12 Miles Below

A small part within To’Wrathh felt that this was humiliation unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

She was supposed to walk among demi-gods. And yet, here she was, hiding inside a box in the street like a wounded animal. Using every bit of active mitigation to block relic armor scanning. Curled up, wings fully enclosed, her weight squishing the soft fruits that had originally occupied half of the roomy crate. She hoped the walls would keep the crushed bits of fruit from leaking out. Hoped that the enemy didn’t happen to open up the crates around this particular shopfront.

The war had gone against plan. Somehow the humans had managed to shore up their defense and batter her army away long enough for the pillar to light up again - and she’d been caught in the blast, inside the city, with enemy signals rapidly approaching her location.

The first thing she’d done was find a place to hide. None too soon, footsteps and sounds had quickly swamped the area. First civilians returning to gawk or pillage the broken machines. And then the army to establish order and push away the looters.

Damage to her system was oddly missing. Things were still responsive, albit sluggish. The Unity fractal wasn’t responding either, as if dormant. To’Wrathh couldn’t guess what could possibly interfere with fractal power. That was supposed to be above reality itself. No technology could outright mute fractals. And yet the pale lady’s most powerful weapon had been nullified.

How had she survived the blast? No Feathers or machines had ever lived through a pillar. The only difference in her shell that she could consider novel for machines was… was Tenisent.

"You did this." She hissed at him, in the privacy of her mind.

The ghost remained locked deep inside, watching the world through her eyes. There was curiosity coming from him. He hadn’t expected her to survive this either.

“Where is the body? Where is she?!” To’Wrathh could hear a woman’s voice, even muted under her relic armor helmet. That girl had arrived soon after, her heavy relic armor crushing the ground as she landed into the plaza with little care or grace.

“We haven’t found her body yet.” A man’s voice. A pause. “Uhh, miss ambassador? Or should I refer to you as m’lady?”

“My title doesn’t matter right now. Where is she?” Kidra answered back, nearly snarling. Clinking sounds of armor moving. She must have grabbed him, To’Wrathh suspected. Times like these, the Feather was thankful she didn’t need to breath. Her shell could remain perfectly still, no heartbeat, no twitches. No secondary bits of information relic armor could pick up on and make guesses for.

“O-only the machine wrecks that came in with her have been found so far. We aren't sure the amount that came in, the pillar might have vaporized some of them even. This is the first time machines have gotten this far into a city before pillars come back online.” A man’s voice answered. There were footsteps all around the alleyways and areas. “She might have crawled into a house and died inside there for all we know, we’re still searching. But there isn’t a possibility that she’ll survive the pillar. Even Feathers can’t stand against the power of the goddess.”

“Unless I see the body, I will assume she’s well alive, and scheming.” Kidra said. “Find me her body and do not stop searching until you do.”

“There’s little point to that, miss Winterscar. We got here too late, looters were already stripping the power cells.”

“And?”

“The Feather’s body is going to be impossible to find. Look, if looters were fighting each other over simple power cells, all the big wins must have already been scavenged. A Feather’s body is going to be an exotic thing no one would miss. Goddess, I wouldn't even be able to rely on my own men not to turn rogue and try to profit themselves.”

“The value of her corpse is not important to me, captain. It’s the threat she can pose. I want evidence that she’s no longer a threat. Your men or the looters can have all the wealth you want.”

“I get what you’re scared of, but she’s dead. The battle’s over. Her body’s command’s problem to deal with now, they’ll find word or an auction for it soon enough and you’ll get your evidence then.”

Kidra’s voice took a lower pitch, too low for To’Wrathh to hear. Another pause. Quick footsteps, like someone stumbling backwards. Pushed backwards even.

“With respect, miss Winterscar, I’ll have to refuse that request. You don’t have the authority to set commands to me and my men. You’re only a guest from the surface.” The man said.

“Fine.” Kidra growled. “I will return with a signed order from your commander, if that’s what it takes to order common sense. You’ve seen the footage of my duel with her?”

“... I think everyone in the army already has, and many of the citizens too. It’s been leaked a few dozen times now. While I respect your combat abilities, that doesn’t change the chain of commands. We’re not like surface sava- surface dwellers. Martial might does not mean obedience here.”

“If you think the clans only care about martial might, then you’ve sorely mistaken my culture. But that’s besides the point. You’ve seen the footage. You know the kind of danger this machine can cause. You need to find her body and make absolutely sure she isn’t a threat. I need to see it in person. There's something that Feather has that I want to recover. Everything else, I don't care for.”

