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Tons of exciting stuff this month! SO much news! Fall is finally upon us and, as the trees shift and the autumn colors arrive, I’m absolutely in my element! The “spooky-season” is an all-the-time thing in my brain, but it’s nice when the contents of my skull actually line up with the outside world.

The biggest news I’ve got is that the print version of Patchworld Nova is finally here! Oh, you’re free to keep reading the serial version and chapters will come out monthly as planned, but if you don’t want to wait, I’ve got Pocket Book copies now! Michael Carty did the photography/illustration and, I gotta say, it turned out amazing. Totally captures the spirit of determination in the face of a vast unknown.

 

The “official” launch date is November 1st. That’s when the e-book is released and when I’m asking anyone who’s already picked up a copy and read it to review it. All the reviews showing up on the same day is good for book launches.

I’ve been doing more work on my Story Cards. I re-did the art on Flight of the Kallikantzaros, wrote a new story called Falcon’s Quest and it’s in art production. I wrote and finished The Rime of the Red Tide. It’s a spooky little tale with a lighthouse, a senile old caretaker, and some hungry ghosts. The art for the card was done by the spectacular MJ Macfadyen. Love it. I’m going to try to get more local artists for the card art. I’ve got these available at all my upcoming markets.

 

I’ve been able to see a whole pile of the final illustrations from The Horsemen – Mark of the Cloven #2. Very cool and Jiba Molei Anderson’s work is stunning as always. Expect it before the end of the year. I also got several near-final drafts of the cover for Shunt, my upcoming dystopian horror novel. Elizabeth Ranger is doing the illustration and it’s absolutely fantastic. It’s difficult to capture the vibe of this book as it’s such a strange concept, but she’s pulled it off in all it’s unsettling and elegant glory. I can’t wait to show it to you, but… well, I’m gonna. Sorry. Not done yet. Not spoiling my cover reveal. Book is slotted for April release. You are not ready.

I’m in full swing prep mode for both Hal-con and the holiday season. I think I’ve finally figured out a good way of selling e-books from my vendor table, so that’s cool. Still have to set it up, but expect it soon. I’ve got book bags with a surprise design on their way. I’m working on some new bookmarks since I ran out. Mystery envelopes mysteriously vanished, so I’ll be stuffing enigmas into manila soon. New stickers too, if I can swing it. There’s a lot on my plate. Writing is happening, but, like I said, mostly Story Cards to increase my variety. I need kidsy and nice ones, to prove I’m not all doom and gloom.

As far as markets, I’ll be at the Bridgewater Farmer’s Markets most Saturdays and the Alderny Landing Artisan Market in Dartmouth Sundays. On October 12th I’m in Sackville for another CollectorCon. So many cool things there. If you don’t already have your tickets to Hal-con, well, good luck. They’re almost entirely sold out already. I’ll be doing a live reading at DartSpeak at the Dart Gallery on Thursday October 3rd. Not sure what yet. I haven’t decided on something from Patchworld or something October spooky.

That’s it for now. Lots in the works. I gotta get back to all this crazy prep! Thanks for listening, and have a great fall season. Go look at those leaves or something. Have a cider. Enjoy.

Time to dive back into the serial goodness of Patchworld Nova! The countdown is on for the Celevere patch. Can Troop and the others figure out a way to save them? As always, this is draft text, forgive typos and take it for what it is.

Troop stared at the approaching wave of Eaters in awe. He couldn’t decide it if looked more like foam or clouds as they spread along the edge of the force-field. In some ways, it reminded him of ivy, swallowing the base of the wall, reaching up with dark tendrils. It was getting closer as he watched.

Minala was by his feet, sitting with her back to the rail, with her paw-like hands pressed against her temples. She wasn’t touching him, but she was close, in case she was needed for communicating. The terrible scream had lessened enough that he couldn’t hear it when they weren’t connected, but it was still loud when he linked minds with her. He knew it was an emotional response. A mental scream as the Celevere brushed up against the collective thoughts of the Eaters.

There was only one reason it would be growing quieter, and Troop didn’t like to think about it.

On his other side, Enler was deep in his calculations, using an odd triangle shaped stone to draw numbers onto a pad. They all jostled as the ship changed direction. Troop kept a firm grip on the rail and leaned out, looking to see how Arany was doing. It looked good. They were close now. The knife had cut the three smaller openings, and their gooey spider-suit companion was working on connecting them now.

