A New Night

Bassella at Last

The Golem’s shoulder appendage turned so that it pointed directly at us. The evil machine finally spoke in a language that was somewhat unlike both my own and the one that the gods had used. I think Dro made it so that the two of us could understand when it finally spoke. “Do not move, Dimitry.”

Bassella shook her head gently as she continued to walk forward. “There’s no Dimitry here; in a sense … there never really was. The gentle soul was armor … a trauma response in a world that she knew instinctively would not accept her. Accept me.”

Fire erupted from the shoulder appendage of the Golem; sounds of thunder filled the sky. I instinctively closed my eyes and reached my wings to cover my ears. When I looked again, I saw that one of the invisible creatures was right in front of Bassella. Holes—presumably from the Golem—now covered it and revealed an otherwise white surface. The same vertical and horizontal red lines as what were on the ‘hospital’ in the City of the Gods were etched into the front of it. I now realized that these weren’t creatures but artifacts of a substance similar to Bassella herself. The artifact fell over, destroyed.

Bassella extended her palm toward the Golem. When she did, there was a glint of sunlight before the Golem’s shoulder appendage was obliterated. She kept her hand extended, and the sparkle of light returned.

The Golem dove this second time and tackled the artifact that had wounded it. Its heavy knees dented the artifact, breaking its ability to remain mostly invisible. The Golem then destroyed it with the other unholy weapon that hurt all our ears again.

This time it was Dro who sprung forward—knocking me gently off his shoulder as he rose, descended, and then obliterated the weapon along with several of the Golem’s fingers.

I fluttered to the ground, looking around for any sign that it was time for me to do … whatever it was that I was supposed to do.

The Golem roared and used its mangled hand to strike Dro. The blow was heavy enough to send him flying, crashing, and then rolling across the ground like he weighed nothing.

Bassella now sprinted at him with her remaining bladed weapon at the ready.

However, the Golem grabbed a long object attached to his water-dwelling, making her stop. Upon closer inspection, this seemed to be a much larger version of the Golem’s thunder weapons. And it was … aimed right at the Island!

The Golem laughed and said, “Weakness … for creatures unlike us … less than us. For a moment, I thought the years had made you strong. But you really haven’t learned anything during these past millennia, have you? After I gave you every chance … a literal ETERNITY to learn.”

“Oh, I have learned,” Bassella replied, lifting a hand as if to stop him. “What I learned is that connection is what makes us stronger. Sure, you can use the lives of vulnerable people to blackmail others into compliance. You can kill us. You can even scar the hearts and minds of the people you terrify and wound. But do you know what happens to those who are still strong enough to make themselves vulnerable? They become stronger. People like you—you’re so afraid of the world that you make yourself weaponed and armored with a shell to keep you so very safe.”

The Golem seemed to make a noise, but Bassella did not allow it to reply.

“You abuse, you threaten, you kill—anything you can do so that everyone around you stays safely out of reach or else doing your bidding. All so they will be too scared to point out your inner inadequacy and shame … and make you face it. Whereas we become stronger, so strong that our power and essence overflow into everyone whose life we touch. We not only have the strength to face our own shame, but we cut through the shame that you cast upon us. We become a Hydra; the more heads you cut off in your petty fear and delusions of superiority, the more heads we grow with jaws ready to tear you apart.”

“Just another petty speech from another incompetent, stupid animal and its soft little feelings,” The Golem replied with disdain clear in its voice. “Like when you left me to die in those waters, the most you can do is cowardly push me away. You wouldn’t stop me then, and your Triumvirate has taught me that all you can ever do is run.”

Bassella paused for a moment, and then pointed at the Wall. Before I could guess what she was doing, her final invisible artifact launched like a rocket into the Wall—embedding itself into the stone and causing the pink wall of energy to crackle and then dissipate. Then, she looked at the Golem and said, “Never again, John.”

The Golem seemed phased by this, if just a little. It then made its stance more aggressive and pulled a little more on the giant weapon aimed at the Island.

Bassella calmly took the ring of lightning from her side and dropped it to the ground. She then retracted the enormous weapon attached to her arm. Then, with her hands raised, she slowly walked to the Golem.

The Golem seemed to study her, unmoving. Finally, he looked at the Wall and said, “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to live like you,” Bassella said, standing right before the Golem. “This world is not about us versus them. It’s about all of us … shaving the dead vestiges of a pathetic, old world. Shaving away you … and the Triumvirate.”

