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Fourth Chapter

The Silver Birds

*

Still an hour later, the good people of Ruskebó knew as little regarding what just had commenced before their eyes. The local council had assembled near the improvised amphitheatre at the northern end of the festival area. The timber seats and the ground below were filled with thousands of Leporians, their ears anxiously pointing around. Many more were on the outside of the structure, trying to elbow themselves in. The air was filled with chattering and the ticking of incisor teeth - a chorus of worried rumours, theories and complaining.

Cinnabar's ties to his mother had given him access to a seat right under the scene, and Lyra stood next to him. She had just followed him in. Despite that his mother was distraught over the situation, she had awarded the Mársk girl with a look that could freeze fire to ice. 'So, Cindy, is this your - ehm - new friend?'

Ouch, awkward, he had thought.

The robed councillors took their places on-stage, Cynthia and Claudia at the centre. They stared over the crowds, beyond the forest of big-eared furry heads. Behind them, the silhouette of the Broken Rim was still visible.

Cynthia stood up, raising her hands. She gave out a shrill scream, which silenced the rumbling chorus. For a moment, she mastered everyone's attention. Cinnabar almost thought that she would start preaching, but instead she yielded the stage to his mother.

"Citizens! Compatriots! Leporians!" Claudia began her improvised speech. "We do not know what has happened... but know we are in control of the situation!"

An old buck stood up on his seat above, waving with his walking cane. "My brother! Is he alright? He cannot walk, an accident with a wheelbarrow... and he have hangover! Was sleeping in his burrow last time I saw him! Is he alright? Have you checked him?"

"Don't interrupt me!" Claudia responded. "For the record, this District has done what it is supposed to be doing during earthquake situations. No one here might leave the festival area until they have registered their names and addresses - councillor Dagny is taking up the temporary census. We have sent out the available Rim Corps to examine the colonies and burrows in the town and around it, to see if there is anyone injured and to count casualties. In three hours, we'll have a better image of what's happened. By that point, we'll send a runner to Glennenmór, with a request for supplies. Your council... is in charge."

A young spotty female with curly brown hair suddenly jumped up on the platform, salivating and shaking uncontrollably.

"This...This... THIS IS A SIGN! THE GODDESS IS DISPLEASED WITH US! SHE HAS TAKEN DOWN OUR WALL, UNDER THE BLINK OF A MOMENT! WE WILL ALL DIE! DIE! DIE... hmphhff!"

Walter Thál, a tall Rim Corps recruit who guarded the scene had wrestled the girl down.

"Take her to the hospital!" Cynthia ordered. "She doesn't feel well in the head!"

"Is it true!" a child cried out. "Will we die?"

"Is this an invasion?" Jack Weisse, Ruskebó´s vest-maker inquired, his arms crossed as he stood up.

Claudia and Cynthia looked at one another. Cynthia nodded to her relative, and Claudia took a step forward.

"This is not an invasion," she said. "For all what we know, this was just an earthquake, and comparably minor. The Rim must have been weak there, and it is not unheard of that parts of the Rim have endured landslides before - albeit this is the largest we've seen. Yet, this was nothing in comparison with the big one, thirty-three years ago, which barely left one building standing in all of the Flower Valley. For the moment, we have a barracks here in Ruskebó, with two hundred Rim Corps. The council has already agreed on sending a request to Glennenmór to double the garrison, we are sure it can be arranged within three days' time."

Cynthia took a step forward. "In the mean-time," she said, continuing Claudia's soothing explanation. "We will ask for two hundred young males here to volunteer in a home defence unit under the direct command of the council! You can rest assure that you will sleep well under our watch!"

Cinnabar nodded approvingly. He had never been as proud of his mother as during this moment. He had seen how she had calmed the people, and now he could see what a formidable leader she would make for the Republic. At that same point, Lyra took his hand in hers, discreetly. He turned his face around, looking at her. She formed her mouth silently into words. Will you join the volunteers?

After a moment of doubt, he nodded. She looked at him, her eyes glittering with anticipation.

Robin Wahl from the Tulip Party stood up and took the word. She was a squat female in the middle age, with large incisors and black fur.

"Are you sure, venerated councillors," she began, "that your actions right now are legal? Aren't they breaching the seventh article of the Seeding Day Constitution, 'that no one except the legally elected public assembly of the Republic may declare the formation of military forces, militias or armed gangs'?"

Cynthia smiled and looked towards Claudia, who immediately replied.

"I am very delighted," Claudia said, "that our dear friend from the Tulip Party has suddenly become very well-versed in Republican law. Not one day too soon!"

Laughter was heard from the chairs assembled below the stage. Most of the followers of the locally ruling Lily Party were seated there.

"I can assure Miss Robin Wahl, that - well yes, our measurements are extra-constitutional, but this is an extra-constitutional situation! A geographic feature of our land has been altered... but maybe the Tulip Party would prefer that the Canaean dogs make good use of this sudden change and proceed to invade Ruskebó and kill our children, would they?"

Robin clenched her fists, but lowered her ears and sat down, defeated. The Tulip Party may have held the reins of power in the capitol, but here in Ruskebó, the Lilies were firmly in control.

Claudia continued. "As for this declaration, this is all. You may all now register at..."

Blinding lights surged past above the amphitheatre. A collective gasp could be heard as heads turned up and eyes temporarily were blinded by lights being reflected on metal. The objects which moved around above them were too fast to be defined, but seemed to be roughly the size of ravens, but smooth and reflective of the sunlight, which still danced in showers - filtered through the veil of the Southern Arc. Arms pointed towards the show, and the crowds were too mesmerized to let their fear take over, instead allowing themselves to be hypnotized.

No one even asked any questions.

Lyra moved her hands around Cinnabar's arm, moving her mouth close to his ear. "Beautiful," she said. "Are fairies looking like that?"

"N-no," Cinnabar replied, "Fairies are smaller, and..."

"MAKE WAY! MAKE WAY!"