“Again, Feathers are on a level for the Deathless to handle, but there hasn’t ever been a record of one surviving the barrier pillars. This one’s no different. Panic isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

Footsteps walking away. “I’m not panicking. But you should be. If you happen to be wrong on your guess, it will be the city that suffers your lack of judgment.” A roar of jet engines, and then nothing but silence and the ever present footsteps around her. The girl must have gone.

“What a paranoid bitch.” The man muttered. “Just as twitchy as everyone said they’d be.”

Another set of footsteps approached. Another voice, right by the crate she hid inside. “Might be a savage, but goddess grant us she's on our side at least. You think she might be right though, captain? That the Feather’s still crawling around somewhere? Gold gildings protect us, that sends a shiver down my spine thinking ‘bout it.”

“No, the battle’s over like I said. We won. Pillar’s wiped out any machine inside the city, done as done. If Feathers could survive through the pillars, they’d have done so before already. Think about it. The feather’s dead as shit, and I’m not stupid enough to fuck with the black market. Let them have the body in peace. We lived through the war, I’m not going to get shanked in a back alley because I followed the straight and narrow now of all times and annoyed the smugglers. Are you?”

There wasn't an answer.

"Didn't think so. Make it look like we did a search and pack it up."

Hours passed inside that crate. But To’Wrathh was a machine, and patience was easy.

She heard fireworks at some point. The city was celebrating, noise and clamor all around. Like the beating heart of the city, coming down from adrenaline. Realizing they were safe again for another week.

For the most part, once the power cells had been looted from the runners, the rest of the alleys nearby had been closed to traffic while workers were scheduled to clean and break apart the machine shells for parts. Those workers hadn’t yet arrived, too busy getting drunk and reveling in the city heart.

Night began to fall, according to her internal clock. Mites had setup the artificial sunlight to dim, waxing and waning at periodic intervals. Truly the chaotic misbegotten programs had an affinity for humanity. They helped in just subtle enough ways that Relinquished hadn’t seen fit to wage war on them for. That these massive structures were well adapted to host a human city was one such proof.

To’Wrathh remained in hiding, despite the silence. She contemplated if she should simply give up on this shell, and attempt again. To’Aacar would see it as weakness, but her odds of victory alone here were slim.

Slim, but not impossible on further consideration.

The pillar would likely be heavily guarded against saboteurs or rogue fringe elements that want to watch the world burn. Could that guard stand against a Feather for long? She only needed to break a few parts of the fragile structure, make sure it cannot be fixed and then have her army grind away the defenses.

Under the cover of darkness, only then did she dare lift the top of the box and slowly leave her hiding spot. The city around her was anything but quiet. Noise and celebrations were happening everywhere around, while this street seemed outright empty.

Even in the darkness, there were lights and colors everywhere in the city. The base parts of the structures seemed to be mite made. More of that strange false city, except repurposed by the humans to become an actual city. But it was hard to spot the mite creations with the human ones. The city had grown around the initial template. Occasionally she’d see walls made of mite metal, but more often it was composite wood and cement that outlined the streets. New additions the Undersiders had grafted.

To’Wrathh hand shot out to one of the walls, and with barely a push, she began to scale the sides, leaping from place to place, making light use of her wings to angle herself. She had to keep hidden. To keep the lights on her body dim, even her eyes.

Past the first story is where the mite creations truly began to disappear entirely. The wood composite took over from there, light enough to be stacked on one another, but durable enough to hold the weight. Further up, she saw far more of the city.

Rooftops were a dizzying array of colors, even in the dim twilight of light. She realized why almost immediately - none of the roofs were made with durable material, instead it was all linen tent-like cloth, usually draped in artfully setup triangular shapes. They fluttered slightly in the calm wind. Making the landscape before her look more like a tapestry of a strange multi-colored ocean. It seemed almost still, except bits of loose ‘roofing’ were moving slightly, while the more rigid and well anchored cloth roofs refused to move against the wind.

“What sort of city is this?” She whispered, knocking lightly on the door holding the demon caged. He appeared floating besides her, half materialized.

“A typical undersider city.” Tenisent answered with a lazy droll. “Depending on the architecture of the mites, some cities will look different, but they all share some common features.”

“The tent roofing? Why cloth?”

“Why wouldn’t they use a cheap material like cloth? It doesn’t rain here. The weather remains constant and tepid. No elemental issues like the freeze to deal with. They have little need to protect their belongings besides for privacy. And they don’t wage war inside the cities, that is taboo among their culture. The main reason I've been told, is expansion. They can’t build houses outside the walls, so they build upwards or downwards. Cloth roofing is easy to take apart so that another level can be constructed.”

