The Aeronaut’s Dream: pt. 9

 

When Alix woke to the dreamworld, her head spun and her stomach lurched. She’d made the mistake of looking down.

She was standing on a platform made of crumbling stone that hung over a vast, cloud-filled sky. A tiny propeller- ridiculously tiny, compared to the platform- sprouted from the center. It whined like a mosquito as it spun.

A rickety-looking wooden bridge clung to the edge of the platform. It connected to another- just like it, if not for the four bridges, one hanging off each side. Each connected to another block, with more bridges, stretching out as far as Alix could see. It was like a maze, but the walls weren’t stone or wood- the ‘walls’ were the edge of the platforms. If you stepped off, you’d fall forever.

No wonder Vashe couldn’t hack it. If she was afraid of heights, she’d be screaming too.

She squinted into the distance. Something glinted- was it lio?

No. No, it wasn’t. Alix bit into her fingers to keep from crying out.

At the centre of the maze was the Committee of Progress Building-four stories of gleaming steel that coiled around the old Palace like a parasitic vine. The Palace’s onion dome stuck out of the top, surrounded by bright mirrored triangles. Alix’s heart hammered against her chest like an animal trying to escape from its cage.

The Progress Building gave her waking nightmares. Its winding basements, glass cages, sterile torture chambers- they were branded on her brain. What was it doing here in someone else’s nightmare?

I don’t have to go inside, she told herself. She wasn’t here to explore the bastard’s mind; there was nothing here she wanted to see. She was here to grab lio and run. Maybe there’d be some in the maze and she wouldn’t have to get close to the building.

Alix felt a soft squeeze on her shoulder. She glanced behind her- but there was no one there. Someone had touched her in the waking world. Was it Vashe or Nvara, trying to calm her? Or was it something worse?

It had been a gentle touch. She took a deep breath and composed herself.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. She didn’t realize she was shaking until the words had left her mouth.

Alix started to walk.

She felt disconnected from herself- like she was piloting a machine, looking at a screen instead of seeing through her eyes. It was probably because she was in a dream. Everything was floaty and disconnected in dreams, wasn’t it?

She was standing on the bridge. It creaked and wobbled beneath her. She stuck her arms out to balance. Step, step, step. Forward, and forward, and forward, until she was on solid ground again. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

She picked her way across the swaying bridges. An aeroplane drifted by lazily beneath her. Its motor cracked and buzzed, the sound tearing through the silence. It passed through the clouds, and disappeared.

Arcs of light rose in the sky above her. They looked like the northern lights, but darker— like oil paint carelessly smeared across the sky. Even through the sepia-tinted goggles, it shone bright, gold and violet and crimson.

It started to rain.

The rain was deep blood red, and when it hit Alix’s hands, it stained them.

Creeeeeeeak. The bridge twisted beneath her. Alix reached out to steady herself – and the rope snapped.

Her foot slipped as the bridge tumbled down, hanging like a corpse. It swung crazily back and forth. Alix clung to one of the planks.

Vexfucking shit-

She scrambled up, reaching up to the next plank as if it were a ladder. The other rope groaned under her weight. Her knuckles burned as she pulled herself up.

Alix staggered to her feet. The platform sank under her weight. She looked back at the broken bridge, dangling uselessly from the edge of the platform, into the void below.

She’d made it across.

She caught her breath, and sat down. The propeller whirred inches away from her shoulder. She ignored it, and scanned the horizon.

There wasn’t a speck of lio, far as the eye could see.

Alix cursed under her breath. Svelen had told her that lio came from inside people, deep in their cores, and flowed outwards. That meant that the center of the maze was his core and she’d find it there. She’d find it in the Progress Building.

Why of all the thrice-vexed places did it have to be there?

Alix gritted her teeth and stood back up. If she had to go in, she’d find the lio and get out as quickly as she could.

The red rain pattered down on her hands and shoulders. She shielded her eyes with her stained hands as she crossed from bridge to bridge, looking for even the slightest hint of lio.