He patted Enler to get his attention and signed.

“It looks like we’ll make it through in time.”

His friend looked up from his notes, still worried. “Closure behind, inadequate. The Eaters will follow. Doubt is removed from this possible thing.”

They’d both known it was very possible they’d be followed when they made the decision to alter where they cut through the barrier. But, it wasn’t like they’d had any choice, though. This new location was the only place they could get out, and bring the Celevere town with, before the Eaters reached them.

The patch they were headed for was a far cry from their first choice.

*Our friends who lived here, the Bulvati Kahn, have left this world,* Minala had told them. *When their generous supply stopped working, they surrendered to their land. We were very sad to see them go. We hope you don’t do the same.*

“What do you mean, surrendered?” Troop asked. “I don’t understand.”

It had been difficult for her to talk, with the shriek of the Eaters in her head, but she’d done her best, trying to ameliorate the awful news. *Their patch is filled with wild magnetism and playful gravity. It is not a place of comfort and joy, though the Bulvati Kahn found a way to thrive with what they had, bless their hardy souls.*

It was only a small comfort that the enclosure they were entering had already lost its inhabitants. At least they wouldn’t be opening the way for the Eaters to harm another species. The Bulvati were already gone, destroyed when their Drip stopped.

It was hard to get specifics from Minala, but as far as Troop could determine, the place was an endless storm of pressure changes, gravitational waves, and hyper-magnetized mountain ranges. Whoever these people had been, they’d managed to produce stability through an advanced technological means. When the power had gone out, their entire society had crumbled, surrendering to the harsh environment. It was the kind of patch they’d have avoided at all costs under any other circumstances. But, now, it was the only place Enler’s math determined they could breach in time while still bringing the Celevere town along.

In preparation, they’d tethered their expedition ship to the town, like a child holding a parent’s hand, and battened down everything as much as they could manage. Neither the floating town or their smaller vehicle were designed to take a significant pummeling.

They hoped to cross as quickly as possible.

The Eaters were uncomfortably close as Arany started on the last cut. As much as he wanted to escape, Troop had hoped it might take them just a little longer so that Callie could catch up to them. They’d gotten too far away to see any sign of the battle, and there was no way of knowing if it was still happening. There were other airships in the sky, further off, in the direction of the chaos. A few were headed their way. But he had no way of knowing who was on them, and the odds they’d slip through before the Eaters got there were slim.

As Arany finished, the great swath of purple force-field between the smaller triangular holes vanished, leaving an enormous opening. The flight expedition wasted no time and dove right through with the tethered town vessel following behind.

The differences in biomes were immediate and intense. The air was cold and gusty, blowing in fitful bursts. When the wind was strong, Troop could breath regularly, but as soon as the breeze stopped, the air was too thin to inhale enough oxygen. He gasped like a fish on land, struggling to put on his suit helmet. When the wind picked up, he managed to catch a few lung-fulls and fend off the dizziness long enough to get it on and sealed.

Looking around, he saw that he wasn’t alone. Everyone was struggling to get dressed. The readings had shown that there was plenty of air on this side of the barrier. Nobody had expected that it wasn’t an evenly distributed atmosphere. It was like an airless waste, with a storm of higher density air swirling around in the empty space. Survival was carried on the wind, more capricious than the tides.

The Tisaco, in their floating orbs of liquid, seemed fine for breathing, but the wind sheared droplets from their forms. Likewise, the floating gas sacks that grew from the backs of the long-named, Lingering Departure whatever-they-called-themselves, moss guys, kept shifting from dancing madly to dropping roughly to the ground. The tall D’ekah swayed with the gusts, holding their face masks in place with long curled fingers. The only one who wasn’t affected was Arany, safe in their metal suit.

Everyone hurried to get inside, out of the elements.

Once they were all in the security of the cockpit, Minala took Troop’s hand. *It is quite exciting, is it not?*

She had a smile beneath her whiskers, but Troop could see fear in her eyes. Genuine terror. She wasn’t trying as hard to hide the expression anymore.

“It’ll be okay, Minala. We’ll cross quickly. It will all be over soon.” He didn’t know if it was the truth, or if she could sense the doubt in his own mind, but he said it anyway and tried his best to believe it. He joined Enler, Arany, and the others at the ship’s controls.

“Did the town follow through okay? How are they doing?”

