Note: I hadn't realized how long Part 4 was until I uploaded it here. It's almost 7,000 words! So for easier reading, I've split it in two. The two halves will appear as "Part 4" and "Part 4 continued" in the Table of Contents. Happy reading! :D
Vox Humana – Part 4
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"But I still don't understand," said Nine. "First he was trying to keep you there, and then he was telling you to leave?"
"He wasn't telling me to leave," she said. "He was daring me to. He thought that, faced with the choice, I would stay and fall in line. He thought wrong."
Nine seemed to consider this. After a moment, he said, "So that was it. You never went back there again."
"No, I went back one more time."
"But you just said – "
"The twins," said Seven. "I went back for them."
Understanding came over his face.
"The others all had the things they wanted. Two and Five had their workshop. Six seemed happy as long as he had paper and ink. One got to be the leader. Eight got to be – I don't know. Whatever he got out of doing what he did. I think he just wanted to be important. But the twins..."
"They had theirs taken away."
She nodded. "I don't think he realized exactly what he was taking from them. It's not just books. What they really want is knowledge, and he wasn't giving them a way to seek that out anymore. And I knew how unhappy they were. I knew if I could find a place they thought was safe, where they could do what they wanted to do, they would come with me."
"It's a nice place."
"Was a nice place."
"No, it still is," he said. "But I think, what you said about them seeking knowledge – I think that's really why they want to leave here. They've had plenty of time with books and things, but now they want other kinds of knowledge. And they want to do something with what they've learned."
"I think you're right," she smiled.
"And you know what else? You weren't that different. You said each of them had something that they wanted."
"I know what I said."
"Well, you were the same, weren't you? You had something that you wanted to do. Just like the others. Just like the twins."
What was he getting at?
"Can I ask you something?" he went on. He looked at her now, very carefully. She knew that expression. Unbearably familiar. "Why didn't you just tell them what you were doing? Why did you let them think that you were lost?"
Time seemed to slow down. Seemed to stop. She couldn't even look away from him.
"Did you really believe what you said to One?" he pressed on. "About the beast?"
What was she doing? Why was she even sitting here? This was the most she had spoken at one time in more years than she could count – possibly ever. What on earth had made her think it was a good idea?
"Yes," she said, standing up. "I did. And I still do."
And she was off. Again.
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Beneath the cloud cover, the sky was just beginning to lighten. It was more than she needed. If pressed, she could probably navigate this part of the ruins with her eyes closed.
There was no problem the wind in your face couldn't solve. That the movement of your limbs, the pounding of your feet against the ground couldn't solve.
Except for...
As if on cue, the first drops began to fall. Of course. Without pausing, she changed direction. Her place was nearby. It had a roof.
How beautiful, how wonderful these drops had first seemed. Looking up at them, watching them fall, she remembered the feeling they had brought, the feeling that something was coming back, that something was being given in exchange, after so much loss.
Now she just felt wet.
There, just ahead. Never had that splintering doorway, those crumbling stairs seemed so welcome. She made it right before the sky opened up, leaving the sound of the pounding drops behind her as she retreated into the safety of the building.
This was shaping up to be a problem.
Were they really going to do this? Were they really going to head out into the flat emptiness, to places where there were no buildings, no debris, no shelter at all? How could she let them? How could she bring them out into this? Into dangers she couldn't protect them from, dangers that couldn't be fought with a blade?
Yet how could she deny them, if that was what they really wanted? What was life without risk? She had never seen the twins this way, so resolute, so ready to take on the world. Something had changed in them. And Nine – well.
Nine.
It was her own fault. She should have known better, especially after everything that had just happened. Awake for little more than a day, he was already uncovering secrets buried for years. Just from talking. Just from listening. Why should hers have proved any more difficult for him?
That way he had looked at her. Right to her center, like a well-aimed dart. There could be no doubt.