There was none. The Progress Building towered over her. The mirrored glass triangles reflected her face back at her- stained red, distorted. Her reflection’s mouth opened wide, even though hers was closed- letting out a long, silent scream.

Alix flinched. She had to get out of here.

She grabbed the handle and pulled. Half in a daze, she opened the door, and stepped through.


Running With Rats updates biweekly every second and fourth Friday. 

If you liked this post, and want to support my writing, consider donating to my Patreon?   For the price of a cup of coffee, you can get bonus content, worldbuilding notes, and free books.

Thanks for reading!

Advertisements

The Aeronaut’s Dream: Part 8

<< previous arc | first | previous nexlast | newest arc  >>

In hindsight, Alix should have seen that things would go horribly wrong.

The first problem was Svelen’s job— cracking a safe on his own. He ducked out of the room through a big grey door. Alix felt twitchy and unsafe without him— he was her best friend, he trusted her, and he knew what he was doing. She didn’t.

There was no use worrying. She tucked her hair behind her ears and turned her attention to the rest of the room.

It was more deck than she’d expect from a Hero Of The Revolution. His whole house was vexing gaudy, sure, but she’d half-thought it would be plain inside, as bare as the houses she’d hidden in. But the bed against the left-hand wall was big enough to fit a whole family, if they liked each other enough. A curtain sagged over it in dusty beige velvet, and there was a duvet the same colour, but less dusty.

Taxasho was tangled in it like braided seaweed bread. For a second, she didn’t even recognize him, because he wasn’t wearing his aviator’s helmet. But that was his face- gaunt and angular, with pinched pale lips. It was strange to see someone she’d only seen in formal photographs asleep- with one foot sticking out of the blankets and a face squashed against a pillow. He clung to the blankets and muttered something she couldn’t understand.

Vashe knelt at the side of the bed, and Nvara crouched next to him. She stuck the electrodes to his temples; a strange hospital smell filled the room. Alix crossed her fingers and cracked the door open.

She stared down the hall. Time slowed. Every breath sounded too loud in her ears. The dark hallway was full of shadows. The shadow of a tree’s branches wagged from a window.

Something jumped at the edge of her vision. She flinched towards it, ready to hit. Then she realized it was her own shadow, and breathed out, slow and shaky.

Gods and vexing monsters. She needed to be more careful; someone could have seen her. She tucked herself behind the doorframe as much as she could while looking out.

For a long, long, long moment- thirty, fourty heartbeats- nothing happened. She heard Nvara breathing, and Vashe’s faint movements as he turned his head or raised his hand.

Then Vashe whimpered.

Alix looked back over her shoulder. Nvara shook her head, and stabbed her hand towards the door. Then Vashe cried out.

Nvara shoved her hand over his mouth and clamped down hard. Alix’s gaze flicked from the bed to the door, but nothing moved, and Taxasho didn’t stir. No one had heard them— yet.

Vashe’s arm curled in on itself. it twitched and spasmed like a dying animal. His face was queasy-grey, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Vashe-” Nvara said. “Vashe, talk to me.”

His eyes bugged, and he gagged against Nvara’s hand.

She ripped the electrodes off his head. For a long moment, he gaped like a dying fish. Alix bit her lip, and glanced back at the door- but the only thing outside was the tree’s shadow.

Nvara’s arms wrapped around Vashe. He slid the gloves off, slow and shaky.

“You living?” she muttered.

He nodded. His mouth still hung slack; he swallowed, hard, and and closed it.

“…..Can’t do it,” he finally said.

“What?” Alix’s hands clenched into fists.

“It’s- his head’s…” Vashe rubbed his temple. “It’s all up in the air. No ground. I panicked. Fell down. We gotta go.”

Nvara clenched her teeth.