Arany’s dome filled with a simplified picture of the town, suspended by a dozen dirigible sized balloons. He shifted it, showing one of them rupturing and vanishing. Arrows and numberless pie charts replaced the image. Troop understood.

“Okay, so they lost some buoyancy , but they’re mostly fine. Good. And the Eaters?” Troop hoped that the sporadic presence of unreliable air to breathe would be enough to slow them down. Maybe even block them entirely. Enler pointed to a set of the deep holographic view-screens on the dash. Several of them were filled with images of the breach behind them.

They all stared at the screens as they sped away, as fast as they could manage in the high wind. Two small floating skiffs made it through behind them before they saw the black lather of the Eaters appear on the rim of the hole. The dark cloud dribbled in and was wiped away by the gale as it did.

For a moment, Troop thought it was going to work, that the combo of harsh wind and empty air was keeping them back. But as he glanced at the other monitors, he began to see thin streaks of black in the sky. Smears of bio-nanites, tiny enough to be carried along on the gale. They weren’t going to advance as easily as they did the Celevere world, but they’d ride the tumult, adding to their volume until they clogged it up and the sky would be thick with them. The deadly things might even reach them faster, if the breeze was unlucky.

More of the dark mass spread along the lip of the cut until the hole Arany had made was entirely dark, leaking black streams into the new world like dark hair, sucked out a car window. Three more skiffs made it through before the seal was fully darkened with the mass of Eaters. The two final evacuee ships were swallowed up by the void.

A tendril of water reached out from the Tisaco orb and pointed to a map monitor. Minala took Troop’s hand and translated.

*They say that’s the border with the best patch on the other side. It shouldn’t be hard to reach, they think.* Troop and Enler looked a the data and agreed. There was another one, that might have been better, but it was on the other end of the patch. Too far to risk. The one the fish-folk had suggested was close, and shortening their time in this place was vital.

Troop was about to express his agreement when the gravity increased, dragging everyone to the ground.

Both ships plummeted toward the rocky mountains below.

The suddenness had been what knocked them down, but Troop found it wasn’t so intense that he couldn’t push against it. Straining, he attempted to stand. It felt like he was wearing lead clothing, wrapped in a wet blanket, with someone on his shoulders. He managed to get on all fours, but couldn’t straighten. The ground zoomed in, coming closer on all the views-creens.

It was one of the D’ekah, with their tall skinny bodies, long arms, and thick feet with a low center of gravity, who managed to regain control of the ship. Releasing a compressed gas burst into the balloon, the ship slowed, stopped, and began to rise.

It didn’t alleviate the terrible pressure from the gravity shift. If anything, it made it worse as they slowly rose against the weight of it. Troop gave up trying to stand. Off to his left, several of the Tisacko orbs had been forced to the ground, their liquid spread out into shallow puddles. The schools of fish-like being inside flopped on the ground, struggling to stay immersed. Troop crawled in their direction, hoping to help, if he could figure out a way to.

As quickly as it came the gravity wave subsided.

Their ship rocketed up toward the false sky, careening upwards against a force that no longer existed. Again, the quick hands of the D’ekah vented the compartments, and they decelerated to a reasonable speed. There was a wet sloshing sound as the mechanical floating orbs of the Tisacko sucked and slurped at the wet ground, reforming their watery shapes.

This time, when Minala took Troops hand, she didn’t say anything. But she didn’t need to. He couldn’t imagine how awful this had to be for her. Fortunately, her resemblance to a cat was more than skin deep. She’d fallen without incident and had endured the pressure with flexible ease. Using her as a translator, he checked in on the group, the aquatic Tisacko in particular.

“Is everyone all right? Anybody hurt?” he asked.

One of the moss guys had ruptured a vent sack and twisted an arm. Another of the D’ekah had injured their head, but not severely. Even though the Tisacko said they were okay, Troop could see a difference in the schools swimming in their orbs. They were slower, listing.

Enler had snapped a few prongs of his antlers in the fall, but was otherwise fine. Arany, as usual, had been well protected in his suit.

Together, they evaluated the readings the ship had just collected on the phenomena, attempting to determine if it could happen again and how it might affect them. The information was mixed.

“Shifting patterns in ore magnetism of mountains beneath is reliable precursor phenomenon,” said Enler. “There are spots that increase and decrease gravity in the ground. These struggle for balance, building to surge. We can navigate to avoid spots, and predict larger pulses, to counter.”

