Martha Wells
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50. Malachite Returns to Opal Night
🕑 Added 2018-05-29 12:56:16 +0000 UTCFeather was supposed to be asleep, but she was so exhausted she was just drowsing, too tired to really rest. Slumped against the gnarled roots of the tree her group was clustered under, they were all inert lumps, in their vulnerable groundling forms. Then Starlight, who was taking a shift as look-out, shook her awake. She said, "Warriors are back. Malachite wants you."
"Coming." Feather shoved herself upright, almost tripped on Chalk, and did fall over Bright. Starlight caught her and steadied her until she got her feet under her. "Thanks," Feather whispered and picked her way through the rocks toward the center of the camp.
Arbora slept in clusters among the dusty roots, under the copse of sapling mountain-trees, a sentry for every group. Warriors were scattered around the outskirts and up in the lower branches, keeping watch. The dawn air was cool on Feather's groundling skin and she belatedly remembered to shift to her scales.
Feather was relieved she wasn't the last to arrive at the council group, with the young mentor Auburn limping in just after her. Malachite stood with her chief warriors around her, and the various Arbora like Feather, who had been made leaders of small groups of ten or twelve. It was the safest way to travel, to keep track of each other, to care for the babies and fledglings, to make certain no one fell behind. It still hurt Feather to see the leaders of the court together like this, what was left of them, the young warriors scarred and weary.
Malachite stood looking toward the west, where the rocky hills past the sporadic clumps of young mountain-trees lay cloaked in ground mist. Rise stood nearby, breathing hard, watching her queen, and Feather knew suddenly this wasn't just the usual brief dawn meeting before they set out again. Everyone was silent tense, and she exchanged a brief worried glance with the other Arbora.
Then Malachite said, "Tell them."
Rise turned to them and said, "I found it. We're almost there. It's maybe half a day's walk."
Feather didn't understand. Standing beside her, Tear gripped her arm hard enough to hurt. Feather looked around at the blank incomprehension, the dawning understanding on the others' faces and spines. Then it hit her. Walking had been their whole world for so long, she had forgotten that they were going toward a destination. Incredulous, she said, "The colony?"
Rise's spines moved in assent. "Yes. Opal Night."
Gray said, "Is it...deserted? It's not--"
"I saw a patrol. And lights, early this morning." Rise's voice went thick. "They're still there, they're alive."
Feather was suddenly dizzy, her head light, and she choked on something that was either a laugh or a sob and sat down hard on the ground. Gray pounded her unhelpfully on the back. Feather gasped, "We made it." She looked up at Malachite. "You did it. You saved us." She wanted to throw herself at Malachite's knees and sob. She managed not to, knowing Malachite would tolerate this but not enjoy it.
"Do they know we're coming?" Tear asked.
Rise made an uncertain gesture. "A patrol saw me, I signaled that a queen was arriving." She looked at Malachite. "I didn't speak to anyone yet. I wanted to report first."
Malachite didn't react, and Feather abruptly remembered the children. Not Celadon and the scattered of Arbora babies and warrior fledglings carried from the destroyed colony, but the children rescued from the Fell.
After endless traveling, caring for them and comforting them, Feather had almost forgotten they were half-Fell. Feather's heart pounded, a combination of fear and anticipatory rage at their mother court's possible reaction.
When Malachite and the warriors had returned from finally destroying the Fell flight, the shock had been terrible. Feather and the other survivors had convinced themselves that most of the missing members of the court were alive, being held by the Fell. To see how few had survived, the clutches they had been forced to have, had been as bad a shock as the first attack. But the clutches are ours now, Feather thought. "We won't give them up," she said, not realizing she had spoken the thought aloud until she heard the words. Everyone turned to look at her, and she added, "We won't."
Malachite's head tilted, and her opaque gaze rested on Feather. Feather's breath caught in her throat as she felt the court around her, through Malachite's hold on her heart, damaged and injured but strong, still so strong. Malachite said, "We will give up nothing. They will accept us as we are."
Spines flicked in assent all around. For some queens, it would have been bravado. From Malachite, it was a statement of fact.
Malachite moved one spine at Rise, and Rise said hastily, "Everyone get ready to move as usual. The Arbora and the escort warriors will head on foot toward the colony. The queen and the others will go ahead."
Feather scrambled to obey, hurrying back to rouse her group. Stumbling over the rocks, she almost ran into Russet. "What's wrong?" Russet said, her spines flattened in distress.
Russet was one of the many who had been so badly affected by the Fell attack that they had almost become different people. Feather paused to tell her, "We made it, Russet! We found the mother colony."
Russet stared blankly, then said, "Oh. Oh, that's good."
"Everything will be all right now," Feather told her, and hurried on.