The councillors, standing on a line behind Cynthia and Claudia, were shattered as a rider rushed in from backstage, still mounted on his capercailzie. The curtain fell down behind as captain Rudder Knapp jumped off his saddle and ran towards Claudia. An expression of pure terror had fallen over his face, his eyes stood out, almost as if they were going to pop out.

"Claudia," he said, with a very cool voice. Cinnabar noted that a vein had broken on his lower lip, probably from a misaimed bite. He took the hands of Cinnabar's mother, and she moved them away angrily. Then she slapped him.

"Rudder Knapp! Have you no concern in your drunken head for..."

"Hush! Claudia! Cynthia! You must tell the audience... to leave!" he said, his nostrils panting. "Just leave! No crowds! Leave! This place's not safe!"

"We are in control!" Cynthia moved in between Claudia and the old captain, pushing him away. "Don't you come and boss us around, you horny old drunken-buck!"

Rudder stood up again, slowly, spitting out a little blood. Was Cinnabar the only one who noticed that his spear was gone? The captain turned towards the assembled Leporians. He stretched out his arms.

"People," he said, "we have been ambushed! You must leave! You must evacuate Ruskebó, to the south! We in the Rim Corps would form a defensive perimeter and try to..."

He looked up, and so did everyone else again. Most even stood up on their seats to get a better view - Cinnabar did it like that anyway.

Around ten feet above them, one of the strange objects had stopped, and it was now hovering soundlessly in the air, almost as if it was suspended from an invisible thread. It was the size of a hawk, but had two pair of wings which were immovable, standing out like an X from its rounded sides. Where the head would be, the body ended in a rounded aerodynamic tip - which felt somewhat disturbing. At the backside of the body, a long spear-like tail ended in a somewhat pointier tip. What was more remarkable about the object, was the nature of its surface. It was entirely smooth and mirror-like, or like the reflection at entirely still waters at dawn. What at the beginning had looked like patterns on its underside was shown to be a distorted reflection of the theatre stage and the crowds from above.

"A... a silver bird..," Lyra whispered, leaning over Cinnabar's shoulder. "Have you read of anything like that in your stories?"

"I... I don't know... Maybe..." He was thinking of Prince Elëthyr's Swan, with which he had crossed the Void between Zir and Ayrien, over ten thousand years ago. He held on to his book. Run, Cinnabar, run, he thought. But he was frozen - it was as if the power that the object held over the crowd also affected him. He could not move, for no one else was moving.

Four more silver birds had stopped above the amphitheatre, moving around in circles ten feet above the onlookers. A few people even cheered as they saw them, and Cinnabar understood them - they were, as Lyra had pointed out, quite beautiful and elegant.

The first one who broke the enchantment was captain Rudder Knapp. He called everyone's attention by stomping on the floor of the stage.

"My friends..," he said. "I beg you... leave... run away... I..."

The Silver Bird suspended in the air above the stage adjusted its position, and turned towards Rudder with its bulky end. Its surface changed colour, from a colourless but shining mirror reflecting the world, into an angry red mirror. A buzzing noise was heard.

Rudder jumped up the air, trying to flee.

As he did so, the entire upper half of his body exploded accompanied to a blowsy sound. The underside, the legs and hip, fell down on the floor, jiggering like a dying fish on land. A ring-shaped pattern of blood and gore had stained the area around the carcass of the old military hero - with the exception of a clean area to his left.

Cynthia Rusk had taken the impact, and her white robe was splattered with a non-figurative pattern of blood, tiny skeletal fragments, tissues and brain matter. She let out a scream of panic and rushed away from the stage. The next moment, the place she had stood on was shattered in splinters.

Panic ensued.

*

The Leporians ran towards all directions, many of them yelling ear-shattering screams of death anxiety. The packed benches were a death trap. Four-five, sometimes up to twelve people at a time, were splattered over their families, friends and neighbours. It rained drips of blood, skin tissue and pinkish brain matter over the seats. Some people were left maimed on the ground, their legs and arms dissolved into the very air, while the Silver Birds strafed above the scene, beyond the reach of their victims.

Cinnabar and Lyra tried to get to the exit, but seeing that the area there was crowded, he turned around, dragging the girl of his dreams with him. They jumped up and raced on all fours over the chaotic theatre stage. They ran past one of the councillors, Evelyn Wahl, as she stood and gripped on to her chair while stammering. He could hear a buzzing noise behind them - before his back was covered in something wet and mushy. Throwing a quick glance back, he found that the only thing remaining of Miss Evelyn was her hand, still gripping the back of the chair.

Well behind the curtain, Cinnabar and Lyra first ran out on the green fields where hundreds of Leporians were scattering around in all directions, many of them blown up by the strange shining creatures as they ran. The two youths turned around in panic, moving in a U-shaped turn towards the underside of the theatre stage.

As they entered, a pair of hands gripped Cinnabar on the flabby skin around his neck, dragging him in quickly. It was Cynthia, her entire face covered with the remnants Rudder Knapp. She had ripped off her bloodied robe, and was now naked and shivering.

"Cinnie! Cinnie! Cinnie!" she screamed.

"WHAT!?" he let out. He jumped back, surprised by the loudness of his voice. For the first time, he noted that his heart was thumping like it never had before. Cynthia slapped him over the face with her hands, crying. Cinnabar grabbed first her right, then her left hand. He was surprised by the thinness of her wrists - he could easily have cracked them.

"You are hysterical!" he exclaimed, trying to speak calmly.

"My son!" she cried. "My son is not here!"

Art...

She embraced Cinnabar and sagged down on the earthy ground, sobbing helplessly.

"Well where is he then!?" Cinnabar asked and pushed away the whelping female.

"He is home! Home at our apartment in Pfilerhém... Home!"

Cinnabar was already rushing out on all four. Somewhere, he could recognise his own mother's voice, calling for him to get back under the stage. I once promised I'll never abandon you, Art my dear cousin, he thought. And I'm always keeping my promises.

