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CoJ chp 28: When Nothing Matters (2 parts)

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___In the bluish wisplight glow, the sigils seemed to float, first above, then below the surface of the plate.
___Portunista knew what happened next was not exactly such a trick of eyes and light.
___As the follicle touched on the arabesque, a violet pierced the blue, spreading in an instant over the plate.
___Portunista heard the doorframe “click”; she pushed the handle…
___…opening the door.

___Gaekwar tried to speak; failed; and then in quiet awe began again.
___“Seifas…Did you ever actually look inside the door?”
___The dark man slowly shook his head. “No. None of us were ever close enough.”
___“Sooo…this might be normal,” Dagon judged. “Or might not.”
___Beyond the door, were branches—several hundred paces in the air.
___Purple misty twilight pooled within and under leaves. But up above…
___Pooralay regarded this, then looked behind him out the southern window. “C’rrect me if I’m wrong…but ain’t it darker here, than there?”
___“A couple hundred kilops west of here…” Portunista drank the sight, feeling insignificant. Could a magus really jott a tesser that far distant? No, it had to be the sigils.
___Othon sniffed. “And spring,” he added—then he sneezed.
___“So, it’s several thousand kilopaces north-northwest,” Jian concluded, sounding quite impressed. Portunista blinked. Of course: just as they were on the autumn upslope, spring would also be beginning north of the equator. Not too far north, however—this was more like never-ending summer.
___“What did we do wrong?” Gaekwar asked.
___“Nothing.” Portunista shook her head. “This is it. The hair worked fine. This is his security. This is not his laboratory. This is how we go there.”
___“Anywhere out there,” said Dagon ruefully.
___“No, wait—think about it,” she answered. “Qarfax needed sigils on the door to go this far. The next door must be relatively close, even if he tessered to it.”
___“Yeah, but why’d he bother doin’ this at all? He c’d just brick up th’ door, an’…I dunno…‘beam’ h’mself right t’ th’ lab fr’m in his room,” observed the thug. “Y’re sayin’ th’ lab is really b’hind this wall, an’ when we find th’ next door it’ll lead t’ where this’d norm’lly go. Right?”
___“Because he was a researcher?” Portunista shrugged. That sounded less than confident. “Depending on what he was doing in his lab, then ‘beaming’ to it might be dangerous. And this,” she waved, “might be an experiment, too.”
___“A mighty large number of ‘mights’,” Dagon snorted.
___“Okay, fine,” retorted Portunista. “There’s a few more minutes here…I mean out there…before the sun will set completely—so we’ll just fan out and look.”
___“In the treetops,” Gaekwar dryly said.
___“It isn’t all that hard!” the maga exclaimed in exasperation. “Look, the trees are woven close together; branches large, plenty of handholds…See?!”
___She demonstrated this by stepping through the door.
___It shot away, in an arc, to the right, behind her.
___She turned in time to see the portal close and vanish.

