Dragon Horse

The glaciers close in on Nikolaos as he wades through the snow after two sets of footprints trailing towards the cloud-cloaked horizon.

He skids to stop under the shadow of General Chiyou's statue. The concrete rifle rests beneath the ice. Broken off where the bayonet should be.

The respirator warms the air running into Nikolaos' windpipe, but he still shivers at the two silhouettes crouching in the middle of the field.

He seizes the man's shoulder.

Baba, can you hear me?

Baba stares straight ahead, straight through his son. His frosted lashes frame his son's paling face.

Nikolaos holds the woman's calloused, cracked hands.

Ammi?

Ammi holds a broken xyston, the code name on the shaft split.

"Nikos."

A figure limps towards them, more skeleton than human.

"You're too late." Cadmus points to the pitch-black serpent in the sky. It shrouds the north star. Nikolaos staggers back, shaking his head.

You're not dead, you're Missing in Action.

Nikolaos looks down at his own hands. Blackened from frostbite. The splatters of scarlet on his palms crystallize into ice that peels away his flesh. The flakes of skin become the lids of eyes with ruptured irises.

This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real, I’m bringing you back home. I swear, I swear, I swear–

Cadmus flashes a skeletal smile at him. "The Arctolean sent me to the battlefield, the Sub-Equatets captured me, but you watched me get on that train."

Nikolaos sits up in his seat, gasping for air. Even if Cadmus's voice is all he has left of him, even though he can’t feel his fingers on his wrist, he still wrenches him from his sleep.

He fumbles for his canteen, taking small sips from it. As he does, his vision clears and lightens.

A Mensa soldier and a Cetus soldier stand over him.

He chokes on the water. The Cetus soldier takes off her helmet. It's Aroon. It's Aroon laughing at his startled coughs.

"Thank the sky you woke up on your own."

The Mensa soldier takes off his helmet, sitting beside Nikolaos and rubbing his back.

"Breathe," Xolani drones, "breathe, breathe."

I'm trying! Nikolaos hacks up the last of the water and collapses into his seat, clutching at his chest.

"And in the nick of time, too," Aroon cracks. "This is our stop." She points to the open automatic doors.

The corridors of the Northeastern-to-Southeastern Turbojet Train Station reek of the coppery smell of blood and sweat. Broken crates, broken bodies, dismembered food packages, and Kerberos-mangled limbs cover the floor. All the lights in the ceilings have been shot out. The signs of a Mensa raid, of a storm with a merciless mind.

"Search for survivors," Aroon orders, a near inaudible, but not inaudible tremor in her words. Xolani reaches for her good arm.

"Aroon —"

"Not Aroon." Her sclera cut into him. "It's Naresuan. Call signs. Not names, not codenames. Call. Signs."

"Naresuan, I, I don't think there are any —"

"I’ll go forward. Wien goes east. kaSompisi goes west. We’ll reconvene here. Ready your weapons, and don’t get caught."

Naresuan (Aroon), kaSompisi (Xolani), and Wien (Nikolaos) head off in the three different directions. Naresuan readies her Mai Sok San. kaSompisi takes a grenade off his belt. Wien draws his bayonet.

Sklodowska marches towards the entrance, loading a cartridge into each of her pistols and turning off their safety.

Tanvir clips her as he emerges from the entrance, his Pachycrocuta at his side, muzzle red.

They both fang each other off.

"Deserter," Sklodowska spits.

Tanvir sneers at her. "Setback."

Sklodowska shuffles through the corridor, holding her pistols at eye level, creeping close to the wall, and peeking around the corner. The toe of her boot bumps against an arctol corpse. Her shoulders stiffen when she steps in the pool of blood around its head.

Around Noora's head.

Her breath shallows and she kicks the corpse until it's not Noora anymore.

She aims her pistols at the intruder across from her. She holsters them when she recognizes the Cetus armor, saluting the other Sub-Equatet.

"Salis et Sanguis."

The Cetus soldier lowers her clubs. "Salis et Sanguis."

"Those arctols put up a real fight, huh?" Sklodowska tilts her head, taking in the bandages around the Cetus soldier's upper arm.

"Yeah, they messed me up." The Cetus soldier rolls her shoulder. "You from Fornax?

"You got me there." Sklodowska walks over and holds her hand out. "Cetus?"