It was good news, but not the whole picture. The D’ekah who’d saved them, Si Buha, had more to add.

“There is a great deal of loss with the rapid increase and decrease in the ballast. The maneuver is costly. We’re small, more nimble, with less mass, so we can manage it more often. But the strain on the town vessel is much more significant. They can handle two, maybe three, more large gravity shifts. After that…” The alien wiggled a long noodle finger in a downward spiral.

While they’d been talking, a pair of the fuzzy mold people had been whispering back and forth to each other. The Celevere fellow who’d been translating for them reached out and touched Minala. Her ears twitched, and she shared the news with Troop.

*Our plant friends are slow, but it appears they’ve come across another revelation. The gravity shifts are pulling the Eaters low to the ground, which means we will all be safe aloft. But this is also causing an imbalance between the Bulvati Kahn patch and the Celevere one. The cloud is being drawn in at an accelerated rate.*

She gave a tiny, apologetic shrug, doing her best to deliver the bad news in a friendly tone. *Try as they might, these friends can’t find a spot where there would be enough time for Arany to open a way. At least, not for all of us. Kind as they are, they do not believe we can save the town.* She smiled apologetically, as if she were responsible for the bad news.

Troop rushed over to join the moss-folk. The pair talked in tedious detail, but he didn’t listen. They were far too slow. He looked their information over for himself, coming to the same conclusion much more quickly. He called Enler over and had him double check it.

The math was sound. There was no way they would be able cut another opening so large without the Eaters catching them in-process. A smaller one, perhaps. But, even that was no guarantee.

Troop’s heart sank. They’d escaped one pen only to be trapped in another. He clenched his fist, allowing his anger to build.

His whole life, these damn barriers had been a curse. Dragged along them his entire youth, living in their multi-hued glows at the whims of a fanatic. They trapped him forever. When he’d tried to break free, they’d killed people he cared for. They’d ruined his life.

Now, even when he finally had the means of punching through, they still managed to stop him.

Restrain him.

Imprison him.

Keep him trapped where he never wanted to be.

Troop couldn’t take it anymore. He left the others arguing over the possibilities and discussing leaving the town of defenseless Celevere behind. They bickered, working on the best route that would allow them to survive. He didn’t want to hear it. He headed for the upper deck, going back outside into the storm.

When Minala tried to follow, he turned her away.

“I need a minute. Wait with Enler and the others, please.”

She looked worried, wanting to help him, but did what he asked. Back in the tumultuous wind, Troop made his way to a spot near the aft of the ship. He’d helped with the specifications and knew that it was a spot where there were no cameras. A place where he could be alone.

He double checked his suit coms were off before he started screaming in anger.

When he was a teen, he’d punch things. All the time, as a means of dealing with his frustration. Never people, and never anything he could break. He’d find the hardest material available and smash his fist against it; brick walls, trees, and bare stone. Scabs and broken knuckles always followed, but it had always made him feel better, despite the pain, to let all the rage out. To give the anguish a physical counterpart. He hadn’t thrown a fist like that in decades.

Troop bashed one of the steel supports, over and over, until he felt blood in his glove. He switched hands and kept going.

He was no better than when he was a kid. Worse even, because a lifetime of failure stacked up behind him. At least the angry teen he’d been had some sort of future. A life of possibilities ahead. Not him. He was going to die here, never knowing the taste of real freedom.

Too sensible to let his emotions break any bones, Troop stopped his flailing and fell to his knees, panting. He looked up at the sky. The fake sky, full of constellations that weren’t real. Deceptive perspectives from planets they’d all left behind them long ago. Moons that never really tugged the tides. Suns that were light years away, distant enough that they may have been distant stars hiding behind the veiled sky. Stars he might see if he could just rise above the illusion.

Troop stopped. His frustration washed away, replaced with an idea.

Could they? he wondered. If ever there was an opportunity, it would be here, in a patch where someone could avail themselves of the shifting gravitational environment. The outcome couldn’t be worse than what they were facing.

Jumping to his feet, he raced inside to confer with the others.

He burst into the room, grabbed Minala’s hand, and interrupted the aliens mid-discussion.

“We have to jump the force-field! There’s no time to cut through, so we need to go over it! We can use the variable gravity locations to accelerate the ships.”

His suggestion was met with a wide variety of wide eyes. The group stared at him, the lone human, like he was a madman. Enler was the first to tilt his head, angling his antlers, and actually consider the possibility.