___Anger turned to ice.
___“Spewing blinding bile…”

___She was alone. In a forest. Deep in the Middlelands. Thousands of thousands of paces away from her brigade. And night was falling.
___In an Eyeforsaken tree!
___…in the distance, an inhuman shriek erupted.
___Answered by another, distinctly closer…
___“Okay…okay…”
___She spent a minute muttering this at various speeds.
___Nothing was okay. But she needed time to seize her fear.
___First things first.
___Slowly, carefully, Portunista reached to balance on a limb.
___Slowly and even more carefully—her hand was jittering so, it took a quarter- minute—she put the follicle into the smallest pocket on her belt.
___“Think it out,” she told herself.
___She was doomed if this was just a trap. Dead…? Not necessarily; but she might need a year or more to walk to southern lands.
___She was young and strong. She could make it. Probably.
___Assuming it was not a trap, the real door to the laboratory should be somewhere near. Probably on the ground: it would need a framework which would be more difficult to have constructed up in the trees. She could jott some wisps to help her search—although those might attract whatever had screeched in the distance. Maybe morning would be a better idea…She even could spend some days to quarter the area; fruits that might be edible hung from the trees.
___On the other hand, her friends—her officers, she corrected herself—would not go back to her brigade and leave her here. Well, Dagon might…but she was certain the others wouldn’t. Because…
___…well, because they were her friends.
___They certainly didn’t have much other reason to be loyal to her. But she’d bet that right this moment, they were searching for another hair.
___Jian would certainly be; and she realized, she would bet her final drop of blood on that.
___Although he’d probably do the same for Dagon, too.
___That thought only irritated her. But the combination of annoyance and of…hope…helped to further clear her head.
___So. Where could she expect the portal to appear?
___Behind her? No, she couldn’t hope for that. Qarfax would have wanted the next invader attempting the door to be befuddled.
___And yet, the next one through the door, on any normal occasion, would be Qarfax—who would not appreciate disorientation every time that he stepped through. So, the door would probably reappear along some limited positions…such as on a circle!
___Yes, she thought as she peered through the dying daylight; the door must always vanish moving right: branches with older cuts had grown above the fresher cuts.
___And in an arcing path!

___So. She felt much better now.
___Now she had more hope.
___Several minutes had passed already; her friends should open the door at any moment. Somewhere on that radial arc; probably forty-five to sixty degrees on either side of straight across from where she stood—because if it was seen when it returned, it wouldn’t be so fuddling as a trap!
___Qarfax was a clever man; but she was clever, too. She was also willing to bet that she could find the other door, if she was wrong about this door returning—or about her…friends.
___And she bet the follicle would unlock it. And, Qarfax wouldn’t likely run the same trap going out; she could probably open the door, once she was inside, and step out onto the stairwell landing like the door was normal.
___And then she would demand to know why no one had come to help her…! Where were they?
___As if on cue… “Portunista!”
___She couldn’t exactly discern the direction among the baffling branches, but it wasn’t far away.
___And it was Jian.
___Of course. He would insist on going first.
___“I’m over here!” she yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth, trying to give him a better direction—she found that she was smiling wider than her cupping hands! She forced herself to gain composure—mustn’t let him…mustn’t let them…see how glad she was to—
___—thrashing leaves above her—!!
___her body hurtled forward and down, instinctively diving away from the sound…
___…off her branch…!
___Too shocked to curse, she threw her arms in all directions, scrambling for a handhold in the tumbling world around her, eardrums shuddering under the hideous scream above.
___Her body struck another branch, and seized it…tasted blood—she must have hit her mouth…
___More shrieks near but not so near; the nearest creature held its cry. She looked—she thought it must be ‘up’—toward a shredding thrashing, vision spinning dizzily, a stormy blackness, pounding with a strength and speed like lightning, at the branches in its way.
___She licked her teeth and swallowed blood, and whistled.
___Blue light burst above her—glinting from a razored beak.
___An enormous hunting bird screeched in surprise—in other circumstances its expression might have been amusing!—flinching from the intervening ball of eldritch power. It seemed no monster, other than its size…although its proportions didn’t seem quite right…
___The wisp, however, could only bluff not block the creature; despite its seeming composition of a thousand radiant needles, it held neither heat nor mass. A hungry kitten could, in perfect safety, bat it easily.
___The giant killer bird looked very hungry.
___And it saw her in the light.
___She broke the bind and doused the light; without a pause she whistled up another wisp as far away as she could jott.
___The bird’s head snapped in that direction. Portunista stilled herself, in fear and dizziness. Take the bait! she silently pleaded, adding spice by drifting the wisplight idly off along a tangent.
___Other avians now descended on the light; but her particular persecutor only pondered skeptically.
___How intelligent were these things…? She had to hurry; her body was cramping from clinging to the branch, unable to gesture for a different jott. She angled the wisp behind the bird, bringing it marginally closer. It turned to watch, but not completely around.
___“Go away!” she desperately commanded, under her breath. She had to hurry, because—!
___“Portunista!” Scourge the man…! Couldn’t he tell he shouldn’t be coming closer?!
___No, she realized—because he wasn’t afraid of anything…
___More shouts distantly rose, shouts for her—but her stomach wasn’t curdling for those shouts.
___By now she could determine Jian’s direction.
___The raptor could, as well.
___It swiveled its head, locking with lethal precision.
___Her mouth was twisting along with her stomach…
___—she heaved herself into a scrabbling run along the branches, whistling lights in all directions. But not toward him. She heard the creature be- hind her shriek and dive in chase. But not toward him. She pulled herself through vines and branches, trying to climb and arc around to where the door might be.
___But not toward him.
___“Jian!” she shouted toward the damn-fool man. “Go back! Back to the door! Keep low! Birds will attack you through the trees!” That sounded inane, but she didn’t care. “I’ll meet you there—just run!” He’d better run…she’d flay him alive if he made her wait for him at the door…!
___She could hear the others, shouting for her and shouting for Jian—
___Wait…no, she couldn’t wait!—the rotblooded bird was gaining on her…! but—
___The shouts were coming from the wrong direction!—not from where she thought that Jian had come!
___Snarling, she veered to the right—four talons plowed the wood behind her.
___“Jian! The door has moved—after you went through! Don’t listen for me—listen for them! They’re where the door is now! Run that way!”
___The creature shrieked again behind her, this time with a different pitch. What—?
___Talons crashed in front of her! She darted left and down, wriggling past more branches in the deepening darkness, tasting wood-chips in her teeth. She must have been detected by another bird, which the first had tried to drive away.
___She ripped a fingernail pulling herself across a branch. Two birds…she had to get around them—
___No! This was a cul-de-sac! Too many branches, too many trunks! Had they driven her here? She had to go back—!
___An avian head smashed through the thinner branches above, striking where she would have jumped. The black eye glared—in triumph? hissing—freezing her blood, freezing her muscles, her instincts overriding her will, crushing her down, yet knowing, knowing, a murderous claw was pulling back to strike—
___“MOVE!!!” she screamed to herself—but there was nowhere left to go—