"You got it." The Cetus soldier shakes her hand with a strength that could crush her knuckles. "Call sign's Naresuan."

"Call sign's Sklodowska."

Two other soldiers run out of the station and flank Naresuan. One Mensa. The other also Fornax. Naresuan nods to them.

"Wien, kaSompisi, this is Sklodowska."

"Salis et Sanguis." kaSompisi salutes her.

Sklodowska salutes him and Wien. Wien returns it, but he doesn't speak, staring at her scaly lips. Sklodowska scowls and recoils. "What's your problem?"

Naresuan elbows him. "An arctol Chimaera tore out his throat as a child."

"Why in the sea's name is he gawking at my mouth like that?" Sklodowska rests the heels of her palms on her holsters.

kaSompisi catches Wien's wrist before he can draw his bayonet. "His eardrum exploded after an explosion went off during a drill. He’s reading your lips."

"Shoot, Wien. I'm sorry." Sklodowska takes her hands off her pistols and takes off her helmet. "At least I’m not the only setback who managed to survive the Red Tide."

Wien's brow furrows, then his eyes brighten a bit when she shows him the scales on her open palms. When Wien nods to her, kaSompisi lets go of his wrist at last.

"Who's Wien, anyway?" Sklodowska asks Naresuan, who just shrugs.

"Beats me."

"Must not be that important, then."

Not that important? Wien's eyes narrow and kaSompisi grabs his wrist again. You're lucky you're the fighter and not me, hothead!

As Wien climbs the stairs of the station into the open, the boiling light sears his pupils. The heat of the asphalt bleeds through the soles of his shoes. Smoke and rust stains the sky, and soot sticks to his sweaty skin. He knows that the south’s exposure to radiation has led to an increase in drought and desertification, but not to this degree.

There are no streets, just dirt roads littered with gravel, rubble, and shrapnel. The only semblance of civilization is the cluster of prismatic structures in the distance. He never thought an Arctolean like himself would shiver, but he’s never shivered as much as he has under this scorching sun.

Sklodowska stomps on a triangular pressure plate. A red laser line slithers over the ground, unlocking a waterway to the compound. A heavily armored, rectangular shuttle with black-tinted windows glides towards them, the hatch on its side sliding open. They all have to duck to fit through the entry hatch. The bottom of the compartment consists of metal grating. Each of them squats and holds onto one of the tarnished grab rails on the low ceiling.

Here, the wind smells of salt and the waves crash against the cliffside. An ashy fog condenses outside, signalling the arrival of an acid rainstorm. Bright flares of fire and fierce splashes of color marr the walls, mutated but beautiful and alive. An inversion of the dead, monochromatic white, black, and blue, and gray metals, ice, and concrete of the north. Huge, pixelated screens shine down on the shuttle as it scrapes to a stop. A name flickers across them.

ELISUS

Shattered, but not gone, Sklodowska thinks to herself, despite the arctols’ best efforts to shell it into oblivion.

They scramble out of the shuttle. It speeds off and the waterway seals itself shut behind them.

They trek through a forest of obelisks. The first one depicts a serpent swallowing the star of Polaris, with a message in Latin underneath.

Et serpens superficies nobiscum.

The serpent surfaces with us.

Naresuan's grip tightens on her Mai Sok San. And then, she's not Naresuan anymore. Aroon whispers before her training does.

"Drown my parents, I'll sink you next."

Xolani (kaSompisi) smacks her good arm. Aroon (Naresuan) shuts her mouth, but not quickly enough.

Sklodowska casts a glance at her. "You got a problem, Naresuan?"

Nikolaos (Wien) wraps his fingers around the hilt of the bayonet.

My grandfather's bayonet.

"Even though Wien and I are both setbacks, I’ll have you know my eardrums aren’t ruptured." Sklodowska shifts into a defensive stance. "Speak freely. This isn’t the north."

Naresuan holds her head high, arms straight at her sides. "I said the enemy might’ve drowned my parents, but I’ll sink them next."

Sklodowska angles her steel-toed boots towards Naresuan.

kaSompisi's pointer finger and thumb clamp down on the closest pin.

Wien slides the bayonet out slightly.

Then, Sklodowska squeezes Naresuan's good arm.

"I get it," she says softly. "The enemy drowned my parents, too."

The blood comes back to Naresuan's knuckles.