“That is space, beyond the projection, Newborn,” signed Enler.

“Is it?” replied Troop. “Do we really know? Even if it is, the ship is air-tight enough for a few minutes. There are locations in town that are as well. We’ve got environment suits. We’re only talking about a short time here. Just enough to hop the fence.”

Species by species, the expressions turned from shock to consideration. The Si Buha turned to the control panel and started running projections with his thick spaghetti fingers. Within moments, the whole group was focused on checking the viability of the plan.

Troop didn’t know if it was actually possible. But even if it wasn’t, he’d rather die of suffocation, cold, or pressure, floating free and away into space, than staying in a cage to be consumed by the Eaters. Ten minutes later, he had his answer.

“The difficulty is as the bird lands,” said Enler. “You value it proper with your speculation of gravity speed gifts. We can propel both ships out with ease, as a stone thrown with wind at its back.”

One of the Tisacka continued the explanation of the problem. “But that casts us up. Out. Venting all our ballast can force us down, but it is all of it. We will crash on the other side. This is certain.”

It wasn’t perfect, but it had to do. “I’d rather take my chances with a crash, than the certainty we face here,” said Troop.

The collective agreed. They set to work on determining the most viable spot to get a magnetic boost and sent a message across the tether to the Celevere in the floating town. They framed it as a request, and, as usual, the strange accommodating aliens were happy to comply. Commanding them like this, in a way that took advantage of their natural tendencies, felt exploitative to Troop. He felt like they were taking advantage of them, tricking them into a course of action they wouldn’t otherwise choose.

They were. But, as bad as it felt, the naive Celevere would die otherwise. Doing it for their own good didn’t make him feel any better about it.

The next gravity pulse was building, set to go off six hours after the first. It was more than enough time to get them into position. There was no end to the preparations they could make to seal their ships and do what they could to help them survive the ordeal. They set about doing as much as they could manage.

The hours passed quickly, sealing and strapping everything in place. The world darkened as they worked as more and more of the Eaters entered the patch, blowing on the wind and filling the ground beneath them with a deadly swirl of dark fog.

The gravity served to keep them low, but as the hours passed, they rose up the walls, and higher into the air. When the gravity wave hit, the Eaters would be dragged down and, if everyone’s calculations were right, their own ships would maintain altitude, expending everything they had in one big burst. When the gravity subsided, they would launch like a bullet into the sky.

This time, when the gravity increased, they were prepared for it. Troop, Enler, and Minala, along with the other Celevere and D’ekah, were seated and buckled in. The Tisacka had placed large tubs beneath themselves to prevent a recurrence of the last time. The mold guys had pulled down their gas sacks and belted them to their bodies, to keep them safe. The only one who didn’t need to prepare was Arany, simply holding on tightly with a pair of mechanical grips.

Even though they were ready, it was a hell of a weight when it hit.

Timing the aperture dilation to counteract being dragged down worked fairly well. There was a short period where they jostled and bounced, but they didn’t loose altitude and the ship stabilized soon enough.

The town vessel wasn’t so lucky.

Their limited capacity, due to the lost blimp, caused them to drop with the wave. Bit by bit, they fell away from the expedition ship, until they reached the limit of the tether. When that happened, there was a shudder, as they began to drag them down with them.

Some of this was expected. They knew that there was going to be some loss, and they had calculated for it. But one thing they hadn’t been able to determine was the duration of the gravity pulse.

Troop looked at the screens that displayed the underside cameras. The Eaters were in the same predicament as they were. The swirling clouds of bio-nanite fog were sucked down to the surface, keeping them low. But if the pulse lasted too long, their ships would eventually hit the ground, landing right on top of them. As they drew closer, Troop couldn’t help but feel like a cherry, lowered slowly into an open mouth.

As suddenly as it arrived, the wave relented, recoiling as it did and throwing them up into the sky. The pressure of acceleration replaced the pressure of gravity, forcing Troop and the others back into their seats.

There was no navigating here. They’d pulled back the slingshot and let loose the stone. It would work or it wouldn’t. From here, the ascent was out of their hands. Everything bounced and rattled and shook. There was a loud crack from somewhere behind Troop as something big broke. He didn’t know what. His eyes were fixed on the front window, glued onto the projection on the sky screen; an unreal sunrise of olive streaked peach, glowing around an unreal ashen moon.

They shattered through it and into open space.