___—the avian eye blinked twice in wide surprise.
___“bw-SCREE?!” Almost a question…And now a grunted exhalation, from it and from—
___“Hi there, ‘ista! Whoa!” Jian leaped cheerfully onto the feathery back, dislodging the balance of the bird, which looked at least as shocked as Portunista, flapping and scratching and slipping its wings and talons every which way, before—
___“Whoa…?” Jian’s eyes were popping, too!—he scrambled gripping on the bird’s rotating body like a barrel, rolling over, rolling off…
___Rolling off the branch!

___outraged shrieks…
___One was from the avian; plummeting down with Jian through branches to the ground, far below.
___Portunista thought the other was hers…
___Or was it from behind her? She turned to see an even larger avian, poised to strike, trying to freeze her once again.
___She couldn’t tell, exactly, for her sight was full of rippling blurs. Once she blinked, everything was clear.
___“Scream for this,” she told the creature, teeth exposed behind her lips, inhaling through her teeth and tongue and crooking her first finger thrusted—peeling off a line of feathers, leaving bleeding skin behind.
___That elicited a scream. Very satisfactory. The creature jumped and flapped away. Not altogether satisfactory, then. But the night was young.
___A corner of her mind reported, calmly and insanely, that her theory was correct: the veckinesis jotting from Gemalfan’s disciplex could be applied on parts, not only on the whole. Or, rather, that depended on what the jotter thought as “one whole object.” Gemalfan’s fight against her might have had a very different ending, otherwise. Jian might now be dead.