“Fuck,” she said. “I’ll go–”

“Can’t-” Vashe retched, but nothing came out. He balanced himself on Nvara’s shoulders. “Can’t spot you. You’d be on your own.”

“Wire me,” Alix said.

“What?” Nvara blinked.

“I ain’t scared of heights,” she said. “Vashe can keep an eye on the door. You can spot.”

“You’ve never-” Nvara began.

“You want the vexing lio?”

Alix’s voice came out louder than she’d planned. She looked over her shoulder, and then back at the bed.

Taxasho stirred. For one horrible second, Alix thought she’d woken him. But he rolled over, eyes still closed. His arm dangled off the bed.

Her thumbnail bit into her knuckle.

“…Fine. C’mere,” Nvara said.

Vashe let go of her. He cradled his arm, like he’d broken it- but as far as Alix could tell, it was fine. He dragged himself over to the door and sat beside it.

Nvara stuck the electrodes to Alix’s temples, so quickly that she must have done it a hundred times. Alix pulled the gloves on and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, it was to Taxasho’s nightmare.


Running With Rats updates biweekly on the second and fourth Friday of every month. 

If you liked this post, and want to support my writing, consider donating to my Patreon?   For the price of a cup of coffee, you can get bonus content, worldbuilding notes, and free books.

Thanks for reading! 

Patreon Announcement: Side Story

I have some special content up for my Patreon patrons today!

Specifically, the first part of a Running with Rats side story called Not As It Seems. It’s about a young vravesva boy, his brother, and the family secrets that threaten to tear them apart.

If you become a patron, for less than the cost of a cup of coffee, you can read it– and get other neat perks, like worldbuilding advice, naming a character, and much more!

The Master’s Dream: pt 3

<< previous arc | first | previous next | last | newest arc  >>

“What in the vexing fuck.”

Vashe folded his arms.

“You stuck them in your belt again, didn’t you.”

“Yeah. I’m- I’m sorry, Vashe, I-” Svelen covered his face with his hand.

“Where’s the last place you had it?” Nvara said.

“Far as I know?” Svelen said, from behind his hand. “The target.”

“Meaning my- my master’s house,” Alix said.

Svelen nodded.

“Could have lost it on the way,” he added. It was a thin skin of hope over the teeth of blind panic. His fingers knotted together behind his back.

“If we did, it’s gone. Someone else would have found it by now. Taken it back to the Cathedral.” Nvara’s nostrils flared.

“It’s all right.” Vashe put a hand on Svelen’s shoulder. “We still have one glove. It’s not the end of the world.”

“It’s close,” Svelen said. He breathed out shakily.

“…You don’t need both of them?” Alix asked.

She’d gone with her master to the temple a few times and watched the priests weave lio- what common folk called dreamstuff. They used goggles to see into dreams and gloves to carry lio out of them, and their set looked just like the set the rat runners had. At the temple, they said you need two gloves, and even then, you could only get so much lio from any one person’s dream. It was hard to find, they said, and risky to go into dreams. How they did it was a most holy secret; all Alix knew was that it had something to do with the goggles and gloves.

“No,” Vashe said. “We tested that. You can only get one hand’s worth, but-”

“It’s not gonna be nearly enough,” Svelen said. He swallowed, hard. “For any of the things we were wanting to do.”

“Well,” Alix said. “We’d better go find it.”

“Wait, wait wait wait. What do you mean, ‘we’?” Nvara said.

“…Me and Svelen? Who else did you think?” Alix’s lips twisted to one side.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Nvara laughed, harsh and barking. “There’s no ‘we’ here. There’s us and there’s you. And we can’t trust you.”

“I do,” Svelen said. He took a step away from her, back towards Alix.

“Yeah, but you trust everyone,” Nvara said.

“Shut it!” Vashe pinched the bridge of his nose.

Everyone got quiet. Vashe sighed.

“Stop vexin’ dithering. It’s gonna be light soon. Not gonna be much any of us can do once everyone wakes up.”

“That’s not true.”