So now he knew. Now he saw. Now he saw her. Surprisingly, it hadn't seemed to upset him all that much. Not that she had stuck around long enough to really tell. But it hadn't stopped him from calling, calling after her, calling for her to come back...
In the dark, she easily found the supply of matches, the candle she had set up from the last time she had been here. Shadows leaped across the walls as she lit it. This was a good place. It was dry in here, and the light didn't reach the outside, where it would have alerted the –
Well. Didn't have to worry about that anymore.
A few of her projects were still here. She picked up the new snare she had been working on, almost finished, only needing a second weight attached to the other end. These had proved invaluable over the years. Without them, she probably wouldn't have been able to keep it up for so long.
Without them, she probably would have had to kill it.
Had Two come to the same conclusion? He and Nine were so much alike. Always getting to the center of things, always wanting to know. Always knowing just what to ask.
Was it really so bad? So she had said too much. In a strange way, it was a relief. Maybe that was what so many years of silence got you. Maybe there were a certain number of words you had to say, and if you went too long without saying them, they all came out at once. And took other things with them.
So now the worst was over. He already knew. What was the point of hiding anything else from him? Might as well finish what she started, right? There were other kinds of courage, as Two had once said.
Come back.
If Seven were honest with herself – and she tried to avoid it whenever possible – she would have to admit that, though she may have been the boldest of all of them, she was hardly the bravest.
But maybe she could be.
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Courage, then.
Still some light left in the day, as she approached the library's front entrance. Her shadow was long next to her on the wide avenue of stone; not so fierce now, with its little round head and empty hands.
At the top of the cascade of books that guarded the threshold, she surveyed the damage. It was a little shocking. Much of the water had apparently dried up before she had last arrived. Fortunately, there were still some drier patches, and between them and the piled-up wreckage and books she managed to make it to the globe without soaking herself.
They were indeed inside, as she knew they would be; despite the water's slow damaging of the globe's structure and contents, it was still dry enough to be comfortable. Now that the top was covered over, they needed to work in candlelight, even during the day, and working they were: Nine with his pieces of wire and metal, the twins on some kind of drawing. The pair paused only long enough to wave to her and went right back to what they were doing.
Nine did not. But neither did he run to greet her as he had done before; instead he just looked at her, his expression inscrutable, until she held out her hand. "Come with me," she said.
He did.
There was a section that was raised from the ground, a dais on top of some wide stone stairs, where she had sat the night before with the maps. The ceiling overhead was intact, and it would be dry. The going was a little treacherous now, and she had to help him in a few places. From the look on his face, he didn't mind. Neither did she.
The maps were still there, a bit puckered now with the occasional drop that the wind had carried. On top of the pile was the last one she had examined, purely out of curiosity: the old map of the city, the very same one which Four had projected the night of her return. Twice the span of her arms in length, it was one of the smaller ones. She stepped onto it, within the circle of walls, looking down as though from a great height, searching the faded lines of the ancient city.
"There," she said. She pointed to the map.
Nine walked over, and though the angle of her head did not allow her to see him, she knew that his eyes were on her and did not stray until he was finally next to her and looking down.
"That's where I lived. The last place."
"It's not far from here," he said.
"No, it isn't."
"So you were that close to them, all that time?"
"Not all the time. I wasn't there much. I was all over," she said, gesturing to the map, "tracking it. Watching it. Leading it around. You were right, you know. It was what I wanted."
"Of course it was. You were protecting them."
Of course. Protecting them. "It caught me once. Like Two. Did you know that?"
"What? When?"
"A long time ago. Maybe a year or so after I brought the twins here. That's how I got this." She twisted at the waist, giving him a partial view of her scarred back. His eyes lingered over it for a moment before returning to her face.
"How did you – what happened?"
"It's a long story," she said, smiling despite herself. "And I come off even worse in it than the last one."
"I liked the last one."
"Maybe I should tell you the ending first."
"What's the ending?"
"There are two. And you already know them. The first is the one where she decides she's going to spend her time gambling with everyone else's lives. The second is the one where she loses."