*

The festival area looked like a scene from a nightmare. Most of the tents still stood, though a few of them had large rips. A few of the kites were disappearing over the blossoming fields, carried by the winds. And... and the ground all over the festival area was covered. Crimson patches varied with areas where the short vegetation was stained with beautiful little drips of blood, perfectly round. Art would have said that they were like red dew. There were bodies strewn all around, half-maimed or just limbs spread out.

Oh Art!

Cinnabar stood up on his legs, hunching behind the wavering loose end of a tent. The Silver Birds were gone from the festival area... oh no, they were hovering around in the periphery, the bastards, almost as if they were patrolling. They moved in groups of two, keeping perfect distance to one another now.

He breathed out, tried to keep the rhythm of his heart calm.

Then he ran as fast as he could, using both his arms and legs. The entire ground was wet and slippery from all organic matter. Avoiding the worst patches, he moved east towards the Lingenwassern brook, where the yellow straws of hay grew thick and tall for the crop season. It felt like it took and eternity for him to run the distance, every second dragging out as if it was flowing on pitch.

Jumping over the small but deep trench separating the open area from the hay crops, he rolled underneath the grass, lying still for a few moments. The Silver Birds zig-zagged cross the sky, patrolling. He saw something move out from underneath a tent. It was a last-year's child, toddling around with her ears raised, probably confused, afraid, crying for her mother.

Two of the birds registered it, and moved softly changed their direction, following one another, the sunrays reflecting on their graceful shapes as they cut through the air, only around five feet above the ground.

As they passed above the child, a faint buzz was heard. The little one exploded into a zillion drips of bloods, almost as if she had been a balloon filled with red liquid. A small red patch emerged where he had stood, as the two birds made a painfully beautiful loop through the air.

Oh no! Cinnabar thought, as his heart shattered. He sank down, burying his nose into the soft black soil. Tears flowed down his furry cheeks. Would the mother to that child - he suspected it was one of Caiza Rusk's litter - ever know what had happened to her child? Maybe she would search for it, to no avail? He continued to observe the dance of the weird headless birds, how they moved in circular patterns over the open area. He expected them to land soon, because why had they killed so many Leporians if not to feed? But no... they just hovered above, completely silent. Cinnabar scanned the field once more, counting the patches of blood and the scattered corpses. He stopped counting when he came to thirty-three, there were literally _hundreds_more.

He moved deeper into the grass, tried to be as silent as he could as he crawled forward through the soft ground. Every sound made him freeze, and slowly he moved away from the carnage area. While his heart still was filled with terror and grief, another emotion had started to burn to. Rage.

Why? Why had they attacked his people, just on one of the most sacred days of the year? How had they dared to break two hundred years of peace? And most importantly, what_were they? As he struggled forward through the grass, his mind tried to make sense of what had happened today. Clear was, this _had to be connected with the fall of the Rim. Also, there might be a correlation to the lights he had seen travel far above earlier this day. The question, however, was: Was there a way in how to fight these creatures, and how would they proceed?

Cinnabar saw the contours of his step-stair colony appear in the horizon. This all felt so profoundly wrong. Pfilerhém, the fields, the brooks - foaming Bruckebrook and calm Lingenwassern - were for him associated peace, with serenity, with uneventfulness. He savoured the taste of blood on his tongue as he started to speed over the fields, feeling his fingers and toes dig deep into the soft ground. Clumps of black soil spread behind him as he closed in on the colony, moving up on his legs and preparing to move towards Art.

Fifty steps away from his home, nearly at the end of the hay fields, he stopped. Two of the 'birds' hovered four feet above the ground, swaging a little in the air - as if they were panting after the sudden hunt over the fields.

He fell on his back, facing the sky above the straws. Despite that his mind was racing with fear; it was as if he had it detached from his body. His heart rhythm was dampened, every muscle immovable. A voice was screaming to him inside his head, but it could equally well have called to him from the Moons. His limbs were flaccid, yet stiff. Was he dead? No. Why? He was still in one piece!

One of the birds closed in on him, slowly, descending down over the yellow vegetation. A part of Cinnabar's mind recognised that the hay was moving away from the mirror-clear surface of the headless bird body, as if it was repellent. It looked like a hovering drip of mercury in solid form. Staring back at him, Cinnabar saw his own reflection, covered in red fragments of blood and tissue, his feet and hands black from soil. The usually crimson jewel hanging around his neck was however glowing orange - had he started to see mirages? He could hear a humming sound... maybe the silver bird preparing to deliver its blow?

He closed his eyes, imagined he was falling to sleep. Yes! That was what this. Just another nightmare. He would wake up at his bed at any moment, and this would be another boring uneventful Solstice Festival. Deep inside however, he knew that this was not a dream. This was the most real thing he ever had experienced, and it was coming to an end.

The world itself was ending, accompanied by the insistent buzzing sound.

Goodbye, he thought.

A shrieking war cry cut through the muggy air, a voice storming with rage, yet familiar. A rain of small stones shattered over the silvery bird. It gave out a buzzing noise - both puzzled and somewhat irritated Cinnabar interpreted it as - and plunged upward, rotating as it did so. In less than a second, it had moved ten or twelve feet up the air.

Cornelia came, she grabbed Cinnabar's shoulders. "Brother!" she screamed. "Get up! This is no time to get the fright!" Her entire fur was glistering from blood and guts, her once white tunic splattered with disintegrated bodies.

He had already flown up, and ran the few steps back towards the colony. Out in the open. His sister joined up with him at his side.

"No you moron!" she screamed. "You're running in the wrong direction!"

"Art! I have to get Art!"

Now they moved alongside the outer wall of the lowest level.

