceased. At least the thunder and lightning had moved off into the distant sky. The path through the gorge’s higher portion should’ve been open, easy to pass through, and a bit of shelter from the storm. But at every new turn in the corridor, the natural rock formations with various overhangs had collapsed. Rock, mud, and clutter riddled the pathway. One major rockslide, in particular, forced Nukilik to consider turning back for a regroup. Instead, he called on little Meriwa’s uncanny ability to find solid ground amid the most slippery footing. She took them up and over, one angle at a time, never missing the right handhold and never trusting
From the command center on the Amera’s bridge, Captain Gydlin plugged into a mind-link and tapped a nearby point in the air. The ship started descending, retracting and storing the charging cables during the process. Without a link, Bjorn could not follow his father’s purposes, but he had read the working of air-ships in school. Electricity generated from wind turbines and frequent lightning clashes within Cloud charged a great bank of batteries located at the city's base near Mother Tree’s primary Kabutar trunk. From this source, air-ships, technology, and other machinery drew power. Hot air in balloons kept the wooden ships aloft, and a compressor expansion chamber in the vessel heated the air. Ballast blades and cool air intakes controlled rise or fall. Just in time, they were away from Mother Tree and Cloud. Back in Kabutar, a slow rain started falling. “Enjoy the view,” the Captain said. “You are free to roam.” He twitched his left pectoral fin,
The ship’s stern consisted of four decks, each smaller than the one beneath it. Bjorn caught up with his father on the third, in a meeting room attached to the captain’s cabin. “Why so many marines?” Bjorn stood in the center of a crescent-moon perch curved along the left bulkhead of the berthing. Mind-links protruded from outlets along the overhead timbers, and his father perched on an elevated circular vine. Hykin waited to the right wearing a smirk that cut into Bjorn’s pride. “Protection. son,” The Captain said. “The Walkers have an unpredictable nature that sometimes leads to unprovoked attacks. Life in the Below degrades the mind.” “I thought we had a good relationship with certain locals,” Bjorn said, his gaze flashing toward Hykin. The journey to the ship’s bridge had been a trip to make a trip, and the delay had humored the old guard to no end. Bjorn wanted to let him know that fold-setters in the likes of a dried-up merchant mariner would do wise to
The surface world’s air couldn’t support the Airborne method of flight; Bjorn fell like a kite without wind. When he plunged into the foaming waters, the slurpy moisture clung to his pectorals like hagfish slime. Getting caught in the most awful rain ever conceived couldn’t drown him any quicker.He sank, pressed back to the surface, gagged, and sank again. His gills pumped sludge, and a fire raged in his throat. He went down again.A casting net fell from a lower deck, and Bjorn snagged hold for dear life. In the excitement of a moment, he had forgotten the requirement to walk rather than glide. His father’s rules were more than a mere display of authority. Had not Twister and Stinger been on the quick, he may well have choked to death beneath this world’s oily waters.As they pulled him free, his gills cleared, and his breathing returned to normal. Now, he must face his father’s wrath.The scolding never came. Even as
At a mere twenty-four years old, Tulugaak’s thick eyebrows gave his brown eyes the look of a bushy entrance into a cold dark void of wrath and anger. Yet kindness and meekness abounded in his heart, especially for his younger brothers and sisters. However, when necessity demanded action, Tulugaak had instant access to the mean side of life. But he had never experienced a swamp. Not that he was a stranger to dark waters. A pale, ragged scar traced across his brown cheek and lower lip testified to an early and violent encounter with an aggressive leopard seal. Before the quakes and lava arrived, the ice had extended above the ocean. Now the heat had turned ice into rivers, lakes, and muddy wetland. But nothing compared to this foul-smelling black water. Stifling heat hovered like a sweaty fur overcoat, and tangled vegetation, roots, and stumps cluttered every footstep. Dark shadowy trees choked out the sky, dripped with strings of green and gray grasses, and sucked up