___Oh.
___He was dead now.
___So, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

___“Portunista!” Close by and from far away she heard the cry. But it didn’t matter. It was only Seifas, tugging at her arm. “Commander, we must hurry!”
___“There is no hurry,” she calmly explained, as if to a child, “because it doesn’t matter.”
___“Wh—? Commander? More aasvogels are arriving! This way to the door! Have you seen Jian?”
___“There he is.” She pointed without looking, eyes locked only straight ahead; she carefully picked through branches, moving steadily away from where she pointed… “He is down there. Birds are eating him. On the ground,” she added. Yes, the ground was crucial, far away, down there behind her. Where Qarfax’s laboratory door must be. The laboratory she had come to find. Jian had wanted that for her, for she had wanted that, and so he now was down there where it was, because…he…she…
___Seifas swore. How amusing. Seifas never swore. She would have to make him swear more often.
___She wondered if these birds could swear.
___The upper door was standing open, straight ahead, not moving now. Her men were standing near the door, not moving either, trying not to draw the birds’ attention, she supposed. Didn’t they know it didn’t matter?
___She smiled.
___Shock was on their faces. Seifas was telling them something. She didn’t want to hear what he was telling them. So she didn’t listen. She looked around, instead; in the sky, and over treetops. Many birds were flocking to the area. Good.
___But, they weren’t looking where they should.
___“So, he’s bird juice now, eh?” That was Dagon. Someone else was talking to him, softly, and she couldn’t hear.
___She would kill him later. First, she would do other things.
___She pulled her wisplights into the sky, all of them still lit. How interesting—her focus must be growing stronger…
___She whirled them high, up where the birds could see.
___Then she pulled the lights all down to her.
___Now the birds were looking where they should.
___She set the wisps to rest among the branches. But if some went out, it wouldn’t matter.
___Nothing mattered.
___Someone shook her shoulder, yelling in her ear. It wasn’t Dagon, so she didn’t kill him.
___“The birds must all come here,” she said; very rational, very clever. That was why she now was here. That was why…Jian now was…
___“If they don’t come here, I cannot kill them,” she continued; and she sighed contentedly, for she could see the birds were coming now. “You should go back through the door. If you decide to close it, I won’t mind. It doesn’t matter.” Dagon, on the other hand, could stay. She thought it should be fun to throw him with the veckinesis to the birds.
___Whole clouds of monstrous birds…Or fifty. Or twenty. So large, they seemed like clouds…One was floating in, hurting her head with its shriek, watering her eyes.
___“Be quiet,” she said. Or maybe she shrieked…so that the bird would understand…She revolved her hands and arms, jotting an Airebelle onto its head. Look at the silly thing, shrieking now! Look at it flop in convulsions! Look at its head exploding slowly! Look at it dropping down through trees! Down onto the ground, where…
___Another bird, the one that she had peeled some feathers from before. How funny, that she had to blink her eyes again to see it clearly. Just like earlier. She didn’t silence it; could an aasvogel curse? Why, yes it could, quite fluently, when its eyes were yanked from its skull! The way that Jian’s blue eyes were now being yanked from his skull…Its curses made her head hurt more; so she dropped the bind on her first belle, jotting one for this bird now.
___She now understood, however, that Airebelles weren’t killing these fast birds fast enough—not when there were so many. So she spread her fingers wide, and clacked her tongue in sharp percussive rhythms. From those fingers shot raw bursts of materia, pentadarts—from the fingers of each of her hands they shot. The air was filled with blood and feathers.
___But there wasn’t blood enough, because she hadn’t drowned.
___She had watched the older girls so long ago; they had danced in hope of bringing life into the world. She was killing hope of life and hoped to kill. The men were killing with their dances, too: lanky, angular Gaekwar slicing with his rounded axe and rounded discs; Pooralay in bloody patterns drawing in the air with knives; Othon crushing skulls and feet and wings with edged mace; Seifas stabbing fore and back and to the side, the aasagai, the stick of death, teaching aasvogels, the birds of death, what was death. Even Dagon with his falchion…wasn’t that amusing?
___No.
___Nothing was amusing anymore. Nothing mattered.
___A temporary lull; the storm of birds grew darker overhead. Quickly precisely jotting, she pulled and pushed each man back through the door. They weren’t expecting that! Seifas even cursed again! There they were, back in the Tower, looking at her.
___“Do whatever you like with my brigade,” she said. “Because it doesn’t matter anymore.” There; that would stop them killing all the birds. She hadn’t yet killed Dagon, but since nothing mattered, she decided to spare his life. Jian would have spared his life. Though Jian might have tricked him into kissing a shoulderbeast.
___She wouldn’t scratch her nose, although it itched.
___She turned her back on them. Plenty of birds were left—and much, much larger ones were on the way! She could kill as many as she wanted…!
___But…what did it matter? There was no point in killing any more—nothing mattered.
___Death descended again.
___She could feel them descending, tons of feathers, skin and razored bone, crushing her already, in anticipation.