"Forget about him!" Cornelia scolded her brother as they ran. They had come to the wooden backdoor, leading to the common storage space of the colony. Some colonies did just have pieces of plank leaning against the opening to their storage. Not Pfilerhém. It was a wealthy colony, home to the most affluent citizens of Ruskebó. The door to the storage was thick, and sealed with a copper lock - to which Claudia held the key. Darn!

"Go away from there! Away! Away!" Cornelia screamed, shaking her brother's shoulders and then moving over to flailing her arms at him. He was banging his fists and kicking his legs against the door. Someone screamed; "Open up! Open up! OPEN!"

Cinnabar realised that 'someone' was none other than himself. His fists and knees ached. His sister plunged into him so he fell down. "Take cover, fatso!" she let out, her voice in a state of panic.

The next moment, the door shattered, thousands of splinters raining down around them. As Cinnabar rushed in, followed by his sister who nibbled at his heels. He ran through the boxes, the amphorae, the huge sealed pots with fermented apples - the winter shovels, old discarded cutlery, and shattered much over the floor. Up the wooden stairs to the communal kitchen, opening the trap door. He froze. His sister stood at the feet of the staircase.

"Cornelia, aren't you following me?" he asked her, with a surprisingly tranquil voice. His sister's nostrils hyper-ventilated and she looked up at him with resigned, pleading eyes. One of her hands rested on the rail of the staircase.

"Come with me," Cornelia begged. "I know you care for him, but can't you see he's dead!"

"Cynthia said he's in their apartment!"

Cornelia was shaking her head. "Cynthia isn't herself right now! And even if he is alive, he won't survive this!" She let out a hysterical laughter. "He's too special a snowflake to live! His mother should have had him mercy killed too!"

If Cinnabar had been near his sister, he would have slapped her. "Sister!" he cried out. "You are hysterical!"

"WOULDN'T YOU BECOME HYSTERICAL TOO IF EVERYONE AROUND YOU ARE EXPLODING AND COVERING YOU WITH THEIR INNER ORGANS!? WOULDN'T YOU BROTHER!?"

Cinnabar nodded towards the door. "We aren't coming out that way anyway!" he grunted. "We need to go through the kitchen!"

"I don't care anymore!" Cornelia started to wail, tears flowing down over her blood-stained cheeks. "Jackie... my best friend... I'm... I am wearing her! All over me! All over me! I could not save her! I could not! Could not even try!"

She sank down on her knees. Cinnabar once again offered his hand. "Sister!" he said. "Follow me!"

She looked up, her face twisted by sadness. She shook her head.

At that point, what had been the door opening shattered as the dried soil, clay and gravel that made up the foundation wall of the colony cascaded around the darkened space. The silver bird buzzed into the room with a terrible speed, crashing into a pile of boxes and pottery, which crashed over it. Only its tail stuck out, dark grey and damp now when no daylight could reflect it.

Cinnabar and Cornelia gave out a simultaneous scream and stormed up the trap door, Cornelia acting climbing over her brother's back. The headless bird with the immovable wings was still struggling to come out of the pile of rubble it had created. Cinnabar sealed the trap door behind them and then ran to one side of the wall, pushing down a cupboard so it fell over the opening on the floor. "This shall buy us some time," he said.

Cornelia stood on the kitchen table, waiting for him. "Are you coming?" she asked, her voice mellow.

"Eh?" Cinnabar asked.

"Let's go and pick up Artie," she nodded with her head, "and then we're going to Ruskebó?"

Cinnabar grinned, and his grin turned into a laughter. Despite everything, you do love me Cornelia, he thought as they ran through the kitchen complex and upstairs to the inner corridors and staircases.

*

Arthur was not certain when he had floated from what he called 'the Black Land' - which was wherever he went when he fainted - and back into the real world. He evidently woke up in his own bed, an oval-shaped story of woven twigs filled with pillows and with a thin blanket drawn over him. And he woke up with that fuzzy warm feeling in his tummy - apparently someone, either Celeste or his mother, had served him a few drips of the poppy.

When they gave him the poppy and he woke up, everything felt... not wonderful, but harmonic. Usually, Arthur scuttled and jumped for the slightest reason. When they had given him the poppy, nothing could rock him. Everything was alright - wasn't he still alive after all, and wasn't the Sun shining? Even if his mother yelled at him and slapped him, it did not affect his mood very much - his emotions just registered remote disturbances. He felt... like still water a warm summer's morning. A stone could create ripples, but not mar the reflection of the world on the water's surface.

Roots can grow deep into the water, he thought, birds can scour above it, boats can float on it and fishes can swim through its depths. He smiled. But the water never changes. I'm the water... and I'll never change.

He tried to remember where he had been when he had fainted last, trying to arrange his memories. He and Cinnie had been attacked, and he had sought refuge on a shelf, but he remembered that he had woken up behind bars together with his best friend. Had it not been down at Ruskebó? He remembered that his mother had forced him to eat from the floor and then clean up, as a punishment. Phew! He thought, would hate to wake up in custody again, no thank you, I prefer my own sweet bed!

He searched through the dark depths of his memories, imagining his mind like a large pond of water - with a clear surface, but a considerable depth. Down there, he would find many interesting species of fish (memories), trying to evade him. He closed his eyes, breathed in. The shutters in the window were open, allowing the wonderful scents of the day to blow into the bedroom he shared with his mother. He remembered that he had talked with Cinnie's mother, unclear of what, that he had walked from the festival area to the colony, to collect something(?), no, to give something to someone!

And then he remembered her face. Her snout had been so small, her smile so small and inviting, her greenish eyes ever so inquisitive and curious. The curly hair had been so beautiful over her head, crowned as it had been by her alert ears. And he thought of how much Cinnabar loved his Lyra, and realised he had found his own muse. And her name had been... Becka. His entire blood turned warm as he thought about her.

Becka, he thought. I want to adorn your head with a wreath of the sweetest flowers, nuzzle against your lap and kiss your skin.