Alix brushed her bangs to one side.

“M- The man who lives there, he has really strict habits. He keeps everyone on a timetable. And I worked there. I know the timetable.”

She looked from Vashe to Nvara. Nvara folded her arms; Vashe’s fingers curled in Svelen’s hair. Svelen breathed out, shakily.

“It’s true,” he said. “We could maybe go in there without anyone seeing us. He goes to the Cathedral every morning at exactly nine and stays there for three hours.”

“If we hurry, we can get back in through the slaves’ door and look around,” Alix cut in. “If someone catches me, I can lie.”

“What about me?” Svelen asked.

“Any way we could forge a note? You could be there picking up something for ‘your master’,” Alix said.

“I mean, we could try, but someone might recognise me.”

“If we cover up your freckles? You’d be surprised,” she said. “Keep your mouth shut, put a hood on, no one will notice.”

“…It could work,” Svelen said.

“Yeah.” She grinned.

“Wait. Hold it.” Vashe frowned. “Before you two go swimmin’ off into the triple-vexed unknown.”

“What?” Alix asked.

“Have either of you eaten? I know you ain’t.”

Vashe nudged Svelen’s shoulder. Svelen groaned, and reached up to ruffle Vashe’s hair.

“I have too eaten. I had an entire apple before we left.”

“Ay, me. You’re gonna turn into a feather at this rate. Nvara- where’s the pot? We’re getting you fed,” Vashe said. “And slept if you can manage, but-”

His brows lowered.

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to,” Svelen said. “Not until we find that glove.”

 

The Aeronaut’s Dream: pt. 7

“Would you like to dance?” the man asked.

Alix took a step back. She pressed into the buffet table.

Fuck.  She hadn’t planned for this. She’d thought no one would want to dance with her- she was on the ugly side, and even in her ridiculous getup and with the veil over her face, it showed.

The plan was to stay inconspicuous; if she made a scene, she’d get them all caught. She had to keep things quiet if she could keep them at all.

She stared at him without saying a word, hoping he’d get the hint.  Maybe he’d think she didn’t speak Isseranic and leave her be.

“I said, did you want to dance?” He spoke louder and slower, and held out a piece of paper crossed with signatures. “My garden still has space for such a lovely flower.”

Ugh. If it had just been up to her, she would have told him where he could shove his dance card. But drawing attention to herself would only draw attention to the rest of her friends.

“Alekka!”

Nvara swept towards Alix and grabbed her forearm, fingers digging deep into her skin. She gabbled at her in a language Alix didn’t speak, and then turned to the man.

“I am most sorry, your grace,” Nvara said. “My friend, she does not speak Isseranic. Now if you’ll excuse us, the Ambassador–”

She tugged at Alix’s arm. Alix gratefully let Nvara drag her away.

“The fuck were you doing?” Nvara muttered.

“Got cornered,” Alix said. “Where’re –”

“Vashe gave the signal. You were too busy stuffing your vexin’ face to see it.”

Alix scowled, but said nothing.

The ballroom had a set of doors at the other end. They weren’t as big as anything else in the room- especially not the outside door- but they were made of dark wood lined with stained glass panels. Each one probably cost more than Miss Kalarak saw in a chain.

Nvara glanced from side to side. No one was looking their way- the partygoers were dancing with each other, talking, or wrapped in the music. The beat rattled Alix’s bones.

She cracked the door open. It moved whisper-silent. Together, Nvara and Alix slipped through. It closed behind them with a soft click.

The hallway was almost as deck as the ballroom, but strangely shabby. The carpet was plush but threadbare, with rough matting poking out in places. The wallpaper was covered in tangling vines, but they were faded- withered like dead ivy on a fence.

“Upstairs?” she muttered.

“Unless you want us gettin’ caught?”

Alix rolled her eyes and started up. She kept to the side of the staircase- it was the best way to keep away from a squeaky floorboard.