___And now at last she had to face the truth…
___…she didn’t want to die.

___Because if nothing mattered, then her death or life could never matter; only nothing could await her, if her life could never matter. Only, her life mattered to her: only her life, paper-thin and terrible, between complete incalculable nothing…

___The fact of the matter, now she learned, was that she wasn’t strong enough to die.

___So she lashed—not in strength of vengeance: if only her life mattered to her, what could vengeance matter? Not in strength of any purpose; she was her only purpose, and no single point could be strong by itself. She lashed out only in fear, her fear increasing with approaching death, her failure growing with her fear, failure bringing certainty of death. The weight of deadly failure crushed her down, crouching her into a ball, muttering, “I matter; I matter; I do matter…”

___Then into the smothering wall above she screamed—
“Someone tell me that I matter!!”

___The only answer she received was creatures screaming in her face, her face upturned defiantly to hopeless death…
___…that—and, faint beyond the muffling feathers…
___“Ha-HAAAA!”

___Insulted screeches rent the air—a feathered body plowed into the living cloud above her.
___Jian had charged them—riding the back of an aasvogel!
___From the seething cloud of bone and feathers, he stretched out in leaping free, reaching for the branching cluster where she crouched, tumbling down beside her with a grunt; covered in sweat, and dirty feathers, bark and sap and shallow scratches here and there.
___And laughing so completely he could hardly stop to breathe.
___“Where shall I skewer my peacocks again!?” He raised his fist in triumph to the raging birdfight boiling round and overhead, as the hunting avians, driven to the edge by deadly prey, frenzied in destroying one another.
___Not a shout of hatred, but of victory; by daring ingenuity he had fairly played and won.
___He wasn’t being spiteful.
___He was saluting them…

___“Ahhhh…” he sighed exhausted in his mirth. “Hi, Commander! We’d better move along, before they see we’re here!” He looked around to get his bearings, then began to drag himself into a run to reach the door.
___She couldn’t move. She couldn’t blink. She wasn’t sure she even breathed.
___He stopped before he ran, and turned to check on her.
___“Oh, by the way, Commander, thanks for lighting the area up!” He offered her a hand. “I hadn’t any clue where I should nudge my ride! I doubt I could have held on any longer, either. Wow…” he added, looking at the corpses and destruction. “You guys sure were busy. Ouch. Remind me not to fight you!” He laughed again. “Commander…?” he asked—offering still his outstretched hand.

___She didn’t take it.
___Pulling herself up, by herself, refusing to look at him, she staggered toward the portal.
___“Sorry, Commander,” she heard; and then she felt him push her. Just a little; but she stumbled through the doorway, falling on the landing’s floor. The others all had drawn away so she would have more room to come through quickly.
___An aasvogel’s talons crunched the branch behind her, piercing with a cry of failure.
___“Heard enough o’ that,” Pooralay said; while Portunista panted on all fours, she looked up under a bracing arm, and saw the thug was peeling something from the sigil-plate. Behind her, blurring scenery shifted, as the portal ‘moved’, clearing the door of obstacles, closing with a thump.

___Leaving her in the dark again, hearing her breath—and the breath of the squad around her.
___Especially Jian, in the dark, beside her.