Her face was the last thing he could remember. How he wished to see her here - sitting on the chair next to the door, her legs crossed. And he would play his harmonica for her, and she would dance to it, and hug him and kiss his forehead... they would move their cheeks together and nibble on one another's sensitive ears - and they would be so happy together.

He looked out at the blue skies through his window, while sitting on his bed. A playful branch from a young birch danced gently before the window. It was as if it waves to him. He heard birds singing outside, and remote voices - maybe children playing though he thought he recognised the voices of Cinnabar and Cornelia(?). Arthur waved towards the branch, it wanted something to him. He was alone here now... everyone else were at the festival area, where children played around with kites while the parents ate from the cake and the youths moved around, bored and with need for stimuli - they would party and dance as the sun moved west and then north - it never set during this time of year in this land. The only thing which disturbed the serenity was a pounding noise - was it his heart? No.

He also could hear that the children were playing again. They were hollering and shouting now. His heart recognised a sense of irritation when he realised that the locomotion was happening in the corridor outside of his apartment. My mother will certainly take this out on my head if they wreck any paintings out there, he thought (or muttered) for himself and stood up, just at the same moment as something glimmering flew by his window, almost blinding him.

"Oh no!" he said as he walked through the bedroom door, out to the larger living room. "The birds are getting the Sun fever! Always the Sun fever!" Then he chuckled for himself, reminiscing about a revue he had seen one month ago together with Cinnabar's family. The troupe had been from Glennenmór, but maybe Becka would want to follow him? The bangs against the door became louder the closer he came to it - wasn't it funny?

"Yes! Yes!" he mimicked old grandpa Farry (and his Rósenwahl accent) in the revue. "Knock and bang for all what ye want, but these old knees're not moving faster than they'll bear!"

He opened the door, and just like in the revue, Cinnabar flew in on all four, tangled himself into the carpet and then made a somersault, crashing into a priceless cabinet - the most expensive item in the apartment - making its legs break and several copperware items roll down on the floor. Including his mother's bowl with incense that she used to burn during dark winter's nights.

Arthur jumped up into the air, made a binky and landed on the large cushion, laughing hysterically. This was exactly as when Rollier Jackot (the main character of the revue) had ran into grandma's apartment and stumbled. The next thing he noticed was that someone - it was Cornelia - lifted him up by his shoulders and started to shake him.

"Artie!" she yelled. "We need to go! Now! Take your bag with belongings and leave with us!"

She was covered with something, was it tomato soup? Cinnabar moved away from the collapsed locker, more confused than indignant. That made it even funnier, because usually when he flew into things, he used to stare at them angrily for a while - as if the things had insulted him by being in his way. Now he just looked determined, stressed, and covered in tomato.

"You're having a tomato war out there?" Arthur giggled and shrugged his shoulders.

"You can say that!" Cinnie grunted, surprised that he almost found the question fun.

Cornelia moved down on her knees, so she and Arthur were at the same height. She laid her hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. She looked sad and upset, as if she had cried. Maybe she had? She did not like tomato wars that much.

"Arthur," she said, "do not ask any questions. Just follow."

"Is it Roland Thál again?" he wondered and wobbled down so he fell. Apparently the medicine made him a little bit unsteady. He tried to stand up again but just fell down on the cushion. It was very soft and cushy, maybe he should move for another nap? Then he could take Becka to the theatre and...

"ART!" Cinnabar yelled and threw away the cushion, leaving the little boy on the floor.

"But," Arthur said, "why are you... destroying mother's apartment?"

He became mad. Who did these people believe they were? His fist shook and he plunged it into Cinnabar's furry belly.

"You should leave!" Arthur let out with a whimpering voice, recognising his anger as a remote whiff under a clear water surface, an angry eel catching a smaller prey. "You should leave! You're not my friends! I will tell mother you wrecked her apartment!"

Cornelia turned him around by lifting him up and placing him down, brushing his fur gently and cautiously. Was she flirting with him?

She looked at her brother.

"His mother had the doctor fill him with pop," Cinnabar nodded. Cornelia responded in kind to his nod and turned back to little Arthur.

"Arthur," she said, "I need you to be a good boy and listen to us now. We were sent here by your mother. She is very worried for you. She wants you to be with her."

Arthur nodded, trying to keep a serious face. Cornelia looked relieved, but tears had emerged at the corners of her eyes. The next moment, he found himself lying on the floor, laughing hysterically and smattering his little fist into the wall. Could they not see?

"Hahaha! You two are sooo funny! 'Worried for me'? Who? My mother? Cynthia Rusk? She called me a little p-pathetic worm just yesterday!"

"Look," Cornelia said. "You must follow us! This is serious!"

"I've taken my medicine! I'm going back to my bed to sleep! Mom has forbidden me to play when I've taken the drips of the poppy! Go back home, or I'm going to... to tell mom!"

He stretched his neck and moved back into his bedroom. A part of him was disappointed that he wasn't wearing a dressing gown now - dressing gowns were class. And whenever characters delivered such lines in the summer revues, they wore dressing gowns. It was compulsory!

He giggled as he entered his bedroom, turning around to wave goodbye to his friends.

"Goodnight!" he let out and threw a kiss towards his neighbours. "Don't remember... I mean forget... to bring me my share of the tomato soup!"

The siblings looked at one another. Cornelia nodded to Cinnabar. He moved towards Arthur, his mouth grinning but his eyes being hard and cold like shimmering stones. He gripped little Artie over the waist and threw him over his shoulders. "We'll have to bind him over your back so we can run," Cornelia suggested. "You know where we can find rope?"

"Down in the storage... damn!"

"Maybe it has flown away now," Cornelia suggested, with a hint of hope in her voice.

"Well, we've been surviving until now," Cinnabar muttered and prepared to leave.

"Hello!" Arthur squeaked and slammed with his fist over Cinnie's back. "Please... I demand to be let down! I promise to be nice if you don't kidnap me! I'm going to tell..."