For the first time in his life, Troop saw the cosmos clearly.

The sky was thick with stars. So many that they looked like sparkling poweder. Billions of fine bright dots on a sea of deep indigo. Troop felt like he could brush them with his hand, wipe them away, they were so close. He reached out, captivated.

The ship was howling a metallic protest as the windows cracked. Somewhere, there was a rupture and the air became a whirlwind, being sucked furiously into the vacuum of space. One of the mold guys lost their bindings and was dragged screaming from the room by their gas sacks. The Tisacka basins splashed and threatened to topple.

None of it mattered to Troop. All of his attention was on the view. He realized that he was finally free of the cage below. He reveled in the moment, doing everything he could to memorize it. To crystallize those stars into his memory forever.

Si Buha, at the helm, disconnected all but one of their balloons, separating them. It produced a strange, weightless lurch. When they were a short distance away, they ignited the fuel inside. That was the plan, to use the force of the explosion to alter their upward trajectory, to send the ship back down in a controlled crash.

The blast sent them spinning. As they fell, the image on the screen tilted, revealing the Dyson Platter and the landscape of stolen worlds below. Troop had seen the models, seen the illustrations, but it was nothing compared to the reality.

A vast patchwork spread out beneath them. Colorful lines, glowing force fields, marked the borders. It was a nonsense puzzle, with each piece a different color, texture, and shape. At the center was the spire. It was a tall chess piece of a thing, standing at the center of the board. A king that controlled all the myriad spaces around it.

They were closer than they’d thought.

As the ship continued it’s rotation, the town vessel came into view. It wasn’t doing as well as they were. Several of their balloons had torn loose, tearing the town into a cluster of disconnected fragments. Troop watched as their own explosions happened, out of sync. The pieces careened to the ground below. He could tell, just by looking, that they wouldn’t land near them. In fact, it didn’t look like they’d all land in the same patch.

Wherever they touched down, they’d be better off than they would have been staying. He knew he’d done all he could, but as Troop watched them fall, it still felt like failure.

In the final moments they angled back up to the vast universe and Troop caught a glimpse of something else. Another airship? Or was it just a fragment of the town? He arched his neck, trying to see, but it was no use. Whatever it was had passed beyond the frame of his vision.

They crashed down through another false sky, breaking whatever illusion had been projected onto it, and dropped like a comet.
____________________________________

Troop woke up to find himself lying on a simple canvas stretcher. Above him, was the angled fabric of a tent. It was close, with barely enough room for him to sit up, and wet with moisture. It had a dirt floor and was the sort of one-person tent they’d forced him to pitch back in that horrible summer camp. His head ached, and there was a bandage wrapped around his shirtless torso. Exploring, he found a spot, near the left bottom side of his ribs, that was the most tender. It felt more like a cut than a bruise, nearly as long as his hand.

Outside, he heard the sharp exhalations and coughs of Enler’s language. He was being quiet, or at least trying to be. A low warble, like birdsong in in a lower key responded. He didn’t recognize it. There was an odd sizzling sound too, like something cooking on an open fire.

He rolled over and crawled himself out of the tent.

There was a group sitting around a campfire; Enler with his antlers, Minala with a blanket on her shoulders, Si Buha, Arany, and a pair of newcomers he didn’t recognize. The sky was grim and misty.

They’d set a scrap of sheet metal over their meager blaze, and the drizzle steaming off of it was the simmering sound Troop had heard. He saw other tents, dozens of them, all around, with more fires set up the same way. Groups of cold and tired people huddled around these. Most of them were not a species Troop recognized.

They were smaller than most people, but not by much. The size of the Ancervin, but without the antlers. All of them were hunched, high-shouldered, and wrapped in multiple layers of fabric. Their actual features were impossible to see beneath their swaddling and deep hoods. A pair of these had joined his friends. Minala was next to one, touching both it and Enler, facilitating communication.

Troop stood and joined them. His arrival was met with the equivalents of smiles.

“Newborn! It is a sunrise joy to see you whole and well!”

Troop chuckled. “I don’t feel whole, Enler, but I’ll survive. I’m glad to see you. All of you.” He realized now, as he looked around, there were some notable absences. Minala was the only Celevere he saw. Poking out from beneath her blanket, he saw her leg was bound up in a cast. There was no sign of the Tisaco and their floating orbs. No mold guys either.

“What happened?”