Next chapter

Notes from the real author…

When I originally pre-plotted the action of this chapter, long before I got around to writing it, I expected the action to be whimsical and adventurous. In fact, following my habit of mnemonically “storing” plot data by tying it to game or movie soundtracks, I attached one of David Arnold’s pieces of music from the James Bond film Tomorrow Never Dies, specifically for the scene where Bond is back-seat driving a souped-up BMW by remote control while trying to avoid being shot. Jian’s method of return was even suggested to me by the final minute or so of the piece. (A short clip to give an idea of the music can be found here at Amazon, although for some insane reason the composer David Arnold isn’t mentioned as the artist. Probably a rights issue connected with Sheryl Crow having refused to include her title song on the original album, thus necessitating this rerelease.)

Then I started actually writing the scene. Whew. Yeah, that music sure doesn’t fit anymore!

(I should maybe add that the famous Bond theme bass guitar noodling isn’t the syncopated bass rhythm I have in mind as Jian’s “theme music” which he taught the troops as a marching chant, but if someone wants to imagine that I won’t care. :slight_smile: )

A big part of the unexpected difference came from my realization that the whole action sequence needed to be shown from Portunista’s mental perspective (no doubt the Preface Author is reading her side of the story and rephrasing it as traditional narrative for his wife here :wink: ), and her mental perspective is not entirely healthy to begin with–and then gets worse! Giant killer birds aren’t as comical as I was expecting them to be, especially in such a high-stress and low-light environment (although I kept one comic beat when Jian jumps on that one to distract it); there is no way on God’s green earth that Portunista would consider her situation in any way whimsically daring and adventurous. And then, once she thinks Jian has died, she loses her mind in grief and shock–but in a murderously vengeful way. That made sense to me as a way she would bounce back after (and still in) a high-threat scary environment where she has just lost someone who meant more to her than she had consciously realized yet.

So, I don’t have any music attached to this scene anymore; once I write a scene, if the music I had in mind doesn’t fit (and it usually doesn’t when I’m done, for various reasons, usually having to do with the final pace of the scene), I rarely reassign it some other music.

Back when I first wrote the scene, I pulled Portunista’s “veckinesis” out of nowhere and explained it as something she had been studying from Gemalfan’s collected notes–except it hadn’t really come out of nowhere, it had been foreshadowed in something Gemalfan had done while sneaking his troops into the area to surprise assault Portunista’s brigade back in Section One. When I deleted that information, this and some other things dropped out of being previously established. So in later drafts, I made a point of casually mentioning that Portunista had been studying the technique and had some theories about it she hadn’t gotten around to testing (much less using in a combat situation). My reader may remember her mentioning this offhand in a couple of previous chapters.

While I felt like I needed a few environmental action sequences here in the Tower (before more personal threats start showing up in what became the second half of CoJ), I hate the idea of having an action sequence just for the sake of having an action sequence. Portunista’s mental collapse and ruminations help offset that, and will factor strongly into what happens afterward throughout the second half of this Section. But we haven’t seen the last of that bird Jian jumped on, either… (although when I first wrote the chapter I hadn’t yet planned to reintroduce her later).

If anyone among my readers is fan of cryptozoology and muttering “Thunderbird”, yep that’s what I had in mind. Also, since every fantasy novel is inevitably compared and contrasted to Tolkien, my giant eagles are different. :wink: (That could be said about the shoulderbeasts, too.) Thunderbirds or similar folk stories from other world cultures aren’t usually the friends of mankind. In that sense, it was Tolkien’s giant eagles who were really different! :sunglasses:

Mikonese humans live in the southern hemisphere of their continent, but because most of the story is told based on their points of view, this was something I had a hard time trying to figure out how to get across to the reader. Qarfax’s security system here gave me an opportunity for the characters to provide that information to the readers in-story. There are super-subtle implications hidden in how they put what they are saying, though–implications they themselves aren’t even aware of! I plan to start bringing this out in Book 4, once the business (and busy-ness) of the initial trilogy is done, but the reader may ask yourself: why exactly would they think of themselves as living on the southern half of their world?!