He looked up. At the other side of the window, the most beautiful thing he ever had seen floated peacefully in mid-air. It had four rounded wings, shaped like an "X", and its surface was like that of a drop of water, though in solid form and a little darker. On it, he could see his own reflection as he moved his hand towards it.

"Hello, you shining bird!" he mumbled and smiled.

"Oh darn! BROTHER, TAKE COVER!" Cornelia shouted.

Cinnabar threw himself at the cushion in the living room as a sound reminiscent of what a wave cutting through air would have been. A dark mark briefly appeared on the wall opposite the entry to the bed room, before disappearing, and there was a sense of static electricity in the air - combined with a faint warm smell, like in the communal kitchen.

Arthur coughed and sat up.

"W-w-what is t-that for a bird?"

Cornelia flew over him and smashed his back into the wall, slapping his face. "That 'thing' is not a bird!" she yelled. "I do not know what they are! I know one thing, however! They are evil! They kill! They've killed hundreds!"

"Lucky," Arthur explained calmly, "that we are safe here in mother's apartment. Those windows are bird-proo..."

The strange bird reappeared again, this time moving against one of the two living-room windows. It rotated with its wings, so fast that it almost looked like a massive drill plunging towards the wall.

The wall shattered as the thing crashed on the floor, splinters and trampled dirt swirling around. The thing quickly started to spin, and one of the paintings shattered. Cornelia grabbed Arthur by the skin of the neck and then disappeared out the corridor.

"Run Arthur, run!"

It was Cinnabar. He already stood at the other end of the corridor. Several blasts and a terrible whining noise was heard inside Cynthia's apartment. He had started to run beside his friends, following them downstairs - he stumbled and rolled down - it hurt, but the pain barely recognised as he flew up again and continued to trace the children of Claudia. "That thing!" he laughed. "My mother's going to kill it when she comes home!"

"This is no laughing matter!" Cornelia shouted.

"Are they the reason you're covered in tomato soup? Naughty, naughty birdies!" Arthur laughed.

Cinnabar stopped at the end of the inner corridor of the fourth level, sniffing and then turning towards Arthur and Cornelia.

"Art," he said. "This is not tomato soup. This is blood."

Arthur could feel his own blood freeze. "B-blood you say... you are not j-j-joking right?"

Neither Cornelia nor Arthur responded, both just looking at Arthur, distraught and tired.

"What?" he took a wobbly step back, leaning against the corridor wall. "Blood... f-from whom?"

"Some of it is from Rudder Knapp... some from Evelyn Wahl. I probably carry the remnants of... of hundreds on my face," Cinnabar said.

Cornelia cried silently, her arms crossed. She looked away. Arthur had never seen her so vulnerable. She looked more abandoned than he had ever felt.

"Jackie Rusk, from the Possebó Colony. My best friend," she said at last.

They walked downstairs, no sounds were heard from above.

"What... why... what has happened?"

He was surprised by how calm he was, despite the overwhelming fear. They did not respond, so he repeated the question, staying mid-stairs. The two siblings looked up at him.

"You remember when the Rim cracked," Cinnabar said.

"Eh... no! Has... has the Rim cracked!? How could it do that!?"

"Earthquake," Cornelia explained.

"These... things... these, 'silver birds', then attacked the crowds when everyone were assembled at the amphitheatre. Hundreds dead," Cinnabar continued. "I was sent here by Cynthia to retrieve you."

Arthur's ears sank, he clasped his fingers around his belly and sank down on the ground.

"No," he said and shook his head a little. "No-no-no! No-no no-no-no-no! No!"

Becka!

*

The next moment, Cinnabar and Cornelia saw the backside of Art's feet as he plunged down the hallway, stumbled into the wall and demolished a cupboard, before running out towards the exit on the fourth level.

The two siblings ran after him.

"What is he doing now?" Cornelia demanded to know, with a surprisingly serene voice.

"Panic attack!" Cinnabar panted. "He's a neurotic little critter!"

"He's usually that fast?"

"No. Never seen this!"

They ran out on the external side of the colony, the fourth level of the step-stair pyramid. No silvery birds in sight! Phew! They traced alongside the walls, running on all fours, before they in quick succession heard things crashing down followed by a yell of terror from Owin's store. Without thinking, Cinnabar rushed there - finding Art laying amongst the rubble of the shelves crying.

"Oh Becka!" he squealed. "I was too late!"

Cornelia placed a hand on her brother's shoulder, looking into the store.

"No blood," she said and nodded.

Arthur sat up, his mouth wide open. "No blood, no blood! Does it mean that she's... t-that she's alive!? She's alive! Becka!"

He jumped up on his legs, flew over Cinnabar's head and out over the rail, tripping over the edge. Cinnabar and Cornelia could nothing but watch stunned as little - usually scared-for-everything - Arthur gripped the wings of a silvery bird approaching, making it buzz with a crackling sound and spin downward. It pointed its front towards Cinnabar and Claudia - Cinnabar found himself embracing his sister - but Arthur hung on from the tail of the thing, making it point straight up as his weight dragged it down.

Arthur fell down and the metallic bird ascended far up at an enormous speed. The two Rusk siblings took the opportunity to storm down from the step-stair pyramid. Cinnabar could see Arthur disappear into the backwoods, a smaller and smaller spot of vanilla, calling Becka's - whomever that was - name.

"Should we give up?" Cornelia asked, her nostrils expanding and contracting at an almost accelerating pace.

"I gave a promise. You give up, but I'll follow him," he grunted as a reply, taking his sister's hand.

"I gave a promise too!" she said and slapped him over the face. "You darn idiot!"

Cinnabar grinned and jumped down the platform, sliding down the walls of the colony. He ran towards the backwoods, followed by his sister.

*

He stumbled out from the bush-work near Lingenwassern, having zig-zagged through the backwoods, his lungs bursting with air... and he collapsed and rolled down the sandy bank. Down there, he had found Becka sitting for herself on her knees. She had spread out a picnic cloth underneath her body, and set up clay plates with cookies, a bowl with carrot and apple pieces, an empty picnic basket, and a tall wooden jug filled with carrot juice, made from a hollowed-out shell from a dead tree. She was sipping from a mug which belonged to the same set.