The Golem let out a low growl and pulled harder on the weapon.

Instead of attacking or diverting him—as I thought Bassella would—she grabbed the attachment of the weapon and pulled it.

Thunder filled the skies, and steaks of fire cast their lights over the water, then the sand. The streaks of fire then collided with the Wall—blasting the rock beneath the demolished artifact. The wall crumbled, and dust rose into the sky. Though it only took a few seconds, the moment seemed to stretch into the slowest moment of my life.

The dust slowly settled—revealing a rubble-strewn beach. Beyond it was a tunnel to the now-visible jungle. Any thought that the gods could have ever had of dividing the Night People from the Hunters and the rest of the world was gone.

All of us, the Golem included, stared at Bassella in disbelief.

Then, something rose from the ocean, casting a shadow across the water-dwelling. At first, I thought this was some massive artifact of the gods. But … the thing writhed as it hovered over us. It was alive—a gigantic creature I had only ever seen the shadows of from over the sea. Like a cross between a snake and a fish, it was black with white streaks on its face, belly, and patterned along its body.

For a moment, I thought it was smiling—its mouth curved upward as it revealed an even row of relatively small teeth. It let out a noise of air, casting water to gush live a great river from its back. Upon its head was something black, unlike the rest of it. It took me a moment to realize that I knew the creature standing upon its head … the two people standing there.

It was Scraa and Camolla—standing on the head of a dragon!

Scraa pointed at the Golem and the water-dwelling itself. Then, he shouted, “Those are the ones who killed all your bloodbags on this beach.”

The dragon let out a deafening roar with a long, squealing undertone. It then bit into the water-dwelling and began to wrap its body around the entirety of it. Before it had finished wrapping, the water-dwelling started to crack and let out noises of definite destruction.

Bassella just stared for a moment in awe. She then looked at the Golem, giggled, and said, “Go ahead, try to tear this Hydra’s head off while you still have the chance. Before we are all cast into the sea … where you should have died long ago.”

The Golem roared and attacked. It was faster than its bulky body indicated. It used its busted hand to strike at Bassella with ferocious force.

Bassella shielded herself with her arm—but the strike shattered her arm, and it fell limply to her side. She then grabbed the Golem’s wounded arm with her good one to keep it from striking again.

However, the Golem grabbed the back of her neck with its good hand. Its grip was as ferocious as its strike. Its squeeze caused Bassella’s neck to crack. Suddenly, she released her grip, and her arms went limp.

I screamed, wanting desperately to attack. But there was nothing I could do. And Bassella … she had asked me to wait. She had said there would be a moment, and I would know for sure. And … I didn’t know what it was that I could possibly do. So I screamed with fury at the Golem as it held Bassella’s life in its horrid hands.

“Before I end you, I have to know … is this the real Dimitry?” the Golem asked, still holding to Bassella’s neck.

“Bassella … Jackie. We’re all in here,” the person I thought had been Bassella replied with half a laugh.

It wasn’t just her; that was why she was so different now! But then, where was Bassella? Did Jackie … did she consume her? I found myself beginning to tremble.

Jackie continued to speak to the Golem … but her fingers began to twitch at me in a way that they hadn’t been upon her neck being broken, “Something in Bassella’s plea for the dear peoples down here struck me. So, instead of consuming her, I simply copied all her memories, thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Against my better judgment, I then made them my own.”

The Golem let out a growl. “That’s impossible; you would have also taken her terror!”

Jackie replied in a whisper, “Oh, I did. But the thing about living for so long, the thing you would understand if you were not so fixated on avoiding the shame of your past, is that millions of years are plenty of time to work on healing.”

The Golem turned her so that they were face to face. “If this isn’t all of you … then where-”

There was a pressurized click before Bassella’s metallic torso slid open. Before I knew what it was, something ferocious sprang from within her, clutching a blade and screaming as she planted it into the Golem’s heart. Her cry was something between absolute terror and rage. It was only as she slowly tore the life out of the Golem—its chest emitting a waterfall of yellow sparks and a cloud of billowing, black smoke—that I really saw her.

The creature that had come from Jackie looked sort of like the gods in the land above. Her skin was a bit less colorful, but long fur of brown with red tints flowed from the top of her head. Her body was curved and covered by a brown fabric that went down to her knees. I finally recognized her weapon as the blade that had been broken off Bassella in the City of the Gods; it had somehow been attached to an unsharpened bit so she could wield it the way the Queen had. Her ferocity was … breathtaking.