She looked up and saw he was mostly right. The city looked more like a hundred small square spires going up or mixing with one another at different levels. Further up, she saw floating slabs, filled with makeshift zip lines from one another, and the occasional rope ladder leading down. “What are those used for?” She asked.

Tenisent shrugged. “I never found out. The times I’ve visited the insides of a city were few and in between. Always business, and never for long. Surface dwellers are not well seen.”

Further searching, she found the ultimate target: The pillar that protected the city. It was much further on, at the center of a massive lake. It seemed like the whole city was a crescent shaped moon around a circular lake, with a long and narrow bridge leading to the center of that lake, where the mite pillar stood tall. All around the edge of the crescent shoreline, there were docks of all kinds, with boats moored. Her eyes zoomed through the distance, and she saw racks on racks of fishing gear, nets, and other fishmonger tools. Drying racks, ropes, buoys, it felt like she was looking at something come alive from the historical textbooks she’d read. Humanity hadn’t changed at all since.

This was also where everyone had gathered. Boats were out on the lake, launching fireworks. People were on the docks, singing, dancing and screaming. In another life, this would be where Tamery would have been, hawking goods and finding ways to generate profit. Vendors were clearly taking advantage of the crowds to peddle their wares at every shack and cart lined up by the waterside.

She’d never make it anywhere near the dock district, not without a disguise. So she turned her attention to looking around for exactly that.

Small bridges connected the vertical houses, leaving the streets open to walk, but giving the city a second or even third layout, made of elevated walkways. Some of those walkways were sturdy constructions, others were made with rope and loose boards, clearly a temporary measure that ended up being more permanent than expected. Colorful ribbons stretched out from neighbor to neighbor, with lantern lights of many designs and drawings. They all seemed hand crafted, some expertly made and others clearly constructed by a child. Compared to the stolen memories of the clan colony, this place was massively open and far more filled with color and light. Among the sights, she found what she’d been looking for.

A residential sector, noticeable since quite a few of the rooftop canvases held a secret treasure just under it: Clothing lines filled with drying items. It seemed every building had a communal spot of some kind, given the amount of clothing she found among the lines.

Stealthily, she jumped and glided through the air, always keeping a sharp eye for possible danger. Soon enough she’d scrambled up onto the top, and slipped through the rooftop sheets.

The clothing here was scraggly, and clearly of inferior make. But it would do for now. And more importantly, she wouldn’t get much more time. The celebrations would end, and the people would return.

She snatched a few bits that would cover herself up. Using Tamery and the other Chosen as a template, she knew what piece of clothing would go where. A dress and a cloak were all she’d need for now. Something with a hood.

It took her some time to find the cloak, but the dress was easy enough to find. Faded blue, but still not completely touching the ground. Her feet would be exposed - specifically the lack of them. She’d only had metal tips, a homage to her previous form.

It was outdated. So To’Wrathh forced the nano-swarms within her to graft a lookalike for the moment. Tan pseudo skin, toes and digits all. The color mismatched her nearly bleach white skin tone, so she was forced to modify the coloring for her entire body, all parts that would be possibly seen. Hands, cheeks, nose, mouth. All of it had to be updated into a more natural human hue.

The result left her with little power remaining. Enough to continue walking for a few days, but not enough to fight with for more than an hour. She’d need to find a power cell. Her swords would remain hidden in the new dress.

“You look passing for a human.” Tenisent said to her side, floating by. “You’ll need to learn how to mingle as a human among the undersiders.”

“And you are willing to help? For no return?”

The ghost hummed. “It is amusing. There isn’t much else for me to do.”

Something in his tone made To’Wrathh’s hackles stand on edge. The ghost wasn’t telling her something, but for now he was the only source of information on human behavior. She would make do with this.

To’Wrathh slipped through the rooftop folds, and took a step off the ledge, falling straight down. The cloak became an instant annoyance, blinding her as it rippled around against the wind. But in moments, it came to a stop when her new feet hit the ground with a soft landing.

“You’re going to need to walk instead of jump around like that.” Tenisent said. "We don't fall down a four story drop and float to a stop.”

She hummed an acknowledgement. For now her wings would remain tucked away inside her dress, and she would walk the ground instead of fly through the air. She would act the part of a human, until she had a new plan of action to deal with the pillar. What was the worst that could happen? She'd seen plenty of excellent examples of human behavior.

Hood covering her white hair, the new cloak and dress keeping the rest of her inhuman features secret, she took a few hesitant steps out into the street proper. And then instantly stopped realizing she'd made a critical mistake. She needed some sandals.

Humans didn't walk around barefoot... did they?

Next chapter - The friends we made along the way (T)

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