Judas Unchained

“Ow. Sheesh, that hurts.”

“Then stop fucking kicking, you moron,” a harsh voice said in heavily accented English.

Ozzie froze. The leathery wing fell away from his face, and he was looking right at a male Silfen, whose narrow feline eyes stared back with impatience.

“Huh?” Ozzie blurted.

“I said, cool it with the hardass routine. You’re crap at it anyway.”

Ozzie let go as if the Silfen burned. “You can talk.”

“You can think.”

Surprise battled with resentment. “Sorry, man,” he said meekly. “You startled us, you know, creeping around up there.”

Orion had come over to stare down in amazement. He slowly pulled the pendant out of his shirt, blinking at the intense green light. He looked at it, and back at the Silfen who was now gracefully climbing to his feet. There was a rustle as he flapped his wings, sending out little puffs of the dusty sand, before folding them back so they formed neat creases below his arms. His tail did a quick whiplike flick before settling into a shallow U-curve that kept it off the ground.

Ozzie patted at his own clothes, mildly embarrassed.

Tochee slid up beside Ozzie and Orion to look at the Silfen. “I believe you said these creatures would not speak your language?” the array voice said.

The Silfen turned to look at Tochee. Ozzie’s inserts caught it, but only just: the humanoid’s eyes flashed with ultraviolet light. A ripple ran along Tochee’s manipulator flesh ridges as it began to project its speech images in reply. They began to speed up, the two of them conversing very fast. If this is a simulation or a dream, why does it need to talk with Tochee?

“I didn’t know they could speak English,” Orion whispered breathlessly to Ozzie.

“Me neither.”

The Silfen finished communicating with Tochee, and bowed slightly, blinking. The ultraviolet faded from his eyes.

“Who are you?” Ozzie asked.

The Silfen’s circular mouth opened wide, allowing the long slender tongue to vibrate between his rows of teeth. “I am the one who dances in the endless wind streams which flow along the tumbling white clouds as they circle in eternal orbit within the star of life.” He gave a sharp whistle. “But you may call me Clouddancer. I know how you humans have to be so quick and shallow.”

“Thanks.” Ozzie tipped his head to one side. “Why the German accent?”

Clouddancer’s tongue quivered. “Authority. I look like one of your legendary demons. If I start talking like some stoner hippy then I’ve got a serious credibility problem, right?”

“Absolutely, man. So are you here to tell me what I want to know?”

“I don’t know, Ozzie. What do you want to know?”

“Who threw the barriers around the Dyson Pair, and why?”

“Long story.”

Ozzie gestured at the dusky forest with both arms. “Do I look like I’m going somewhere?”

They walked back through the forest to a clearing half a kilometer away that they’d passed through earlier. Ozzie wanted a less oppressive environment to concentrate on the details. Orion was totally fascinated by a winged Silfen who could speak English.

“Where did you learn it?” the boy asked.

“Common knowledge where I come from, kid.”

“Where’s that?”

“Here. Where the hell else do you think someone my weight can flap their way around? Jeez, what is it with neurons and your species? Is it a natural shortage or do you molt them as you grow up?”

“Here? The gas halo?”

“Is that what you’ve named this?”

“Yeah. We were on one of the water islands.” Orion grimaced with the memory. “We fell off.”

Clouddancer’s tongue quivered as he whistled.

Ozzie had heard Silfen laugh before; he put this down to something equivalent to a derisive snort. “You need to put a few warning signs up, man,” he said sharply.

“You fell off because you were hasty, you schmuck,” Clouddancer said. “You should take time off, observe your environment, work out any problems in advance. That’s the smart thing to do.”

“Bullshit. You dumped us there. You have a responsibility.”

Clouddancer stopped. His wings rustled, the tail snaking from side to side. “No we don’t. We are not responsible for anyone but ourselves. You chose to walk our paths, Ozzie, you decided where they would end. Take responsibility for your own actions. Don’t blame everyone else; you’ll turn into a lawyer. You want that?”

Ozzie glared back at him.

“How could we decide where the paths take us?” Orion asked. “How do they work?”

“The paths are old, very old. They have grown apart from us of late. How they work is up to them. They try to help as much as they can, they listen to those who walk them. Some of the time, anyway.”

“You mean they deliver you to where you want to go?”

“Oh, no. They rarely change; they don’t like change. Most simply remain closed. It’s kinda sad when they do that, but there are always new ones opening. You’ve always got to go forward, right? That’s something we’ve all got in common.”

“Do you mean…” Orion shot a glance at Ozzie for reassurance. “If I wanted to find Mom and Dad, they’d take me there eventually?”

“They might. That’s kind of an elusive goal you’ve got there, kid.”