Before the Sky Fell

[ 31 ] The End is the Beginning

-31-

The End is the Beginning

I've started a war. A nauseous sensation started in Whik's stomach and crept to his throat. Beneath the balloon, the first line of enemy troops broke off from the rest. The invaders sprinted through the plains, axes high and foreboding. Giant wooden things lurked in the forest and spat out stones that flew through the air. Fallen trees were strewn throughout the forest like a thousand giant corpses.

Malachi leaned back, holding onto the dangling ropes as if he was drunk. "Where would you have us go, sire?"

He did this. All of this. Whik's face grew hot as he peered downward, past the plumes of smoke and flying arrows. The Lark's shouting created a deep and powerful rumble. Whik sailed above it all. I should be down there with them. With Marg. With Charlotte with Sonora.

Archers stood on the wall, notching bows and loosing them into the air. Scorpion spears stuck out from the murder holes. Whik had never seen Eckrondale look so defensive, yet so doomed. If Charlotte and Sonora hadn't made it to the city yet, there was no hope now.

Near the forest, a flood of figures poured out into the plains. Stones hurled through the air from the trebuchets, crashing against the bastions. Debris exploded into the air. Archers fell, but Whik couldn't hear their screams. He was above it all. They were far too high for the arrows to pierce the balloon. He was floating, watching a scene of murder and misery.

Malachi fell into Pelk, who pushed him back into the corner. "Apologies," Malachi said. "It gets a bit bumpy up here."

A wave of heat swept up Whik's neck. It rose inside his head, pushing at his temples. He couldn't take it anymore. Standing in a basket above a thousand murders, listening to the man who caused it all. He eyed Malachi's disheveled hair, his bony face, his trembling lips.

Malachi spoke again. "What say we land this thing and grab a drink? Think they'll see us coming? Two enemies just trying to drink a pint? Seras and the brown boy can come." He laughed, but Whik sensed he wanted to cry.

Whik grew dizzy. The balloon seemed to shift in the wind. Suddenly Whik's legs were string. He felt Sonora's breath on his neck. "Don't leave me," she said. "How could you let me go?"

Whik felt the wind on his arms as he lifted them up, the strain on his fingers as he closed them around Malachi's throat, and the buzz of the arrows as they flew beneath the balloon. He heard Pelk's shouts and his hands on Whik's back.

Whik opened his eyes, fingers still clenched around a murderer's neck. Malachi closed his. His face melded into reds and purples. He lifted his arms above him as he struggled for air. As Whik tightened his grip, he thought of the lady who used to count the crows. He thought of the rock eaters, who he would never see because of Malachi. He thought of Sonora, who he may never feel because of Malachi, and he thought of his life, which would never have been exciting without Malachi. Whik let go.

Malachi fell backwards against the basket wall, his arms tugging at the balloon's strings. The balloon swung in the air.

Whik shook his head. The dizziness was slow to leave. "Get us into the city. Unharmed."

Malachi coughed, then spat. "And why should I do that?"

"Because this is the last thing you may do while you're alive. You're a monster."

"And you are young. Naive."

"I've seen things. I've felt things. Just like you. That has nothing to do with it."

Malachi smiled, his face still red as an apple. "That has everything to do with it," he sputtered. "When you're young, you have everything, and you know it. You can kill shapeshifters and hunt dragons and save the damsel. You are your imagination. But when you're old, when everything has been taken from you, then you're truly nothing, and you know that too. You hold onto the young ones, because they still know what it is to live. Your life is over. You just wish you had a little bit of theirs."