He frowned at her, shaking his head.
Well, if that was the way he wanted to play it... "Fine then," she said. "I'll start at the beginning."
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Turn your back for one minute, and this was what it got you.
Of course it had been longer than a minute. More like a few days. But was this really what it was coming to? Did she have to begin watching the thing every second?
At least she had arrived in time. Though it was digging through the wreckage with its usual tireless persistence, it had not yet taken any notice of the cathedral that she could see. Watching it now, seeing it so close to the place where they lived, a wave of absolute fury came over her; she gripped the handle of her weapon, struggling to keep herself in check. Attacking it would be a mistake. Attacking it would alert the creature that there was something different about this place, that there was something here she was trying to defend. Worse yet, she might end up driving it straight toward them.
Lead it away from here. Far away. Leave it turned around and frustrated and chasing shadows. Just like always.
Deep breath.
She turned her back to the creature. Her footsteps, silent only a moment before, became carelessly pronounced as she began her way across a pile of broken red brick. Three steps, four, and... predictably, the noises of its digging ceased. Another step, and now began the faint squeak and rattle of its attempt at stealth. One more step, and then – she bolted.
Behind her, crashing and roaring as she dove off the mound and into the end of a pipe buried underneath. She heard claws clanging against the metal behind her, felt the ground lurching under her as it attempted to pull on the end – but kept her footing, and emerged out on the other side. The creature's shadow fell over her as it leaped overhead; it landed in front of her to cut off her escape, but she had already veered from that course and off to another, diving through a pile of splintering beams, effortlessly weaving her way through as it crashed and blundered behind her.
Distance. Had to get more distance.
Out in the open now, using the sounds and shadows from behind her to anticipate its moves, she tucked and leaped and dove around its every attempt to get to her, the last of the rage fading in the familiar surge, the blinding rush of exhilaration. She raced, her feet barely touching the ground; she danced, limbs flying, body whirling; she beckoned, driving the steady rhythm of the chase. Her weapon, ready in her hand, seemed to strike a chime. This was it. Today was the day. She could feel it.
Up ahead, a mountain of metal and stone. She made right for it, not needing a way under – in a burst of speed she leaped, touching down with one foot and leaping again, vaulting over it, flying, twisting through the air. Landing on both feet, she was running again without a second's pause, and the creature leaped too, bounded after her, quick and agile and undeterred. Back up into the mountains, into the landscape of wreckage – towering, teetering, treacherous – but she knew all of it, every place to put her feet, every place to avoid –
Or so she thought.
One second was all it took. One second of unsure footing, one second to falter. So close behind her, its victory was assured; a blow connected, a wallop that sent her careening into the remains of a metal hull. Gaining her feet, she found herself walled in on all sides and the beast closing in, growling, rearing up for the kill.
Thought she was that easy, did it? Hefting her weapon in one hand, she charged it, its ill-aimed swat at her glancing off her blade as she dashed beneath it. When it spun around, expecting her to come out from the other side, she charged again and thrust hard into the juncture of its ankle. The blade lodged into the joint, and the creature let out a resounding shriek.
And then, before she could think, before she could even feel the satisfaction of a blow connecting, she was down again. Thrown to the ground, her weapon yanked from her hands, as the beast spun around yet again, and even as she was getting to her feet it was already too late. Metal closed around her, trapping her, pinning her arms to her sides. She felt herself lifted, raised up, saw the face of the creature before her as she thrashed, flailing, kicking the empty air. As it let out monstrous bellow, seeming to vibrate the very air around her.
It turned its gaze away. Looked toward its ankle and her weapon still lodged there. As she watched, it reared up still further and reached out with its other claw, plucking the nuisance out. The ghastly red glow reflected off her blade as the creature examined it for a moment, and then dropped it, clattering, to the ground. The sound reverberated through her in a way that even its most dreadful roaring never had.
And then it turned its glowing eye back to her.