The hallway at the top of the stairs was so narrow you couldn’t spit down it without hitting the walls. There was one door just to the side of the stairs. Nvara jerked her head towards it.

“In here. Quick.”

Alix followed.

Inside were two squat, white, boxy machines, with a motor attached to one’s side. Alix didn’t recognize their purpose. Vashe sat on top of one, studying his notebook; Svelen leaned against it, looking up at Vashe. He flinched when he saw the door open, but relaxed when he saw the girls enter.

“You made it!”

“Ay. And you scared the fuck out of me,” Vashe muttered. “Anyone see you?”

“Don’t think so,” Alix said.

“Good.” Vashe grunted. “Aight, we got here in one piece. So far, so far.”

He half-smiled, showing his sharp fangs.

“Now let’s see if we can get the goods.”

9/14 Hiatus

Hello, everyone. I have an unfortunate announcement to make.

Due to some mental health issues, I’m not going to be able to consistently post for the next few months. As such, Running with Rats is going on another hiatus.

We’ll be back online November 1. I’ll try to post some things on Patreon in the interim.

Thank you for your understanding. You guys are the best fans I could ask for.

 

The Aeronaut’s Dream: pt. 6

Alix could hear the music from three streets away.
Trumpets blared, drums rattled, and piano keys jingled. A manzello wailed, high as a siren’s song.
Even through brick and steel, she could almost make out the tune. She didn’t know much about music, but even she could hum along- it was on the radio at least two or three times a day.
“Right. This is your last chance,” Vashe said. “You wanna back out, do it now.”
Alix bit her lip. No one said a word.
“Nvara, you ready?” Vashe asked.
“Born that way.”
Nvara stood up straighter and pushed her hair back behind her ears. In seconds, she looked like a completely different person. Maybe it was her expression, maybe it was her posture. But if Alix had to guess without knowing who she was, she’d say Nvara was the boss. The Vleylaander clothes fit her, hanging off her shoulders in crisp folds.
“Ayah,” she said. She sounded like a Vleylaander too, accent and all.
The four of them started for the door.
A guard leaned against the wall next to the door. He was barely older than Alix, with a pimply face; he wore the dull khaki Vravesva uniform, with no helmet or gas mask.
Well, they’d figured there’d be one. But it still made Alix nervous. She wanted to shove her hands in her pockets, but her robe covered them. She clenched a hand into a fist and rubbed her knuckles against her thumb.
As Nvara walked up to the door, he held up his hand.
“Do you have an invitation?” he said.
“My good man,” Nvara said. “We’re attachés. Ambassador Hooglandt has our invitations.”
Her voice still had the accent- the weird, lilting Vleylaander cadence, with sharp Rs and long Us. Alix tried to keep a straight face.
The guard frowned. His mouth twitched to the side.
“I can’t let you in without an invitation, pal. It’s not like I can just grab the Ambassador.”
“Do you want to be the one who caused an incident?” Nvara asked. She raised an eyebrow. Her face reminded Alix of a stern schoolteacher.
“N. No.” The guard fidgeted with the keys on his belt.
Nvara stared him down for a long, long moment. Then she grinned. Alix thought she saw every one of Nvara’s teeth.
“I can guarantee you, if you don’t let us pass, there will be one.” Nvara paused. “Now, if you’ll let us in, I’ll let the Ambassador know you helped us. If you don’t…”
The guard hesitated.
“Well. I. I guess I can make an exception,” he said. “For once. If you leave, I can’t let you back in.”
“That’s fine,” Nvara said. “We’re not leaving any time soon.”
He cracked the door open. The sound of the manzello and a doubl-hundred people talking rushed towards Alix. Her fingers curled in her sleeve.
“Enjoy the party,” the guard said.
“Certainly.”
Nvara gathered up her robes and swept inside. The others followed.
Alix lagged in the rear. She glanced back at the guard- he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit up.
“That was easy enough,” Svelen murmured.
“Aye. Now comes the vexin’ hard part.” Vashe’s lips pressed tight together.
“Why does everyone care about the ambassador?” Alix said.
“Politics,” Nvara said. “There’s war talks on.”
“Hush up,” Vashe said.