She sat frozen on her place, at the middle of a sandbank shielded from the backwoods by bush-work, and from the brook by a birch tree with its roots tangled into the water. She was looking at Arthur as he tried to raise his little body from the reddish sand. He was sliding further down, almost down to the picnic blanket, moving over on his back and panting. The Sun almost blinded him - that was, until Becka leant over him, looking at him with an inscrutable expression, her mouth a little thin line between her lips. The nose vibrated a little.

"Carrot cake?" she offered him as he sat up. He took the cake, but did not eat it.

"Oh, I've got it! You need juice now, for you have run much! Oh Arthur, you boys are always so inconsiderate for your own health! Here, I took a spare mug with me!"

She poured up a thimble of carrot juice and moved it towards Arthur. He sipped a little from it - old habit, he had learnt that if he drank too much during summer days, he could die. He fell down on his back again, right next to Becka's knees, wrapped into the all-too big trousers.

"I heard someone call my name," Becka said without looking at Arthur. She spoke with a sort of natural serene dignity, only made stronger by the brightness and... childishness... of her voice.

"Was it you?" she asked and moved only her eyes so they looked at him.

"Y-yes," he said, moving away from her a little. Maybe she would get the wrong idea, and become mad at me. He sat up facing her, keeping a space of two inches away.

Becka smiled and bowed her head a little forward so one of the fringes fell over her eyes. She brushed it aside confidently and turned her head towards the Sun, closing her eyes and smiling. Her teeth were perfectly white.

"You wanted to visit me at the shop? How sweet of you! But I was not there..."

"You f-f-fled here?" Arthur stammered.

Becka smiled and rested with her temple against her hand slowly, looking at him. "Ah... or rather, I got bored and thought I go for the woods. Haven't explored around here I thought... and you know what?"

She suspended that question, almost as if she waited for an answer from Arthur, moving the tip of her tongue thoughtfully over her lower lip.

"You've got the largest dragonflies I've ever seen!" she said, her eyes turning big and round. Then she giggled and smacked her hands on her knees. "They are wonderful! I love them! They glimmer like the shimmer on lakes at mornings!"

Arthur remembered how he had jumped - how he could have done that, he could not fathom - and landed over the back on one of Becka's 'dragonflies'. He had gripped the abomination's tail, dragging it down with him for a moment. It had - pretty unintentionally at that - saved his life then. The feeling of holding on to the thing had been, sticky, as if it had been... built was the word he searched for... of the thing that made the legs itch when they had fallen asleep. The tnse palms of his hands still reminded him of the thing - and yet, he had not seen it kill. He reminisced of Cinnabar's eyes, the first time when he had seen his best friend afraid.

Becka shrugged her shoulders. "Tell me a little about yourself, Arthur Rusk. I should not do all the speaking," she giggled.

Arthur prepared for what he needed to say, but damn he could not find any good way to explain it!

"D-d-did you see the Rim c-collapse?" he began, tryingly.

Becka wrinkled her nose as she took up a piece of carrot, crunching on it. "Ah," she said and smiled. "Very rude of it. Does it often do that?"

"T-t-this time was the first... look Becka, you have t-t-to listen t-t-t-T-to me... we've been invaded!"

Becka nodded slowly, pouting her lips. Her eyes moved towards Arthur's. He moved his gaze away from her. It wasn't his fault - those green eyes were so beautiful that it hurt.

"Invaded?" she said. "By whom?"

"I... I d-d-don't know!" he said, accidentally biting himself in the lip. Becka looked sad, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"What is wrong?" she inquired. "It is okay if you don't want to talk about it, Little. May I call you Little?"

"Why?" Arthur cried. "Why... did you leave the store!? I was so worried for you!"

Becka sighed. "Now, now!" she chastised him and looked towards the glimmering streams of the Lingenwassern. She sighed. "You shouldn't be sad, Little! It's a beautiful day!"

She seemed mildly irritated.

"I do as I like," she replied on his question, her voice bright and happy again. She moved towards him, smiling. "I _always_do as I like," she laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

At that point, the branches of the bush-work shielding the banks were starting to rustle. Arthur gave out a scream and flew up in the air, as Cinnabar cursingly rolled down, landing on his front with his bloodied face crushing Arthur's piece of carrot cake. Above the top of the bank, Cornelia stuck out her head from the bush-work.

"Your friends?" Becka squeaked with delighted surprise.

Cinnabar pushed himself up, puffing with his wide chest and shaking away sand. He unceremoniously gripped Arthur by the arm and started to move.

"W-wait Cinnie!" Arthur let out. "We c-can't leave her! She d-doesn't know!"

"She's not my trouble!" Cinnabar established with a voice hard and determined like granite.

Becka stretched out her slender arm. "Wait!" she said, an accusing tone in her voice. "Don't go! We haven't even introduced yet!"

"Who on Earth is that?" Cornelia wondered, pointing towards Becka but looking at Arthur.

"S-she's B-Becka Sommer! She's... ehm... m-m-M-my friend!" Arthur stated and kicked with his foot in the sand.

Becka had stood up, offering her hand towards Cinnabar. She was about half a head taller than him.

Cinnabar looked towards his sister, resigned. She nodded. "Yes, yes!" Cornelia grunted. "Get on with it!"

"Cinnabar Rusk," he said and nodded towards Becka.

"Cornelia," Cornelia introduced herself. She had still not moved down.

Becka smiled, stretched her fingers while embracing one of her legs. The other was stretched out over the blanket. She moved her fingertips forward, bending her torso and touching the toes of her foot. Her upper body was almost resting over her leg.

"Pleasure to meet," Becka said, "and please stay for some cookies. Mind if I ask, why are you covered in mashed tomato?"