Jackie’s neck still in hand, the Golem staggered for a moment. Then, it reached for the creature who was killing it.

This was the moment that Jackie had told me to wait for. I knew it, without a doubt. I hopped into the air, glided, and grabbed onto the creature. I pulled her back out of the Golem’s reach as it and Jackie tumbled over the edge—plummeting into the waters below.

Epilogue

A New Night

It was early morning, and the sun was just beginning to rise. I watched the happenings of the renewed Island around me. The air was a bit chilly on my skin, but I still enjoyed how it felt when the sea breeze gently blew the edges of my dress. The Night People and Hunters had just gone to sleep, and the Free Humans (as they now called themselves) were just arriving on their new rafts to harvest the night’s guano … bat manure. Bloodbags yelped and yodeled on the beach. I kind of liked the sounds they made now that I had experienced the haunting sound of their silence.

A month had passed since our harrowing battle against Jade and John. The Island, now a border city between the lands of the Night People and the Hunters, was busier and more populated than ever. I had half-expected for the Hunters to spread out along the coast. Instead, however, they mostly remained on the Island, upon which they had begun work on a harbor alongside the Night People.

In addition, they planned to soon divert a large rive in the jungle to go straight through the hole in the Wall and into the sea. Gar led the construction of these projects. And I’ll admit that I was relieved to see him turn his attention away from his pursuit of the Queen to pursue something more healthy.

Of course, that wasn’t to say everything was always hunky-dory between the two peoples. But with the Queen moving her kingdom to encompass the hole in the Southern Wall and Camolla becoming elder of the Island, diplomatic issues were able to be sorted. After all, the Night People had no desire to fight, and the Hunters had no desire to face their screeches.

Regarding resources—namely, the bloodbags—the Dragons were also a diplomatic force to consider. They were the ones who had originally bred the food creatures and flocked them on the beaches around the continent. Fortunately, they were swayed to share kills with the Hunters at a measured pace when we offered to contribute our efforts at selective breeding and feeding whenever the Bloodbags were on the land. The Free Humans also contributed to this—and they were able to barter their services with the Hunters to gain fruit and even materials from the jungle they dared not venture into.

I began to walk a bit, the sand pleasant between my toes. The beginnings of plant life were creeping across the beach again. This had taken some work to transplant the flora from other shores. I don’t think the Night People quite realized why I brought back “useless” flora. And it was probably a sense of nostalgia that drove me to, but I wanted the Island to be as much as possible as it had been before I arrived. Just … with the addition of a harbor, river, and Hunters preparing to voyage out to sea.

Fortunately, Dro and Scraa decided to stay with us on the Island. They even asked me to teach them how to read and write in the Triumvirate language. At first, it was a challenge for even me to learn the written language of the Triumvirate. However, I was able to figure it out using the children’s material that Dro and Scraa had stolen from the school. I was soon able to teach them letters, phonetics, and eventually grammar.

Reading and writing proved a particular challenge for the Hunters, who relied heavily on telepathic communication. It seemed that while my brain translated what they said into words and sentences, something different was happening in their minds. Conversation between them tended to be quicker—so it was a challenge for them to learn how to use so many tedious bits of language to recreate a fullness of communication passed directly between minds.

As eager as the Hunters were for the power of their books, however, they put in the work and learned. Many Night People and even a Free Human sat in on these lessons as well. I’ve heard that even the Dragons have asked about them. Best of all, these lessons have meant that I have been able to barter for fruit and pre-cut meat.

Dro then began to teach as well. He taught Scraa and even some Night People about being a noble Hunter. This started with fighting and later branched into lecture, which Dro seemed to have an unexpected fondness for. My ‘kung-fu’ was all but forgotten in the face of his far superior fighting skills, but that was probably for the better.

The relationship between the Free Humans and the Night People also improved over what it had been before. In addition to visiting daily to gather guano, the Free Humans began to grow a few gardens directly beneath the huts of the Night People—where the soil was already so fertile from centuries of droppings. This pleased the Night People when they realized that the vegetables brought more bugs. Of course, the Free Humans were delighted for the pests to be eaten.