The long hallway opened up to a ballroom bigger than a city street. Alix could see her reflection in the polished floors. The peach-gold walls shimmered. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, electric candles shedding light that shattered on the crystal arcs.
Men and women, all human, mingled on the dance floor. Most of them were from Isseran. The women wore dresses with sharp collars and asymmetrical hems, covered in spiky patterns; the men, by and large, wore suits, unbuttoned at the collar, with no ties, waistcoats, or hats. In the corner, a person who looked like neither a man nor a woman wore a short skirt and a blazer with the Quorum’s insignia pinned to the lapel; they were surrounded by admirers.
A handful of people, scattered among the crowd, wore golden Yunlin silksuits or garish Vleylaand robes (thank goodness, thought Alix; they wouldn’t stand out as badly).
“Spread out,” Vashe murmured. “When it’s time, I’ll signal you.”
He tapped his cheekbone twice and his temple once.
Alix nodded, and turned.
She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. They stung like she’d stared into a bright light for too long. It was part of her disguise- Nvara had made lenses she could wear and pass for human. But they made her eyes itch and burn.
The chandelier-light made it worse. It was too bright- electric light, yes, but white, not yellow. It made the floor and the trumpets of the brass band gleam white-bright and hurt her eyes if she caught a glimpse of it head-on.
So did the music- this close it was so vexing loud she couldn’t hear herself think. The music and the noise and the crowd of people… She didn’t know why, but all of it together it pissed her right the fuck off.
She squinted, took a deep breath, and tried to get a feel for the room.
The band was on a dias at one end of the room- all right, she’d just have to stay away from that side.
The polished dance floor stretched out in front of them, filled with small groups of people. In the centre, they danced, spinning and reeling, new dances like the pinprick and the verve. At the edges, they stood or sat in little groups, talking.
Alix caught snatches of their conversation as she walked. Half of it was gossip about people she’d never heard of; the other half was business conversations she knew were important, but couldn’t follow to save her life.
At the end of the room, though- Food!
There was a long table, with a punch bowl bigger than Alix’s head and trays tiered like a terrace. The trays were full to spilling over, covered in so much food that Alix couldn’t even tell what all of it was. There were tiny cakes, cubed pineapple, quartered moonfruit, sliced carrots and cucumbers, salmon and parsley on toothpicks with little feathers stuck to the ends, bite-sized creamhorns and lilyfingers and mintpies.
She grabbed a paper napkin and picked up as much as she could without drawing attention to herself.Why didn’t her robes have pockets? How was she supposed to hide food for later if she didn’t have them?
There wasn’t enough room on one napkin for much of anything, either, and it soaked through all too quick. The salmon leaked through the thin paper, turning it pink.
Fuck. She’d have to eat as much as she could here without drawing attention before Vashe gave her the signal. She glanced back up to make sure he hadn’t already.
As she looked around, someone tapped her on the shoulder from behind. She wheeled.
The person who stood behind her was a young man, about her age, with shaggy brown hair and eyes rimmed by dark circles. He wore glasses and a high-collared shirt under a double-breasted jacket.
She couldn’t see any caste symbols on him- not a lapel pin, not a badge, not a belt buckle, nothing. That meant one of two things- either he was a foreigner, or he was so important that no one needed to know who he was. She didn’t recognize him.
“Excuse me,” he said. He didn’t have an accent; there was something naggingly familiar about his voice, but Alix couldn’t quite place it.
“Would you like to dance?”

Running With Rats updates biweekly every second and fourth Friday. 

If you liked this post, and want to support my writing, consider donating to my Patreon?   For the price of a cup of coffee, you can get bonus content, worldbuilding notes, and free books.

Thanks for reading!