Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [84]
“We cannot give up hope. This world is vast, and it will take time to explore.”
“True enough.” With a faint sigh, I start moving again.
At what we estimate to be midday, we stop for food and water. The land slopes up to a natural plateau, elevated for us to get a clear view of anything moving to attack us. Here, he can mix up a batch of his soup, a nice change from the paste. But I only have two packets of those left, and he empties his stores for this meal. We eat in silence.
“Have you ever been in a worse spot?” I hope he’ll say yes and tell me a story of how he got out of it. He’s lived such unimaginable adventures, after all.
“No,” Vel answers simply. No elaboration. No false promises.
He and I have seen some troubles since he first tracked me to New Terra, but this caps them all. I can’t motivate myself to get up from the makeshift stone table. I’m tired, dirty, and dispirited.
“At what point do we stop walking and start building?”
“I cannot answer that. I only know we will die if we stay here. There is no food to be hunted.”
“There were animals in the jungle, but they wouldn’t stop trying to eat us.” Not a place to call home.
“Irrelevant. You will not give up, Sirantha. I have never yet seen you broken.” To be honest, he has more confidence in me than I do.
As I stare at the stone surface before me, it registers—these are scratches, and they form a pattern. While I can’t be sure about the nature of the trenches, I’m positive about this. Someone engraved these marks, which means there’s intelligent life on this planet, somewhere. Or there used to be, at least.
“Look,” I say.
Vel kneels to examine the carvings. “It appears to be cuneiform writing, but I do not recognize the language.”
“Me, either. But that’s a good sign, right?” Hope buoys me up, and I shove to my feet, eager now.
“I would say so.” He’s cautious in offering an opinion, as always, but I recognize the marks of equal excitement in him. Between the flex of his mandible and the angle of his head, he might as well be whooping with glee.
For the first time since we arrived here, I feel like we’re heading somewhere particular instead of wandering blind. “Let’s look for more of these markings as we travel. Maybe they’re like signposts?”
“An excellent idea.”
This give me the energy to move, and I fall in beside Vel. A while later, I spot another stone table, and this time, I suspect it was built on purpose. I climb up to take a look, and, sure enough, this one bears more symbols.
“I think this might be directions.”
After a short scrutiny, he inclines his head. “This way.”
From here, we angle again west—for lack of true directional—and find four more stone tables before nightfall. Each bear the familiar sigils along with a stylized line crowned in a triangle, something like an arrow, but not exactly. It’s close enough to make me think we’re on the right track, however.
I trudge on, weariness so deep in my bones that I don’t know if I could swing the knife Vel made for me if it came down to it. We cross farther until the grim landscape before us offers something new. At first I can’t believe my eyes, so I glance at Vel for confirmation. He’s stopped moving, still with shock.
“You see it, too?”
“It is . . . magnificent.”
Rising before us are the ruins of an unimaginably immense city, the architecture of which defies description. Even at this distance, I can tell it’s ancient, probably dating back to the Makers themselves. Over long turns, we’ve found artifacts and scattered ruins, but nothing like this, not on this scale.
Anticipation takes hold, then, for I live to blaze new trails. Without waiting for Vel, I break into a run.
[Vid-mail from March, recorded during the search for Jax]
I never told you how I wound up on Lachion that first time, did I, Jax? The swamp here on Marakeq reminds me of Nicu Tertius, bringing back all those old memories, and as we search—and find nothing—I’m possessed of that same despair. So I’m going to tell you a story . . . because I need