I’m unsure if the Triumvirate took care of the Free Humans secretly after I left their care files from Steelface. Regardless, we Night People did our best to help care for the sick that were near.

Still meandering along, I waved when I saw Camolla perched upon Scraa’s shoulder. They both smiled and waved back at me. Unfortunately, Camolla was never able to regrow the skin in the place where her wings had been pierced. Early on, I noticed the sad way she’d occasionally glance up at the hunts on the Wall, probably missing her ability to visit her family and friends whenever she liked.

Scraa, with his telepathy, must have noticed too. I began to often see him carrying her up the Wall and even around the beach during the late evenings. This custom continued for more extended amounts of time until I realized that he was waking and sleeping at the same hours as the Night People to stay with her.

It was also very clear how much Camolla appreciated him. Whenever she spoke to him, her mannerisms became as maternal as they were for her daughter and … well … for me. I occasionally overheard her teaching Scraa about the ways of the Night People.

In a weird way, I thought that this was appropriate. Romalla, in her renewed efforts to communicate and grow closer to her mother, had told Camolla that she no longer had an interest in the priesthood or becoming the Island’s next leader. It seemed like maybe the idea appealed to Scraa a lot more. He already was the favored ambassador of the Dragons, who I’m pretty sure rightly found him adorable. As for the Free Humans … well, we all know how much any kind of human loves cats. I wondered if Scraa would one day develop the alliances between all our peoples even more.

I looked around for Romalla but couldn’t see her. I glanced over at my hut.

Yes, to my surprise, Romalla remembered to build me a hut next to the homes of the Night People. Of course, she needed help with this task … and the work was mostly my help. One might even say I built my own hut while she supervised. It was still nice, though. And when it was finished, Romalla made one of the pouch-like dwellings of the Night People for herself inside the hut.

Every now and then, when I needed some time alone or when the memories that were not my own began to tax on me, it was nice to hide there and just think. Mostly, I thought about people from my memories, old and new. Emeli, my adopted human family, Krogallo, and even Jackie. I carved all their names onto a larger piece of wood on the inner wall using the sword Jackie had made for me—now resting in the far corner of the room. When Romalla saw the carvings one night, she asked if she could write her father’s name with Krogallo’s. So, of course, I said yes.

I waved at a few Free Humans arriving on their rafts as I returned to my hut. When I reached it and opened the door, I saw Romalla hanging sleepily on the outside of her nest.

Romalla groaned and said, “You were out so laaaaate,” though I noticed the hints of a smile when she said it. It made me happy that she was also glad to see me.

“Sorry, I just wanted to see all the morning stuff,” I said and sat on one of the blankets I had bartered the Servants for. I pulled a second one over my head, folded my legs beneath me, and began etching notes into my written account of all that had happened. Yes, this same one. Does this count as meta? Does it give you chills?

“That seems like another of your … charming … but not universally funny writing jokes,” Romalla said, pointing at the sentence I had just written.

“I mean, I may cut it later in editing,” I lied.

Romalla glided to the blankets, crawled over them, and settled in my lap. Then, after a long yawn, she asked, “Did you remember the bit about Dro telling Scraa that he was his father? That it was sappy and gross, but at least it seemed to make them happier?”

“No,” I said and unconsciously tapped my stick of charcoal on my lip in a pensive motion that I would later have to clean up from. “But you saying it does make a lovely segway, thank you.”

“You know you’re getting charcoal on you; you’re writing what you’re doing right now. So you could just stop or … go clean it off … or-” Romalla stopped with a heavy sigh at my expense. Then in a playfully mocking tone, she said, “Anyways, what about all your show-don’t-tell stuff? Shouldn’t you be showing such a nice moment between father and son?”

“It’s not my fault that not everyone has their deep, emotional moments in front of me,” I protested with a playfully whiny tone to counter hers. “What am I supposed to say? That one day, something just changed between them? That we all noticed that they spent every fourth day together, hunting in the jungle? That it was the sweetest thing in the world, but there’s no telling what words instigated it?”

Romalla, once more seeing that I was still writing everything going on in our conversation, rolled her eyes. “Just hug me goodnight, and then try not to write too loudly.”

I leaned over and wrapped my arms around her in a hug. She wrapped her wings around my neck. Then, after a moment, we both let go. In a few minutes more, she was gently snoring away in my lap.

“I love you,” I whispered.

Romalla stirred a bit at my words and then grumbled, “I love you too.”