Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [233]
“But you said help would be here, Beneto,” Celli insisted. “You told us you heard a call go out to some ancient allies. If they don’t get here soon, they’ll have to hold a funeral without us.”
The golem who faced her with swirl-grained eyes looked heartachingly like her lost brother. When she was a child, Beneto had been one of her closest friends...but now he seemed beyond Celli’s comprehension.
“Yes, they have been traveling since the first hydrogue attack on Corvus Landing, where I died. But they are still too far away. Our allies will not arrive in time.”
For an hour, the giant sentient trees rustled and rattled, and the gathered people looked to Beneto’s statuesque form, as if he would tell them what to do. He stood frozen, as much a part of the frightened scene as the towering trees.
Yarrod muttered, “At least all the treelings we sent out will be safe.”
“We won’t be,” said a pale-skinned woman.
Celli heard an outcry, and green priests pointed at something in the sky. In the bright sunlight, she saw a flare of light, reflections off curved diamond hulls, the glint of sharp protrusions that held blue lightning.
The hydrogues converged high overhead, one warglobe after another, and descended once more upon the worldforest.
Regrown worldtrees shuddered as icewaves curled out from the attacking spheres. The air itself seemed to turn brittle and shatter. Panicked Therons ran to seek shelter. Some of the green priests stood still, defeated, not knowing what else to do.
Yarrod slowly dropped to his knees. “All of our work. The worldforest is still weak. We cannot withstand this.”
Celli grabbed his shoulder. “Come on, Uncle! We have to do something. Some of the trees have recovered. Isn’t there any way they can fight back? Like Reynald made them do before!” She looked frantically for Beneto.
Many Therons scrambled away from the dense trees, even though they knew from the earlier attack that there was no safe place to hide.
A warglobe cruised low overhead, and blue lightning crackled out like spiderwebs across the crowns of the trees, causing them to erupt. Sparking fire caught the weakened wood, and the flames began to grow.
The Beneto golem stood in the middle of the Stonehenge-like ring of burned trunks like a priest in a sacred temple. His wooden eyes were closed, and he stood with carved fists clenched at his sides, his face turned to the sky as if listening to a far-off voice. Was he calling for help? Listening for a response? Who, or what, could possibly aid the worldforest?
During the last devastating attack here, the faeros had arrived, but they were uncertain allies. Ultimately, their assistance had caused as much damage as the warglobes had, and Sarein had said that the faeros themselves were losing in the face of the hydrogue onslaught. What else could save them?
The warglobe bombardment increased.
Celli and Solimar ran together to the uncertain shelter of the tall tree that supported the reconstructed fungus-reef city. Her parents were climbing vine ladders to reach the structure, as if going higher might help them. Celli pointed. “Whatever they’re doing, I want to join them. I just...I just need to be with them.”
Solimar nodded. “I’m coming with you.”
Moving with treedancer grace, the two of them scrambled up the side of the worldtree. Overhead, booming explosions cracked like amplified thunder across the sky. Warglobes swept cascades of frigid wind over their former battlefield, laying down electrical destruction.
Celli rushed to the main throne room. Exposed pipes and support girders covered the walls where Roamers had shored up the damaged structure. Clan engineers had improved the city’s plumbing and power networks, added conveniences that were far more modern than the Theron settlers were used to—including a new communications system.
Idriss stood in front of the bank of transmitters, baffled. Alexa looked up at her daughter’s arrival. “Celli, you should take shelter. Go where it’s safe.”
The girl put her hands on her narrow hips. “And where would