Minala stood and took his hand. *The crash was…* she hesitated, before pushing the thought into his head. *Bad. It ended many journeys.*

Her candor with negativity surprised him.

“Are we all that made it?” he asked.

She shook her head. *No. The Tisacko survived, but their suspension spheres were damaged. They could not continue with us. They chose to pool together near where we landed. The others of the D’ekah, with the exception of good Si Buha, stayed with them. As did Puddle Upon Dappled Rock Beneath The Stalks Of Lingering Spring, and their surviving kin.*

Troop was glad to hear that those around the campfire weren’t all that remained.

“What about the town ship? I saw it breaking apart. Did they manage to land?”

She shook her head. *Of this, we know nothing. I have chosen to believe they are well and were much more fortunate than us.*

“And the other airship? Did anyone see what happened to that?” he asked.

Enler’s antlers vibrated in a gesture of confusion, neither yes or no. “Other airship? What are you speaking of?”

“I saw another airship, doing the same thing we did. jumping the fence. When we were up in space,” Troop answered.

They all looked at him with concern, doubting his words. Arany’s dome filled with the familiar squiggle Troop had learned meant confusion. Minala squeezed his hand.

*Nobody saw anything like that, Troop. Are you sure you didn’t mistake a piece of the town? The injury to your head was significant.*

He let go of her hand. “I know what I saw. I think.”

Troop knew that there weren’t many people who would be able to come up with a plan like that and have the math skills to pull it off. Callie was at the top of that list. Troop couldn’t imagine anyone else trying such a reckless maneuver. It had to have been her.

They all grew quiet, and nobody pressed it. Si Buha held a stick in his long hands and prodded some metallic cans that were nestled in by the coals, warming them evenly.

Troop looked around at the unusual encampment that surrounded them. He realized, while there were many of the strange wrapped aliens, they weren’t all that was out there. Every campfire had mixed companies, just like theirs. Along with the tents, there were a variety of small transport vehicles. Many of the groups had livestock housed in rope pens. It was much larger, and more diverse, than he’d first thought.

“What is this place?”

One of the hunched figures answered in a low fluttering chirp. Minala didn’t touch them for a direct translation, but she knew the answer. *This is the road to the Spire, and these are the refugees on their way there.* She smiled.

*A caravan of hope!*

Troop didn’t see much more than downtrodden and exhausted dregs, weary and frightened in the murky mud. “They’re going to the Spire? How is that possible with the barriers?”

Enler answered. “From here, the walls have ruptures of lasting, unbound by time. A gift of ingenious innovation from those who walked before. The way is clear, Newborn.”

Troop stood, shocked by the revelation. After all this time, they were actually going to make it? No. Not all of them. Not really. Only him, the last of his group. He would be the one to make it.

As far as he knew, he was the only human left.

“How long?” he asked.

Minala grinned. *Three short days.*

Three days. Only three more days and they would reach their goal. There were so many answers waiting for him there, it felt overwhelming. Would he finally find out who had abducted them? The reasons they’d done it. Why they’d chosen as they did. Would he be able to check on Nova Scotia, to see if they’d survived the scourge of the Eaters. Could he restore their power?

He might know it all, or none of it, in three days.

Much to his surprise, the possibility of answers to lifelong questions weren’t as important to him as the new one that kept rising to the fore of his thoughts.

Was Callie alive?

He knew that he couldn’t be entirely sure of what he’d seen. He wanted it to be another ship, but he recognized the possibility that it wasn’t. They were right. The smart choice would be to stay with them, to continue on, and get all those answers he’d wanted since he was a boy.

But, then he’d think of Callie. Maybe injured, alone, trapped in some patch she’d never be able to escape from.

He couldn’t bear the thought.

They ate their food in silence, all lost in their own private exhaustion. Troop excused himself early, claiming he needed rest for his injuries.

When everyone else was asleep, he took the Knife and crept out of the camp.

He told himself Enler wouldn’t understand the decision, but he suspected his friend would have. He’d been by his side his whole life. He’d stand with him if Troop was set on going to find Callie.

But Troop left without him and didn’t say goodbye. Looking for her, despite his goals, felt too human to him. Too personal to include Enler. He knew it would hurt him, leaving without a word, but he trusted that Enler would understand. So would the others. They didn’t need him to get where they were going anymore.

He’d seen which direction the airship had been falling.

Alone, he set off in the opposite direction of the Spire, back into the hinterlands.

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