She moved her forefinger over Cinnabar's fur and then fiddled with her tongue over it. Both Cinnabar and Cornelia let out a disgusted noise and shrugged back while Becka wrinkled her nose and drowned the taste with her thimble-sized cup of carrot-juice.

"Tasted... very... iron-y. Is something wrong?" Becka wondered, her innocent eyes big and round.

Cinnabar shook his head. "I'm not covered in tomato..," he said.

Then he flew up in panic. "I'm not covered in tomato!" he yelled and jumped over the picnic blanket so sand spluttered over everything. He trampled into the water, frantically cleaning his fur.

"Oh... that was nice!" Becka complained. "Sand over all the cookies! Nice! Now we have to wash the cookies."

"I'm afraid we'll have to leave the cookies, Becka," Cornelia sighed.

Becka looked up at Cinnabar's sister. "No," she said, "they're fine. Just needs a little washing."

Cinnabar looked up over the branch, his eyes black with anger. "No. Picnic's over!"

For the first time, Becka seemed a bit stirred, standing up and placing her hands on her hips. "Look here, 'Mr Covered-in-Tomato-Oops-Not-Tomato-Must-Get-Impulse-To-Jump-Over-Picnic-And-Swim'..," she yelled with a screeching voice and thumped with her foot on the blanket. "Picnic is not over before I say it's over!"

"This is meaningless!" Cornelia gritted her teeth. "Let's leave her! She can always try to invite the silver birds for 'cookies', can't she?"

Becka's stern face cracked up in a wonderful smile. "Ah! Your dragonflies! I saw five-six of them flying down to Ruskebó around an hour ago. Hope they're coming back soon!"

Cornelia's nostrils widened and her fingers started to shake. Arthur took cover behind the picnic basket - he had seen Cinnie's sister like this once before. It had not been fun.

"Becka," Cornelia began softly and showed her incisor teeth in a warning sign, "those, ehm... 'dragonflies' you so happily chirped about... they... never mind!"

With a sudden screech which surprised everyone, Cornelia flew out from the brushwood towards the Hasselbó girl, her hands clenched like claws. Arthur jumped away towards the water and landed on Cinnabar - they knocked their heads together. He fell back over the root separating the banks from the water, and held his ears before his eyes, afraid to see or hear what Cornelia did to the girl of his dreams. Oh no, he thought. Becka will hate me for this, that I failed to protect her.

Slowly and with shivering arms, he moved the ears away from his eyes, opening them slowly. Cornelia was running around in the bank, throwing sands with her toes and shaking with her fist. She stood up, staring towards the tree-tops.

"Come down Becka! Come down! Me and my fist want to have a word with you!"

"I won't! You're acting funny!" it was heard from above the branch-work.

Arthur looked up, and found that Becka sat on one of the branches, waving her toes around as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Apart from a slight irritation around the corners of her mouth, she looked perfectly secure and content up there.

Cinnabar waded ashore, having given up his clumsy attempts to climb over the root and instead passed by around and under it, swearing and gruffing for himself. His wet fur stood out in all directions, making him look round like a ball and twice his ordinary size.

"Now it's time to leave Art!" he said and grabbed his friend by the skin of the neck, starting to drag him through the sand.

"B-but, B-B-B-Becka!?" Arthur let out. How could Cinnabar and Cornelia be so cruel? Becka did not know what happened around them, because none had explained! "You are... you are unfair! And cruel! How c-c-C-can you leave her..?"

"I say we can just fine!" Cornelia let out, her eyes lightning with wrath as she focused them on Becka, who right now hung upside down from the back of her knees, smiling and waving towards the three Rusk youths.

Cinnabar started to crawl up the slope of the bank, still holding on to Arthur. He swore when he realised that he was just sliding down again, down to the bottom of the bank.

"Why not just give up?" he grunted towards his sister and received an angry slap in return.

"Ouch!" He let out.

"Woohoo!" Becka yelled as she hung under the branch, five feet above them, pointing towards the south with her slender arm. "They are coming back! The dragonflies!"

"Take cover!" Cornelia screamed.

The three Rusk youths all ran around, the sand bank, before crawling in under the picnic blanket, wrapping themselves in. Through a small hole in the blanket, Arthur could see the blinding lights appear in the south, and then swoosh above the treetops, some of them whipping the upper branches as they passed by. He heard how Becka let out a scream of pure joy.

When they finally dared crawling out of their cover, they found Becka standing leaning against the tree, crunching on a piece of carrot. Arthur could see how Cinnabar and Cornelia exchanged looks. Cornelia shook her head and Cinnie resigned, turning towards Becka.

"Becka, ehm..," he said, scratching his red mop of hair, then throwing a glance towards his sister (Cornelia nodded towards him, her arms crossed over her chest). "We are grateful, that you saved our lives."

Becka nibbled on her fingers, seemingly oblivious of the lethal danger that had passed them by. "Ah... that was nothing," she smiled, offering her hand to Cinnabar. He shook it, then looking at Cornelia. She sighed, her arms still crossed as if she was shielding herself.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Becka smiled angelically, the sunrays playing in her hair. She too crossed her arms, and wrinkled her nose. "I call it even," she joked. "No one was harmed, apart from a few cookies."

"You should not joke now," Cornelia advised. "Hundreds are dead."

"What killed them?" Becka wondered, seemingly unaffected.

"The 'dragonflies', or as we call them, the 'Silver Birds'," Cinnabar explained. "Something is attacking us. We do not know if it is an invasion or daemons from the underworld."

"It is an invasion," Becka said.

Cornelia's eyes narrowed. "How you know, stranger?"

"Ah..," Becka said and pointed towards the backwoods. "I saw some creatures jaywalking the woods. They looked confused and lost..."

"Dogs?" Cornelia wondered. It was the general slur word for Canaeans.

Becka shook her head. "No," she said. "But they wore leather vests, and carried... pointy things with lots of spikes!"